sometimes it's exhausting. i anticipated there would be may questions about my daughter. probably the most common question is, "where is she from?" i happily answer this one. i feel like this question is an opportunity to educate people about ethiopia -- a place i fell in love with while falling in love with my child. the next question i usually hear is, "what's her story? are her parents dead?" this is a trickier question to answer. my husband and i decided quite some time ago, way before we even got our referral, that our child's story would be just that. hers. when she gets older and begins to inevitably explore where she came from, we will share with her this story. we both firmly believe it is hers to hear first and hers to share if she chooses to do so. and basically, that's how i answer. probably the hardest people to say that to is family. because our families know so much about our biological children. my parents were there -- in the delivery room -- when they came into the world. but we stick by our decision. even if in the moment of delivering our explanation there's some tension and awkwardness.
i have also learned how difficult it is for people to let go of assumptions. "wow. she is thriving here! it is all because of your family providing her with the love she never had." this child was crazy loved. the care center she came from was beautiful, loving, nurturing. when we took our child the nannies cried. they were connected to our child. and then there was the life each child had before arriving at the care center -- although some children had been cared for there since birth. children in ethiopia are not put up for adoption because of any reason besides poverty. poverty is insidious. adoption -- giving up a child to be raised by strangers -- is entirely foreign to ethiopian culture. that little saying hillary clinton made about it taking a village? well, this is how children are raised in ethiopia. everyone is a part of creating the best possible life for the children. it is only in the face of impossibility -- of absolutely no other choice -- that any child is relinquished. there is no way to prepare for the depth of sorrow and angst that this reality brings to a place where family is everything.
i am greatful. i am honored. i am blessed. I am lucky.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
a little bit of what i know so far...
i think the strangest thing is how normal our life is after two years of waiting. of contemplating how this was all going to look, feel, be. her picture has been up on our refrigerator since we got our referral in july. this flat, bendable, shiny picture of this little person that would be joining our family in a matter of months. this picture was the closest thing we had to her. the updates that stated weight, height, social and physical growth served a purpose -- she was growing, feeding herself, etc. but looking into those ginormous eyes every morning made me feel connected. it made her feel real.
when a child is born to you, there is the counting of fingers and toes. noting of the hair, or lack thereof. the silly talk about who the child looks like at 2 minutes old. for me, our child coming thought the gift of adoption, i didn't look for 10 fingers and 10 toes (although i do admit i noted how neatly trimmed her nails were.) what i looked for was her spirit. who was this little person? what did the world look like through her eyes? what were her quirks? left-handed? right-handed? favorite food? what does she do when she's happy? sad? frightened? this little girl had 17 months of life already under her belt. i was a stranger to her. she was a stranger to me. and yet, i was her mother and she was my daughter. these were things i should know.
so far this is some of what i've learned in our two weeks together: she loves bananas. she eats 3, 4 sometimes 5 a day. she likes to feed herself. she believes hummus is a breakfast food. she's a lefty. she loves magnets. if you try to give her something she doesn't want, she makes this, "tssk, tssk" sound that i remember hearing adults in ethiopia make. if she's angry, she throws her hand in your direction several times dismissing you from her presence. this is accompanied by a wrinkled forehead and pouty mouth. she doesn't like to be dirty. and yet a poopy diaper doesn't phase her. she's not afraid of dogs. at all. she loves them. she likes to wear shoes in the house, breaking our no shoe rule. she is very dramatic. she like to throw herself down on her back, arms above her head, legs slightly bent and she starts off with a whiny, whimpery sound that escalates into full on yelling with possibly a tear or two. many times the tears just well in those big eyes, threatening to drop. we call them her alligator tears. and she sings in the car.
i'm happy to say this is a pathetically short list. i have so much more to learn about our little girl. that is why we have our forever life together in this moment and ahead of us. the journey to a child through adoption can feel like forever. but really, your forever begins the day you meet your child. and see those ginormous eyes in person.
when a child is born to you, there is the counting of fingers and toes. noting of the hair, or lack thereof. the silly talk about who the child looks like at 2 minutes old. for me, our child coming thought the gift of adoption, i didn't look for 10 fingers and 10 toes (although i do admit i noted how neatly trimmed her nails were.) what i looked for was her spirit. who was this little person? what did the world look like through her eyes? what were her quirks? left-handed? right-handed? favorite food? what does she do when she's happy? sad? frightened? this little girl had 17 months of life already under her belt. i was a stranger to her. she was a stranger to me. and yet, i was her mother and she was my daughter. these were things i should know.
so far this is some of what i've learned in our two weeks together: she loves bananas. she eats 3, 4 sometimes 5 a day. she likes to feed herself. she believes hummus is a breakfast food. she's a lefty. she loves magnets. if you try to give her something she doesn't want, she makes this, "tssk, tssk" sound that i remember hearing adults in ethiopia make. if she's angry, she throws her hand in your direction several times dismissing you from her presence. this is accompanied by a wrinkled forehead and pouty mouth. she doesn't like to be dirty. and yet a poopy diaper doesn't phase her. she's not afraid of dogs. at all. she loves them. she likes to wear shoes in the house, breaking our no shoe rule. she is very dramatic. she like to throw herself down on her back, arms above her head, legs slightly bent and she starts off with a whiny, whimpery sound that escalates into full on yelling with possibly a tear or two. many times the tears just well in those big eyes, threatening to drop. we call them her alligator tears. and she sings in the car.
i'm happy to say this is a pathetically short list. i have so much more to learn about our little girl. that is why we have our forever life together in this moment and ahead of us. the journey to a child through adoption can feel like forever. but really, your forever begins the day you meet your child. and see those ginormous eyes in person.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
what's in a name?
i have an odd name. my mom wanted something unique that couldn't be nicknamed. she was probably none-too-pleased when my dad almost immediately started called me "niecy poo-poo." my parents had a friend who was an intern in a hospital and had access to all the name of patients who had been admitted. my mom asked him to make note of all the "original" names(read "weird") he came across. he made her a list. i have the list tucked away in some baby book of mine somewhere. i wish i could find it so i could share with you how much worse my name could have been. but needless to say, as a youngster, and as a young adult, i was not fond of my name.
there were a few problems with it. firstly, "annice the beast" rolled happily off many a school bully's tongue. and as we got older, "anus" was the cruder version that could bring red to my cheeks and a ringing in my ears. and it was embarrassing when one of my aunts would introduce me as "annice my neice" which always made people giggle. my best friend was "jenny." and my other friends were "michele", "sarah", "shelly", "allison", "kathy", "molly", "emily", "nicole"... nothing radical. just good, normal names. (apparently my parents felt being into organic foods, no sugar and limited TV watching before their time was not enough of a statement.)
so back to that list of names. mine was on it. or rather a version of it. it was spelled, "a-n-i-c-e". my grandfather "israel/isadore/izzy" took one look at the spelling and said, "you can't spell it like that! you need another 'n'. otherwise, she'll be called "a nice." and so, an "n" was added so everyone would call me annice. pronounced "ann-niece." but honestly, the only one in my youth that got it right was my mother. my dad called me the poo-poo thing and most other people called me "uh-niece." i didn't really care, but it set my mom off like crazy. her name is "renee" pronounced "re-knee" but she gets "renay" all the time. i think it brings up some issues for her.
anyway. to the point. the birth name of our daughter was difficult. it didn't help that we got two different spellings and no crystal clear pronunciation. by the time we thought we were pronouncing it correctly and my ethiopian friend provided an intervention, it was too late. at least it was too late for my husband. he had the wrong pronunciation seared into the depths of his engineer mind and he couldn't change it. he was very upset by this because i was making an impassioned push in the direction of keeping our daughter's birth name. my reasoning was that children of adoption, no matter how loving, wonderful, fabulous and good-looking their adoptive family might be, are suffering a huge loss. and with international adoption, EVERYTHING changes. the smells, the foods, the language, the topography, the faces. and often, names. this was one loss we could avoid. something that could stay the same.
there was tons of back and forth. my husband kept saying the same thing over and over. "i am her dad. i can't pronounce her name!" good point. so after much back and forth, we decided to sit down with the boys and go through a long list of ethiopian names. they glommed on to "uniqua" which is the hippo character in the backyardigans. and although i love, love, love! their opening theme song, we gave them a big fat, "NO." then we saw the name "kiya" which means "mine." and everyone agreed. the name, the sentiment, it all fit.
my husband had a lamb stuffed in his suitcase with the name "kiya" sewn in hot pink lettering on the lamb's chest. i had a softie light pink blanket in mine with a satin "k" on it. we arrived in ethiopia with her name frequently on our lips. phone calls home were peppered with her name. and then we met her. we watched as she was kissed and held by the nannies. her name called lovingly and excitedly. her birth name. over and over and over. i started to have terrible regret and doubt. this became cemented when we met with our adoption team privately and i asked, "how do you change a child's name? how do you introduce a new name?" the case worker looked at me and said, "in ethiopia, our names are very important to us." she then had everyone in the room go around and share the significance of their names. she continued. "i love my name. do you all love your names?" everyone in the room nodded. oh boy.
we left that meeting and i was in tears. we HAD to keep her name. i tried steamrolling the husband. i told him how insensitive he was being. he could learn to pronounce her name. how would he like it if his name was suddenly changed?! he said we'd talk about it later that evening. but i was a mess. and when i'm a mess i can be, um, grumpy. there was much grumpiness i tell you.
that evening discussion stretched into three evenings. i kept apologizing to the couple whose room shared a plywood wall with us. i was passionate and emotional and the husband was practical. normally a trait of his i appreciate, but not in this case. i felt like i couldn't get him to understand. we were at a stand off. this in addition to all that was happening was incredibly stressful. we needed help.
help appeared innocently enough. the man accompanying all the families was on the bus waiting for everyone to board. i got on the bus and said, "i'm having a problem." this man is used to fielding all sorts of stuff. i was hoping he could guide us somehow. i explained the situation. in way too much detail. he looked at me. he shrugged. he said,"so? call her..." and he uttered her name. a shortened version that we had overheard her nannies calling her. and the social workers. and the cooks. and the guy i was talking to! but it had never clicked until now. this name WAS her name! and so there it was.
i call her by both names. so do the boys. it's natural. her birth certificate will have the shortened version to avoid mispronunciation. i like that we have the lamb and the blanket so our daughter can know the process we went through to get to where we did with her name. it's unique (but not uniqua) and beautiful. and her. and for the record, if i had been a boy, my name would have been seth.
there were a few problems with it. firstly, "annice the beast" rolled happily off many a school bully's tongue. and as we got older, "anus" was the cruder version that could bring red to my cheeks and a ringing in my ears. and it was embarrassing when one of my aunts would introduce me as "annice my neice" which always made people giggle. my best friend was "jenny." and my other friends were "michele", "sarah", "shelly", "allison", "kathy", "molly", "emily", "nicole"... nothing radical. just good, normal names. (apparently my parents felt being into organic foods, no sugar and limited TV watching before their time was not enough of a statement.)
so back to that list of names. mine was on it. or rather a version of it. it was spelled, "a-n-i-c-e". my grandfather "israel/isadore/izzy" took one look at the spelling and said, "you can't spell it like that! you need another 'n'. otherwise, she'll be called "a nice." and so, an "n" was added so everyone would call me annice. pronounced "ann-niece." but honestly, the only one in my youth that got it right was my mother. my dad called me the poo-poo thing and most other people called me "uh-niece." i didn't really care, but it set my mom off like crazy. her name is "renee" pronounced "re-knee" but she gets "renay" all the time. i think it brings up some issues for her.
anyway. to the point. the birth name of our daughter was difficult. it didn't help that we got two different spellings and no crystal clear pronunciation. by the time we thought we were pronouncing it correctly and my ethiopian friend provided an intervention, it was too late. at least it was too late for my husband. he had the wrong pronunciation seared into the depths of his engineer mind and he couldn't change it. he was very upset by this because i was making an impassioned push in the direction of keeping our daughter's birth name. my reasoning was that children of adoption, no matter how loving, wonderful, fabulous and good-looking their adoptive family might be, are suffering a huge loss. and with international adoption, EVERYTHING changes. the smells, the foods, the language, the topography, the faces. and often, names. this was one loss we could avoid. something that could stay the same.
there was tons of back and forth. my husband kept saying the same thing over and over. "i am her dad. i can't pronounce her name!" good point. so after much back and forth, we decided to sit down with the boys and go through a long list of ethiopian names. they glommed on to "uniqua" which is the hippo character in the backyardigans. and although i love, love, love! their opening theme song, we gave them a big fat, "NO." then we saw the name "kiya" which means "mine." and everyone agreed. the name, the sentiment, it all fit.
my husband had a lamb stuffed in his suitcase with the name "kiya" sewn in hot pink lettering on the lamb's chest. i had a softie light pink blanket in mine with a satin "k" on it. we arrived in ethiopia with her name frequently on our lips. phone calls home were peppered with her name. and then we met her. we watched as she was kissed and held by the nannies. her name called lovingly and excitedly. her birth name. over and over and over. i started to have terrible regret and doubt. this became cemented when we met with our adoption team privately and i asked, "how do you change a child's name? how do you introduce a new name?" the case worker looked at me and said, "in ethiopia, our names are very important to us." she then had everyone in the room go around and share the significance of their names. she continued. "i love my name. do you all love your names?" everyone in the room nodded. oh boy.
we left that meeting and i was in tears. we HAD to keep her name. i tried steamrolling the husband. i told him how insensitive he was being. he could learn to pronounce her name. how would he like it if his name was suddenly changed?! he said we'd talk about it later that evening. but i was a mess. and when i'm a mess i can be, um, grumpy. there was much grumpiness i tell you.
that evening discussion stretched into three evenings. i kept apologizing to the couple whose room shared a plywood wall with us. i was passionate and emotional and the husband was practical. normally a trait of his i appreciate, but not in this case. i felt like i couldn't get him to understand. we were at a stand off. this in addition to all that was happening was incredibly stressful. we needed help.
help appeared innocently enough. the man accompanying all the families was on the bus waiting for everyone to board. i got on the bus and said, "i'm having a problem." this man is used to fielding all sorts of stuff. i was hoping he could guide us somehow. i explained the situation. in way too much detail. he looked at me. he shrugged. he said,"so? call her..." and he uttered her name. a shortened version that we had overheard her nannies calling her. and the social workers. and the cooks. and the guy i was talking to! but it had never clicked until now. this name WAS her name! and so there it was.
i call her by both names. so do the boys. it's natural. her birth certificate will have the shortened version to avoid mispronunciation. i like that we have the lamb and the blanket so our daughter can know the process we went through to get to where we did with her name. it's unique (but not uniqua) and beautiful. and her. and for the record, if i had been a boy, my name would have been seth.
Monday, October 19, 2009
the beginning of reflection
this is just a snippet. i can't write it all at once. a tiny sliver of a chapter to be continued...
it has been an amazing journey. and it's incredible how after so much paperwork and anticipation and ups and downs, you get home and everything just becomes normal. she's our kid and it's as simple as that. she doesn't want to share toys, she cries when she doesn't get her way, she poops she pees... nothing out of the ordinary. and yet her journey to us has forever changed us.
ethiopia was incredible. i went a few days early to have a more authentic and unscheduled experience. my friend and guide who is from ethiopia went with me as i left my husband to meet me a few days later at the addis airport. i am so glad i decided to do this. it was a hard decision to leave the boys for any extra amount of time. and the fact that they cried tears of sadness -- not motivated by anger, frustration, fear or greed -- for the first time in their lives, broke my heart and made me second guess myself. however, their dad was there to dry the tears and a quick pop in of a national geographic DVD seemed to divert the upset.
when i got back back, my oldest asked if ethiopia was beautiful. this question caused pause in my mind. i did not see all of ethiopia. i saw addis ababa and hosanna. two vastly different looking a feeling places. addis is the main city. busy, brown, dusty, bustling with people, goats, dogs, the tooting of car horns (not honking, but tooting about every 30 seconds) -- a city energy minus stoplights and skyscrapers. hosanna is green, quiet, peppered with tin roofed houses and acorn shaped mud huts with stick roofs. people walk on the side of the road because there are no sidewalks. it's misty and cool. and you know what? if you went to either of these places, in a different season, at a different time of day, i believe you would have a different experience. i was only there for 10 days and i am no expert. i just had my own experience with my own set of eyes being there at a frozen moment in time. would i generally describe ethiopia as beautiful? this is the country that gave me, from their arms to mine, our daughter. i don't think it can get any more beautiful than that.
the people i met in ethiopia were warm. open. welcoming. my friend's mom lives in a small space. smaller than many of you can imagine. but you know what? the door to her small home is literally aways open and i sat for hours, (literally as well) on her couch facing the door as at least 40 people filtered in and out to greet us. all sat for at least a few minutes. many stayed much longer. they drank tea and excitedly chatted in amharic, catching up on my friend's life and pictures. the last time she had been home was 8 years ago. something i found fascinating was as she passed her pictures around (we're talking a stack of 200 or more) many of her family and friends took each photo and kissed the faces of her children. each face. it was such a huge contrast to me of how we handle our photos in the states. fingers on the edges only! don't bend! it made me think about the purpose of pictures. to connect. to illicit a feeling. to feel closer and to forever etch a moment in time. i gladly passed my photos of my boys and tears filled my eyes as their faces were pressed to the lips of strangers who loved them just because...
it has been an amazing journey. and it's incredible how after so much paperwork and anticipation and ups and downs, you get home and everything just becomes normal. she's our kid and it's as simple as that. she doesn't want to share toys, she cries when she doesn't get her way, she poops she pees... nothing out of the ordinary. and yet her journey to us has forever changed us.
ethiopia was incredible. i went a few days early to have a more authentic and unscheduled experience. my friend and guide who is from ethiopia went with me as i left my husband to meet me a few days later at the addis airport. i am so glad i decided to do this. it was a hard decision to leave the boys for any extra amount of time. and the fact that they cried tears of sadness -- not motivated by anger, frustration, fear or greed -- for the first time in their lives, broke my heart and made me second guess myself. however, their dad was there to dry the tears and a quick pop in of a national geographic DVD seemed to divert the upset.
when i got back back, my oldest asked if ethiopia was beautiful. this question caused pause in my mind. i did not see all of ethiopia. i saw addis ababa and hosanna. two vastly different looking a feeling places. addis is the main city. busy, brown, dusty, bustling with people, goats, dogs, the tooting of car horns (not honking, but tooting about every 30 seconds) -- a city energy minus stoplights and skyscrapers. hosanna is green, quiet, peppered with tin roofed houses and acorn shaped mud huts with stick roofs. people walk on the side of the road because there are no sidewalks. it's misty and cool. and you know what? if you went to either of these places, in a different season, at a different time of day, i believe you would have a different experience. i was only there for 10 days and i am no expert. i just had my own experience with my own set of eyes being there at a frozen moment in time. would i generally describe ethiopia as beautiful? this is the country that gave me, from their arms to mine, our daughter. i don't think it can get any more beautiful than that.
the people i met in ethiopia were warm. open. welcoming. my friend's mom lives in a small space. smaller than many of you can imagine. but you know what? the door to her small home is literally aways open and i sat for hours, (literally as well) on her couch facing the door as at least 40 people filtered in and out to greet us. all sat for at least a few minutes. many stayed much longer. they drank tea and excitedly chatted in amharic, catching up on my friend's life and pictures. the last time she had been home was 8 years ago. something i found fascinating was as she passed her pictures around (we're talking a stack of 200 or more) many of her family and friends took each photo and kissed the faces of her children. each face. it was such a huge contrast to me of how we handle our photos in the states. fingers on the edges only! don't bend! it made me think about the purpose of pictures. to connect. to illicit a feeling. to feel closer and to forever etch a moment in time. i gladly passed my photos of my boys and tears filled my eyes as their faces were pressed to the lips of strangers who loved them just because...
Friday, October 9, 2009
short and sweet for now with more to come...
i'm here. this is real. and this morning we met our little girl. it was surreal. they called families upstairs one at a time to meet their children. i was doing the ugly cry and they filmed the whole thing. her eyes are the biggest eyes i've ever seen. at first she just looked and looked at us. and we looked and looked at her. but when i crouched down, opened my arms and said, "nay" - "come here" in amaharic - she came right to me in her pink sparkley shoes and i hugged her. and with that, we became a forever family.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
"i don't know"
i am so excited. packing has been crazy. i've been painting the house trying to fill in every last ding (to no avail of course) and i can just feel all the years of yearning for this baby coming to an end. but really, it's a beginning. the end of the wait, the start of our new life together as a family.
i keep imagining seeing her for the first time. the big doe eyes in person. i have silly fantasies she recognizes us from the pictures we sent and she runs up to us with open arms. no hesitation, no fear. just glee. but i think i do this little story in my head so i can get that expectation out of my system. sometimes the kids i've had since birth aren't even that happy to see me. and she doesn't know us. other than a few pictures she doesn't know anything about us at all.
it's also presumptuous to think that we as her waiting family know her. we know ABOUT her. we know what she looks like. we know what she eats. we know her nap schedule. we know what has been described as her "usual temperament." but we don't know her smell, or what it's like to touch her skin. we don't know the sound of her laugh or the pitch of her cry. we don't know if she's a messy eater. we don't know her favorite book. there are so many things to catch up on. it's meeting our daughter for the first time when she's already had her whole life up until this point without us. bizarre concept.
the boys are excited. they too have fantasies about what having a little sister is going to be like. my youngest is excited about being a big brother finally. the middle is excited to get out of the middle. the oldest is excited to have yet another younger sibling admire him. sometimes they gather in the pinkness of her room and wrestle. i look at it kind of like a dog peeing on a favorite tree.
i asked my oldest what he thought the best part would be. he asked, "are we going to have barbies?" yes. (i know, after my bathing suit dilemma maybe there is a tinge of hypocrisy. but i loved barbies and i never cared as a girl, teen or woman that i didn't have that waist, those boobs or that perky behind.) "are we going to have pink things?" yes. "are there going to be poopy diapers?" yes. he thought for a minute and then answered, "then i don't know." and then we both laughed. i don't know either but i am wholeheartedly looking forward to finding out.
i keep imagining seeing her for the first time. the big doe eyes in person. i have silly fantasies she recognizes us from the pictures we sent and she runs up to us with open arms. no hesitation, no fear. just glee. but i think i do this little story in my head so i can get that expectation out of my system. sometimes the kids i've had since birth aren't even that happy to see me. and she doesn't know us. other than a few pictures she doesn't know anything about us at all.
it's also presumptuous to think that we as her waiting family know her. we know ABOUT her. we know what she looks like. we know what she eats. we know her nap schedule. we know what has been described as her "usual temperament." but we don't know her smell, or what it's like to touch her skin. we don't know the sound of her laugh or the pitch of her cry. we don't know if she's a messy eater. we don't know her favorite book. there are so many things to catch up on. it's meeting our daughter for the first time when she's already had her whole life up until this point without us. bizarre concept.
the boys are excited. they too have fantasies about what having a little sister is going to be like. my youngest is excited about being a big brother finally. the middle is excited to get out of the middle. the oldest is excited to have yet another younger sibling admire him. sometimes they gather in the pinkness of her room and wrestle. i look at it kind of like a dog peeing on a favorite tree.
i asked my oldest what he thought the best part would be. he asked, "are we going to have barbies?" yes. (i know, after my bathing suit dilemma maybe there is a tinge of hypocrisy. but i loved barbies and i never cared as a girl, teen or woman that i didn't have that waist, those boobs or that perky behind.) "are we going to have pink things?" yes. "are there going to be poopy diapers?" yes. he thought for a minute and then answered, "then i don't know." and then we both laughed. i don't know either but i am wholeheartedly looking forward to finding out.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
i'm not nice
so class with the 4 year olds was totally uneventful as far as having to talk about anything regarding the baby. maybe it's because i brought chocolate milk and ice cream and they went easy on me. the most eventful thing was probably MY 4 year old, who decided to blow zerberts in the vicinity of my boobs in front all his classmates and teachers. all were fascinated.
we read a book and then one of the teachers said, "did you bring a picture of someone to share?" my kid said, "yeah!" he took out the 2 pictures i had brought and started sliding them past each kid on the rug saying, "see?" then the teacher asked "who is that?" and he said, "my sister!" the kids all looked. a couple smiled and then that was it. silence. no drama. no questions about race relations. or iran. no one pointed out that i had a significant pimple on my chin. or asked why my 4 year old boy has such long hair. no one wanted to know why we didn't eat meat. they didn't care. kids are cool.
kids ARE cool. but some adults are less than cool. i have fielded some of the weirdest, rudest, most prying inquiries about our adoption over the past 22 months. some of them have been so whack i just had to laugh. like, "ethiopia? huh. that means your kid's gonna be black you know." i wish so badly that in that moment i had replied, " BLACK??? no way! then we're calling the whole thing off!" but instead i just looked at them and in my dumb-foundedness came up with the whopper response of, "right." or the casual acquaintance who asked how i was, and when i shared the upcoming excitement with her, she got very close in my face, chucked my chin and said, "good for you! a black baby from africa!" so weird. who does that?
the most frequent comment we've heard from people is how "nice" we are to adopt. it's a seemingly insignificant thing to say -- and i am sure the people who say it think they are giving us a compliment. but it is a ridiculous concept. no one adopts to be "nice". no one. no one comes up with the cash, plows through mountains of paperwork, deals with the imperfect bureaucracy of our government offices, (and in our case 2 government offices) has the invasive visits from a random social worker (several times) who wants to know everything about everything. about you, your spouse, your marriage, your parents, your parents parents, your stresses, what you do for fun, your children, your fears, your hopes, your dreams (to name just a few) to be "nice." no one is that nice. trust me.
we read a book and then one of the teachers said, "did you bring a picture of someone to share?" my kid said, "yeah!" he took out the 2 pictures i had brought and started sliding them past each kid on the rug saying, "see?" then the teacher asked "who is that?" and he said, "my sister!" the kids all looked. a couple smiled and then that was it. silence. no drama. no questions about race relations. or iran. no one pointed out that i had a significant pimple on my chin. or asked why my 4 year old boy has such long hair. no one wanted to know why we didn't eat meat. they didn't care. kids are cool.
kids ARE cool. but some adults are less than cool. i have fielded some of the weirdest, rudest, most prying inquiries about our adoption over the past 22 months. some of them have been so whack i just had to laugh. like, "ethiopia? huh. that means your kid's gonna be black you know." i wish so badly that in that moment i had replied, " BLACK??? no way! then we're calling the whole thing off!" but instead i just looked at them and in my dumb-foundedness came up with the whopper response of, "right." or the casual acquaintance who asked how i was, and when i shared the upcoming excitement with her, she got very close in my face, chucked my chin and said, "good for you! a black baby from africa!" so weird. who does that?
the most frequent comment we've heard from people is how "nice" we are to adopt. it's a seemingly insignificant thing to say -- and i am sure the people who say it think they are giving us a compliment. but it is a ridiculous concept. no one adopts to be "nice". no one. no one comes up with the cash, plows through mountains of paperwork, deals with the imperfect bureaucracy of our government offices, (and in our case 2 government offices) has the invasive visits from a random social worker (several times) who wants to know everything about everything. about you, your spouse, your marriage, your parents, your parents parents, your stresses, what you do for fun, your children, your fears, your hopes, your dreams (to name just a few) to be "nice." no one is that nice. trust me.
Friday, September 25, 2009
i remember now
feeling better. i went through these feelings with all my boys -- i mean different feelings but feelings that were uncomfortable. i'm a pretty mellow mom, but i do get in freak out mode in the face of change. once i realized (or remembered really. i've done this 3 times before!) that this is my pattern, i felt better. it's been awhile since i've had a baby.
slightly freaking out
i shouldn't start writing right now. i have 20 minutes. not enough time. but, it will help me get to the point. i am freaking out. i have 9 days until i get on an airplane to ethiopia. i mentioned the lists that the agency gives you. it has a whole bunch of paragraphs on "appropriate" dress. it is clear that i have nothing to wear. my friend who is ethiopian and coming with us says they don't know what they are talking about. you can wear anything. i have nightmares that i wear the wrong thing when i meet our daughter and they say, "uh, sorry. you offended us. too bad. no baby for you!" i just want to do everything right.
i stood in the baby's room last night rearranging stuffed animals, toys, the rocking chair. this morning it all looks wrong. i don't have any diapers in my house, but i did buy safety latches for the cabinets and have been bugging the hubby about getting the baby gates up again. and i guess that's another thing. what if she gets hurt? we have to have home visits every month. what is she falls down and the social worker says, "uh, sorry. you let her fall down. too bad. no baby for you!" and takes her away? i know that is totally off the wall, but it runs through my brain. will i be good enough?
the teachers at my preschool are awesome and so excited about the coming addition to our family. they asked me to let them know how i wanted them to approach talking to the kids about adoption. i should know how to answer that right? not right. i know how i talked to my kids about it, but being the template to teach a bunch of 4 year olds in mass about adoption? not comfortable. i don't know how to do that. in the winter our baby will be at that school and she's not going to look like most of the other kids. so i'm bringing a picture of her to the classroom and i'll just field the questions that surface from the kids curiosity. and do the best i can.
i stood in the baby's room last night rearranging stuffed animals, toys, the rocking chair. this morning it all looks wrong. i don't have any diapers in my house, but i did buy safety latches for the cabinets and have been bugging the hubby about getting the baby gates up again. and i guess that's another thing. what if she gets hurt? we have to have home visits every month. what is she falls down and the social worker says, "uh, sorry. you let her fall down. too bad. no baby for you!" and takes her away? i know that is totally off the wall, but it runs through my brain. will i be good enough?
the teachers at my preschool are awesome and so excited about the coming addition to our family. they asked me to let them know how i wanted them to approach talking to the kids about adoption. i should know how to answer that right? not right. i know how i talked to my kids about it, but being the template to teach a bunch of 4 year olds in mass about adoption? not comfortable. i don't know how to do that. in the winter our baby will be at that school and she's not going to look like most of the other kids. so i'm bringing a picture of her to the classroom and i'll just field the questions that surface from the kids curiosity. and do the best i can.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
conflict
i went to target today. we have a love/hate relationship. i love that they're cheap. i hate that they're a big box store. but today i found joy in 2 things: an itty-bitty 2 piece bathing suit for an 18 month old girl (!!!) on sale for $1.72, and a hot-pink shag rug, not on sale technically, but about $400 less than what i'd been looking at in catalogs and online. and that translates as a sale to me! hoping the hubby feels the same way.
i was actually at target to return spit up bibs, pacifiers and pacifier clips. listen. it has been a LONG while since i've had a baby. and this baby has already had some life without me. it's been very difficult shopping to prepare for her arrival. the adoption agency gives you this list. it's a long list and some of the things on the list have something to do with your kid, and alot of them don't. but trying to figure out what's written for your child and what's written for everyone else's is difficult. thus, my impulsive purchase of the bibs etc. which were all on the list. my girlfriend said, "um, 17 month olds don't spit up." um, duh. reality check.
but in all fairness, my kids were with me from day 1. i didn't go from no kid to a 17 month old in an instant. and when all this goes down, i'm going to be in ethiopia. a land that is foreign to me. with a language and a culture that is different than mine. i feel like a pacifier, (even though i never gave any of my kids one before because i don't believe in them), would be one of those grounding, very familiar, american things to do in a place unfamiliar to me. from a practical approach, obviously silly. but from a psychological standpoint, i get it. i see me trying to get my bearings in anticipation of the unknown.
so, the baby room is not done. blackout shades, but no window treatments. changing cushion cover, but no cushion. bare floor. (getting to that.) yellow cushions on the rocking chair that match absolutely nothing. however, there is a cheery retro flower mural that my cousin and i painted by hand on light pink walls. and the ceiling is painted hot pink. my bubblegum machine from when i was a kid is in there. and my first ever stuffed animal. the drawers were empty until yesterday when i went over to the aforementioned girlfriends house and went through clothes that are still a little too big for her baby who will turn 1 in january. i kept saying over and over again, "these are so small!" her patient response was always, "these say 12-18 months. and they have the weight on them." and she's smaller than the average 17 month old. she only weighs 18 1/2 pounds. she will probably be swimming in these "small" clothes. i think i just can't wrap my head around it all. it's real, but it's not.
the hot pink shag rug was a very exciting find. i tried to call my husband (who has put me on a strict budget) for approval. he was on another call. not my fault. and i had to get home by 11. there was no time to wait! i plopped that sucker in the totally disgustingly germy orange target shopping cart and smiled as i quickly noted the rug was machine washable. woo-hoo!
now the title suggests there was conflict. maybe the assumption is the conflict was with target. or if i should buy the hot pink shag rug without the hubby's OK. but no. my conflict, that is still tugging at me now is with that little 2 piece bathing suit i bought for $1.72. it's backround is black. and the pattern design is hot pink, (sensing theme) light pink, turquoise and lime green. so far, so good. but the pattern. the pattern is cherries.
cherries. on a little baby girls swimsuit. the giddiness and the deal and the cuteness of the tiny suit has given way to my association with cherries. you get it. you know what i'm saying. my husband had already discussed our distaste for the "princess" slogan on the butt of girl's "juicy couture" velour warm up suits. or the princess slogan on any girls clothing item for that matter. we just don't like it. (maybe it's because we're jews -- who knows?) and the clothing that sexualizes little girls as women -- unacceptable. is this bathing suit and extension of that way of thinking? with 3 boys i have never had conflict over clothing purchases. i don't buy camouflage because i think it glorifies war to little boys, but other than that? can't think of anything i've had "design" moral conflict over. what to do, what to do...
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
completion
since i was 14 years old, i've wanted to adopt. i remember being in my room, listening to the radio. they were doing a story on the crisis with china's children. the girls. i was dumb-founded. i couldn't believe it. i was in 8th grade. it was in this moment, my dream of adoption began.
so how do you pursue something like adoption in 8th grade? well, you don't. technically. but i guess when this became what i wanted, i was like the kid who decides to be a doctor. you live your kid life, and you have this adult dream on the horizon that you slowly move towards. i never, ever faltered from this dream. it morphed, (the when, the where etc.) but in my heart it was always going to happen.
on my 3rd date with my now husband, i asked what he thought about adoption. not marriage. adoption. we were at the botanic gardens by the little japanese house, by the trees, by the water. he shrugged and said, "um, why not?" good answer. because, if he had answered "no", he wouldn't have become my husband. maybe that sounds terrible, but would you stay with a person who wouldn't support and share your life dreams? i hope not.
did he share my long honed passion for the idea? of course not. i introduced the idea to him. he was 24 years old. i can look back on that moment and many moments since then and see how freaking lucky i was. it was a weird question to ask. in general and specifically on like, a 3rd date. but he gave a good answer. which worked out, since i'm in love with him.
so life went on. we got engaged a year later, married the year after that. i wanted kids right away. my husband? not so much. kids? yes. but not immediately. so 5 years passed and we had our 1st child. 21 months later came #2, and 22 months later #3. suddenly we had a loud, joyful chaos: 3 maniac boys, 2 dogs and a house in the burbs. life was good. life was great. but life was incomplete. someone was missing.
we both wanted to pursue adoption internationally. for me, since i first heard that radio broadcast which was about children in a far away land , i always imagined a child in my life that didn't look like me. came from somewhere different. came from somewhere i wanted to celebrate. the journey to that "where" was never a straight line for us.
there were places we ruled out immediately. and places that ruled us out. there were countries we didn't have an interest in for all kinds of reasons: no interest in the culture; no desire to explore the land; dislike of the cuisine; politics... some of the reasons may seem petty, but one thing we knew for sure. wherever our child was to come from, we had to be not just willing, but passionate about learning more. we had to be committed to incorporating the culture, language, art, food and essence of our child's homeland into our home the best we possibly could. through a variety of ways, through bumps and curves, for a number of reasons, our hearts led us to and landed us in, ethiopia.
so, we began this process 2 years ago january. i called my friend who is from ethiopia, and asked her to tell me, truthfully, how she felt about an ethiopian child being raised in an almost completely white suburb by jewish hippy folks. i shared with her every anxiety i had about it. she laughed and said we were a wonderful family. she said she knew the kind of love we had in our home. she said she thought it was meant to be. she said we had good friends, good people in our lives. i cried tears of joy in the trader joe's parking lot. the simplicity of her answer gave me courage.
it only took 4 months to submit all our initial paperwork and complete our home study. the real work began when all of that was over. the paperwork kept me busy. when that was done, all we had to do was wait. and wait. and wait. until july, when we received our referral and our daughters beautiful face came into focus. and you know what? it was a really, really long wait. because i've been waiting for this child since i was 14 years old.
so how do you pursue something like adoption in 8th grade? well, you don't. technically. but i guess when this became what i wanted, i was like the kid who decides to be a doctor. you live your kid life, and you have this adult dream on the horizon that you slowly move towards. i never, ever faltered from this dream. it morphed, (the when, the where etc.) but in my heart it was always going to happen.
on my 3rd date with my now husband, i asked what he thought about adoption. not marriage. adoption. we were at the botanic gardens by the little japanese house, by the trees, by the water. he shrugged and said, "um, why not?" good answer. because, if he had answered "no", he wouldn't have become my husband. maybe that sounds terrible, but would you stay with a person who wouldn't support and share your life dreams? i hope not.
did he share my long honed passion for the idea? of course not. i introduced the idea to him. he was 24 years old. i can look back on that moment and many moments since then and see how freaking lucky i was. it was a weird question to ask. in general and specifically on like, a 3rd date. but he gave a good answer. which worked out, since i'm in love with him.
so life went on. we got engaged a year later, married the year after that. i wanted kids right away. my husband? not so much. kids? yes. but not immediately. so 5 years passed and we had our 1st child. 21 months later came #2, and 22 months later #3. suddenly we had a loud, joyful chaos: 3 maniac boys, 2 dogs and a house in the burbs. life was good. life was great. but life was incomplete. someone was missing.
we both wanted to pursue adoption internationally. for me, since i first heard that radio broadcast which was about children in a far away land , i always imagined a child in my life that didn't look like me. came from somewhere different. came from somewhere i wanted to celebrate. the journey to that "where" was never a straight line for us.
there were places we ruled out immediately. and places that ruled us out. there were countries we didn't have an interest in for all kinds of reasons: no interest in the culture; no desire to explore the land; dislike of the cuisine; politics... some of the reasons may seem petty, but one thing we knew for sure. wherever our child was to come from, we had to be not just willing, but passionate about learning more. we had to be committed to incorporating the culture, language, art, food and essence of our child's homeland into our home the best we possibly could. through a variety of ways, through bumps and curves, for a number of reasons, our hearts led us to and landed us in, ethiopia.
so, we began this process 2 years ago january. i called my friend who is from ethiopia, and asked her to tell me, truthfully, how she felt about an ethiopian child being raised in an almost completely white suburb by jewish hippy folks. i shared with her every anxiety i had about it. she laughed and said we were a wonderful family. she said she knew the kind of love we had in our home. she said she thought it was meant to be. she said we had good friends, good people in our lives. i cried tears of joy in the trader joe's parking lot. the simplicity of her answer gave me courage.
it only took 4 months to submit all our initial paperwork and complete our home study. the real work began when all of that was over. the paperwork kept me busy. when that was done, all we had to do was wait. and wait. and wait. until july, when we received our referral and our daughters beautiful face came into focus. and you know what? it was a really, really long wait. because i've been waiting for this child since i was 14 years old.
Monday, September 21, 2009
maybe i just need to get a window treatment...
i have pots. pots that have been sitting all summer long filled with good dirt. dirt i bought in the store and was supposed to use gloves to touch. i haven't planted anything in that rich, fertile soil. i've walked by those pots again and again and i've noticed them with little care. suddenly, they have become as obsession and a slight source of shame. i have to plant the pots. everyone else has planted their pots. if i don't plant these pots, it's a testiment to my continuing failed domesticity. i rushed out to the hardware store yeterday and purchased 6 mums. they will be tasting that soil this afternoon. i'm going to impress the mailman who has walked by my empty pots many a day. yes, i care what the mailman thinks.
sometimes the mailman walks by and the kids are insane, my house is a pit and i'm unshowered. this is all revealed to him by this huge bay window we decided to leave "untreated" in our livingroom. and on most days i like it like that. i can see the blooming bushes we planted last year. the sun comes in. the occasional bunny or wandering cat flits through the yard and we watch hoping the two never meet. but then there's the mailman. he's not peeping. he's just walking to deliver the mail. he always looks up, headphones unabashedly obvious but still aware of things around him. he always smiles and waves at us. but i sometimes feel like he get this innacurate snapshot of my life, where i am at my less than fabulous. and in a moment, the mailman has decided how my family lives and how i'm a frenzied, non-showered parent with out of control kids. and maybe it bugs me because this snapshot has some truth to it. because after he leaves me with more bills and plump must-have advertising/coupon packages, i am not suddenly calm, primped and in control. and then of course there are those unplanted pots. i think i might hate my mailman.
sometimes the mailman walks by and the kids are insane, my house is a pit and i'm unshowered. this is all revealed to him by this huge bay window we decided to leave "untreated" in our livingroom. and on most days i like it like that. i can see the blooming bushes we planted last year. the sun comes in. the occasional bunny or wandering cat flits through the yard and we watch hoping the two never meet. but then there's the mailman. he's not peeping. he's just walking to deliver the mail. he always looks up, headphones unabashedly obvious but still aware of things around him. he always smiles and waves at us. but i sometimes feel like he get this innacurate snapshot of my life, where i am at my less than fabulous. and in a moment, the mailman has decided how my family lives and how i'm a frenzied, non-showered parent with out of control kids. and maybe it bugs me because this snapshot has some truth to it. because after he leaves me with more bills and plump must-have advertising/coupon packages, i am not suddenly calm, primped and in control. and then of course there are those unplanted pots. i think i might hate my mailman.
Friday, September 18, 2009
i don't know what i'm doing...
i don't know what i'm doing. i'm not sure what a blog is exactly. maybe i talk about my kids -- all the whacked out things they do and how they make me laugh? and how they make me not laugh too? but i think that maybe this blog is for me. so i don't go insane. mommyhood can be kinda rough. mostly because i'm not who i thought i would be. or who i aspire to be. but luckily, my children are very forgiving... i don't have any advice (today). i'm undeniably very imperfect.
i am the mom that never sends the 2nd set of clothes. i get the calls for the emergency contact forms i never turned in. i forget to pay for the bus that takes the kids to enrichment and no matter how i beg, i end up having to drive the first day. i forget to send an apple on apple day. i forget to put my mother-in-law on the "pick up" list at camp and she's almost arrested for trying to get my kid in the carpool line. i forget to send gym shoes on gym day. i forget meetings. i lose library books. and CD's. i can never find my reciepts. i forget to brush my teeth. and theirs. i forget to wash my dogs. as i'm typing this, i'm reminded i have an overdue comcast bill. and last night when i jokingly said i was going to kill my husband, he said, "you can't! you haven't paid my life insurance bill this month." and you know what? he's right.
i'm just a mom who tries to see the humor in some mishaps and moments with my kids. and in life. like, when i'm playing "madlibs" with my almost 8 year old son, and he asks me for a body part, maybe i don't answer, "boobies!" or maybe i do...
i am the mom that never sends the 2nd set of clothes. i get the calls for the emergency contact forms i never turned in. i forget to pay for the bus that takes the kids to enrichment and no matter how i beg, i end up having to drive the first day. i forget to send an apple on apple day. i forget to put my mother-in-law on the "pick up" list at camp and she's almost arrested for trying to get my kid in the carpool line. i forget to send gym shoes on gym day. i forget meetings. i lose library books. and CD's. i can never find my reciepts. i forget to brush my teeth. and theirs. i forget to wash my dogs. as i'm typing this, i'm reminded i have an overdue comcast bill. and last night when i jokingly said i was going to kill my husband, he said, "you can't! you haven't paid my life insurance bill this month." and you know what? he's right.
i'm just a mom who tries to see the humor in some mishaps and moments with my kids. and in life. like, when i'm playing "madlibs" with my almost 8 year old son, and he asks me for a body part, maybe i don't answer, "boobies!" or maybe i do...
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