What I will miss...

This week, hubby and I are departing on our annual "no kids" vacation. 

It's always a good trip for us, for our marriage.

It's always a really hard trip for me, personally.  It's so hard for me to leave the kiddos behind for so long.  I know they will be in great hands with my parents, and will have an outstanding time, and not miss us for a second, but it's hard for me to function when my heart is left behind.

Here's some recent pictures that will be floating around in my head, and keeping me afloat, until I see them again.

What they say....

 Some things I've heard about a second child:

They can be late bloomers.

They don't talk as early.

They tend to rely on their older sibling to accomplish tasks they could otherwise do for themselves.

I have to say that each of these comments have tended to be true about Little Miss.  Looking back to when Brae was this age, he seemed more articulate and verbal than she is now.   That said, I think Little Miss is talking more Spanish than Brae did at this age, and is intermixing the two languages a little more.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not at all concerned about Little Miss's development.  In fact, I think she's outsmarting everyone.  Why would you do things for yourself if your older brother will do them for you?  What need is there to talk when all you have to do is give your older brother "the look," and he will get exactly whatever you need?

No doubt about it.  Behind her quiet lips is an active brain at work.  And, she's winning.


PS - I have every intention of taking away this bottle that is in her hand on her 2nd birthday.  Don't judge.    : )

A breakthrough.

Our adoption process through the state is moving slower than molassas.  Uphill.  In the w.i.n.t.e.r.t.i.m.e. 

Each time I've tried to get a hold of our caseworker, it's taken her weeks to respond.  When I call her voicemail, the greeting says, "Hello, this is Alice.  Today is Monday, February 4.  I will be out of the office all week ..."  The greeting has said February 4 for two and a half months. 

When I send her an email, it takes three follow-up emails on my part to get one, two-line response from her.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not necessarily blaming her.  There are only three caseworkers in our county for all of the adoptions.  Two of those caseworkers only work part-time.  It's part of the economic/budget shortfall. 

But it is beyond frustrating.

My last missive to her was no different.  I just wanted a status update.  No response.

One week later, no response.

Two weeks later, no response.

Finally, this week, the third week, I received a response.  She was transferring our file. 

Turns out, given her overloaded caseload, another caseworker (the one full-time caseworker) agreed to take one file from her.  That file is ours. 

We were overjoyed.  Already, since that transfer, we have had more communication with  our new caseworker than after four months with our old caseworker.

And, just this morning, we received the best news yet: our homestudy is starting in two weeks. (!!!!)

The process will take an average of three months, according to our caseworker.  That means that by at least the end of July/beginning of August, we should finally be on the wait list.

A breakthrough.

Brae-isms

A recent survey showed that, according to the people who took the survey, the "cutest" age of a child is 4.5 years.  Brae is almost that old, and he certainly does not disappoint.  So, with that, here is the next installment of "Brae-isms." 

***

1.  We are in the process of painting our house.  This last weekend, we got some sample paints (a mix of greens/browns), and Brae and I found an inconspicuous corner in the back of the house to try some of the samples.  As we painted swaths on the house, I numbered each swath.  After sample #3, I stepped back and remarked, "Brae, I'm not sure I like #3.  It kind of looks like poop."  Brae grinned.  We kept painting.  After we had painted all 8 sample colors, we stood back again to marvel at our collage.  I sighed, and said, "Brae, you know, I actually think now I like #3.  What do you think?"  Brae looked up at me, startled.  "Mommy?! You like poop?"

***

2. One morning over breakfast, the following conversation ensued (in Spanish):

Yo: "Brae.  Aqui esta algunos Cheerios para desayuno.  Mira, un Cheerio, y un otro Cheerio.  Uno y uno es dos, no?"

Brae: "No, mama! Uno y uno es once!"

(English translation: I asked Brae if one Cheerio and one Cheerio makes two Cheerios.  He informed me that one and one makes eleven, not two.  Clearly, I'm the one in need of a math lesson). 

***

3. One Sunday, on our way home from church, the following conversation ensued in the car:

Brae: "Mommy, I want to go to heaven and see Jesus."

Me: "Okay.  But not right now."

Brae: "But, Mommy! I want to!"

Me: "Brae, did you know you don't need to go to heaven to visit Jesus? Did you know He's all around? He lives in your heart and you can actually talk to him whenever you want."

(Silence).

(More silence.  I look in my rear-view mirror to see Brae in the back seat.)

Brae: (Looking down at his heart).  "Jesus? .... Where's my house?"

***

4.  This last weekend, I was driving with the kids to a playdate.  We stopped at a light.  There was a homeless man on the side of the road, holding a cardboard sign.  He was asking for money.  I rolled down my window and gave him some cash.  We then drove away.  As we turned the corner, Brae said, "Mommy! I want to go home and get my piggy bank so I can come back and give him all of my money."

Resurrection Sunday (Easter) pictures

We live in Oregon.  It is a beautiful, lush, green part of the country.  It is that way mostly because we get rain 6-9 months out of the year. 

But, this weekend was phenomenal.  I saw one temperature reading at 81 degrees on Sunday, which is virtually unheard of for March in the Great Northwest. 

Below are some pictures of the weekend.  Because, really, words can't do justice.  Especially to the series of photos we took trying to get the 4 grandkids in one picture together.

Brae and Sienna-isms

1.  A few weeks ago, I took Brae and Sienna for an impromptu getaway to the beach with my sisters-in-law and mother-in-law.  Brae was so excited to go to the beach and play with his little cousins.  As we were packing up the night before, I asked him what he was most excited about.   He looked at me, wide-eyed, and in a very solemn voice said:

                  "Mommy, I need to go and find Nemo and bring him back home."

    And then he walked away. 

***

2. This last weekend, I was driving to the grocery store with the kids.  Sienna is just starting to talk more and more, but sometimes only I know what she is saying.  As we were pulling up to the store, she points out the window and yells, "Mama!  Da da brrrr!" 

      I smiled and said, "Why, yes, honey, it is a bird!  Good girl!  Brae, did you hear that? Sienna said 'It's a bird!'"

      Brae piped up and said, "No, Mommy, she' didn't.  She said 'Da da brrrr.'"


***

3.  The kids had a day off from school one day, and Tygh and I had to work.  So my dad and stepmom drove up to watch the kids for the day.  My parents divorced when I was relatively young, and my dad re-married when I was about 8.  My stepmom, Cindy, did not have biological children.  It was just me and my younger sister.  Neither of them have much practice in little kids, let alone diapers. 

      As I was giving Cindy a tutorial on how to change Sienna's diaper - and Sienna was being quite a good prop - I told Cindy that, unfortunately, Sienna likes to poop about mid-morning.  I would be at work, so Cindy would have to change her poopy diaper.

      Cindy looked at me, puzzled, and whispered, "So .... what do I do with her after she poops? Do I just stick her in the bathtub or something?"

***

4.   This next story is perhaps one of my proudest moment as Brae's Mommy.  Especially after our whole episode earlier this year with the owners of his play gym calling me about complaints received from other parents about Brae's behavior.

      I took Brae grocery shopping, and we passed by an elderly man (probably in his 90s) in a wheelchair, kind of hunched over, not looking or talking to anyone.  Brae left my side and marched right up to the old man and said (in a rather loud voice): "I like you.  You're my friend.  You can borrow my legs."  And Brae walked away.

      There were tears in my eyes, and in those of bystanders watching. 

They told.

Last week, I got perhaps one of the best text messages ever.

It was from our donors.  They finally told their twins, Sienna's full-blooded siblings, about Sienna. 

Sienna's full-blooded siblings are from the same group of embryos that she is.  They are now 12 years old. 

The twins have known who Sienna is since she was born.  They have sent her gifts on Christmas and on her birthday. But, it wasn't until last week that they finally knew who she is. 

Some have asked why it took our donors so long to tell their kids about Sienna.  Sienna is now nearly 2 years old.  We have an open adoption.

I have never questioned, or passed any judgment, on our donors' decision to wait.  I've always trusted that they would know when the right time was to tell this very important, and somewhat complicated, story about Sienna's origin and what it means to them. 

So, now they know.  And, apparently they are over the moon.  Our donor said that they would hop on a plane now if she let them.

That gave me (and still gives me) the biggest smile.  This is why we did open adoption.  For moments like this.  Obviously, Sienna is too young to know about any of this.  But it's always nice to know (and one day meet) more family and more people who love you.

So, I told our donors that Oregon is beautiful in the summertime.

This is Me.

My boss has started a teambuilding exercise in our department.  She brought in a psychologist who gave us a couple of personality tests and then discussed the results with us.

In a nutshell, this is what the personality tests said I am:

"Warm, sympathetic, and helpful.  Personable, cooperative, and tactful.  Conscientious and loyal; value security, stability, tradition.  Focused on the present; makes decisions based on experience and facts.  Uncomfortable with conflict; work hard to make sure it doesn't occur.  Focused on the needs of others; often uncomfortable with personal analysis.  Usually seen by others as sociable, enthusiastic, energetic, organized and traditional."

So,  yup, that's Me.

That's Me as Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend, Co-worker, you name it.

That's Me.

And that is Me (granted, in my high school senior photo - just for fun - gotta love the 90s).

Brae and Sienna-isms

1.  On Martin Luther King Jr. day, Brae didn't have school.  My mom was watching him and Sienna.  It was also the morning of the presidential inauguration.  My mom and Brae were watching it on t.v.  The following dialogue ensued:

Grandma: "Brae, do you know who that is on t.v.?"
Brae: "No.  Who?"
Grandma: "That's the President of the United States.  He's kind of an important guy."
(Long pause)
Brae: "Does that mean you have to ask his permission before you can go to the bathroom?"

***

2.  In yet another presidential moment, last Monday was President's Day.  Again, Brae and Sienna didn't have school.  My sister was watching them.  On their way to the park, this conversation ensued:

Tia (Spanish for Aunt): "Brae, do you know why you don't have school today?"
Brae: "No.  Why?"
Tia: "Because it's President's Day.  Do you know who our President is?"
Brae: "No.  Who?"
Tia: "His name is Barrack Obama.  He is our President.  Now, you remember that, and I'm going to ask you later in the day about this to see if you remember what we talked about."

(Several hours later)

Tia: "Brae, do you remember what day today is?"
(Long pause)
Brae: "It's Obama Day!"

(As an aside, it may not be hard to guess that my mom and sister are both Obama-supporters.  I make no comment or opinion about their judgment).

***

3.  Sienna is starting to speak more, and even string words together.  Her latest word is "sorry."  Except, it sounds like "saw-ee."  Brae thinks it is hilarious when she says it, so he likes to push her buttons to make her slap, hit, kick, spit, or bite him.  Then, he pretends to cry.  Then, like clockwork, she pats him on the head, says "saw-ee" and walks away.

The funniest thing about this is that she shows absolutely no empathy when she's apologizing to him.  Girl cracks me up.

***

4. And the ultimate example of the difference between boys and girls:

We have a life-sized teddy bear that I often use to play with the kids.  The other day, Brae was trying to play kung-fu with the teddy bear at the same time as Sienna was putting a blanket on him and kissing him good-night.


Love these little guys.

She found her.

You may remember a post I wrote several weeks back (if I was fancy like some of my other blogging friends, I'd put a link to that post right here, but I'm technologically challenged) where I wrote about my gorgeous hairdresser.  For ease, let's call her Natalie.  She does, in fact, look like Natalie Portman.

Natalie is 22 and she's adopted.  She was adopted as an infant.  It was a closed adoption.  She knew very little about her birthmom, or whether she had other siblings.  But, she wanted to know more.  She wanted to find them. 

A couple months ago, I encouraged Natalie to start looking.  She said she was afraid her birthmom wouldn't want to meet her.  I told her, based on my experience, her birthmom loves her.  Has never stopped.  And a single day has yet to go by where she has not thought of the daughter she placed for adoption.

I saw tears well in Natalie's eyes. She nodded. 

The next time I saw Natalie, she said she was going to start looking.  She said I had motivated her.

I saw Natalie again last night.  Taking the bare straws of what she did know about her birthfamily, and with a little luck from social networking, she has found her birthfamily.  She connected with a full brother she suspected she had, but didn't know for sure.  He is just a year older than she.  They have been texting daily and talking on the phone ever since.  He, and the whole birthfamily, live about 500 miles away.  They all plan to meet in May.  Natalie also has two half-siblings she did not know about.  Natalie said the birthfamily is very excited to meet her.  That was a relief to her.

Natalie also learned more about her birthmom.  She was 16 years old when she placed Natalie for adoption.  She had a 1-year-old child (Natalie's brother), and was on the run from her boyfriend (Natalie's birthfather).  She didn't feel she could safely protect two young children. 

Natalie's birthmom has been in and out of rehab, and it sounds like she and her family have had a hard life.  Natalie has yet to see a picture of her birthmom, and has yet to email or text with her.  Natalie said she wants to have everything happen in person. 

I asked Natalie what she would do when she finally saw her birthfamily, especially her birthmom.  She said she hoped they wouldn't think she was a "snob."  From talks with her brother, Natalie's birthmom and her family really struggled financially.  Natalie did not. 

She said she harbors no ill feelings, and just wants to thank her birthmom for giving her the life she did.  She knows it was a sacrifice, and she is grateful.  She hopes that one day, her birthmom and her mom can meet and form a relationship.  Be at her wedding one day.

I smiled, and told her that is the beauty of open adoption. She now has two sets of family that love and support her.  And, you can never have too much of that.

I asked her, as an adoptive mother myself, what advice could she give me about raising my two children?  She thought for a while.  And then she said, "Be honest with them.  Tell them everything they ever want to know about their adoption.  Hold nothing back."

I asked her if she ever ran across negative comments from others when she was growing up, about being adopted.  She said, "Not really.  Sometimes, people would apologize and tell me they were sorry.  I never understood that.  Why should they be sorry?  I have a great life.  Some people would also say it was too bad I couldn't be with my 'real' family.  I told them my 'real' parents are the ones who changed my poopy diapers, who held my hair back when I threw up, who took me to buy school supplies, who stroked my hair as I fell asleep, and who wiped away my tears after my boyfriend broke up with me.  Those are my 'real' parents, and those are the parents I live with."

Adoption is a really hard journey.  For all involved.  But, it's in moments like these that I am humbled and honored that God chose me to walk this path.  I am a face of adoption.

***

Regarding my last post about the clinical trial, several friends have asked me if I will still do the trial anyway, or if the fact that I know that I ovulate changes anything for me.

I am not going to do the trial.  And no, nothing has changed. 

I am not going to do the trial because if I do have endometriosis, it does not bother me physically.  I am not in pain.  The clinical trial is only open to 10 participants in the state.  I don't want to take the spot of someone who really needs relief.

And no, nothing has changed.  Sure, I may ovulate, but in the 7 years since I got off birth control, we have had only one spontaneous pregnancy, which resulted in a miscarriage.  The chances of us getting pregnant, on our own or with assistance, is still very slim. 

I still pray for a miracle pregnancy, because I will never give up hope.  I'm just not wired that way.

And, we have decided to move forward with our next adoption.  It's a long and discouraging process, but I feel God telling me to "stay the course."  And, so we will.

Clinical Trial

I've gone back and forth trying to decide whether to actually write anything about this.  I generally try to write things that may be of some encouragement to someone else, maybe give someone a little giggle, update friends and family on happenings in our adoption journeys, etc. 

You know, something of some small value to others. 

This post does none of that.  This post is really just to make me feel better. 

Feel free to stop reading if you want.  I won't be insulted.

__________________________________________________________________________________

This post is to make me feel a little "normal."  Please take it in the spirit in which it is intended, which is not to make anyone else who has walked the journey we have feel that they are not normal.  You are.  We all are, in that we are all humans struggling with the human condition.  This post is just to re-affirm that for me.

Ok.  Enough throat clearing.

A couple weeks ago, I received a letter from our local research hospital.  They were asking me to participate in a clinical trial for the treatment (reduction) of endometriosis.  They apparently got my name because they were looking for patients who had a surgical diagnosis of moderate-severe endometriosis.  I had a laparoscopy back in 2009 that revealed some endometriosis.  Isn't that a HIPAA violation or something for my other doctor to release my name to this researcher?

Anyhoo, the letter sat on my desk for many days.  I didn't know whether I wanted to respond to it. 

I finally did.  I received all of the information about it.  Investigational study.  A pill. Six month treatment cycle followed by another 12-18 months of monthly monitoring.  Stipend of $2300. 

But, buried in the disclosures, something caught my eye.  This medicine could stop ovulation while taking the pill.

Last summer, my ob/gyn put me on Clomid to determine if I ovulate.  He determined I didn't.  It was a surprising (and upsetting) diagnosis to me, but I grew to at least tolerate it.

But, something caused me to wander into my doctor's office last week to get a blood test.  It just so happened that I was at a place in my cycle where it would be ideal to get a blood test to determine if I do actually ovulate.  If I don't ovulate, I told myself, I'll do the clinical trial.  If I do, I won't.

Sure, we have only like a 1% chance (seriously, we've been told that figure) of getting pregnant on our own.  Yes, we are happily pursuing adoption through the state.  But, getting these results was not really about any of those things.  It wasn't really about the hopes of a pregnancy (although that's definitely still there), and it wasn't about veering off course from our adoption pursuits (we are still doing that). 

It was about trying to feel like a "normal" (non-infertile) woman.  Or, at least moving more into the acceptance that maybe if I wasn't "normal" in that way, I was still "normal" in many other ways, and blessed beyond belief.

If I ovulate, I told myself, then I will feel more "normal."  That's it.  It doesn't increase our chance of pregnancy (still 1%), and it doesn't change our path to our next child.  It just makes me feel better.  If I don't ovulate, I told myself, then okay, the chance of us ever getting pregnant pretty much closes, and perhaps I can stop daydreaming that it will ever happen, and take the next step toward accepting how God will build our family. 

I got the test results back the next day.

I do, it turns out, ovulate.  Regularly.  On schedule.  Just fine.

A brief moment of normalcy after 7 years of feeling abnormal.

It's kind of nice.

Adoption Update

Just a quick update about our adoption status.  As you may know, we are proceeding to adopt a little one(s) through our state's foster care system.  It's an incredibly long process that we started last September. 

We have completed all the required classes, submitted all the required paperwork, gone to all the required medical appointments, and are now waiting in line to begin our homestudy.

The caseworker assigned to us only works part-time (budget cuts).  But, she is also supposed to have a smaller caseload.  When we got on the list, there were 3 families ahead of us. Now, there are 2. 

At one point, we had hoped to be on the wait list by Sienna's 2nd birthday in June.  Now, I think we will be lucky to have started our homestudy by then.

It's very hard waiting to wait.

I'm just praying that the little one(s) that God has for us are not suffering right now, that they are with a loving foster family, and that God is impressing a picture of us on their little hearts so that when we meet, they will know we are their forever family.

Mortified.

That pretty much summed up my first gut reaction a week ago today.  Since that time, that feeling has morphed into frustration, anger, confusion, sadness, and heartbreak.

Every Sunday after church, for about the past year, Tygh and I have taken the kids to Gymboree.  For those of you who don't know, Gymboree is like a gym for little kids.  We go to the "Family" class, where kids from birth to age 5 can run around, jump, climb, and just get some energy out.  The parents are on the floor with the kids, and our kids love it.

For the longest time, it was just Brae and Sienna in the class.  Recently, the class has started to fill up with several more parents and their kids, all who are much younger than Brae. 

Last week, I received a phone call from the owner of our local Gymboree.  He said another parent had complained that she felt her child was "unsafe" in the class with Brae. 

Mortified. 

I talked to the owner for an hour, and all I learned was that this parent wanted to remain anonymous, and she thought that Brae was too rough in the class, and that he "hits" other kids.

We have never seen Brae hit any other kids.  Apart from his sister.  And, "hit" is really not the right word for his interaction with his sister.  It's more like tackle.  He loves his baby sister, and he loves to get rough n' ready with her on the floor.  Little Miss can hold her own, and while there may be an occasional cry if she gets tackled too hard, she generally growls at him, hits him, or bites him back.  (I'm not saying any of her behavior is acceptable - just that she's used to big brother's antics and she fights back).  And, growing up in a family of 5 kids, and 3 older brothers who used to pin my sister and me down and fart in our faces, this behavior is not completely surprising to me.

After I hung up the phone with the owner, I cried.  It broke my heart that anyone would ever think that Brae was dangerous or unsafe to be around.  And then, I got angry.  How can a parent level such an accusation, and then refuse to give her name?  Schools no longer allow parents to lodge complaints about another child without giving their name.  It cuts down on false complaints.  And, credibility evaporates if you aren't willing to stand behind your claim.

But, we went to the gym the following Sunday, determined to not let this mother get the best of me.  Brae and I had a "serious" talk before walking into class, and I told him that there were lots of little kids in the class, to keep his hands to himself, and to not play with anyone but his sister.

The class went fine.  As suspected, the object of Brae's affection is his sister. 

Relieved. 

And, then came the second call.

A few days after this class, the owner called me again, at work.  He said that there was another complaint about Brae's behavior this last week.  The concern this time was that when another little boy wanted to play with Brae and approached him, Brae shouted at him to get away from him because he's not his sister.

I was there when that incident occurred.  Brae didn't hit the boy, or even touch him.  This little boy's mom gently ushered her son away, and I told Brae that it was okay, this little boy just wanted to play with him.  I also smiled, on the inside, because I know Brae was just trying to be obedient in response to our earlier conversation to not play with anyone but his sister (in response to the complaint the prior week).

Infuriated. 

This time, when talking to the owner, I respectfully gave him a piece of my mind.  Things had gone too far.  Gymboree is supposed to be a place where kids can learn, in a safe and nonjudgmental environment, how to interact with others and socialize.  To be attacked anonymously while in that learning process seems unfair.  Brae just turned 4, and there need to be reasonable expectations about what behavior is appropriate for a 4-year-old boy. 

If Brae really was hitting children (again, we've never seen that), that's a valid complaint.  However, I expect that before I'm called at work about this complaint, there are details confirmed from the parent about what happened, when, where was I, etc., and I expect the owner to have personally substantiated the concern with a visit to the class, witnessing Brae's behavior.   I also expect to have the opportunity to talk to the other parent, in a respectful and adult manner, about her concerns. 

As for this second complaint, I told him that it should have been nipped in the bud without ever feeling the need to call me.  Sure, I wish Brae had been more polite and asked the little boy to please leave him be, but quite frankly, that level of social maturity is a feat many adults have not mastered. 

Brae is learning to navigate social norms, and we are there to help and guide him, but I do not expect perfection from him.  He's going to say and do things that bother me and others, and I simply ask that grace be extended to us during that process.

But, I felt I owed it to these other parents, and to my son, to vet these concerns with his teachers at preschool.  These teachers see Brae in and out every day, and they have a lot of experience with kids Brae's age.

These teachers eased my mind, and provided salve to my hurting heart.  They confirmed our suspicions that Brae is an active, physical, social boy.  He loves to play with his friends, and yes, sometimes he gets a little carried away with his physicality.  And, yes, sometimes he misbehaves and he goes to timeout.  But, he is a normal 4-year-old boy.

To hear those words was like music to my ears.

It's been a really hard week.  But, for now, I'm

Satisfied.