About Adoption - Commitment

Why did I choose adoption over bearing a child from my body? Technically, I say I could not conceive during either of my marriages to men. But the reasons go beyond scientific impossibility. Although I went through the procedures involved in increasing ovulation, charting cycles, watching periods come again and again when I hoped they would not, part of me didn't believe I'd ever give birth.

The doctors diagnosed "unexplained infertility". I diagnosed "not meant to happen".

While I was able to embrace the philosophical (your body is meant for other purposes) I emotionally reacted to the inability of my body to perform a basic function. Get pregnant. I didn't grieve for the children I'd never born, remaining too focused on physical failure. Not being able to do what others seem easily to do.

In retrospect, the reaction is pretty self-centered. Like the alcoholic's tendancy to turn everything into a "what about me" or "why can't I do like the others do" whine. Feel sorry for me please, because "oh, how I have suffered."

With the wisdom offered by hindsight's view, I realize I was meant for harder parenting options than simply making a child. Adoption is not for the weak. The parent/child relationship is like an arranged marriage. The commitment comes first, then the love.

The process of adoption is intrusive and annoying. Birth parents are rarely questioned about their physical health, belief systems, support systems, criminal history, faith or religious beliefs. They don't have their home inspected, photographed, and displayed in a nice brochure for agencies or prospective birth mothers to view. While they do wait for the child of conception to gestate, they don't have the same fears of the agency turning them down, the birth mother changing her mind, the wait for available children.

Birth parents are also rarely asked (from my observations in public settings and from acquaintences not versed in adoption speak):

• Will he/she speak English? (to my asian child and biracial child with speech problems)
  
• Do you have any children of your own?
• Are they all yours? No they are not! (from a sales person worrying as my four played in a toy aisle too loudly.)
• Are you worried about them having a genetic condition? HIV exposure?
• Can you give them back if it doesn't work out?
  
• Are they legally yours? What about the birth mother coming and getting them back?
• They're so cute. Are they related? They don't look like each other, how can they be?
  

Adopting a baby internationally is somewhat easier, because you see this little bundle of fussing, messy diapers, and possibilities. The behavior issues, the bonding, is all ahead and very possible. What trouble can a baby of six months be? I will love you. I will see you grow into a wonderful, talented, gifted adult. Even through my 2nd husband and I split during my son's first year, he has grown into a well-balanced and emotionally secure child.

When we explored adopting special needs kids, our social worker said "This is not the same as raising an adoptive child from babyhood." I sort of believed it, but believed more in my proven ability to parent my oldest child. Naturally, I could overcome anything through patience and love. We had the proof of my eldest son, didn't we?

But the reality of bringing a sibling group into our small family was much harder than I could have imagined. What was I thinking, at age 45, when I said "yes" to immediately doubling our family. To committing to kids ages 5, 3 and 2 who had endured more grief, suffering and abandonment than I could grasp? I was thinking I could do this, I could commit and stay committed, because I had no option to let them down. To give up on them as so many other adults had so far.

In sobriety I learned commitment only can be measured in 24 hours. Sometimes less. If I can get by right now, if I can survive this difficulty, I will be stronger for the next one. Every battle we fought over the "was-5-now-is-7 child" challenged my commitment. Made me see my behaviors in a light unflattering and prompted me to change. Again in hindsight, my son's behaviors prepared me for battles to come. We are now challenged by our youngest. Tantrums, rages, destruction of property .... no problem! Been there, done that with another kid.

Commitment also involves flexibility. Try one approach, then another, then another, until you hit upon a working solution. Commitment involves asking for help and listening to advice given but maybe not asked for. Commitment involves making a promise and keeping it. Commitment involves accepting responsibility no matter the consequence.

I know our kids are better off because we are their parents now. I know I am doing a good job because I see the changes in them brought about with consistency and caring. I know a parent's love can only have a foundation in commitment, because I do not have the option to fail them. I know adoption, especially involving foster children, is the hardest and most rewarding task I've been given. One I am committed to until I leave this earth forever.

The Only Time He is Quiet.....

Is when he is asleep

OTHERWISE HE TALKS AND COMPLAINS AND TALKS NON-STOP!

Knowing the other "mother"

We struggle in addressing a return letter to one of our birth mothers. How do you communicate with the woman who gave life to your kids but neglected them before and after they were born? We know she is an integral part of who they are, but can we trust that any or part of her interest has the needs of our kids in mind?

She's not been consistent contacting them since they moved in with us. She does not send letters (nonetheless gifts) on birthdays and holidays. She's had a history of chemical abuse and illegal activities, but has tried to turn her life around. She is a flawed human being, as we all are, but one who's interaction with our children can blow up in our faces at any time.

Our social worker has mentioned she's concerned about the birth mom's fragility and ability to remain on track with her reformed life. I've told the social worker we cannot be responsible for her sobriety or living the legal life. We cannot exist in a codependent relationship with her - we are not responsible for her.

So we've authored a simple, cautious return reply. And we are keeping our identity secret for as long as possible. (PLEASE, no SURPRISE visits from birth mom!)

What I am Reading - Mercy by Jodi Picoult

I love her books. Each written with amazing characters, believable plot lines, real situations. She reminds me that life is never easy, and never meant to be fair.

The Little Guys Rule

My daughter is home today. Her kindergarten class had the day off. So the youngest has the day off too. Our neighbors are having a garage sale, so I planned to bring over old toys, strollers, clothes, etc. My kids grabbed on to half of what I brought over. And brought it back.

Sigh.

Oh, yes, they added some "new" toys our neighbor's daughter was getting rid of.

Double sigh.

Hot Weather = Kids Outside = Outside Creations from Mom

Now that we are on our Minnesota Manic weather swing, the kids can be outside more. Yahooo! Our neighbor hooked up her sprinkler and the youngest two played in it for two hours. Oh, yeah, guess I better get out the sunscreen.

I took a little time to create a dragonfly with electric fence wire, chicken wire fencing, and decorative glass. Here's the final project. This little gal measures about 12" and hangs on the house. (Note to self. Wire is sharp. So wear gloves!)


I like wire and metal art. I like creating. We have some sheets of copper and I've been thinking about fashioning it into some more creatures. Pulling together the ideas with the reality raises obstacles. Like how to join thick wire shapes together without solder. I used thin craft wire but that has a tenancy to rust and disintegrate over time. Ones I made a few years ago out of plastic coated wire

The ones below are store bought. I like butterflies and dragonflies. (No horse flies or house flies for me! **Shudder**)

No Men in Short Shorts ----- PLEASE

Dear Icky Guy who Runs During Lunch Hour,

I've seen you run through the nearby business parking lots during the noon hour. I admire your willingness to get all disgusting and sweaty while the rest of your coworkers are downing a Big Mac and Large Fries or the freshest sandwich at Holiday's deli counter.

But, we must talk about your shorts. Really, we must. They are too short. Goofy short. Speedo short. Diaper short. You obviously care about your health and maybe very little about your appearance. But for the sake of the poor fast food eaters, the drivers exiting the car wash, the moms in minivans who watch way too much "What Not to Wear", you must stop the insanity.

You remind me of this guy from Reno 911. Yes, he looks goofy. Now picture your face pasted on his body. And a mom in a minivan watching you.



Icky. Now go change!

Sincerely,

Sappho

We're Almost Done with April?

Good lord. Or good goddess. Whatever the phrase, the fact we are now almost through with April astounds me.

My life has been BUSY. My second child blossomed with new behaviors resulting in suspension from school. He was medicated, then we increased medication. Now we are at a stable point where I don't have to go to school 4-5 days a week to check on him.

I had a medical procedure which landed me in the hospital overnight. I had another procedure to check on something discovered in an MRI. When this cleared up, I resumed my daily 1-2 dogs walks. Then I came down with the bubonic cold. Or would that be bionic cold?

My 4th son was seen by a local pediatric geneticist who confirmed he has physical characteristics of fetal alcohol. We suspected such as his behavior has been escalating into amazing rages. Keep in mind, he is 4.5 years. A little guy can destroy his room when given the chance. I've begun the First Step process to get him testing for various conditions. He does well with his preschool, but saves the rages and bad behavior for his lucky and loving parents.

My daughter turns six in two days. She can be so loving but also displays the attitude of a 16-year-old. Oh, what fun! She is a sister Taurus, so we share the same temperament. I will be 48 and I don't feel a day over 60.

So this is the life of a stay at home parent with 4 kids. Each child has his or her own special needs, the easiest with ADHD, the hardest with a whole alphabet of diagnosis. I don't question why I don't blog more. I know why. Life happens and the effort of taking time to record it exhausts me.