Is it because he is adopted?

Last Tuesday was a hard day.

It started with (yet another) email from Brae's kindergarten teacher.  He was acting out in school.  Again.  Throwing things.  Being "mean" to other kids.  Acting silly.  Obnoxious.

Tygh and I were discussing appropriate consequences just as Brae was walking through the door.  I opened his backpack to discover (yet another) note from Brae's extended kindergarten day teacher about more unacceptable behavior.

I about lost it.

Not angry. 

Sad.  Disappointed.  Embarrassed.

We don't model this behavior for him.  We don't teach it.  We don't preach it.

So why is he acting out?

Nothing has changed at home.

I went for a walk to clear my head.

That's when the small nagging voice that creeps up in moments like this began to get louder.

Is it because he is adopted?

I cried.

No, I reasoned.  That's not what this is about.

Right?

In my non-teary-eyed, logical state, I know, intellectually, that it is absurd to think that Brae's kindergarten behavior is because he is adopted.  Brae knows he is adopted.  We've never kept that a secret.  He sees his biological family once a year, and we stay in regular communication with them.  It's a beautiful, open relationship.

So I know that the "is it because he's adopted" inquiry is not grounded in reality.  Instead, it is rooted in insecurity.

My own insecurity that I'm not doing a good job at being his mom.  That, somehow, the fact that it is not my blood that runs through his veins is the cause of any misbehavior.  That, somehow, because I did not give birth to him will be the direct cause of him failing in life.

Absurd.

Crazy.

Illogical.

But, still, it's a thought that creeps up in my moments of weakness.

When I got back from my walk, Tygh came up to me.  He had news.  He and Brae had a talk.  Tygh was trying to get to the bottom of his behavior.  Why was he acting out at school?

As a 6-year-old, Brae didn't have a lot of answers.  He couldn't really explain his behavior.

As a parting question, Tygh asked if there was anything he could do to help him - with anything.

Brae looked up at him with big, doe-eyes, and said, "Daddy, I can't read.  Other kids in my class are reading big-kid books. I can't."

My heart sank all over again. 

I knew he had been struggling to read.  I didn't know that he felt an inferiority because of it.

Insecurities flooded me all over again.  But, this time, I knew this couldn't be explained because he was adopted.

It's explained by him being just a little boy.  A kid.  A competitive kid.  In a high-performing school.  Coming face-to-face for the first time with a feeling of peer inadequacy.

I cried all over again.  Because, as his mom, adoptive mom or not, I cannot protect him from this feeling, or feeling it again.

This is life. 

And it's hard.

A Great Idea.

I saw another adoptive mom post on her Facebook page today a truly great idea.  I was so inspired, I literally put my blow dryer down, and walked out to the computer, hair still wet.

This mom set up an email account for her daughter.  She is going to give it to her, and the password, when she is 18.  From now until then, she is going to send emails to her daughter.  On her 18th birthday, her daughter can read these memories, some 17 years in the making.

I was inspired.

I immediately set up accounts for Brae, Sienna, and Graem. 

Then, I sent them their first email:

Hello Brae, Sienna, and Graem!

I hope this email finds you well!

Mommy is starting a little adventure. I've created these email accounts for you.  On the day you move out of the house and start your own next chapter of adventure, I will give you these email accounts, along with the passwords.

Over the next many years, I'm going to be writing to you.  So, if you look in your inbox right now, you should have many, many, many emails from me over the years.  Every time I've wanted to write to you, I did, sending you an email.  It's my way of speaking to you over the years, and sending you photos, etc.  I hope you will treasure reading these emails as much as I know I will sending them to you.

I'm so excited for this and I want you to know YOU ARE LOVED.  By the God of the Universe, and by your Mommy and Daddy.


xoxoxo

Private Pain.

At church, we are going through a series about social media and its role in each of our lives.

This series has re-opened my eyes to the deluge of social media in my life, and caused me to wonder a little more about the person behind all those "selfie" posts.

I don't take selfies.  Or, at least I don't consider them selfies.  Someone else takes the picture, so it's not a selfie, right?

I used to be someone who basked in the limelight. Loved attention.

Not anymore.  Perhaps it was the pain of infertility for so many years, or perhaps it is just the maturity that comes with age, but I'm much more introspective than I used to be.  I've retreated from the limelight for the comfort of a more subtle glow. 

I prefer to be the observer than the observed now.

I have hundreds of friends. At least according to Facebook.

In reality, I have a handful of friends I feel truly comfortable around.  Who know my joys, my sorrows, my fears, my delights, and who have walked beside me in my private pain.

Infertility being the biggest private pain I've ever suffered.

Sure, I've been very open and very public about our infertility.  But, unless you've been through it, it is still a very private, raw, deeply personal pain.  I'm not even sure my husband could relate to the vacancy I felt when I was in the throws of infertility.

I'm not even sure I could recognize today the person that I was then.

I can look back at pictures from during that time.  Pictures of me, with a smile on my face.  Hiding a broken heart.

I know I'm not the only one who has concealed private pain behind a beautiful shade of red lipstick.

In fact, I'm pretty positive that when I pull up Facebook tonight, I'll find a dozen other "friends" who are masking their own private pain.

I may never know exactly who they are at any given time, or what exactly they are hiding, but there are some things I can do to connect with them in their time of distress. 

I can be real.  I can be honest.  I can share the joys of my world without bragging about them.  I can celebrate the goodness of life without acting like I'm the cause of it.

I can be grateful.

There is a saying that no one will ever remember all the things you said to them, but they will always remember the way you made them feel.

I try to keep that in mind every time I go online, and comment on someone's post or picture, or share a "status" of my own.

Humility.  Gratitude.  And most of all, a little sense of humor.

Even if I, too, am hiding some private pain.

Graem's 4 month checkup

I breathed a huge sigh of relief coming out of Graem's 4-month-checkup.

After a bumpy start to life, he is finally on par with other full-term babies.  He weighed in at 13.9 lbs (60th percentile, age adjusted), and is in the 75th percentile (age adjusted) for height at over 25 inches.

He also laughed the entire visit. 

He's not yet rolling over, which many 4 mothers are, so there is a bit of his prematurity showing there. 

The doctor gave the "go" for solid foods, and I headed straight to the grocery store.  I love shopping for baby food. 

We tried carrots first.  And, I think maybe he got a total of one teaspoon in his mouth. 

He's sleeping between 5-8 hours straight at night, and averages 4 naps/day.

He loves going on runs in the stroller with me.

He adores playing with his older brother.  Sienna still mostly keeps a safe distance from him.

He loves to be tickled on his inner thigh, and his collar bone.

He loves baths.

He is the kind of baby that makes you think you could do another 3 more.

Dot, dot, dot. 

Sigh.

Here he is on Halloween, wearing the same costume Brae wore home from the hospital.

Halloween Baby.

Today is Brae's 6th birthday.  In honor of my Halloween baby, I thought I'd share his birth story for those who may not know.

We had been on the adoption wait list for nearly 7 months before we got the call that Brae's birthmom had seen our profile and wanted to meet us.  She was the first birthmom who had actually wanted to meet us.  We'd had numerous "false starts" before her. 

We drove nearly 3 hours to meet her for the first time.  It was September, and she was due in early November.  We met at a Mexican restaurant for lunch.  It was us, our case worker, her, her sister, and her mother. 

I remember thinking she was radiant.  A petite young girl, age 23, with a basketball under her shirt.  I was so nervous, I didn't eat a thing.

We all stumbled through the conversation, clearly in uncharted territory.  We gave her a small bag of gifts we had brought - magazines, books, little things to occupy her during her labor. 

At one point, she asked us if we had picked out names.  She had decided to not know the gender, so she asked if we had a boy and a girl name.

We told her we did not yet have a boy name, but we had a girl name.  It was Hannah.

The room fell silent. 

Oh no, I thought.  She doesn't like our name.  What could that mean? Will she still allow us to adopt this baby?

Then, she broke the silence with a smile.

"That's my last name."

Chills.  Up to that point, we had only known her first name.  To have our chosen girl name be her last name was truly a God thing. 

The next day, she chose us to be the family for the child she was carrying.

Fast forward a few weeks, and we got the call that she was going to be induced.  On Halloween.  It was a Friday.  The same as this year.

We had our last supper as a family of 2 (we hoped!), and drove the 3 hours down to the hospital.  We stayed in a hotel on October 30, and the next morning, went to the hospital.

She allowed us to be present for the labor and delivery.  When I walked in the room, she looked at me and smiled, "Are you ready to be a mom?"

I lost it. 

Over the next several hours, we talked with her and her family, prayed with her, and otherwise encouraged her as she made her way through the labor process.  At one point, she turned to us and said, "You know, I never asked if you had a boy name picked out."

Tygh and I looked at each other.  We had just decided the day before. 

"Well, it's a little unusual.  But we like Brae." 

Again, the room fell silent.  The familiar feeling of Is she going to like it? raced through my mind.

She again broke the silence with a smile.  "My middle name is Rae."

God was present.

I held her hand as she pushed our baby out, and then when the doctor revealed it was a boy, watched as they placed him on her abdomen.

I cut the cord.

Life breathed. 

Our birthmom is an incredible woman.  For many reasons.  But all could see it that day, from the nursing staff, to the doctors, to the caseworkers.

She allowed us to completely assume the role of his parents from literally his first breath.  We bathed him.  We fed him.  We changed him.  We held him.

And, as the night wore on, she asked if I would sleep in the room with her and Brae.

I did.

Not much sleeping went on that night, however.  She and I just talked.  It was magical.

The next day, she was discharged, and he was officially ours.

The hospital put him in a pumpkin costume, and we saddled up for the ride home.  I sat in the back with him, holding his hands the whole way. 

Six years later, and I haven't stopped.

Working Mom Guilt

I have posted about "Working Mom Guilt" before, and yet it is such a recurring theme in my life, it is never far from my thoughts.  This week was particularly challenging, perhaps because I think for one of the first times, my husband had Working Husband Guilt.

Sienna is in preschool.  Yes, I know even stay-at-home moms have their children in preschool, so I don't know why I associate Sienna's preschool experience with being a Working Mom issue.  I know it is not. 

And yet, every time I drop her off, I feel a sting of Working Mom guilt.

This week, Sienna gave me a good, healthy dose of it.

Three out of four days this week, when I dropped Sienna off, she melted in a puddle.  She even plastered her face and her hands up against the window, crying as she watched me drive away.

Knife. In. My. Heart.

Now, I know she loves her preschool.  She often scolds me when I pick her up, saying I've picked her up too early, she is not finished playing, or doing her crafts, etc. 

So what is it?  This has only become a recurrent theme in the last couple of months.

I think a couple of things.  One, she's there by herself.  I don't mean there aren't other kids there.  There are, including her best friend.  But she doesn't have her older brother anymore.  And, Graem is still at home with me while I'm on parental leave.  She's a sibling of three, flying solo.  And, as independent as she is, I think she misses being separated from her brothers.

The second thing is I think she misses me.  She has become more and more of a Mommy's Girl in the last several months.  She loves her dad, of course, but she is my shadow. 

So, Working Mom Guilt sets in.  As I left her at preschool this week, I'd just pray the whole way home.  That God would comfort her.  And me.

Tygh also got a healthy dose of Working Dad Guilt this week from Brae.  Tygh gets up early, before everyone else, and is often out the door before we are awake.  This week, Brae heard the garage door open as Tygh was getting ready to leave one morning.  He bolted out of bed, flew down the stairs, and raced to the garage just as Tygh was pulling out of the garage.  Tygh saw Brae, crying, reaching his arms out to him. 

Tygh stopped the car, parked, and came inside.  He carried Brae to the couch, who was inconsolable.  "I miss you, Daddy!" he wailed. 

Knife. In. My. Heart.

So where is this guilt coming from and what do we do about it?

I know that we are in the majority.  Two, full-time working parents.  Sure, one of us could stay home if we chose to.  Yes, we'd have to dramatically alter our lifestyle, but we could do it.

We have chosen, however, not to.  Tygh and I both love our jobs.  Our careers.  Our professions. 

We also dearly love our children.  The two are not mutually exclusive.  For me, I firmly believe I am a better mom as a working mom.  I am at my best when I feel fulfilled in my profession, and at home.  I need that balance.  My kids need me to have that balance.

But, I still feel guilty.  At times.  Not all the time, but at times. Like this week.

The ironic thing is that I'm not back to work full-time yet.  I'm still on leave, and have chosen to work part-time, from home.  So, yes, I could pull Sienna out of preschool (I suppose) and have her home with me, too.  I have chosen not to. 

And this is where some raw honesty comes in.  I want to be home, alone, with Graem.  I want Brae in school, and I want Sienna in school.  With Brae, it was just me and him, at home.  With Sienna, I kept Brae in preschool, and it was just me and Sienna at home.  I'm doing the same with Graem.  I need this bonding time with just him. 

I've accepted Working Mom Guilt.  So what do I do now?  Well, I've chosen to let some things go.  When the kids are home with me, I'm completely devoted to them.  The laundry sometimes stays in the dryer for days.  The dishes pile up in the sink.  The beds aren't made.  We've hired a housekeeper so I don't spend my weekends cleaning house.  I say "no" to other commitments that would keep me away from my kids. 

At church this week, the sermon was about living in the margins.  Creating more white space on your pages of life. 

I believe in that lifestyle mentality.

Because life happens in the margins.

Precocious

pre·co·cious

adjective \pri-ˈkō-shəs\

of a child : having or showing the qualities or abilities of an adult at an unusually early age

CloseStyle: MLA APA Chicago

 

Full Definition of PRECOCIOUS

1

:  exceptionally early in development or occurrence <precocious puberty>

2

:  exhibiting mature qualities at an unusually early age precocious

child>

 

 

This is Brae.  At least, according to his teachers.  I must admit, I had to look it up when they told me this is how they would describe him.  I didn't know if they were giving me a compliment or not.  (In truth, I still don't know).

 

You see, since Brae started kindergarten, we have been in regular communication with his teachers.  He throws pencils.  He can use potty words.  He has to be at the front of the line.  His paper has to be on top.

 

The teacher has a "behavior" chart.  Red is bad.  Yellow is a warning.  Green is good.

 

Guess where Brae has spent most of his kindergarten days.

 

When the teachers have called, asking for advice, I tell them the truth.  Yes, he's tired.  He's adjusting to a long day.  Yes, he is very smart, and if you do not keep him occupied, he will act out.  And, quite frankly, yes, he's a 5-year-old boy with a big personality. 

 

I don't want to break his spirit.  However, I also want him to get a job one day, get married, and stay out of prison.

 

So, we have been working on his behavior issues at home.  I'm told things improved last week at school.  "Improved" being the operative word.  "Improved" meaning he still got removed from gym class because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.  "Improved" meaning he still got removed from music class for using potty words.

 

Sigh.

 

Dear Brae's teachers, don't you see what I still see?

 

 

In two months...

In two months, we will meet Sienna's genetic family for the first time.  Face to face. 

In two months, Sienna will get to meet the genetic parents who chose life for her.  She will get to look into the eyes of her two fully genetic siblings.

And smile. 

We live in Oregon.  Sienna's genetic family lives in Ohio.  We've decided to convene in Florida. 

Disney World.

This trip has been in the makes for nearly a year  now, and we are beyond excited.  (Apart from the whole flying across the country with three small children thing). 

We have an open adoption with Sienna's family, and since her birth, we have regularly exchanged pictures, videos, emails, texts.  We are even Facebook friends.

This level of openness has probably been instigated mostly by me.  I am an open person.  Period.  And it is important to us that our children know their roots.  I'm just grateful that both Brae's birthfamily and Sienna's genetic family have welcomed this level of openness. 

But, we have never spoken on the phone with Sienna's genetic family.  Although we've heard their voices (via videos or recorded storybooks), I'm excited to hear their voice when they see our daughter in person for the first time and say, "Hi, Sienna!"

No, Sienna won't know what is going on.  And we haven't really shared the depths of Sienna's story with Brae yet. He wouldn't understand. 

But, we will take lots of pictures, and lots of videos, and we will make lasting memories.

And I hope this will just be the first of many visits over her lifetime.

There are a few.

There are a few people whom I would call "friends" in my life who still do not know the stories of Brae's and Sienna's journeys into our family. 

I had one such friend over yesterday for a playdate.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her.  We've known each other for over a year and I want to tell her about Brae and Sienna's adoption stories.  I want to tell everyone, because Brae and Sienna have the coolest stories. 

But, I hesitated.  And, by the time she left, I still had not told her. 

Don't get me wrong, I don't lie to anyone.  If I'm ever asked a straight up question that requires me to disclose that either one of them is adopted, I answer it truthfully.

But, I no longer volunteer.

Why?

Because, I've come to realize, Brae's story and Sienna's story are each their own.  They are not mine to tell. 

I've learned this more and more as Brae has gotten older, and developed friends outside my group of friends.  He has friends outside my circle of playdate friends.  He has friends at school, he has neighbor friends.  He is his own person.  He knows he is adopted, knows who his birthfamily is, and if he wants to share his amazing adoption journey, then who am I to trump that? Similarly, if he does not want to share his amazing adoption journey, or wants to select with whom he shares, again, that is his choice.  

As proud as I am of him, of Sienna, and of each of their journeys, I recognize that adoption is a highly personal journey.  Yes, I have my own part in that journey that I am entitled to share, but I have to be mindful that Brae and Sienna do too.  And, their choice to share may be different than mine. 

I need to respect that. 

Birthfather visit

Last weekend, we had our annual visit with Brae's birthfather and his side of the family.  Each visit keeps getting better and better.

We met at a local amusement park and for the first time, I think Brae "understood" who his birthfather is to him.  In fact, I asked him in the car on the way over what it meant that he had a birthfather.  His reply? "It means I'm special to him!"

We spent the next several hours exploring the park.  Brae and his birthfather played miniature golf together, rode the go-karts, and played in the arcade. 

We then got lunch together and they deluged Brae with birthday presents.  They also got Sienna a pink Barbie convertible, with Barbie included, and she was in hog heaven.

While Brae ran around the restaurant in his new Teenage Mutant gear, swinging his swords, I got a chance to catch up with his family.

They expressed, as they have before, how difficult it was at first when Brae was born and the adoption was going through.  They wanted to keep him.  But, in the same breath, they expressed tremendous gratitude and relief that he was with us.  They also recognized (and appreciated) that we need to make clear to Brae that our role is as his parents, and his birthfamily has a separate role as his larger, extended family.  Because he is adopted, they said, they understand that means he has more people that love him.

They wiped away some tears as they indicated how much it meant to them that we continue to have these visits and that we send pictures and keep them updated on Brae.

I told them it is just as important for us, and for Brae, that we do that as it is for them.  And, I reiterated, we will continue to have these visits for as long as Brae wants them. 

When we left that afternoon, Brae gave hugs to all of them.  When he got to his birthfather, he hugged him and thanked him for being his birthfather.

I am so proud to be his mom.

The Wedding.

This last weekend, we attended a very special wedding. 

Brae's birthmom got married. 

The wedding was about 3 hours away.  We loaded into the car on the sweltering hot Friday afternoon and prepared for the long ride.  Brae and Sienna were occupied with a movie, and I was just praying that Graem would stay asleep the whole ride.  (He almost did  - the last 20  minutes were a fun-filled screech fest).

We rolled into the sleepy little town shortly before the ceremony.  This is a small town.  A very, very small town.  Quaint.  Beautiful.   

We pulled into the church parking lot just in time.  Tygh took Brae and Sienna into the church while I tugged Graem out of his carseat to nurse him.  Since I didn't want to make a scene nursing Graem in the church, I just nursed him in the car, praying no one noticed me. (I don't think I succeeded). 

I slipped into the church just in time to see Brae's birthmom walk down the aisle.  She was stunning.  This amazing, gracious young woman who changed our lives 6 years ago. 

She looked radiant.  Happy. 

As tears rolled down my face, I slid into the back pew.  I couldn't believe this was my life.  I was sitting here, with my three amazing children and my awesome husband, watching the young woman who delivered our son in a stark hospital room on a sacred Halloween night, now in a lovely white dress, beaming.  I felt tremendously blessed. 

I was pulled out of my daze abruptly by seeing Sienna out of the corner of my eye emerge from the bathroom, naked, running toward the wedding aisle.  I catapulted Graem into Tygh's arms, and grabbed her before she made (any more of) a scene.

We didn't get to speak to Brae's birthmom until the reception.  But when Brae saw her, he glowed.  This is the first visit where I think he has finally understood who she is to him.  He marched right up to her, told her she looked beautiful, and asked her to dance.

It took my breath away, watching them, swaying to soft music. 

I was so proud of him.  So in love with him at that moment.  So happy for him. 

The rest of the night was glorious.  Family member after family member (many who had only heard of us and Brae, but never met us) came up to us to introduce themselves.  Many had tears in their eyes as they told us how grateful they were that we came.  How Brae seemed like such a happy little boy.

I was the one who felt grateful.  I mean, how many people get to experience the awesome journey of adoption?  It is just surreal.  It is such an amazing journey - hard at times, of course.  But this, oh this, is what makes it so divine. 

We watched Brae run around after his half-sister, marveling at how much they were alike - in looks and in personality.  We giggled (shamefully) as Sienna zoomed across the dance floor, crawling through elderly couples' legs sashaying across the hardwood.  We had intensely meaningful conversations with Brae's birth cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles about the pain and beauty of adoption.

And, when the night came to a close, we had memories.  Tremendous memories. 

We had love. 

As we loaded the kids into the car, and Brae gave just one last hug to his half-sister, we felt content.  We (and Brae) had even more friends and family than we knew.  Who loved us. Who prayed for us. 

And that is what is so special about open adoption.

First day of Kindergarten and First day of Preschool

Brae and Sienna each started kindergarten and preschool, respectively, last week. 

Brae has been excited all summer to ride the school bus, get a new backpack, eat lunch at school, and play outside during recess.  I also loved school (so much that I stayed in it for 19 years straight!).  In fact, when the school supplies list came out, I could almost smell the aroma of freshly-sharpened pencils.  A natural high. 

Sienna's preschool is at the same location as her daycare, so the excitement was not as high for her.  I tried to get her pumped by getting her some back-to-school clothes, and telling her that even though she was still at the same building, she was now a pre-schooler and not just a day-care attendee.  I'm not sure she bought it.

The night before kindergarten, we sprinkled some glitter on each of the kids' heads (courtesy of the kindergarten teacher), said a special prayer (that I cried during), and went to bed early.  Brae even wore his entire first-day-of-school outfit (shoes included) to bed.  (Yes, I did that too... maybe even beyond just kindergarten). 

The next morning, Brae was up bright and early, ready to take the bus.  We drove to the bus stop (about 100 yards away), and Sienna and Graem and I waited in the car as we watched him board the bus. 

Then, I followed the bus. 

In my car.

About 5 blocks, to school. 

I was that mom. 

Sienna, Graem, and I then greeted Brae off the bus and walked him to his class.  He did not even hesitate walking through that pivotal door, barely mustering a "good-bye" as he skipped into his teacher's arms.

Then, things went south.

That first day, the school bus was early dropping him off, and I had not yet arrived at the stop to meet him.  So (I guess thankfully), they kept him on the bus, driving around, until I could gather my frantic wits enough to call the school, who called the bus barn, who radioed to the driver to bring Brae back. 

Then, the second day of school, the teachers forgot to put him on the bus.  So, there I stood, at the stop, eager to greet him only to realize he was not on the bus.  Another frantic phone call.

Then, the third day of school, I waited at the stop for him, and again he did not get off the bus.  This time, however, he was on the bus, but completely unaware of when/where he had to get off.  Poor little guy.  So, I boarded the bus and found him blissfully in space, surprised to see me on his bus, beckoning him off. 

All of this made me wonder whether kindergarteners should even be allowed to ride school busses at all.  In fact, I was about ready to pack the whole thing in and ship him off to private school where there are no school busses. 

But, no, I said, he has to do this.  For him. 

It is my job as his parent to protect him (of course), but also to instill self-confidence in him.  I'm not raising a child; I'm raising a man.  If the purpose of childhood is to equip my son with the tools needed to bravely face this challenging world, then allowing him to take the school bus is one big giant step in that direction. 

It is a new week, and he's taking the bus again.

And I'm still following it in my car.

Guest post from a donor mom: "What I'm Looking For in an Adoptive Family"

My sister in law just welcomed her twins the same month that Graem was born.  She did IVF and has 5 stellar embryos remaining.  She is going to adopt them through NEDC. 

The paperwork is filled out, and she and her husband are eager to complete the process.

I've asked her what she is looking for in an adoptive family, and she responded with this:

The number one thing we are looking for in an adoptive family is the same thing we based our decision on when writing our will and choosing who our children would go to... We want someone who will make it their priority to get these little souls to heaven someday. We are not able to parent these five embryos here on earth, but knowing we'll all be united in heaven someday gives us peace about whatever happens between now and then. 

Beyond that, we will be looking for a family with similar interests and temperaments as our family. We want our biological children to feel like they "fit in" with their family so finding someone similar to us is important for that reason. We'd like to find a family that is laid back, emotionally stable, physically active, fun loving, and adventurous. We would prefer a family that does not live in a big city, but not out in the boonies either. A smallish suburb with good schools and traditional values would be ideal. 

We will be looking to see if they have a strong marriage with a foundation in Christ. We'll also be looking to see if they have strong relationships with the rest of their family and community. 

Beyond these tangible attributes, we'll also just go with our gut. I think we'll know when we feel that strong connection with someone and it will just feel right. We'll be praying (and ask for your prayers) that our babies will be firmly held in God's hands as this important decision is made. 

 

I cannot wait to see how God leads this journey!

Hannah.

It's no secret among my friends and family that I wanted this third child to be a girl.  In fact, for much of the pregnancy, not only did I want a girl, I did not want a boy.

I don't have a good explanation for this, other than it was just my heart's desire.  I love my son, and I love my daughter equally - immensely. But I just did not picture the child I was carrying - the first and only genetic one - to be a boy.  I pictured a girl. 

And I named her.  Her name was Hannah.

I've posted before that this name has tremendous significance for us.   It was to be Brae's name if he had been a girl, and simply coincidentally, it was Brae's birthmom's last name.

It is the name of the woman in the Bible who struggled with infertility.  And, it is in honor of me and my sister - each of our middle names is Ann. 

But, I didn't have a girl.  Instead, I have this miracle.  This boy. 

When I gave birth, and saw him, I think I was in shock. I was so not expecting a boy.  I was convinced I was having a girl.

Thankfully, by God's grace, the last emotion I felt was disappointed.  I was completely elated.  He was here.  This complete shot in the dark miracle.  I didn't even remember that I had so desired a girl. 

But, then what about Hannah? This elusive child.

I've come to terms with the fact that our family is complete.  And I will not have another girl. There will be no Hannah. 

And yet, Hannah, and all that that name signifies, is in each of my children.  Hannah represents our infertility journey.  Our struggle to grow our family. 

Hannah is here. 

Hannah exists. 

I see her every time I kiss my children's faces. 

And am thankful that she is exactly where -- or who -- she should be.

Biting.

Sienna has started biting.  Other kids.  Smaller kids. 

This is new for us, and actually just started in the last couple of weeks.  It has happened three times - each time when the other child either took a toy away from her or was otherwise interfering with her play time.

One time, she broke skin.

It's mortifying. 

Each time, the other parent has been extremely cool and understanding (I hope I would be, too).  I remorsefully explain this is new behavior and we think is related to her new baby brother and adjusting to her new normal.  It doesn't make me feel better to provide this explanation, but I hope it somehow arouses enough sympathy in the other parent so they don't label me as "unfit" for allowing me to bring an untamed child into public.

Sienna knows biting is wrong - and she's old enough to use her words to speak up.  I'm not quite sure where this is all coming from, except maybe it's the perfect storm of turning 3, becoming a big sister, and a middle child. 

My heart goes out to her.

The annals of Graem.

Graem. My third child.  My only genetic child. My son.

This post is dedicated to him, and his first 5 weeks of life.

He loves to be held. This is what I can say is his most defining feature right now.  He can be screaming bloody murder and the second you pick him up and hold him, he just melts into your arms.  Or, maybe it's just my arms, as Tygh is convinced this is not the case when he tries to hold him and soothe him.  When he's not being held to sleep, it generally takes him quite a while to fall asleep, and it usually involves lots of noise making (grunts, squeaks, fake cries, real cries), and a vibrating chair, and a special blanket delicately draped over his head - wait, am I too high maintenance? 

He's a binky baby.  Not necessarily my choice, but it started in the NICU, and it's been his friend ever since.  Brae was also a binky baby; Sienna was not.  There are pros/cons here, but it is what it is.  The biggest con right now is that the second that binky falls out when he's asleep, he's awake, and he wants it back. Now.

In the little bit of awake time he has during the day (most of it is taken up nursing), he has started to enjoy floor time.  He's rolled over from his tummy to his back a couple times, probably accidentally.  He also recently discovered his hands.  They make a good (albeit temporary) substitute for the binky when it has fallen out.

He loves baths.  He hates being cold and getting his diaper changed.  But, like being held, the second his little body slips into that bubble bath sink and the warm water curls up around him, he is in heaven. He looks up at me with these navy blue, almond shaped eyes as if to say, "Ohhh, yes, thank you."   And then he just grins this silly little grin for the rest of the bath. 

He likes to feed - frequently.  I obviously was not able to nurse Brae, and Sienna was a challenge to nurse because of the torticollis.  So, I'm used to formula-fed babies.  Formula-fed babies sleep longer than breastfed babies. I knew this, and yet now I really know it.  During the day, Graem will generally go 3 hours between feeds.  At night, I've been as lucky to get a 5 hour stretch (once).  Generally, it's between 3.5-4 hours.  But, sometimes (and earlier this week, twice in a row), it is every 2 hours. 

I believe in the Babywise method for eat-feed-sleep, but even Babywise acknowledges that for the first month of life (which is what Graem is still in, age adjusted), the on-demand feeding works well.  Even more so for preemies.  Even more so for breastfed preemies.  So, I plan to continue this on-demand feeding until about 2 months of age, when the milk supply is supposed to be established, and I can get on a more normal schedule.

Graem looks just like his dad.  But he does have my ears - very small.  It is still an adjustment to look at him and to believe that he is genetically part me, and part Tygh.  I know so many take that for granted; I don't.  He (like his siblings) is a complete miracle.

Brae just loves being his big brother. He is very proud of him.  Whenever I venture out with the three of them, he's always showing him off - to the store clerk, to the person behind us in line, to a complete stranger passing us on the sidewalk.  He just thinks he is the neatest thing.  Like a show-n-tell toy.

We're still working with Brae on recognizing how big his body is compared to Graem, and to exercise some self-control.  Graem just makes him so excitable.  Tygh keeps reminding me we need to let Brae hold him regularly, and I do.  I even let him carry Graem the other day (slightly frightening).  Brae really wants to carry him down the stairs - we aren't there yet.

Sienna adores Graem.  She is very motherly.  Every time Graem cries, she either yells at me: "Mommy! Feed him!" or "Mommy, where's his bottom?" (Bottom is pacifier - I don't know where she came up with that).  And, if she can't find his pacifier, she sticks her finger in his mouth (again, we're working on breaking that bad habit).

One on one, they are each great with Graem.  Together, they fight over him.  That eventually leads to them wrestling eachother, as I rush to get Graem out of harms way. 

As for me and Tygh, this last month feels like a complete blur.  Since I left work in such an unexpected hurry, I've never really left work.  My plan (approved by my amazing boss) was to work part-time from home until January, and to take August off.  With Graem coming a month early, I didn't want to leave work hanging.  So, I've really been working part-time, from home, since Graem was born.  It actually has worked out well.  Brae and Sienna have been in camps during the day, and I've been able to work when Graem sleeps.  Thankfully, we have a housekeeper (a Godsend), so I'm able to ignore the dirty floors and forget about cleaning the toilets, which has been a huge blessing right now.

And, I really like to work.  I enjoy my job and the people I work with.  I long ago came to terms with the fact that I'm just not a full time stay-at-home mom.  I am in awe of those who are, and who do it well.  It's just not me.

Tygh was never able to really take a paternity leave - his industry just isn't set up for that.  But, he took several days off when Graem was first born, and has been a ton of help with Brae and Sienna.  I get up with Graem in the middle of the night (another side effect of nursing), and Tygh takes him for a couple hours in the evening so I can tend to Brae and Sienna. 

My personality is not one who does well sitting.  So, pretty much since Graem has been born, I've been just as active as I always I am.  I went for my first walk the day I got home from the hospital.  And I started running a few weeks ago (a complete sanity saver for me).  At my three/four week doctor check up, I'd lost 23 pounds, so still 12 more to go.

I also regularly go out with the three kids. It's been a complete learning lesson for me.  I've learned that I have to nurse Graem right before I put him in the carseat so I'm not stuck at the mall with Brae and Sienna and Graem needing to eat.  I've learned that if I do have to nurse when I'm out with the kids, I have to go somewhere where Sienna cannot run off (which she does, regularly).  I've learned that grocery shopping with 3 small kids is completely insane, and not recommended. 

Phew.  A long one, but I had a lot to say.  All in all, my heart is full.  I am content. 

My mom asked me the other day what was next?  Great question.  We've spent the last 7 years growing our family, it's hard to think about what to do now. 

Just enjoy it, I suppose. 

Pictures and Graem's First Month

Graem's due date was last Friday, yet he's been here for exactly one month already.  I still can't believe how small he is, although he is starting to look more like a typical newborn.  At his last appointment, he was 7 lb., 7 oz, and just over 20 inches.  Developmentally, he's on target, and the doctor who did his circumcision (ouch!) said he had no idea Graem was premature until he looked at his chart.

Graem is a laid back little dude.  He hates being cold, and he loves to be held.  If you can satisfy those two needs (apart from the whole feeding/sleeping thing), he's a happy camper. 

Nursing is going remarkably well (praise God!).  With Sienna's torticollis, nursing was a challenge. I ended up pumping, breastfeeding, and supplementing for four months before I raised the white flag. 

Graem has been a whole new story.  It took some time, but we've finally hit our groove with nursing.  This was a huge prayer request of mine, and I feel so grateful to be able to do it.  My goal is to get him to 6 months, when I have to go back to work full time.

The sleep deprivation has eased up a bit.  I try to nap once during the day.  Graem gives me about 3.5-4 hour stretches at night.  If I don't nap, and it's been a rough night with Graem, I notice my patience wears very thin.  Since I don't want to lose my patience with Brae and Sienna, those naps are crucial.

Brae and Sienna have remembered how to use the toilet now (thank goodness), and generally seem to be adapting better to Graem.  They still want to hold him, touch him, kiss him, and generally pester him constantly, but also are more receptive when its time to stop. 

Tygh enjoys his new son, and its becoming more apparent how much he and Graem look alike.  In fact, looking at Graem is like looking at Tygh's face on a small body. A little strange.

When Graem was 2 weeks old, we took the following photos.   (PS - the 4th of July quilt is one that was given to us by a volunteer when Graem was in the NICU - a very special blanket).

Enjoy!

A genetic child: does it feel different?

I've been asked this question a lot lately, by others, and by myself.  Now that Graem is here, does it feel different having a genetic child?

For those of you who may not know, we adopted our son, Brae, as an infant through the domestic infant adoption program.  We adopted our daughter, Sienna, as an embryo through the embryo adoption program.  Neither is genetically related to me or Tygh. 

And yet, they are fully our children.

With Graem, we did IVF, with our own ingredients.  Something we never thought possible given our fertility history.

So Graem is genetically related to us; Brae and Sienna are not.  None of our children is genetically related to the other.

And yet, they are still fully each our children.

With Brae, I felt love I never knew possible.  This little boy came out, and stole our hearts immediately.  I tell Brae that although he did not grow in my womb, he grew in our hearts.  I used to say that I'd walk in front of a semi-truck for him, and I still would.  It never mattered that he did not share our genes, and that I never carried him.  He was our son. Completely.

With Sienna, my heart grew in ways I didn't know possible.  I mean, the heart is a physical being, and yet mine grew beyond its physical capabilities.  With Sienna, I got to experience pregnancy, also a gift I didn't know I'd be able to have.  I also got my daughter.  She captivated our hearts from the moment she was thawed and transferred, through each and every ultrasound, and to the moment where she graced us with her presence.  It never mattered that she did not share our genes.  She was our daughter. Completely.

With Graem, my once completely full heart exploded again.  I never thought I'd have the opportunity to look into a child's eyes and see my own.  To gaze at their toes, and wonder if they looked like mine.  Graem has satisfied a yearning and a curiosity I thought would forever be wanting.  And, you know what?  I'd love him just as much if he did not share our genes.  If I did not carry him.  He was meant to be our son, and for me, that's enough.

So, the answer is "no," it does not feel different to have Graem.  I don't compare him to Brae or Sienna.  I don't look at Graem and say, "Oh, he's "mine."  Never.  I look at each of my children, and say they are each "mine." 

Because they are.  No matter how they came to us.

Regression.

Regression.  The act of stepping backwards.  Pretending to not be able to do something that you had previously mastered.  Example: Bedwetting, peeing on floors, peeing in your clothes even though you have been potty trained for years.

We are experiencing this phenomenon in our house now.  Graem has arrived, which means that Brae and Sienna have each forgotten how to use the toilet.

Makes complete sense.... right?

How the arrival of a new baby correlates to a preschooler's and pre-kindergartener's bladder is beyond me, but I know it's common. 

In any case, it's our life right now.  Brae seems to have improved, but Sienna is still peeing on her floor at night.  She's using the toilet everywhere else - at other people's houses, at school - just not at home.

I know it's a phase, and we'll get through it.  Just not sure our carpets will.

Post-baby blues

Someone in our house is struggling with the post-baby blues.  For once, I wish it were me.

It is Sienna.

She has taken baby Graem coming home harder than anyone else.  She is just all out of sorts. 

Temper tantrums.  Whining.  You name it.  She has brought the full force of her 3-year-old self to bear on our family.

I know this transition is hard for her, which thankfully, I'm able to remember when I otherwise could lose myself to impatience.  She is struggling, and I empathize.

God knew what He was doing when bringing Graem into our family. For so many reasons, it is good he is a boy vs. a girl.  The main reason I appreciate now is because I don't think Little Miss could handle the direct competition of another girl in the family.  The fact that he is a boy suits her better for her motherly role, and she does dote on him.

She loves him; she's mad at me.

Each night, I tell her how special she is to me.  How she's my only girl.  My princess.  I tell her I understand how hard this change must be, and it's ok to be upset.

She just nods, smiles, and tells me she wants strawberries.

Yesterday, we went to the library and got her some "big sister" books.

I don't know how much she is able to comprehend of what I tell her, or what we're reading in the books.  She isn't able to communicate fully how she's feeling with the transition.  My heart just goes out to her. 

I know this is just a season, and we'll get through this transitory phase soon.  Hopefully, relatively unscathed.