You are Going to Do What?!

We have a pretty open adoption with our oldest daughter’s birthmother – E.

She got married this past weekend and we have been thinking about her quite a bit these days. Especially how her life has changed in the past 3 years. She is now married and is expecting a baby in the fall.

While I never went into this process asking for, or really expecting such an open arrangement, I have come to terms (on most days) with my extended family. As time passes, I expect our relationship will only deepen and I hope as she grows her family – first husband and soon another child that she will parent – we will become even closer. Relating to each other as only two mothers can do.

Today on my way to work I was thinking about our first visit with E. In October 2005, we went to meet our prospective birthmother in person (as I would think any adoptive parent would want to right?) and yet, at every turn I asked by family and friends alike, “you are going to do what?!”

10/2005
We sat at the hostess’s station, waiting to meet E. The place was dark, with Christmas lights in the rafters. There were lots of funky pictures and paintings on the walls. We were so nervous.

She had said to watch for ‘a pregnant woman wearing a red shirt with very short hair.’ And then in an instant, in she came. I hugged her and said hello. Jokingly commenting on the short, shaved hair. She smiled.

We sat down and the conversation started. It flowed really well much to our suprise. She had pale skin, several small earrings, and a shiny tongue ring that rattled when she laughed. She had a nice smile. Every once in a while, I caught her rubbing her belly. She was tiny, except for that belly.

When the waitress came, she ordered chicken tenders and fries and a Sprite. I wanted her to order something more ‘sensible’ something that would prove to me that she watched what she ate, that she was taking care of our possible child-to-be. No such luck. She proceeded to dip and roll each and every fry into sugar. So much for wanting. Eating habit, like everything else on this ride wasn’t up to me. She invited us to try her pregnancy craving creation and we did. She also liked peppermint ice cream.

To that point, we had semi-open match. Meaning that no last names had been exchanged. Well, she didn’t know our last name. Then my dorky husband takes out his little blue photo / scapbook albumn that his mother had lovingly put together for our wedding. The book had pictures of trips to the shore, first day of school, and various 80’s mullet haircuts. The cover had 3-inch high gold letters – including our last name. Welcome openess!

After eating dessert, E asked us if we wanted to stop by her apartment to meet her dog for a few moments. We said yes, taking our time to pay the bill and slowly drive there. We knew she had to talk to her dad first to process everything with him. She lived in an apartment complex and had a tennis court in her back yard. The apartment was small, a mess of blankets where a couch would be. The t.v. and computer monitor sat side by side. Her kitchen was a mix of bottles, beer and soda. I prayed there was food in the fridge (here I go again – but one could hope right?) A small hallway of three closed doors. She shared some paintings, her own work, with us.

We took some pictures together, and with the dog. We all agreed that what had transpired in the last 3 hours actually felt more normal than not. It felt good to be so honest with each other.
We left, with a hug and a promise to talk this weekend. Maybe even a visit soon. She invited us to come anytime.

And then we were off, driving back to our other lives.

The New Girl

Today when I went to radiation there was a full house in the waiting room. Three of the women – Lady Who Loves Her Wine, Lady Who Cares for Her Ailing 90 Year Old Father, and Lady Who ‘Loves Her Dog More Than Any Man She Has Ever Met’ (her words), and the New Girl.

The new girl came in, bald head and johnny fluttering. They make us strip from the waist down prior to going into the room with the big arm and the flat hard table that administers the radiation. Generally the waiting room has the air of an informal gathering of friends. A club that no one wants to be in. Today we were discussing diet changes made or not made in lieu of our cancer diagnosis.

The New Girl was sad and told us so. She was sick of having no hair. Sick of coming to the hospital, and sick of not being at to work. She was sick of being out in public and having to face the stares. She was sick of this life and just wanted her old life back. The tears started to come.

Lady Who Loves Her Dog Best was called for her turn by the tech and reached out to touch the new girl’s shoulder on her way out of the waiting room.

“Stay strong.”

Happy Adoption Day

Yesterday was our younger daughter’s “Happy Adoption Day,” another special milestone for our family. 

 Our celebration went off without a hitch, expect for the bomb scare that cleared out the new 3 story couthouse minutes before we were supposed to meet with the judge.  Once inside, things went as planned.  Photos were snapped.  Happy tears wiped from the eyes of friends and family.

It seems like just yesterday we were initiating paperwork, scheduling homestudy appointments, and waiting for a match.  In hindsight, we were very lucky and had learned much from the adoption of our first daughter.  Our match came very quickly and it turned out to be our daughter waiting on the other end.  Even as ‘experienced’ as we were with the adoption process, every time is different and while we were waiting we were nervous wrecks, convinced tht we couldn’t find perfection the second time around. 

Juggling an open relationship with one birthmother already seemed like all I/we could handle.

Somehow we survived the ups and downs and will be forever grateful to W, J’s birthmother.

Bye Bye Mickey

Yesterday we went on an outing to the post office and A, age 2 1/2, mailed her ‘mickey’ (her word for pacifier) to some new babies we know. She had decorated some envelopes at daycare the day before and had actually been mickey-free for about 6 nights (5 easy, 1 troubled). I took a photo of her face right before she did the deed. Priceless.

NaComLeaveMo – Because it’s the write thing to do

NaComLeavMo: More Conversation Than You Can Shake a Stick at

As blogging diva Mel says, “Blog writing for a month is all good and fine; but what about the other side of blogging–the comment leaving? Comment leaving is an integral part of blogging. Without comments, blog posts are as flat as…Flat Stanley.” She tells me: Blogging is a conversation.

So I say back: Blogging Is a conversation.

NaComLeavMo is from May 25th to June 25th. A full month of intense comment leaving.

Want to join along? Put on your party hat and click on board above.

I Love You So…

Favorite lines from a book I read my girls today:

“You are my sweetie, my dear, my smile and laughter. 

You’re my playmate for always, and my joy ever after.”

Happy Mother’s Day!

What Would I Look Like Without Hair?

Not so hot.  That much I know.   I have quite a large noggin and believe you me, hats just don’t fit.  I would certainly have to be a scarf wearer during treatment.  I thank my lucky stars for the 300th time that I am ONLY doing radiation.  No bald scalps in my immediate future, just a red chest and hairy armpits.

I have just spent the last 3 1/2 hours at the hosptial meeting with doctors and taking a tour of the resource room and peace garden.  Everyone is super smiling nice and to be hontest it is kind of creepy, like a cult.

In a weird way I feel more able to complain about my struggles with infertility than about the fact that I have breast cancer.  And cancer could mean life or death, not just about how you are going to build your family.