Archive | December 2009

Perfect moments

Yesterday, DH was playing music and gazing down at Special K in his arms, singing along to a Bon Jovi song.

I’d hold you
I’d need you
I’d get down on my knees for you
And make everything alright
If you were in these arms
I’d love you
I’d please you
I’d tell you that I’ll never leave you
And love you ’till the end of time
If you were in these arms tonight

He looked up and he had tears running down his face.

Can’t think of a more perfect moment than that.  Oh, wait, yes, I can.

He unloaded the dishwasher today.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Merry Christmas to one and all from the happiest Buddhist in town!  Nothing says Christmas like getting your period, a miserable cold and a baby that doesn’t want to sleep at 3:30 am… but it’s Christmas and time for kind deeds – my MIL came to my rescue at 3:30 and took over so I could rest.  And she’s promised wee a.m. duty tonight as well! I am so fortunate!  The sun is shining!

A prayer for those who are no longer with us, the very young and the very old, the dreams and the hopes that didn’t come to fruition this year.   Winter never fails to turn to spring.  Nam myo ho renge kyo!

Tired, happy, annoyed

I’ve been a titch miserable with work on my mind (I stupidly took on more work from home and now I’m freaked out and tired) and trying to be super mom at the same time.   Note to self:  time to start saying no again.   I can’t continue to DO EVERYTHING as if nothing has changed in my life.  I just want to enjoy this holiday season with my new son.

I always get stressed at Christmas time; it’s usually filled with frantic gift buying, parking woes and reminders of my fractured family. I’ve yet to tell my eldest sister of our news.  What has helped is having an open house to welcome Special K to our community.  This weekend my friend and I took our babies to a Buddhist meeting and we were presented with a beautifully crafted cake welcoming them to the SGI family.  I was so touched, I cried.  I let them know how much their prayers and support over the years had meant to me.  The following day, more  friends came over to take a peek at the little guy.  The guys had some beers and the women had some wine.  One highlight was seeing my husband’s friend and their son they had adopted from Ethiopia  earlier this year.  I saw him and tears sprang to my eyes.  Gorgeous, simply gorgeous and running around checking out everything.  They had gone through a 2 year saga to bring him home.  Frig, if people only knew what some people are willing to go through to bring home a child!

I saw no need for a shower per se as we have so much already but I wanted everyone who cared about us to enjoy this time with us. Of course, we did get a few more gifts and more importantly, wine for me!  It was awesome because I didn’t have to endure stupid baby shower games and tales of labour and delivery.  How refreshing!

One thing I’ve noticed since I’m now toting a baby around is people’s reaction.  Of course, there are a number of people (our neighbours for instance) who had no idea we were adopting and are scratching their heads cause 1) they can’t recall seeing me pregnant and 2) Special K is a lot darker than my husband.  I don’t want to preface my introduction of my son with “adopted” every single time because of course that leads to a lot more questions that I don’t care to answer from casual acquaintances.  I just smile and accept the compliments on my figure.

Having a newborn child invites a great deal of scrutiny and comment, particularly from women.  I’m sure pregnant women have already experienced this phenomenon when strangers start grabbing their bellies and inquiring about birth plans and such.  Having missed that stage myself, I am now getting all sorts of unsolicited advice and information.  Mothers of all ages are the worse offenders.  If they know me, they assume my inexperience and ignorance is ongoing and they have to tell me what I simply MUST do.  Now since most of my friends have kids, they must have viewed my childless lifestyle as one of jetsetting and debauchery.  Which is true.  But I’m a woman of a certain age and I actually also know how to read a book and all infertiles have a degree from the University of Google.  Most of it is innocent, you know how women talk, but other times it’s disconcerting. If I want to know something, I’ll ASK, so shut up already.

A woman at my husband’s office, was kind enough to give us a gift of a beautiful quilt.  I’ve only met her once, but whatever.  Inside the chicken soup for mothers book she gave me (uhh, maybe one day I’ll read it) was a heartfelt note  followed by another one proffering advice about adoptive breastfeeding.  HUH?????   I met her once, people.  Once.  Ugh.

Is it worth it?

So the question is:  was it worth it?

Mmmm, well I suppose I’d have to examine my expectations and over the years, they have changed quite a bit.

I started trying to have a child in 2003, one year later I entered the wonderful, wacky world of IVF and crawled out 4 years later over to the even more delightful world of adoption.  I’m not going to preach to the converted about how powerful the urge to procreate is, but I’ve had few yearnings that have demanded and received that kind of commitment on my part.  Frankly, if I had applied such devotion to my life, I’d be a svelte size 8, be world famous and married to a filthy rich guy with a big package.  Ooooh, so close!

I wanted to be a mother for all the usual reasons, and in truth, it wasn’t the only thing I wanted to do with my life.  I just put it on the list of things to do after getting  married and buying a house. Not having the best taste in men, it took me a while before I could find a suitable mate and when I did, it took quite a while before he was on the same page as me.  Cold hard reality brought me the realization that having a child wasn’t as easy as I had assumed and despite medical technology and my iron will, I got my ass served to me via infertility.  Having a child became more like pursuing the holy grail, the ends justified the means.  All the fun of babymaking went out the door, and I lost my privacy, my innocence, my sense of control and my sense of womanhood.

I did my grieving, my moaning, my railing at the bitter winds of biology and enduring the WAITING.  Barely.  On the incredibly bumpy plane ride home, the thought occurred to me that I had pissed off God, or the Universe who had conspired to keep me childless (sometimes it felt personal, you know?) and now that I had a baby in my arms, the plane was going to go down.  My idea of dark humour.  When we finally made it home  and I saw my girlfriend, I just started sobbing.  Not completely out of joy. It was more like relief.  The waiting was OVER.  I was emotionally drained. The care and feeding of Special K and the love I felt from my husband, my family, friends and you all gave me immense comfort and happiness. I had people cheering for me and I felt it.

Maybe like a woman who has just given birth, going through all that again is not a pleasant thought.  I just want to put all the unpleasant process behind me but I still have 3 social worker visits left.  I just want to enjoy this time.  In the wee hours of the morning is when I feel the greatest happiness.  It’s quiet, just light coming through the blinds.  I’m half asleep, I’m feeding him and he’s looking at me, right through me, and as I whisper daimoku to him, I feel full.

There isn’t a piece of cake in the world that tastes this good.  Did I answer the question?

Recalls, returns, rebuffs

How did we ever grow up?  We slept in our parents’  bed or 3 floors away in a drawer, or an antique crib or whatever deathtrap that was on sale.  Our parents didn’t have diaper wipe warmers, sterilizers or bouncers, yet somehow we made it.

Special K sleeps in a Amby baby hammock – well, as of yesterday, it’s a baby deathtrap.  The emails come pouring in.  In the US, you can order a repair kit, but in Canada, they want the things disposed of.  What the F***?!  Our friend used it for his two sons with no incident.  When I took a look at it, I suggested we use the bumper cushions it came with to keep the baby from rolling and also rolled up receiving blankets just to make sure.  I check on him constantly and he seems blissfully content.  When we were out of town, I used a swaddler as a last resort to calm him down so he could sleep in the portable bed we had placed in the hotel crib(more caution labels there).  The hammock mimics that swaddle effect which is why he settles down and rests so well.  Yet now I am paranoid.  Time for a bassinet?

Had we bought a crib, chances are it would have been a Storkcraft crib that had a massive recall 3 weeks ago.  Now I know somehow who is still using theirs and she insists that if people actually put it together properly there isn’t a problem.  This is so frustrating.

I bought a sterilizer for the Born Free bottles that we use.  Seems you have to wash all bottles and parts BEFORE you sterilize them and then you have to wait til they dry.  And after the sterilization process, there are tons of water droplets inside the nipples and bottles.   Before, we were sterilizing them in boiling water for 3 minutes and then using a drying rack.  Guess which process results in drier bottles in the fastest amount of time?  Yep.  So back to the store it goes.

We bought a bouncer for my friend who, of course, had already purchased some hip, modern chair.  She’s very hard to buy for because the  minute you think of getting something for her, she already has it.  So I decided to keep it, and hubby tried to put it together.  Sigh.  A part was broken, so now I have to return it.  I have no idea where I’ll find the time…..

We have some very generous friends who have given us lots of stuff, but the problem is that now we have stuff we don’t have room for or even particularly want.  I’m the type of person who will take whatever someone gives me because it seems to give them so much pleasure even if I don’t ask for it.   I’ll just cram it in a closet.   DH can’t stand being given stuff he didn’t ask for.  Of course, this has happened with a friend who just can’t take no for an answer.  She really goes out of her way to give you things with the intention of helping, but can’t read the subtle hint that you really don’t want it.  Cause she has kids and is the expert.  We’re just the devil may care, jet setters who party all the time and don’t know what we’re in for.  And it’s not just that her offerings aren’t nice, they’re just not particularly needed at the moment.   I’m a natural collector of stuff I don’t use but might some day and hubby is a hater of all things extraneous.  So, at some point, I’m going to have to start giving things back.  Oi, already feelings have been hurt.

Most people have heeded my request to give us some time to get our act together before visiting.  Of course, food is always welcome and appreciated.  More stuff, not so much.

Special K

This is a unprotected post for those who do not have the password but have been following.  I’ve noticed from other bloggers that they don’t use their adopted child’s real name, so if you know it, don’t use it in the comments section unless it’s a protected post.  I’m going to call my guy Special K.  Which is all I’ll be eating since I don’t have time to cook something decent.  So all you drug users out there who want to know how to make it are going to be sorely disappointed.  So here’s a pic for those who want a quick peek, I’m not offended at all.  Just proud to introduce Special K.

Special K