Fearless.

You probably know by now that I have a daughter, who recently turned 2. Her name is Sienna.

God has blessed her in many, many ways.  She is genetically gifted (she's gorgeous).  She's funny.  She's spunky.  She's pugnacious.  She's tall (over 3 feet).  She loves to eat.  She loves to sleep.

But what you may not know is that this girl is f.e.a.r.l.e.s.s. 

This point has been driven home as of late.

Some recent examples:

1) She insisted on going down a 50' spiraled water slide, by herself, head first, the very first time we took her to the pool.  She went completely underwater, bobbed right up, with her toothy smile, and shouted, "Again!"  And then she climbed out of the water, and marched right over to the long spiraled staircase, elbowing the older kids out of the way to get to the top.  I just stood in the pool, at the bottom of the slide, aghast. 

2) At her gymnastics class, she does belly flops into the foam pit, while the older kids delicately climb in.

3) At her tumbling gym, she climbs head first into a tall bucket, no idea what's inside the bucket.  Her little legs sticking straight up in the air. 

4) At the park, if you look away for even a second, she has run into the forest, and lain down in the brush so you can't see her.  And when you find her to try and scold her, she just looks up at you, giggling amongst the weeds. 

5) If Brae so much as breathes wrong on her, she kicks her foot into his face.

6) She prefers to drink water from the dog's bowl.

7) She eats bugs.

8) She rolls in dirt.

9) During snacktime, when another kid isn't looking, she has traded her empty milk carton for his full one, and has taken a bite of his sandwich. 

10) She puts on her shoes, throws her sparkly doggy purse over her shoulder, and walks out the front door without even saying 'goodbye.' 

I know that, channeled correctly, these are envious traits that will serve her well in life.  However, as a toddler, my fearless daughter has stricken fear into the heart of her mother.  It makes me wonder, Did 10 years frozen in a test tube incite this balls-to-the wall zest for life?  I may never know.

Notice the bruises and band-aids on her legs.

                      At our friend's bbq, she went straight for the tractor and tried to start it.

An unexpected closure

I received an email yesterday that provided me some unexpected closure in a certain area of my life.

You may recall that with Sienna, we had backup donors.  They had four "top grade" embryos.  Since we were doing open adoptions, I got to know not only Sienna's donors, but our backup donors as well.  We actually became friends and have remained in communication for nearly two years now.

After our success with Sienna, we decided to lovingly return the backup embryos to NEDC.  It was an excruciatingly difficult decision.  As badly as I wanted to adopt them, my husband and I were just not at the same page at that time with keeping them.  We felt that until we were unified in that decision, the right thing to do was to return them in the hopes they would be released from limbo.

Months went by and these embryos still were not adopted.  That puzzled me, because I knew they were of such a high grade, but I also know that open adoptions are less common than anonymous, so perhaps that was the reason.

About a year later, the embryos were adopted.  They were again the "backup embryos."  And, again, the couple got pregnant with their "first try" embryos.  And, again, that couple lovingly returned the backup embryos to NEDC. 

After I learned this, I approached my husband again with the possibility of adopting these embryos back.  And that's when he told me that he just did not feel led to do that, and instead felt led toward adopting through our state. 

Heartbreakingly, I told our backup donors that it was just not meant to be for us, but that I would continue to pray over these embryos, and their fate.

During all this time, these backup donors remained steadfastly positive about the fate of their precious embryos, knowing that they would be released at the right time, and to the right couple.

A few months ago, they were adopted by a third couple.  Recently, the four were thawed, and three survived and were transferred. 

No pregnancy resulted.

I'm shocked. 

I'm shocked because it's just a simple reminder that God is in control of life from beginning to end.  Not even the very best in medical technology, science, or the most brilliant and careful doctors and staff can ensure the beginning of life.  Life remains the province of our Creator. 

I also feel a sense of comfort and peace.  Comfort for our backup donors that they now feel some rest, knowing the fate of those children.  Comfort that God, as painful as it was, steered us away from re-adopting those embryos, which, knowing their fate, would have caused us more heartache and pain.

And peace, knowing that for that third adopting couple, while they no doubt are experiencing the heartache and pain of a failed attempt, that God still put this desire in their hearts, and He will be faithful to fulfill it, or take it away.

Homestudy: Part VI - The best yet

Yesterday was what we hope is our sixth and final homestudy (apart from maybe a brief follow-up visit or two).

It was the first time that Tygh and I actually got to be together for the homestudy since the first visit, many months ago. 

Again, the caseworker just wanted to fill in holes that she had in her report.  She mostly asked about our differing parent styles.  I'm much more laid back, and Tygh is more of the "iron fist."  She also wanted to ask more about our children and their personalities. 

Now, if you know me, I could go on and on and on talking about my kids.  But, I quietly deferred to Tygh.  It was so fascinating hearing his responses, and watching him as he responded.

When he spoke of Brae, his chest puffed up, and he sat up straight.  His voice was strong and proud.  He talked about how Brae is his shadow, how intelligent and willful he is, how he's "all boy," and how Brae owns me (great).

When he spoke of Sienna, his chest kind of caved in, he relaxed his posture, and sat back in the chair.  His voice was softer and more relaxed.  He talked about how she's shy when she first meets someone, but then she warms up quickly and is a social butterfly.  How she loves to take care of things and people, and how she can stand her own against her big brother.

And then, he spoke about me.  He spoke about how great of a mother I am.  How when I'm with the kids, I'm 100% with the kids.  How I'm driven and persistent in reaching my dreams, and also loving and compassionate (tears).

And then the caseworker said something that really surprised me.  Mind you, most of my interactions with my caseworker, while I really like her, have been a bit prickly.  I know that's just part of the process.  I've gotten the impression she thinks that I'm this tightly-wound woman who needs to take a chill pill.  Come to learn, she thinks quite the opposite.

"You know, Britney, you're actually a big softie.  You come across, and I think most people would think that you are this rigid professional woman who has to have her life all in order, which is what I initially thought.  But I've come to learn that you are not this way.  You actually have a very big heart and are quite a big softie."

That lit up my day.

So, next steps are that we have to finish a couple little things around the house (get a new fire extinguisher, get a safe for our medications, etc.), she writes her report, comes to do one final house walk-through, and then we are allowed to read our report (gulp).

As much as I want this homestudy process to just be over with, and have been pushing to just get it done, I truly trust God's sovereign plan with how and when this next child will come.

For now, it seems, we are at least off the roller coaster, and waiting for the next ride.

Homestudy: Part V

It's hard to believe there is actually a fifth chapter to this saga. 

Last week, I had my fifth interview with our caseworker. 

Our caseworker is in the process of writing up our report, and had some holes she said she wanted to fill in.  Particularly, she wanted to hear more about my childhood.  More about my parents' divorce.  More about my parents' re-marriages to my stepparents, and my three stepbrothers.  She wanted to hear more about my high school and college years.  More about my romantic relationships. 

In all, I'm not sure I've ever told one single person as much information as I've told this virtual stranger.  It's an exhausting process.

And, at the end, of course, she had comments.  In a nutshell, she said that I appear to "minimize the trauma in my life." 

Her concern was that we may be placed with a child who has had some trauma in his/her life, and it could be a trigger for me, and what was I willing to do about it?

I told her that I have been on several missions trips to very impoverished parts of our country, and our world.  I have witnessed children who do not have shoes on their feet, running water, and struggle for every morsel of food.  I have mentored children whose fathers have abandoned them, who have been physically or sexually abused, and neglected. 

In comparison, my childhood was a piece of cake. 

I'm not trying to minimize divorce, and the profound impact it has on children, including me.  Looking back, that one incident was a catalyst for a lot of unpleasant experiences in my life. 

However, I do not compare it to being beaten, raped, or starved.

So, forgive me if I tend to shrug my experience of divorce off.  In comparison, it was not that bad.  My parents each re-married, and have been re-married for over 25 years.  I've seen beauty rise from the ashes that divorce creates.  Including myself.

Of course, I told her that if a child we bring home causes a trigger in me, I will not hesitate to seek counseling.  And, I mean that.

We hope to have our next (and final!) homestudy visit in the next week or so, and then we wait for the final report to be written.

It will be so nice to have this part of the process behind us.

Brae-isms

It's been a while since the last round, so there are a few more than usual.  As always, I'm so proud to be the Mommy of this little one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1)     One evening, Brae and I were saying prayers before bed.  Brae said that he wanted me to pray, while he held his precious sticker book in his hand, and closed his eyes.  I was praying, thanking God for all our blessings, when Brae whispered, “Mommy, tell God that I have super hero stickers.  Thank him for those, too. ... Oh, and tell him to not ever send us to jail."

 

2)     Brae and Tygh made brownies one evening.  Brae loves brownies.  He put a special one on a plate, and said he wanted to save it for after school the following day.  Regrettably, I ate that brownie (don’t get too mad – there was a whole plate full of other brownies, but I ate the special one).  When Brae got home and realized his prized brownie was missing, he said, “Mommy, where’s my brownie?”  Guild-ridden, I said, “I’m so sorry, honey.  I ate it.  Were you looking forward to eating it?”  “Yes!” he proclaimed.  “I was looking forward to it….. and behind, and to the side!”

 

3)    Brae: “Mommy, I want some juice and chocolate milk.”    “No, Brae, you can’t have both,” I said.  “Pick one or the other.”  (Long pause)  Brae: “Other.” 

4)    Brae and Sienna went to Grandma and Grandpa’s house recently while Mommy and Daddy went on vacation.  Apparently, Brae’s picky eating habits continued even at grandparent’s house.  One evening, my sister came over to see the kids.  In front of Brae, Grandma said, “Brae is a p-i-c-k-y e-a-t-e-r.”  Brae got upset.  “No, I’m NOT,” he said.  “I’m B-r-a-e.” 

 

5)   At the park Brae and a little boy were playing. Suddenly, the other little boy started throwing dirt in Brae's face. Dirt got in his eyes. The other boy's mom came rushing over, apologizing. Brae just shrugged and said, "It's ok. It was my fault. I didn't turn my face fast enough."

 

6)   "Mom, my light saber broke. ... Now it's just a flashlight."

 

7)   Recently, we "met" our housecleaner for the first time. We got home earlier than usual, and she was still there. I walked in and saw a little boy sitting quietly on the couch. I realized he didn't speak English. Brae ran in, saw the boy sitting in Brae's spot on the couch, went right up to him and said, "Hi! Wanna watch ninjas with me?" The boy beamed. Love that he has yet to meet a stranger.

 

8)   I walked in on Brae going #2 in the bathroom. He had poop on his hands. I said, "Brae! Why do you have poop on your hands?" He said, "Because, Mommy. I want to always remember this poop being in my bum."

 

 

Friends with our donors

I am now Facebook friends with our donors.

This may seem like a silly thing on which to write a blog, but it actually means a lot to me.  I have a friend who is pregnant with twins through EA, and recently became "friends" with her donors, and was raving about how much she loved it.

Spurred on by this, I texted our donors to see if they wanted to be "friends."  I was delighted when they responded that they absolutely would. 

It has been such a treat to be Facebook friends.  I'm able to see all the pictures of Sienna's genetic siblings, get to revel in the humorous and insightful posts they make, and am able to establish a tangible link between our two families. 

Another bonus has come out of this growing relationship is that Sienna's genetic sister, who will be in 5th grade, has started responding to some of the text messages I send to our donors.  It is beyond a blessing to me to be able to have forged this relationship with Sienna's full-blooded genetic sister. 

For me, this is just part of the beauty of open adoptions.  With the advent and growing popularity of the Internet, our world is getting smaller.  To some, that is scary.  To me, it is comforting. 

I want Sienna to be able to know her genetic family.  I want her, when the time is right, to ask any questions she wants to.  I love that her genetic family is open and receptive to this.  I am not threatened in any way by this openness.  I long for it.  Brae has it with his biological family, and we believe Sienna should have it with her genetic family. 

Some reading this may not understand or relate to this, or even agree with this decision.  I get that.  It took me a while to get to this point, so I do understand the resistance and uneasiness. 

Ultimately, however, I'm doing this for our daughter.  In all of our adoption trainings (and we've been through a lot), there really is no such thing as a "closed" adoption anymore.  (There are exceptions, of course).  Most adoptees, at some point, hunger for information about their past, and with, again, the growing inner circle of our culture through social media, it is becoming easier to connect to our past.

For me, I feel blessed and honored to be able to have access to a wealth of information that, when the time is right, I can provide to Sienna. 

To those of you out there, including my dear friends, who have adopted internationally, have more traditional "closed" adoptions, or who chose anonymous EA, I hope you take this post in the spirit in which it is intended.  Your children also needed forever families.  A child is not eligible for adoption simply because it would be an open one.  So, I applaud your bravery and willingness to engage in that part of the adoption adventure.  I suspect it is equally as challenging, and rewarding.

Homestudy: Part III

Sigh.

Groan.

Ugh. 

That about sums up my last homestudy visit.  It was a 1:1 with just me and our caseworker.  I really do like our caseworker, but I very much dislike this homestudy process.

Going through the state, or at least through our state, is essentially an investigation to dig up dirt.  The caseworkers are required to find every possible red,  yellow, purple, pink, polka-dot flag they can, and talk about it.  It's very unlike private adoptions.

I actually brought this up with our caseworker at this last visit, and she agreed.  Private adoption homestudies tend to be shorter, less interrogatory, and put a polish on the family's life.  By contrast, public adoption homestudies are extensive, intrusive, and there is nary a glimmer to be found once the caseworker has gutted the family's life. 

I'm trying not to over-exaggerate.

It makes it difficult, however, when a family with a private homestudy is "competing" for a child with a public homestudy.  One showcases the family's successes, accomplishments, everyone has pearly white teeth, etc.  The other one highlights the family's struggles, skeletal closets, and everyone has missing teeth.

It's not fair.

I know, I know.  God has the right child already picked out for us.  No one can take our child.  I know all of the platitudes.  But it is still frustrating.

At the end of the homestudy visit, I asked our caseworker if she saw any red flags.  She said "no," but that there was an area about me that intrigued her the most and she wanted to learn more about it.

My need for control, she said.  I'm assertive, she said.  I'm the "squeaky wheel," she said.  And, I'm a permissive parent.

I gaffawed. 

Not because any of that is necessarily untrue, but because they were presented as negative traits.

I'm a wife, mother of two, and full-time professional.  Yes, I have a need for some control in my life.  Wouldn't you? Yes, I'm assertive.  Yes, I can be a "squeaky wheel."  No one is going to care more about my best interests than me.  No one is going to care about my children's (or future child's) best interest more than me.  And, yes, I've been told I'm a permissive parent.  (I've also been told in the same breath that I'm a natural "love and logic" parent).  I'm the mom who will let her kids run in the mud puddle (and have), and will take them to preschool naked if they refuse to get dressed (and have).  So, yes, I am each of these things, under the right circumstances.

So when our old caseworker didn't return our calls or emails, after several polite nudgings, yes, I contacted her supervisor.  These tactics apparently labeled me in the caseworker world as "assertive," "controlling," "squeaky wheel," and "trying to steer the process." 

All the while, our child is out there, somewhere, waiting for his/her forever family, while I wait for paperwork to be filed, emails to get sent, phone calls to get returned, and people to label me as controlling and assertive and permissive. 

So, I will wait, and I will take the heat.

Because there is a child out there waiting for us, who has already taken a lot of heat.

Sienna's 2 year stats

We had Sienna's 2-year check up last week, and these were the results:

1) Height = Smidge over 3 feet tall.  That is technically in the 97th percentile.

2) Weight = 29.1 pounds.  That is the 95th percentile. 

3) Head is in the 50th percentile. 

Sienna is now potty trained at school, and will go at home if I take her, but she does not let me know ahead of time. 

She is becoming much more verbal, and I can understand her about 75% of the time. 

She is extremely independent, considers herself self-sufficient, and marches to the beat of her own drum. 

She's a fantastic eater - and regularly will eat off of Brae and Daddy's plates once she's done with her own.  She is not into sweets. She prefers water to anything else, and salt to sugar.

She's also an amazing sleeper - about 10 hours at night straight, and then 2-3 hour naps. 

She's very into her baby dolls, putting them to bed, feeding them with a bottle, etc.

She's also easy to discipline.  You just look at her with a raised eyebrow and she falls straight into line.  Every once in a while, she'll throw herself on the floor in a full-out tempertantrum, but she wears out easily.

She is fearless.  She is not afraid to try anything.  She will climb, jump, run, belly-flop, in just about any environment. 

And, she's a lover.  She loves to cuddle, snuggle into your neck, and say "lub eww." 

To my daughter, on her 2nd birthday

Dear Sienna,

Whenever you read this, whether it's ten years from now reading it for the first time, or seventy years from now, after I'm long gone, I want you to know these certain truths about you, and never forget them. 

1.  I love you.  I love everything about you.  From how your eyes turn into crescent moons when you smile big, to the frown on your brow when you don't get your way.  I love it all. 

2. You will never lose my love.  I know there will come a day when you slam the door in my face, when you curse my name, and maybe tell me you wish I wasn't your mom.  I've steeled myself for that day, and I want you to know now, before it even happens, that I will love you still. 

3.  You are wanted.  Mommy and Daddy longed and ached for you, for years.  God moved mountains to bring you into this world, to create you, and to bring you to us.  So when that first boy breaks your heart, or you get that first grade you didn't deserve, or you don't get the job of your dreams, know that you will forever and always have parents who want you still. 

4.  Your brother loves you.  You are his favorite play thing.  You two were meant to be siblings.  He adores you.  He always asks about you.  He gets the biggest smile whenever you are around.  He wants to steal your toys just as often as he wants to share his food with you.  He wants a reaction out of you - whatever it is.  He delights in you.  Just remember that the next time that he makes you angry. 

5.  You are beautiful.  You are a gift.  A treasure.  You are a child of God, on loan to us. 


Daughter, we will do our best to raise you in these truths.  Please know that although we will mess up in raising you, we really are trying, and we really do want the very best for you. 

You are my child.  My firstborn daughter.  My beloved.

Happy birthday, honey pie.

Love,

Mommy

Homestudy: Part II

We had our second homestudy visit last week.  Apart from a few awkward moments, it went well.  The caseworker interviewed Tygh separately, and "observed" our children.  She later told Tygh that our children are "perfect."  (What parent doesn't love hearing that?)

This time around is just very different than our other homestudy visits.  Every word, gesture, glance seems scrutinized and, dare I say, judged?

I understand why.  Unlike domestic adoption or embryo adoption where the birth/genetic family get to choose, here the State is choosing.  And, also unlike domestic adoption or embryo adoption, there likely was not much willingness on the part of the birthfamily that caused the relinquishment/termination of parental rights.  So, in a sense, the stakes are higher. 

But, it is still really uncomfortable to have a 360-degree analysis of your family and your lifestyle. 

Next up is my one-on-one visit with the caseworker, followed by one more "family observation" visit.  Still hoping the report will be complete, and we'll be officially a "waiting family" by August.

One very cute and heartwarming moment happened right when the caseworker arrived.  Brae greeted her at the door with the following exchange:

Brae: "Hi.  I'm Brae.  B-r-a-e.  I'm adopted.  I'm special.  When are you going to give us a baby?"

Caseworker: "Hi.  Yes, you are special.  It's going to be a while."

Sigh. 

Moms... who ride in limos.

This last weekend we celebrated a good friend's 30th birthday.  Bonus was that our other good friend was able to come as well.  We are all great friends who have known eachother for close to a decade.  Our husbands are each friends from either elementary school or college.  And, we are each moms, with two kiddos apiece. Safe to say we've been through a lot together.

Our friend's husband went above the call of duty and actually rented a 25-person, white, stretch Escalade limo.  It's the largest limo in the state. 

Needless to say, we were tickled.

The night was so much fun (restaurant hopping, against the backdrop of PG-rated 90s rap music), but probably the most fun is that us moms got to peel out of our sweats, throw on some makeup, and actually curl our hair.  We were determined to not let anyone think we had lost our mojo simply because we were now moms.  So, to that end, our dresses may have been a tad shorter, and the lips a shade redder, than normal.  But, I'm proud to say that we mingled with the best of them.

And, the only evidence of our mom status was the fact that we quietly slinked out, and were in our beds, before midnight. 

Brae's commercial!

Here's a (draft) copy of Brae's commercial!  There are two versions.  I'm the gal in the white coat, and Brae is in the puffy jacket with the ladybug and magnifying glass.

Family pictures!

Homestudy: Part I

Right before we left on vacation, we had our first homestudy visit.  Let me start off by saying that domestic infant adoption and embryo adoption homestudy visits do not hold a candle to homestudy visits conducted by the state.  The former, while perhaps an inconvenient glance into your personal life, are nothing compared to the pants-down invasions of a homestudy conducted by a state social worker. 

Our caseworker is a Canadian-born, propoer woman in her mid-50s.  She is well-dressed, slender, and very poised.  If I wasn't nervous before the visit, I sure was when she rebuffed my offer to sit in the living room and insisted that we sit at the kitchen table.  She pulled out her white spiral notebook, black ink pen, and turned to the first page.  She didn't put that pen down for the next two hours. 

She started off with all the expected questions: Why are you doing this? Why through the state? Tell me about your first two adoptions.  We answered her thoroughly, honestly, and taking turns between Tygh and I.  We answered candidly and without hesitation.  And yet, we were careful in our phraseology.  After going through two of these already, we know how stray remarks can be captured, and misconstrued. 

At the end of the examination, we gave her a brief tour of the house.  She reminded us that a more thorough home imspection would be coming.  She told us we were a "good" family who would be "competitive."  The people pleaser in me smiled at that.  There would be at least three more visits, she told us.  The next two will be one-on-one with each me and Tgh, and an observation of the kids. 

She expected to be able to complete her 25-page report by the end of summer, which means we could then receive a "password" to log in and begin looking at available children.  The cynic in me felt a little like we were shopping for a child.  It felt uncomfortable. 

In domestic infant adoption, the birthmom chooses the adoptive family.  Brae's birthmom chose us.  Sure, we probably would never have met apart from each of our separate crises, but it was in crisis that we were united forever.  We have a great relationship with the birthfamily. 

In embryo adoption, the genetic family (or agency) chooses the adoptive/biological family.  Sienna's genetic donors chose us.  Again, we probably would have never met apart from each of our separate crises, but it was also in crisis that we were united forever.  We have a great relationship with the donors.

Here, none of that applies.  Yes, there is a crisis invovled, but the birthfamily is certainly not choosing us.  Their parental rights were terminated by the state.  The state and a panel of "experts" will then choose us from a group of two other families, "competing" for one child.  It's hard to picture how this great relationship with the birthfamily is going to form, when they likely feel that their rights were yanked from them. 

But, here we are.  On this path.  Making our way through, trusting and believing that God has it all planned out for good. 

Ready, Set, Shoot!

A couple weeks ago, I received an email from my mother-in-law.  A co-worker of hers is friends with a talent scout.  They were looking for a 3-5 year old boy who is articulate for a commercial shoot.  My mother-in-law showed her co-worker a picture of Brae and raved about his "Brae-isms."

A few hours later, I received a call from our local NBC affiliate.  They wanted Brae in the shoot.  As my head was spinning, I recall she said something about it being a commercial by a national preschool/early learning corporation that wanted to promote reading in its schools.  Apparently, the fact that Brae neither attends these learning centers, and cannot read, is of no consequence. 

Two days later, Brae and I drove to the shoot at a nearby park.  On our way, Brae said, rather solemnly, "Mom, now that I'm going to be on TV, does that mean that I'm never going to see Daddy or Sienna again?"  I smiled.  "No, son.  Just because you're going to be on TV doesn't mean you're going to live in the TV.  You'll see Daddy and Sienna tonight."  He sighed.

The shoot itself was amazing.  Ten production crew and one little boy.  The two scenes they were trying to capture with Brae had to do with Brae holding a ladybug and looking through a magnifying glass, and then a separate shot of Brae and me walking down a path, holding a book.  It took 90 minutes to get those two scenes. 

Brae was such a trooper.  He had complained when he'd woken up that morning that his tummy hurt.  I thought it was just nerves, and shrugged it off.  At the shoot, he was a little shy at first, and then let his personality shine.  When he did, he had the crew in stitches.  On our way to his school after the shoot, Brae again complained his tummy hurt.  I thought, again, it was just part of the adrenaline.  I dropped him off at school.  Sure enough, a few hours later, the teacher called saying he was in the bathroom, puking.  Poor lil guy.  I told him it was all part of living the famous actor lifestyle.  ; )

The talent scout said the commercial would air in Oregon and SW Washington.  She said she'd send me the file when it is produced.  Of course, I'll post it here.  ; )

Scenes from a No-Kids Vacay

Last week, we went on our annual "no-kids" vacation.

Although these are always good for us, and our marriage, it is a test of patience for me.  Each day is a countdown until I can see the kiddos again. 

My parents (saints) graciously took the kids for the nine days.  We called home every night.  It was the highlight of my day.  We'd hear Brae tell and re-tell the story of him and grandpa going fishing, and not catching any fish.   We'd hear Sienna babble incessently, punctuated by a few intermittent decipherable words.  We'd hear my mom say how they were doing fine, and not to worry.  And, we'd hang up the phone, knowing this was much more torturous for us than them. 

When the kids arrived at home after vacation, they surprised me.  They sneaked in through the garage door as I was lurking over my phone in the kitchen.  I turned around and screamed.  Then, tears started streaming down my face.

Brae stopped dead in his tracks, startled by my scream.  Then, as I raced toward him, he started shaking.  He dropped his backpack to the floor, smiled, and tears ran down his face.  I hugged him. 

Sienna came racing in next, screaming and smiling.  I held them both for what seemed like hours.  I couldn't hold them long enough.

Sienna had changed.  At that age, they grow so quickly.  Her hair was longer.  Her cheeks a little less pudgy.  She seemed ... older. 

I'm already not looking forward to next year.

Here are a few scenes from our vacation:

Mother's Day: Sometimes, it just sucks

This post is dedicated to all those women out there who have either lost a mother or a child (at any stage), who have fractured or broken relationships with their mothers or children, or who yearn to be a mother and are just not.

Mother's Day can suck.

I know this pain all too well.  Sure, you may be thinking, I'm sure Mother's Day was hard for you.  But at least now you have your two children. 

You are right.  I'm blessed and so grateful to be a mom.  But, I've also learned to never "at least" someone's pain away. 

I remember one Mother's Day, being a couple years into our infertility struggle, sitting in a pew at church next to my husband, just sobbing.  Wailing.  People were turning around to look at me.  I'm sure they thought I just lost my own mother.  From that day on, I avoided Mother's Day at church.

Even after Brae arrived, Mother's Day hit me as bitter sweet.  Sure, I was grateful to be a mom, but the pain and sheer agony I'd felt all those  years before was still palpable. 

And, you know what? It still is. 

For me, every day is Mother's Day.  I get to be a mom every day to some of the greatest gifts God has ever given me.  But to have an actual holiday geared at honoring and celebrating that role just puts a painful spotlight on the void and vacancy I felt for so many years. 

On Mother's Day, I don't feel like receiving flowers or going out for brunch or getting gifts.  I just want to be with my family.  And, I want to reach out to the me several years ago and just give her a hug and hold her as she sobs.  I would tell her, and every other woman for whom Mother's Day just sucks, that I know how you feel.  And maybe this day each year will get easier, and maybe it won't. 

And for that, I'm so sorry.