Christmas Blessings

We've been busy. Busy preparing for Christmas. If you read the part 4 post of Mia's adoption story, you can see how chaotic our Christmas was last year. We were living in an apartment for two months waiting for our house to be built, so there really wasn't a lot of unpacking, and we came home on Christmas Eve with a two day old baby. On Christmas Eve we were up with the baby and last minute preparations until about four in the morning. We laid down for our fabled long winter's nap promised to us by the poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas" and Maddox woke up to see that Santa had come at 4:15 a.m. Jamie stayed up to watch Maddox open his presents. I tried, but slept through most of it. I remember hearing 'look Mom' a few times, but no visual memories. Later that day I was flipping through Facebook and saw some pictures of presents being opened by my child for the first time. Our Facebook friends got a first glimpse at my Christmas morning before I did. 

We were very grateful for our beautiful and tiny Christmas miracle, and we wouldn't change any of it. However all the chaos of it increased our holiday appetites for 2013. We've been celebrating Christmas since October. It started with my Christmas wreaths. I took them to a craft show and have sold all but three which I may just keep for myself.

As soon as we got home from visiting family for Thanksgiving, we bought our tree. We wanted to get one sooner, but made ourselves wait. Jamie and I get impulsive when we are excited, but we were able to reign it in a bit and only got the 11 footer--we had our eyes on the 12. Our backs are very glad we didn't go bigger. We carried it in ourselves--just the two of us. Well, rolled it in, I suppose. Anyway, we got it in. Jamie had put the stand on before we got it inside and we would tweak it for balance once we got the monstrosity upright. When we picked it up, it was perfectly straight, no tweaking required. Another Christmas miracle.

Funny. It doesn't look as big on top of our car.

(Did you check for squirrels, Clark?)

Maddox was able to put the star on top with a little help from Daddy and a ladder.

Maddox and I decorated a Gingerbread village and Made Minecraft shaped sugar cookies for our neighbors. 

It's been Christmas non-stop around our house. And with one week left, it will only get more Christmas-y-er. Yes, that's a real word. I just made it up. Mia's first birthday party is coming up and so is Christmas with my side of the family, then Santa will come and bring more toys, Christmas with Jamie's side of the family, and Maddox's birthday won't be long after that. With the present overload and all the joyful chaos of the holidays I worried that my children would miss the true meaning of Christmas. I thought that when February rolls around and there are no more back-to-back birthdays and holidays involving presents they would become spoiled and not know what it means to plan and save up and work for things. I thought they would expect everything they want when they want it. I had too little faith in them. Maddox had to remind me, as he often does. 

We were sitting waiting for Daddy's Christmas concert to start and sharing jelly beans. Maddox handed me an orange one and I said no thank you and asked if I could have a red one. He shook his head at me and told me to just enjoy what I have. 

Both kids have been sick off and on for about a month now. Maddox's most recent affliction was a nasty double ear infection. We tried the good tasting antibiotic with no results. He had to take the yucky white stuff. I don't know what it tastes like, but my son loves to take medicine to the point that I'm a little worried about it. With the white stuff though...he runs and hides. We told him if he could be good and take his medicine without argument for all ten days he could open a present from mommy and daddy the day he takes his last dose. He did it. He worked hard at keeping a good attitude and struggled through two doses a day. He earned his present. 

When he opened the long awaited present, I didn't see the reaction I expected. He is all about Minecraft lately, and I got him a Minecraft play set. He studied it calmly. He was happy, but not jumping up and down as I'd hoped. While we were putting it together I asked him a few times if he liked it and if that was what he wanted. He answered a simple yes every time. After I had asked if he wanted more he said, "I'm trying to just enjoy what I have." 

When it was about candy, I thought it was a cute response. He was just repeating something I'd told him before, but the second time I saw that he truly gets it, maybe more than I do. He gets the true meaning of Christmas. It's not about presents. It's about enjoying what you have and the people you share it with. That's one smart kid.

Happy Adoption Day to My Little Boy

September 11th is a day of remembrance and a sorrowful day for most people. It is not merely the day that the twin towers fell for everyone though. For instance September 11th is my cousin's anniversary. Happy Anniversary Stacey and Chad! And for my immediate family, September 11th is the day Jamie and I officially (as far as paperwork is concerned) became parents for the first time.

Six years ago Jamie and I sat in the American Embassy in Guatemala City, Guatemala, holding our tiny baby boy. Baby girl is now almost the exact age Big Brother was when we held him on that day in the embassy. Holding her makes me remember how small he was. I remember dressing him in this tiny zip-up hoodie and khaki pants and having his picture made in it for his visa. He was nothing but big dark eyes and pouty red lips on a round tan canvas, a lighter version of what his little sister looks like now.

There were many other almost-adoptive parents there who clutched their own babies in a mixture of love and anxiety. Before we left for our take home trip, several people commented on how Brother looked like us, me in particular. I have dark eyes and hair too. One person even asked if they matched the babies with parents based on looks. Jamie and I laughed at the question, but as we sat in that room observing the parents with their babies we started to wonder the same thing. A baby with a long serious nose jumped in the lap of a mother with a similarly long and serious nose. A little girl baby with thick straight eyebrows sat in the lap of her adoptive father with the same eyebrow shape. We then saw a large woman with curly fire-red hair piled in a mess on top of her head. Jamie and I shared a look, our theory had been debunked. There was no way a Guatemalan baby could look like a pale red headed woman. Then the lady's husband sat her adoptive baby in her lap. The baby had the same curly hairdo, only a darker shade. Maybe there was something to the theory after all.

In our family An Adoption Day is like a birthday, but only with our immediate family. It's more personal, to me, than a birthday. We give one small gift, have a special meal, and do something fun as a family. Each year I tell Brother about his special day and try to explain to him what it means to be adopted. Each year he seems to understand a little more. This year he found pleasure in hearing that his name, before we officially changed it, was the same as a bad guy in Plants vs. Zombies. And then the book he chose to read tonight was about Batman and Robin, featuring the second Robin. It also mentioned that the first Robin, who became Nightwing, was an "orphaned acrobat who was adopted by Bruce Wayne." Most people know that Superman was adopted (we all have matching T shirts saying just that. They are available on www.olivetreepromise.com) but not as many people may know that Dick Grayson was actually adopted by Bruce Wayne. A fun fact that made our Adoption Day special. When we read over that part, Brother paused and had a proud look on his face that he had something in common with one of his heroes.

Another special bonus to Brother's Adoption Day was a special package that just happened to arrive today. My good friend sent a present to Brother that her husband picked up while he was traveling in Central America. It was a wonderful reminder of Brother's home country on his special day. So if you are reading this before we can tell you thank you ourselves, thank you very much Jamie and Michael! Your timing couldn't have been more perfect.

When I was tucking him in bed tonight I asked him if its was a good day. He said yes with a partially toothless grin. I did my job. I made him proud of who he is today, and I couldn't imagine my life without him.

Hallelujah

Big things are happening around our house this week. School is back in session. That means Big Brother is now in the first grade. He's an old pro at this school stuff. I didn't even walk him in on his first day. He confidently got out of the car and made his way inside among the other nervous children all by himself.

All summer he had been informing me that he would not go to first grade and that he would stay in kindergarten indefinitely. When it came down to the do or die moment, however, he showed his bravery. I'm sure the Darth Vader backpack and Justice League lunchbox didn't hurt either.

Baby Girl's big news is that she is officially on the move. Gone are the days of lying on her back unable to escape the mobile monkeys circling her head. I lay her down under the monkeys and she is ten feet away before I make it back to my office chair.

Daddy's big news is that he is ours once more. For the past few weeks he has been working, sometimes twenty hours a day (he did that five days in a row) on his new projects - a CD of hymns and a CD of worship songs. Tonight is the last night he will not be at home. We have missed him, but we knew our sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. The finished product is incredible. 

Sometimes I forget I'm married to such a talented man. I forget that he blows through this shiny piece of metal with all these complicated looking keys and music comes out the other end, music so beautiful anyone lucky enough to hear it is deeply moved from the first note. He can make people laugh and cry and feel real emotions. And the most wonderful effect of all is that it puts babies to sleep. Don't believe me? Give it a try. I've never seen a baby or toddler not enthralled by it. And the peace and calm of it soothes them right to sleep. His music is soothing in a way no words can describe, you have to experience it to understand. And somehow I forget all of this if I go too long without watching him create new music. The best thing about forgetting is that when I do remember, it's a brand new experience every time. I'm star struck all over again. 

He has put together two CD's in a few short weeks. From the laid back sounds, you would never guess how quickly they were put together. That just shows how talented Jamie is and how naturally this comes to him. And I need to also mention the other half of the Jamie Reid team, George Hairr, producer extraordinaire. His creativity combined with Jamie's raw talent makes for a musical experience that can't be replicated. 

Here is the lineup for the CD of hymns

1. As the Deer

2. Because He Lives

3. Give Me Jesus

4. Blessed Assurance

5. I Surrender All

6. Were You There/At the Cross

7. Jesus Paid It All

8. The Solid Rock

9. Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)

10. I Need Thee Every Hour

And here is the CD of worship songs

1. I Need You

2. How He Loves Us

3. How Beautiful

4. Blessed Be the Name

5. At the Cross

6. All Who Are Thirsty

7. Here I Am to Worship

8. God of Wonders

9. I Can Only Imagine

10. Made Me Glad

My favorites? All of them. A few stand out among the others for me though. 

Blessed Assurance. His previous albums Instrumental: A Collection of Hymns and Instrumental: Songs of Worship had what I call the Jamie Reid sound. Both of his new CDs have the same sound, but he took it in a little different direction this time. Blessed Assurance is jazzy sounding. It features a Hammond B3 that gives you a warm, old time churchy feeling. Not my old time church since I grew up Church of Christ, but like the classic church services you see in movies. It's a little more up tempo than his usual relaxing pace, but he still captured his signature laid back sound.

How He Loves Us. I wasn't familiar with this song before he let me listen to his interpretation of it, but the from the first note, I was hooked. I can't get it out of my head. I don't know the words, but I can hear the emotion in his playing and I get what the song's about. I'm a words person, so for him to achieve this is a great feat. 

How Beautiful. I have to mention this one because I requested it. Okay, I demanded it. He played this song at our friend's wedding a few years ago and it was so beautifully done it had to be recorded. 

I can't wait until this one is available to sell so that people can start hearing the fruits of his labor. I'll be sure to announce it as soon as it is. Until then, you can hear Jamie's past (and equally as special) projects at www.jamiereidmusic.com

Kids Have Their Own Bedrooms for a Reason

I am pleased to announce that after six years of having at least one child in my bedroom at all times, everyone in my household is now sleeping in his or her own room. And it really wasn't as hard a transition as I anticipated.

We've tried this before. When Brother first made the move to a toddler bed we tried it. We were in our little 778 square foot condo downtown. We were all so close anyway, we thought it would go over pretty well. It didn't. The only way he would fall asleep in his room was if Jamie or I laid on the floor holding his hand until he'd been asleep for a few hours. If he'd only been asleep one hour when we got up, Brother would immediately sit up and start screaming. Once we moved to house #1 we tried it again. This time I tried to include him and tried to encourage some independence. He picked out a bed tent and told me he would sleep in his own room if he had the super cool Lightning McQueen bed tent. Never take a four year old at his word. I'm sure he meant it at the moment, but that first night we put him in the bed/tent, he was velcroed to my leg before I could turn the light off. It was a struggle including many nights of Jamie or me sleeping on the hard floor next to his bed all night long, but he finally started sleeping in his own room on his own. He even let us leave the room while he was awake and fell asleep on his own. One week later the transformer outside his window blew up. Not the cool robot transformer, he would have thought that was awesome, the power transformer bringing power in to the house from the street. It just happened to connect right outside his window. From across the hall Jamie and I saw a blue flash of light and a loud boom. At the same time we heard a toddler's scream and a little boy diving headfirst into my bed. Brother didn't sleep by himself another night in that house.

With all the transition from that house to our new house (we lived in an apartment for a few months in between) we didn't try too hard to get him in his own room. Baby was born in the middle of all of it to add a little more to our plates. (A welcomed side dish.)

Baby was a good sleeper. By about eight weeks she was sleeping most of the night. As soon as we started bragging, she hit a growth spurt and started demanding food every three hours around the clock. The growth spurt passed but she had gotten used to her midnight snacks - both of them. At her latest check up we consulted her doctor and he assured us that she should be able to fast for eight hours and we wouldn't be bad parents if we tried to stretch her feedings out that long at night. Jamie and I shared a look of hope and decided it was time to take our bedroom back.

Baby was easy. We just laid her in bed one night and that was it. We got a really nice camera with great night vision on it. So we could watch her every move. It's very entertaining at times. This morning I watched her pick her head up, look around for her pacifier, pick it up, pop it into her mouth, and go right back to sleep. Even with the camera though, I missed her. I realized part of the reason they both had stayed in my room for so long was because of me and my need to be near them all the time.

Parenting is a complicated dance of constantly wanting to be with your children and constantly wanting your own time and space. When I do have time away from them, I feel guilty for leaving them and longing to be with them again. Letting go is hard. Taking Brother to kindergarten was the same type of feeling. I want him to grow up and become his own person, but I want to keep him with me as my baby too. I was okay with his first day. I didn't even cry. About a week into school on the first day I didn't have to drag him out of my car with the help of the teacher on bus duty, I hugged him and told him I loved him and he took off running. He ran all the way down the long sidewalk and into the school and never looked back, not even a quick over the shoulder glance for his mommy. I cried that day. That was a step towards his independence. Not sleeping on the floor of my bedroom was another step.

Getting brother into his own bed took careful planning. When I first asked him why he didn't want to sleep in his own bed he had a one word answer. Zombies. That might be my fault. He has never seen an actual zombie movie, not even close. The boy is obsessed with Plants vs. Zombies, though. He loves the zombies. He pretends he is a zombie. I thought he could handle the truth, and he caught me off guard. He was firing off questions and I was trying to answer them as honestly as I could in a way he could understand.

"What does Baby say when she sees me play Plants vs. Zombies?"

"What does the Zombie say when the squash jumps on his head?"

"What does sunflower say when the zombie eats him?"

"What's a jalapeno?"

"What's the jalapeno say when he burns the zombies up?"

"What's a zombie?"

I had been doling out answer after answer, some answers were creative and imaginative, some were simply, "I have no idea. What do you think he says?"

But I knew the answer to the zombie question. I didn't have to think about what an inanimate object would say to another inanimate object. "It's when someone dies and then comes back to life, except they only want to eat people's brains."

After that answer, the questions stopped. I looked up. He was still watching his game, but the widened eyes and nervous smile told me I'd crossed the line. Too much honesty from a parent can be just as dangerous as too little honesty. I tried to reassure him. "They're not real. You know that, right?" He shook his head in agreement, but I knew that he didn't believe it. After that he started having occasional nightmares. He would wake up crying and he would tell me he had a bad dream but he wouldn't tell me what it was about. One night he finally told me that it was zombies who were haunting his dreams. Great. I mentally and sarcastically patted myself on the back.

With all of this in mind I approached the subject carefully. I made sure that Brother knew about the revolutionary new zombie resistant paint out on the market. Once the walls are painted, they can't come in the room, they disappear as soon as a toe creeps over the threshold. He hadn't heard about it. Next I let him pick the color. I promised myself I would go with any color he chose. I wanted his room to be his own. So I crossed my fingers hoping he wouldn't say black - the color he usually picks. He chose gray so that it would look like the Death Star. I could live with gray. That's all it took. One creative lie and a little control over the design.

The first night, I laid down with him. He pretended we were inside the Death Star. He threw his arms around me and said, "I love you so much, Mommy. Can we sleep inside the Death Star every night?" I answered with an emphatic yes.

The Ever Elusive Me Time

Me time.

What does it mean? I used to think it meant doing what I wanted to do. Over the years it has evolved into any second I can actually be alone. Being an introvert in an extrovert world can be quite tiring. And with two children who need my constant love and attention, alone time is a rare gem that I have to track down and dig for hours to catch a glimpse of. In a family with two artsy parents who need time to create, whatever free time existed is cut in half, and those halves aren't always cut evenly.

For the past week of so Jamie has been working on a new project. It is the next installment of his Instrumental series of hymns and worship songs. Needless to say all of the time lately has gone to him. And I'm surprisingly not jealous.

Before I discovered how much I like writing, I often wondered (OK, I complained about it) why my life's purpose couldn't be as clear as Jamie's. If you've ever heard Jamie play, you know what I mean. If you haven't follow the link in this shameless plug.

Instead of getting jealous, I tried to learn from him. I think we all have something we do better than anything else. It was hard for me to figure it out because I have a lot of interests, and I'm pretty good at most of them. Figuring out which one rose one tick mark above the others in an imaginary bar graph was hard. I was looking for something big and bold, the thing that would single me out and shine the spotlight my way. When I still came up blank, I figured out that a talent doesn't have to be a performing act. It was then I finally saw that my purpose was just as obvious as Jamie's, only more behind the scenes.

My purpose is to help Jamie in his purpose. I know it sounds like a cop out, trying to piggyback on his talent, but it's not. I am very arts oriented, but I also love numbers and have a special place in my heart for spreadsheets. It's a strange combination that makes me an atypical accountant. In the early days of our marriage my purpose included working a reliable job and using my talents in spreadsheets to manage our family finances so that he could find time and resources to be a working musician. Now that we have children, my purpose duties have grown to include managing the kids and keeping everything running when he works on music.

He can't focus and be in the right frame of mind if he knows we're all falling apart here at the house. It's a hard job, but somebody's got to do it. And I'm glad that that someone is me. I love to hold his CD in my hand and know that I helped. I'm the little girl who poured the Shake and Bake into the bag and claimed that I helped make dinner. The contribution may be small, but it's important. After all, what would chicken be if you just shook it by itself in the bag?

My talents are not as noticed as the beautiful and inspired music that comes from my husband, but I still get to be part of something beautiful through him. And truthfully, I'd rather be behind the scenes anyway. Who needs the spotlight. Plus, I get to have two purposes - supporting and writing. And I'm really looking forward to my own me time once his project is complete.

10 Things I Learned on Vacation

1. If you're going to the beach stay on the beach. The up charge is worth it. Especially when there are stormy days and you're stuck in the room for part of the day. The view from our condo was amazing. And the balcony was even better. 

2. Wear sunscreen. We did really well on the sunscreen front this time. No one got burnt. I didn't get noticeably tanner, but you have to pick your battles. Brother, on the other hand, with his Guatemalan roots turned a nice dark caramel color. And of course Baby is already as dark as she can get. 

3. Go ahead and spring for the pricey beach chair rental. We got the padded wooden beach chairs and the umbrella. We debated but we were very glad we did. There was already so much to carry - the beach bag, all the baby gear, beach towels, the giant blow up dolphin float... Side note: brother has been obsessed with plants vs zombies lately which features a diver zombie and a dolphin zombie on the pool stage. Brother had to have the goggles and snorkel and the giant dolphin float so he could be a zombie on the beach. With all that gear we were glad to not also have to carry our own chairs and an umbrella. And an umbrella is a must for a baby on the beach. 

4. Always take someone with you if you have kids. There were so many times when we wanted to go walk on the beach after the kids finally fell asleep. Can't exactly leave a 6 year old in charge of a 6 month old though. Next time we will strategically invite friends who wouldn't mind a little babysitting now and then. 

5. Don't make any solid plans in advance. In Florida if its raining just wait a few seconds. It doesn't last long. You never know when those brief showers will pop up, though, so keep your plans flexible and you won't be disappointed. 


6. Don't wash the brand new cheap beach towels with the white hotel towels. I think this one is self explanatory. I've never seen items go in so white and then come out so red. The resort was very understanding though and in sure they had a laugh at our expense after we left. 

7. Make lasting memories by getting dirty in the sand. Your kids will remember. Jamie and I both took turns making sand castles and digging and covering ourselves head to toe in sand. Maddox was right there getting dirty with us. 

8. Eat where the locals eat. This is my favorite one. Jamie and I love to research restaurants beforehand to find the little unique restaurants you have to know someone to know about. Let me just say that I ate my weight in oysters. 

9. Reality hits you faster when you fly. When we drive for long trips there's always that long decompression time on the way back where Jamie and I talk and make plans for the future. Coming back to reality settles gradually like floating dust particles. Not so with flying. The flight was short and getting everyone's things in order to get through security and get on the plane is pretty hectic. Flying with adopted children is not easy in itself. Brother had to have his record of foreign birth and since Baby's adoption is not finalized (will be in a few weeks) we had a notarized letter from the adoption agency stating she was our baby. So no decompression on the way home. 

10. Nobody's gonna clean your house while you're gone. That was a sad lesson to learn. 

Baby Girl's Story Part 4 of 4

Our marriage has an amazing quality: it bounces. Jamie and I are separately very happy-go-lucky, generally laid back people (him more so than me) and together those qualities are multiplied. We have faced many different types of adversity in the time we’ve been together and we always come out the other side intact and stronger than before. So although the failed adoption kicked our feet out from under us, we knew we would keep going. We knew there was a baby out there for us, and we knew that no matter when we moved forward on it she would find her way to us. So we decided to be still, and work on healing.

A few months later we got another call from our Tennessee agency. There was another birth mother and father coming in to look at profiles. They were pregnant with an African American girl, and they chose to meet with us and one other family. That time Jamie and I were a little jaded to the process. We were still hurt from the previous attempt. We were very calm going into the meeting. We had already discussed that we wouldn’t worry so much about winning them over. We would just be ourselves and give a true representation of who we are and what life would be like with us as parents. We met them in lobby on the way in and by the time we were sitting down with them we were all laughing and enjoying each other’s company. We all told stories about our families and found a lot of similarities in the way we grew up. Especially with our birth mother and Jamie. They both grew up eating the same things in the country.

It’s kind of like finding love. Before you’ve experienced it, you don’t know what it is and may think you’ve found it when it’s not even close. Then when you find real love it smacks you in the face, and you say, “Oh.” Some people find love without having to try too hard. I had to have my heart broken a few times before I figured it out. And the same is true of my adoption experience I had to have my heart broken before I could really understand what it felt like to meet the real mother of my baby. The only thing I was worried about was showing her just how much I loved her, even though we’d just met, and scaring her off. I did (and do) love her though. I knew she was going to change my life and give me something I could never have on my own.

They loved us back. I’m not sure when they actually decided that they were choosing us, but after talking with them for an hour or so they told us. And to seal the deal she handed me ultrasound pictures of a tiny baby. Jamie and I were in shock from that moment until we were halfway home. We kept looking at each other and asking, “Did that really happen?” and, “Could it be that simple? It just felt too…right.”

We felt a lot more secure in their decision than we had in the previous possibility, but we chose not to make the information public yet. We liked keeping it between us and the key people in our lives (family, close friends, and work – to prepare for time off). We got to spend some more time with the birth parents and got to know them more. The more time we spent with them, the more we liked them. She was even going to let me be in the room with her when she gave birth. I had never dreamed that I would be able to be in a hospital room when my baby was born. Even though it wouldn’t be me in the bed, I was thrilled.

We debated on what to name her. The first time around we had chosen Mia, and the birth mother chose the middle name of Olivia. It hurt to think of naming another baby Mia. It felt like I was just swapping out babies like we had swapped out Brother’s beta fish: Optimus Prime, Optimus Prime #2, Optimus Prime #3… At the same time, Mia was my name that I chose for my baby.

We asked Brother what he wanted to name the baby and he said, “Mia.”

We said, “No, that was the other baby’s name. We need to pick out a new name.”

He shook his head incredulously. “My sister’s name is Mia.”

It’s hard to argue with the logic of a five year old. Her name would be Mia. (Mee-yah)

Somehow in the middle of all of this, we decided to build a new house. Our old house – that we loved – was just that, old. We had taken on the project of remodeling it, along with my dad. We were making progress on it, but we realized that it would never end. We would always have to spend all our money on keeping it up and we would always have to spend all of our time working on it. With a new baby coming, we wanted to free up our schedule a bit so we would be able to enjoy the family we’d worked so hard to build. So we put our house on the market and started building a new house.

We didn’t have much trouble selling our house, we had a contract on it in less than a week. We were hesitant to count our chicken that wasn’t fully hatched though. Our history with buying and selling houses has more bumps than our history of trying to add children to our family. We’d had contracts on other houses before that never panned out. We’d started building two houses that we never got to move into. We knew better than to count on it. After the contract came the inspections and then more inspections. It was an old house and the buyers wanted to be thorough. We finally had a closing date. We signed our papers, but our buyers had a death in the family and couldn’t do their part. They had to mail the signing packet to them so they could sign. There was a lot of confusion and we didn’t know if or when our house would actually close. This wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but we needed the money from the house to finish paying for baby’s adoption.

We hadn’t planned on making the ten hour drive to North Carolina for Christmas that year. The baby was due the second week of January, and I had a feeling she would come early. (Maybe I just really wanted to hold her as soon as possible.) The week before Christmas Jamie’s grandfather died. There wasn’t a question on whether we would go to the funeral; we would. The question was to drive ten hours or fly for less than two. We decided to fly so we could get there and back quicker in case we needed to rush home for the baby.

The funeral was on a Friday. It was good, if funerals can be good. There was closure happening and family coming together. There was sadness, but there was peace in it. Afterwards the entire family went back to Jamie’s grandfather’s house to eat. We were all spending time together, visiting with cousins and nieces and nephews, some I had never met. We started sharing the story of our Christmas miracle that was waiting for us at home. Everyone was so excited for the possibility of a new baby in the family. Jamie’s sister and I had gone out earlier that day and jokingly said that once we got to the point where we couldn’t get an earlier flight out, our birth mother would go into labor. 

A wise person once told me that the Lord doesn’t always work quickly but he always works suddenly. Our flight was to leave Saturday at 6:00 p.m. Friday night right after the only flight earlier than ours, Jamie got a call. Our house had finally closed and our money would be in our account on Monday. During that call, someone called through. It was the adoption agency saying our birth mother was in labor.

We were trying to think of how to get home. We’d flown so we didn’t even have our car to drive. We thought about renting a car or borrowing one. Papa jumped in and just said, “Let’s go. Road trip.” So at 10:00 p.m. Me, Jamie, Brother, Papa, and Mimi all piled into Papa’s car. We all took turns driving and Maddox slept flopping his head from shoulder to shoulder depending on who was next to him in the back seat. There was snow in the mountains so we decided to take the south loop through Atlanta. We couldn’t chance getting stuck in a blizzard; there were babies to be held. Well, one baby for me to hold anyway. While we were passing through Augusta, Georgia, at around 1:45 a.m. my phone rang. It was the birth father. Our baby had arrived. He let me hear her cry into the phone. She was minutes old.

We finally made it to the hospital around 7:00 a.m. and went straight to the nursery. We saw her through the glass. She was tiny. They had her bundled up tight and in a couple of blankets so it was hard to tell just how tiny she was. We just saw a little round head covered in straight black hair and a tiny red bow on top. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her. When I unwrapped her I saw just how tiny she was. 4 lbs 6 ounces, 17.25 inches long. No one could understand from the pictures just how tiny she was, so we took this picture for comparison.

We all fell in love with her immediately. She was my Christmas miracle. We even brought her home on Christmas Eve. 

I wrote in an earlier post that an adoptive parent should protect their children's stories because it's their stories to share. It's more than that though. It's a story shared by the child and their birth parents. The details represent the special bond between baby and her birth mother and father, and that is something that is precious and not to be disturbed. I love my children's birth parents for the brave decisions they made and for the heartache they endured (and maybe still endure) so that I can have a family. It is the greatest sacrifice anyone has ever made for me or for my children and it's a beautiful thing. Out of their great pain, I was given life and love.I can't wait for my children to grow to an age where they can understand how beautiful and love-filled the process is so that I can share this with them.

Baby Girl's Story Part Three of Four

I know this content is sad. It's sad for me to write it. So I'm adding a cute baby picture to remind you that this story does have a happy ending. Bear with me. 

The miscarriage only whetted our baby appetite. Once we worked through the pain, I was ready to do whatever I had to do to be able to hold my baby girl, wherever she was. We worked hard and finished up the last few items we needed for our home study to be complete. I had just finished my photo book that the agency in Florida required when our social worker from our home study agency in TN contacted us.

Side note: in case you're wondering, you have to have an agency within your state complete your home study. The agency you choose as your placing agency can be anywhere. 

The social worker said that they had a birth mother coming in that day to look at profiles. She wanted to know if we wanted her to show ours. Our answer was, "Heck yeah! Do you even have to ask?" Every agency has different requirements as to what you put together for the birth mother to look over. The TN agency wanted a letter with pictures. I had done the hard part - written out all that I wanted to say - in my photo book for the FL agency. So I put it together in a letter format and sent it in. Jamie and I were both at work and couldn't get to our pictures, so our social worker was able to pull some pictures off of our Facebook pages to add to my letter, and voila a complete profile was created in about ten minutes. 

After reviewing all the family profiles, the birth mother wanted to meet with us and a few more families. When we met with her it was a little awkward at first. I have a hard time opening up to people I don't know, especially if I'm uncomfortable. It was also our first meeting with a birth mother. There were so many emotions going through my head. I couldn't even get to my emotions because I was analyzing what must have been going through her mind. You think you know what a birth mother is like. There is definitely a stereotype - young, confused, giving up her baby because she is still in school, etc. The birth mother we met with was not so young that keeping a baby would have changed her life. If you think that birth mothers are giving their children away and so they must not be too attached, you're wrong. That's not true at all. I could see how much pain she was in just meeting with families who might raise the child she was carrying. All of that made me feel very uncomfortable. For the first time I felt like I was the bad guy for taking her baby away. With brother's adoption we were completely removed form the birth mother and all the emotions that ensued. Seeing firsthand the pain a birth mother goes through sobers you up. 

After meeting with her I didn't really feel like she got to see the real me, so we asked if she would meet with us again. That time was much better. We both shared and opened up more. That night I got a call saying she chose us. I sat at the top of our staircase and cried tears of joy. All the pain, all the waiting was part of the plan. I would hold my baby in only a few more months. 

We then started scrambling to finish up our nursery and get baby ready. We had two baby showers where we received way more than we would ever need. People were so generous with us. We met with our birth mother a few more times and got to go with her to some of her doctor's appointments. 

The more we got to know her it seemed we might be getting to know each other too well. With any relationship if you get to know enough about someone you're bound to find something you don't like or agree with. If you choose to be their friend anyway, you accept those things. If you don't accept them, you drift apart and remain acquaintances only. We were approaching that point with the birth mother, and it seemed the feeling was mutual. It wasn't unpleasant or cause for alarm, we just slowly stopped the sharing in fear of over sharing. In addition to toeing the friendship line, she began to make comments that seemed strange to me and there was a general vibe from her that left me confused. The Friday night before our third shower we were going to meet her for dinner. She called to say she was having stomach pains and was going to the hospital. It turned out to be Braxton Hicks contractions, but it was enough to wake her up to the whole situation. The social worker called. She just wanted us to be aware that the birth mother was having second thoughts. She hadn't decided anything for sure, she said. 

Jamie and I talked about it and decided the best thing to do was to go ahead with the shower. We didn't know what would happen after all, and we didn't want to needlessly upset all the people who were so happy for us that they bought gifts for the baby, who may or may not be ours. It was hard to open the beautiful and thoughtful presents and wonder if I would ever get to use them, and wonder if I should give them back. I tried to keep telling myself she hadn't decided yet. There was still a chance. 

Monday morning I went to work like normal. About an hour after I'd arrived I looked up and saw Jamie at the door. I knew then that she had decided, and that she was keeping her baby. He didn't have to say a word. Jamie had the forethought to text my boss and go ahead and let her know that I would probably be taking the rest of the day off. And I did. And also the next day. 

The initial reaction was shock, then came the pain, more than I anticipated, more than with the miscarriage. Even though I had never held that baby, she was mine, for a few months anyway. I had to mourn the loss so that I could move on. 

Looking back I can now see that it was the right thing to happen. That birth mother wasn't ready to let go. She wanted to raise her baby and she was able to. She just didn't know how she could make it work. I am not interested in taking a baby that isn't available for the taking. Adoption is not about taking someone's baby away. It's about love and taking in a baby who needs a home. Her baby didn't need a home. 

The only thing I regret is letting Brother get so close to her. We weren't going to at first, but we talked to her about it and she wanted a relationship with him. He asked where she was for months after her baby was born. Try explaining that to a five year old. He is already confused as to where babies come from. His only experiences with birth are meeting with pregnant women where we tell him that his baby sister might be in her belly. Poor kid. The birds and bees talk is going to be a total shock to him.

Baby Girl's Story Part Two

We focused our child pursuit on adoption. I knew I wanted to request a girl. Jamie and Brother were and are best friends. I know Brother loves me too, and there are things he only wants to do with me (such as play Lego Xbox games), but there is a special connection between him and his daddy that can never be replaced. I wanted that kind of a connection too. I wanted my very own shopping buddy and someone to sit next to me in the little pink butterfly pedicure chair when we are getting our toes done. I also knew I wanted a dark skinned baby. I'm not sure I can explain why on that one, but it was as if a seed was just planted inside my brain and every time I pictured her she had dark skin and curly black hair. We were either going to choose Haiti or Ethiopia. We didn't consider domestic adoption because we were scared. We had heard of too many people and personally known people whose birth mothers changed their minds. I also didn't like the idea of being selected. I felt that anyone who wanted to adopt a baby should have an equal chance as anyone else to get one. I didn't want to feel like I was auditioning for a part or interviewing for a job.

Jamie called the agency we had used for our home study agency with Brother's adoption. (I don't like talking on the phone and I always make Jamie do it. He loves talking to people, can't get enough of it. He truly completes me.) He mentioned to the social worker in passing that we wished Guatemala was still open because we love the country and the people. She told us about an agency in Texas where most of the babies were Hispanic and would have a similar background as Brother. We started to think about domestic after all. 

Some people are very adamant about their kids being of the same race so they can relate to each other. We don't really care one way or the other. Within our family we are all different and we embrace that. We can relate to each other through our differences. When we look at our children we see their skin color as another identifier that makes them special like eye color or hair color. The more we thought about domestic adoption the more we got excited about it. The thought of holding a newborn baby was something I had let go of years ago. So even with all the risks involved I found myself wanting to try it. I still wanted my dark skinned baby girl though. We found an agency in Florida that had an African American newborn adoption program. We were going to choose them, but first we had to complete our home study.

Christmas came in the middle of gathering our home study documents and with it came a Christmas miracle. I was very unexpectedly pregnant. So our adoption plans were put on hold for a while. The pregnancy lasted seven weeks before I had a miscarriage. Needless to say, that took us a while to recover from. I think it's natural for women to blame themselves - I took an Advil before I found out or I had too much coffee or wine or _____ (fill in the blank). When it happens you almost need to have a reason to hold on to, even if you pretend it is your fault, because it feels good to point to something and then just not do that the next time and you'll be just fine. It's not that simple though. It's hard to get pregnant.

If you just read that and thought, "It was easy for me," please be sensitive and keep that to yourself. You never know when you're in the presence of someone who has experienced the loss of a miscarriage. It happens to more people than you think. And if it was easy for you, know how lucky you are. You have won the fertility lottery, so enjoy your prizes without rubbing them in the faces of the ones who have bought three tickets a day for years with no results.

Even though it feels good to be able to blame something for a miscarriage--even yourself--it's no one's fault. Something about it wasn't viable. It wouldn't have happened no matter what you did or didn't do. People who really meant well have said that things happen for a reason. I have probably said it myself before I experienced the loss. I don't believe that God caused me to have a miscarriage so that I could comfort friends who go through it too. I do think that God placed some special people in my life who he knew would experience the same loss around the same time in our lives so that we could be a support system for each other though. And I am grateful for a support system of women who understand because they've been there. 

Baby Girl's Story Part One

I started thinking this week about sharing the story about how Baby came into our family, and where the story begins. It's not as simple as God sent an angel in the form of a birth mother to my doorstep and handed me a baby. When it comes to babies, life is never that simple. While Baby's story ends joyously, it was a long and arduous journey to get there, and there were many on and off ramps that I think are worth mentioning. This story could be long, so this will be the first part of how we came to the decision that we wanted another child in our family.

In some ways this story began when Jamie and I got married. We had always talked about kids. Even before we were married. I wanted him to know up front that I would have a hard time getting pregnant. He said he had thought about it before and he'd always known that he would be ok with kids that weren't his biologically. Just because we couldn't have biological kids didn't mean we couldn't have kids. There are other ways. (Isn't it amazing when God speaks directly to you through your spouse?) Kids were always part of our plans. I wanted three. Jamie didn't care how many, or maybe he just didn't want to put anymore pressure on me to get pregnant. I was putting enough on myself as it was.

With Brother's adoption process there was a lot of legal turmoil going on. Guatemala was in the process of trying to shut down their international adoptions. We brought him home in September and they closed officially in November. We made it out by our teeth skin. I knew I would get him out. I would have stopped at nothing short of becoming a Guatemalan citizen myself if that's what it took. So I wasn't worried that I wouldn't get my baby, it was a very stressful time though. It was such an intense emotional roller coaster that when we finally did make it home with our new baby boy, we were both emotionally wiped out. Any energy or emotion we had left we poured directly onto our baby. We cherished him, we savored him, we smothered him with love, and we spoiled him. Good thing he's kindhearted because he's a good kid despite our lack of parenting skills in the beginning.

The transition from non-parent to parent was hard for us. It took a while for us to find our balance. Jamie tended to err on the side of leniency and I tended to err on the side of strictness. We would both lean into our methods of erring to try to counteract the other, which kept the vicious cycle going. Once we figured out what we were doing to each other, we met in the middle, and life started to get easier. For instance, I didn't want my child to eat processed foods. Yes, George, I'm referring to the hot dog incident. Stop laughing at me. It was a noble fight. Jamie would try to even things out for Brother by letting him eat more candy than he should have. I gave in a little and started introducing some processed foods into Brother's diet. So I felt he was eating healthy, but Jamie didn't feel like he was being deprived. Parenting is a complicated dance. With all the emotions and learning going on we couldn't think about going through the adoption process all over again for a while. It took until Brother was four for us to decide we were ready.

Once we decided, we tried the biological route again. I love adoption and wish everyone wanted to experience it as much as I do, but I still wanted to experience pregnancy and birth too. Through adoption I got to feel God's love for us, and I wanted to feel a part of God's creation process through pregnancy. As I said before, I wanted three. I loved the idea of having the middle child be the biological child. That way people would see that I chose adoption, and not just because I couldn't have biological children. So while we knew we would adopt again someday, we wanted to try for the second the old fashioned way.

When we had tried before (before Brother) we went in completely blind. We had never given it a go on our own before we walked into the fertility clinic. This time I wanted to know what I was doing. I read books and did research. I tracked my temperature everyday and analyzed it. In my research I came across the subject of acupuncture for treatment. It seemed more natural than what I'd been through before, it was cheaper, and the success rate was way better than any fertility treatment, even in vitro. So I tried it for several months. I enjoyed it for stress relief, but when I wasn't seeing any results, I decided to take some time off to regroup. Brother was almost five and I didn't think I wanted my children that far apart. (turns out six years apart is the magic number, but more on that later.) That was when we moved full force into adoption mode.

To be continued...

Living Like You're on Vacation

Maybe it's the weather, or the fact that I get off of work so much earlier with my new job, or baby's adorably tiny jellies, or the fact that we grilled out three days in a row, whatever it is this whole week has felt like we were on vacation. Perhaps we're all living vicariously through big brother whose first last day of school was his past Friday. I miss summer vacation so much. I never realized how special they were back when I had them. I'm going to special lengths to make sure big brother knows  that summer vacations are fleeting and that each moment should be savored.

It started Sunday when we went shopping at an outdoor shopping mall. It was close to our new house, but we hadn't been there yet. Baby used her big girl stroller for the first time and we all took turns pushing her around, even big brother. The combination of the tourist type shopping setting and having to wear sunglasses so as not to squint masked the fact that we were still at home. My husband looked at me and said, "It feels like we're on vacation," and I realized that it did. We were all relaxed and worn out from the sun, and we were all together. 

We took a break from grilling out tonight to continue our staycation vibe. My husband is obsessed with both water and eating outside. Usually when we decide to go out to eat I'm having a craving that trumps everyone else's opinions, but since I get off work two and a half hours earlier than what I'm used to, I wasn't hungry yet when we decided where to go. Hubby chose a restaurant that combines water and outdoor dining - a restaurant at a nearby marina. It worked. Once again we were transported to a carefree vacation mindset: the sun sparkling on the water, Kenny Chesney playing in the background, the occasional whiff of smoke or that unmistakable lake water smell. 

We will definitely be back to that restaurant. If not for the atmosphere to try this menu item. We may have to bring a few more people to share it with. 

That's right! The buns are grilled cheese sandwiches. Who could resist? If you're interested in giving it a go, let me know. I at least want to take a picture of this monstrosity. 

Our first week into summer vacation has been successful so far. If we can keep up the exciting vacation mindset, who knows what the rest of the summer will hold?

Digital Balance

Tomorrow morning I begin a new chapter in my life. I will work from home for the first time on a permanent basis. At my previous job I was able to work from home occasionally if we worked on a weekend or holiday, but with my new job home will be my...home base (pardon the intended pun). I will be based at home and occasionally go into the office.

Before I worked off a screen smaller than the size of my 13" MacBook Pro while sitting uncomfortably at the dining room table or awkwardly on the couch. Now I have my own office. And this office...wait for it...has a window. An actual window. (I'm using lots of ellipses tonight in honor of my husband who uses them...constantly. If you ever receive a text message from me with more than one set in the same message, he has hijacked my phone.) I'm so thankful for this opportunity. And it would not be possible if not for the digital age in general.

Everything is digital now, even pictures, songs, and books. I get scolded by the Jamie's grandmother frequently for not sending pictures. Jamie's parents and mine are all on Facebook now so they get their fix that way. Thank God for Shutterfly. They turn my digital pictures into printed memories that I can easily hit a button on my phone and send to Grandmother.

With everything digital now I wonder if something has been lost. That personalized touch, perhaps. My friend over at http://unwrittenwordblog.blogspot.com is doing her best to fight for handwriting. She makes notebooks and is a pen/ink enthusiast. She has bookcases full of notebooks filled with her handwritten words. Someday her great grandchildren will discover them in boxes in a dusty attic and will get to know her through the curve of her letters and the pressure she used on certain words. It makes me think of what treasures I'm leaving for my great grandchildren. An old jump drive that will probably break and no back up. I'm beginning to make an effort to write to my children and even my husband in my handmade journals. There are things I want to share with them where an email or word.doc wouldn't have the same meaning.

I started thinking about all of this when big brother handed me a small snipped off corner of a paper the other day and asked me what it said.

His first note, and from a girl I might add. I'm not sure what it says, but it has meaning that couldn't have been captured in a text message. Of course, my first thought was to take a picture of it so we could always have it in the form of a digital picture. Like with all things in life, a healthy dose of digital balance might not be a bad thing.

It Takes A Village...

(Papa, Jamie's Dad)

How do people raise kids without a super dad like Jamie? Sometimes I wonder how I make it through the day on my own (not even factoring in the kids.) And some days I don't make it through on my own.

Take today for instance. I am working on my second week at a new job. I will eventually work from home, but for a little while longer I still have my eighteen mile commute which takes anywhere from thirty five minutes to an hour. This morning it was a little over an hour.

(Nana, my mom)

Usually my mother is down during the week to help watch the baby, but this week we have Jamie's dad and his grandmother. Papa has given me the gift of a less stressful morning. Maddox is a night owl which means he does not want to get up in the mornings. If we can get him into bed by eight, he's manageable the next morning. One minute past eight and it's a whole other story.

"I didn't get enough sweep," he says with his adorable inability to pronounce the letter "L." Everything I ask him to do after that is a whiny protest, and then he just sits on the couch anyway with his eyes closed as if I hadn't said a word.

With Papa mornings are different. He somehow turns every protest into a giggle, every whine into a fun game which ends in Maddox fully dressed and standing at the door with his backpack on. And it doesn't end there. Papa takes Maddox to school too. He lets Maddox watch their progress on the navigation system's map, even though school is a mile and a half away.

And even with all the happiness he has already brought to my home, this morning Papa came to my rescue yet again. When I got to work and stepped out of the car I realized I had forgotten my computer. (Hey, don't laugh. I told you this is only my second week. Plus I had a long commute, so cut me some slack.)

Since I had already been in the car an hour, I couldn't stand the thought of getting back in the car only to do it all over again. Papa brought my computer, no questions asked. Well, he asked for the address, but no questions after that one.

Sometimes I wonder how Jamie came to be a super dad, but I never wonder long. He learned by example. We truly wouldn't have made it through the transition from one kid to two without the help of Nana, Grandaddy, Grandmother, Papa, and Mimi. I know we don't say it often enough, so I'm writing it here in my blog for all to see. THANK YOU!!!

(Grandmother, Jamie's grandmother)

(Mimi, Jamie's mom)

(Grandaddy, my dad)

What Not to Say to An Adoptive Mother

When it comes to adoption people really don't know what to say. Anything out of the norm throws people off their game. And when they're off their game, crazy things come out of their mouths. I believe that most people mean well. Many of them want to show that they're in favor of adoption and are merely trying to express it. And a large portion of people are just plain nosy. And though Jamie and I have been on the receiving end of some interesting comments, we take it all in stride. We understand that people don't mean what they say sometimes.

The number one topic people always ask about when it comes to adoption leads me to taboo #1: Don't ask about personal details of the birth mother's choice to place her child for adoption.

"Why not?" you may ask.

"Because it's none of your darn business," I answer.

The best rule of thumb is to not ask anything that you wouldn't ask in an equivalent question to a pregnant woman. You know not to ask a pregnant woman details of her conception, such as what day she ovulated on, how many times a day did she and the father have sex, even the relationship between mother and father can be an off limit topic. So don't ask if I'm adopting because I couldn't "have a baby of my own" or if I'm "scared of childbirth." One well meaning person even told me he hoped I wasn't too attached because it might not work out. You wouldn't tell a pregnant woman not to get attached to her baby because she might have a miscarriage, so don't tell me that my adoption might fail. I have had a miscarriage and a failed adoption (both in the last year). They felt a lot alike, and neither is something a mother should be burdened with when planning and decorating a nursery and making room for a new person in her family.

This rule of thumb extends to the birth mothers and birth fathers as well. There are many reasons that a woman chooses adoption. They are all good reasons. There is never a reason that could be considered bad or not from loving her child so much her heart breaks. If she chooses adoption, it's the best decision for her and the baby, and that's all you need to know. It's not an easy or careless decision, and it's certainly not a decision that can be explained in a few simple words to a stranger. Also, the story is my child's story, not mine. It's not mine to share even if I wanted to. And when my children grow up and are ready to share their story, don't ask them. You don't go up to random people and ask them to share details of their birth and upbringing, don't ask that of adopted children either.

When we only had big brother we didn't get as many comments. He is from Guatemala and he is Ladino (not a misspelling most Guatemalan people are either of Mayan decent or Ladino). Even though I am caucasian people are confused with the two of us. They sense something is different, but don't know what it is exactly, so they assume he is my biological child. I toted him around on my hip everywhere I went. Several people asked me if I had a lot of heartburn. At first I didn't know that you supposedly have more heartburn during a pregnancy when the baby has a lot of hair. So until I figured out why they were asking I just looked back at them confused and said no, I feel pretty good right now. Once I did figure it out, I amended my answer to "Yes, I did have a lot of heartburn. All the paperwork and waiting was very stressful."

While in the process with big brother, at least two people asked us if he would speak Spanish. Um...no. I don't know many 8 month old babies who speak at all. That would be cool though.

She was so tiny when she was born I had to give people a little perspective of just how tiny she was, thus the universal point of reference, the Vitamin Water bottle.

With baby girl the fact that she is adopted is a little more obvious. She is African American with beautiful dark chocolate skin. At least I think this is obvious. I have actually had two people tell me with seriousness on their faces that I look good to have just had a baby. And no they didn't mean you look like you've slept a little. They actually thought I gave birth to her. Those comments are my husband's favorites.

Some other contenders include when we were at our favorite Nashville burger place and our friend the cashier asked if we were babysitting, and then the cashier at a home decor place we frequent saw baby girl and exclaimed, "You bought you a baby."

Just to reiterate, We were not offended by these comments, we understand that unless you are educated on what you should say and what you should probably keep to yourself, you don't know. So we are very understanding, like most adoptive parents are. If I sense that the comment was from a good place I will laugh inside and try not to embarrass the speaker too much. And if I feel it's time to give a little education, I don't mind putting people in their place. My job as an adoptive mother is to protect my children and their stories, and also to protect their birth mothers and birth fathers and give them the respect and love they deserve. It's a tall order, and one I accept with aplomb.