"Perfectly imperfect"

Today, our son, our oldest child, turns 6.  I cannot believe it.  The time has just flown. It feels like just yesterday that we were bringing him home from the hospital:

Now, 6 years later, I cannot imagine our life without our son.

He has taught me so much about being human, being "perfectly imperfect" (I stole that from someone, though I cannot recall from whom): loving unconditionally and intensely to the point that my tears well up and he wonders why I am crying; feeling such passion for a little being; losing my patience; losing myself (for a brief time); feeling intensely sad/mad/happy/thrilled.

He has showed me that I cannot do everything all at once, that doing something well takes time, that doing something in an uninterrupted fashion will never happen again.

He has showed me that climbing UP the slide is WAY more fun than sliding down it.  He has showed me that singing at the top of your lungs is what you do when you wake up. Every. Single. Day.  He has showed me that every play moment with Legos deserves a soundtrack.  He has showed me that having a 6 year old buddy is pretty darn cool. He has showed me that your child doesn't have to look like you in order to BE exactly like you.  He has showed me that mowing the lawn is the MOST fun.

This kid has changed my life in innumerable ways, none of which I ever would have imagined. There are days when I want to protect him from the world, and other days when I want to shove him right in to it (only so that he knows how great he has it around here).

This boy is my heart.  I didn't give him life, but he gave me mine.  He has been in my heart all of my life, and when I held him that very first time in the hospital, I knew that we were meant to be mother and son forever and ever.  He is mine, and I am his, and I will always be grateful for that.

What "kind" of adoption can you have?

*Disclaimer: I am not in favor of a completely open adoption as it is defined below.  I am also not in favor of a totally closed adoption. The purpose of this post is to educate as well as to give my perspective on the various "kinds" of adoptions that exist.*

Back in the 'olden' days, most adoptions were closed.  That meant (and means) that there is no contact at all between birthparents and adoptive parents.  *There were many, well-intentioned reasons for this type of adoption many of which seemed to revolve around the child: allowing the child to think that his adoptive family was his family, and helping the child not get too confused about who's who.  Over the years, the adoption world changed, as did society (or was it the other way around?), so the theories about closed adoptions and its impact on adopted children changed.

In comes the "open" adoption trend. According to adoptionhelp.org, open adoption "includes the birthparents and adoptive parents meeting one another, sharing full identifying information, and having direct access to ongoing contact over the years." (Silber & Dorner, Children of Open Adoption, Corona Publishing, San Antonio, TX, 1990)."

Obviously, this is the complete opposite of what had been done in the adoption world.  The pendulum didn't just swing; it shattered the clock, the glass, and everything in its path. Today, open adoption is THE accepted practice.  

What is most interesting to me, someone who does research for a living, is that there is no actual proof that open adoptions provide any benefit to either the birth family, the adoptive family, or the adopted child/ren.  All that is available is anecdotal evidence (stories) that the adoption professionals tell:

Social worker: "It's just really great for everyone."
Us: "Oh, really," we asked.  "How do you know? Do you have resources you can give us?"
Social worker: "Um, sure. Here's a book."

And the book was full of stories (anecdotes) about how great open adoption is.

So, what's an academic gal to do? Call on her university librarian!  With the help of my amazing librarian, I had heaps of research within about 24 hours of requesting it.  How can I summarize the almost 200 pages of research I read in the summer of 2008? Here's how: Parents should not lie to their kids about being adopted.  That's it.  Within the 200 or so pages of research, the ONLY conclusive statement made was that parents should not lie to their kids about being adopted.  Everything else was either anecdotes or inconclusive.

There is a middle ground called "semi-open adoption," and that is where we fall with our kids' birthparents.  We have semi-open adoptions.  What these consist of is, in our case, monthly or quarterly email updates with pictures.  That way, our birthparents know that their biological children are doing well, and we keep the lines of communication open.  With our son's birthmother, we have a close relationship.  She is not involved in our daily life, but she knows who we are, where we live, and what we do for a living.  We did not start out this way, however.  Over time, though, she has respected the boundaries (yes, boundaries--not a very PC term in the adoption world, I might add), so we have eased up on those boundaries.  Our daughter's birthparents requested an closed adoption which we did not want but respected.  After almost a year, they requested to meet us and our daughter.  We obliged and had a LOVELY time.  In fact, as we were taking leave of them, I said, "In another life, we could all be friends."  And it's true.  They are very cool people, are about our age, and hold the same values and have the same priorities we do.  Since that meeting, our relationship has returned to monthly or quarterly emails (depends on the time of year and how busy I am) and updates.  They do not know where we live, what our last name is, or what we do for a living.  We are OK with that for now.

It is an incredible gift to be in touch with our birthparents.  There is no denying it.  However, we did NOT want an open adoption thrust upon us, and we were not going to be guilted in to committing to one.  You see, the "kind" of adoption you have is NOT legally binding.  So, you can agree to an open adoption, go back on your word, and cut off the contact.  We could never fathom doing that, so we were up front right away.  That meant waiting longer than some people we know because we were not willing to have an open adoption.

As I've said in an earlier post, the choices we make in adoption are as individual as the individuals who decide to adopt.  For us, open adoption was not an option, absolutely not in the cards.  That is not to say, though, that we wanted NO contact.  We just needed to be able to craft and determine the relationship at our own pace after having established a bit of a relationship with the birthparents.  To be guilted in to a lifelong OPEN adoption relationship with people we didn't even know just wasn't possible for us.

  

In the end, sticking to our guns worked.  We now have adoption situations that work for us, that work for our kids (so far), and that work for the birthparents.  After all, that's all that really matters.

*These reasons are based on some reading I did back in 2008 when learning about closed, semi-open, and open adoptions.*

Happy Mother's Day to birthmothers

If, like us, you are in touch with your kid's (kids') birthmothers, it is hard to know what to say on Mother's Day.  Of course, they are your child's biological mother.  However, they are not "Mom." We are blessed that our kids' birthmothers respect and understand that.

We have very different relationships with each set of birthmothers, and we are learning how to navigate those differences every single day.

With our son's birthmother, we are in touch via email about once a month and have been since March 2009 when we met her, two months before he was born, when she chose us to parent her son.  I remember on my very first Mother's Day when our son was almost 1 year old getting a Mother's Day email from our son's birthmother. My heart welled up with such love and compassion for her.  She is an incredible woman who has found joy and has gone on to get married to a wonderful person who knows about our son and loves him, too.  Together, they are creating a life, and we are so blessed to be in touch with her. Our relationship with her has developed very naturally over time, and she now knows where we live, she has my regular email, and she knows a lot about our lives.  Early on, she proved to us that she would respect the boundaries that we had established (more on that in my next post) with her, and slowly, we have revealed to her the details of our lives.  Every year I send her and her husband a photo of our son (and by "ours" I do mean, hers and ours), and every year, she thanks me profusely.  They each get a wallet size photo as well as one to frame for their house.  My husband and I did NOT start out in this mental space.  We never anticipated having a relationship with her, but it works for us and has unfolded very naturally and very wonderfully.  She is not involved in our lives on a daily basis, however.  When the time comes for our son and her to meet, we will facilitate that, assuming our son is mentally and emotionally prepared and ready. What we have valued about "Birthmom 1" is that our son's care, stability, and health has ALWAYS been her #1 priority.  She wanted a more open relationship with us, but she understood that, ultimately, what was in our son's best interest was less contact to start.

Our son knows that he is adopted.  In fact, he thinks that most kids are.  To him, a woman either grows a baby like his Aunt J did, or parents go and pick one up at the hospital like we all did with our second child, our daughter.  It is really cute to watch him process how babies show up.  We picked up our daughter when he was not quite 3.  Shortly thereafter, we visited Aunt J when she was VERY pregnant with baby G.  He asked, "What's in there?" as he pointed to her tummy.  Aunt J said, "A baby."  And our son said, "Oh, we got ours at the hospital."  And that was that.  The world was easily divided in to women who grow babies and those who go get them at the hospital.  That explanation, or understanding, was MUCH easier than any explanation I could have created for him.

We have a different relationship with our daughter's birthmother ("Birthmom 2").  For many reasons having nothing to do with us, it is hard for her to be in direct contact with our family.  Therefore, every message and every picture I send is first funneled through Birthfather 2. As time continues, we will learn to figure out our relationship with Birthmom 2, and I am honestly not worried about it.  As someone who constantly plans and prepares (and enjoys control), I have had to learn to let go, let God, and understand that it will all work out the way it is supposed to.  We worry about our children when they are old enough to compare notes about their respective birthmothers.  What will we say to our son whose birthmother has included us in almost every single step of her life since his arrival? What will say to our daughter whose birthmother has not?

The trick with adoption is that there are TONS of unknowns: where will your child come from? Will their birthmother have taken care of them in utero? How old is birthmom? What are her expectations?What are yours? These are just some of the questions that we adoptive parents wonder about and ask ourselves and each other.  Learning to let go is the hardest thing, but the best thing, to do.

We tell potential adoptive parents whom we meet through our agency or through life that they should just take it as it comes, to keep their eyes on the goal which is to bring home a child and to love him or her with all of your heart.  That's all that matters.  I would say to anyone reading this who is considering adoption: Don't let the details scare you.  Don't let the details turn you off.  Adoption is worth it.  The joy our children bring us is indescribable.  What we did before them, other than sleep and go out to dinner, I do not know, and I definitely don't want to go back to that world.  Parenting is scary stuff, but it's worth it.

So is adoption.

For those who wish this was their Mother's Day

This post is for all the women out there who want to be mothers and aren't yet.

We started trying to have a family in July 2005.  It became evident by March 2006 that it wasn't going to happen naturally for us.  From July 2005 until May 2009 when our son came home to us, every single Mother's Day was torture.

I was jealous and sad and mad.  It was like every time I turned on the TV some woman out there was getting flowers or jewelry or love from her kids while I sat wondering when it would be my turn, wondering why all of those other women got to have kids but I didn't.  What had I done to be punished like this? Didn't God know that I already knew how to be a mom? What gave?

Even in those dark moments, I found ways to be thankful.  I was grateful for my own mother who is alive and well and one of my dearest friends.  My mom lost her mother when she (my mom) was pregnant with my oldest brother, when my grandma was only 47 years old.  I gave thanks to have my mother who has comforted me and given me shelter my whole life, especially during that time of my life.

Still, the grief and sadness that revolved around Mother's Day was incredible.  The jealousy stirred me to the bone and made me REALLY uncomfortable.  The anger is still indescribable.  I wasn't angry at mothers; I was angry at God that I wasn't one yet, and I was angry that we were having to wait what seemed like forever to have a child.

So, for all of you soon-to-be-mothers out there (whether you know it or not), I have been there.  I get it.  What you are experiencing and feeling is yours alone.  I know what it is like to feel sad and mad and frustrated and alone.  You are not alone.  I am here for you, and LOTS of other people are there for you too.

What I found in my sadness, once I decided to open up about it, is that there are MANY other people out there who feel sad and lonely and jealous, too.

Do you wonder...

...if, by having an adopted child you won't feel like a 'real parent'? Has that thought ever crossed your mind? It did for me.

I wondered what it would feel like to have a child that looked nothing like me.  Now, I must preface this by saying that my husband is African-American, so the chances of any biological child we had looking anything like my Irish self was slim to none.  As my husband says, "Those genes (the African ones) are STRONG."

We will never know what our biological kids would have looked like, and guess how much time I give to that thought? Zero.  Nada.  Rien.  I never think about it.  Why? Because my children, the ones that are sitting in our family room watching "Sofia the First" are my children.  I never think about biological children because these children are mine. God created them for my husband and me, and, as far as I'm concerned that's all that matters.

When I look at each of them I think, "I cannot believe that you didn't come from my body."  They look like my husband, and they act like me.  Shocking, I know.

I hear from potential adoptive families, particularly women, that they wonder what it will feel like to parent someone else's child.  Guess what? That child that comes in to your home is YOUR child.  In the adoption world, in their lingo, it's called "Claiming."  I don't like that expression because it makes it sound like your child is a possession, an object to hide and keep away from the biological parents (there's a whole other post about biological parents coming) or anyone who might possibly be connected to them.

A child is a gift.  There is comfort in saying, "This child is MY child."  Just because I say that doesn't mean that our child doesn't also belong to, or isn't also a part of, the biological parents.  It's just to say that I am this child's mom.  There is a lot of pride in that sentiment.

A person learns a lot through adoption.  You learn to be okay with the vague and the unknown.  Instead of being able to plan things out, you have to fly by the seat of your pants a little bit.  Sometimes you know for a long time that your child is coming; other times, you get a call at the last minute.

Whatever the case, your child was yours long before you ever knew it.

Here I am!

I haven't forgotten about this blog. I have been swamped with work, family, life.  And, honestly, the last post took a lot out of me emotionally. I hadn't realized it until about a week later, when I thought about coming back to post something else, and I just couldn't get myself to sit down and do it.

From here on, I will do my best to post 1-2 times per week.  I don't know that I'm going to proceed in a linear fashion going forward.  So much of the adoption process is emotional, and that means it isn't just about what happened and when. It's about why it happened, how it felt, and how we coped with it.

I'm a linear thinker.  I'm horrible at spatial relations. I love to tell stories, and I love detail.  My husband is an attorney who has a hard time with my storytelling because the fluffy detail annoys him. He wants the point of the story, not all of the lovely embellishments that I adore (Those who tell stories as I do make HORRIBLE witnesses.)

If there is something specific that you would like me to talk about, please comment below or send me a message on FB: http://www.facebook.com/kathleenwhitworthwellness.

IVF, meds, and doctors, OH MY!

Throughout this blog, I'm trying really hard to be positive and upbeat.  The fertility/infertility journey requires a lot of strength, sleep, and positivity (wine doesn't hurt either).  As much as we tried to remain positive, there were people along the way who definitely ruined our mojo.

*To avoid revealing the identities of those mentioned below, except for my own and my husband's, all names have been changed.

First, let me say, that I am not here to be negative and to disparage any sort of medical professional. What we experienced was unique to us. It is ours alone, and I would never in a million years presume to think that ALL doctors who work with infertile couples behave as our first doctor did. In fact, we have proof that they do not because we fired our first doctor, and our second doctor was a dream.

When you're told by the nurse practitioner at your OBGYN's office that your only options for having a child are IVF or adoption, your heart breaks a little bit.  Every dream that you had about having a child that "looks just like you" is gone.  You start to wonder many things (but the first always seems to be making peace with winding up with a kid who won't look like you):

--will I ever be a mom (I've written a bit about that already)
--what will it feel like to never be pregnant?
--how will I relate to other women who have been pregnant?
--will I be excluded from their group?
--what will it be like to never have a child who looks like me?
--how will I explain what has happened to others?
--what if they don't get it?
--how much is all of this going to cost?

My OBGYN referred us to a particular doctor, a supposed fertility expert, at a local, but well-known, hospital.  I made my appointment to get put through testing to figure out what was going on.  At the time, I was only 32, so I had time on my side.  What's the upside of infertility at such a young age? EVERYONE in the field says, "Oh my gosh. You are SO YOUNG."  It's the only great feeling about not having been "advanced maternal age" (over 35).

After all of our testing (hubby got tested to), we were told what the issues were and were told that IVF would be our only viable option.  We had already wrapped our head around the IVF thing, so we weren't that surprised.  We had come with questions, and the nursing staff responded well.  We were given information, they explained the process, and we went home to talk more about it. Other than the initial examination from the doctor, I didn't see him again for the rest of the visit.

It was August 2006.  My school year was getting ready to start. I was playing soccer again in an all women's league, and I had realized that my full life would be REALLY helpful during this IVF process.  We went back for our initial appointment, to learn how to administer all of the drugs, and ask more questions.  All I wanted to know was would I still be able to play soccer.  The answer was "no."  Because of the intensity of all of the medications, I would need to rest and take it easy.  No soccer balls to the stomach.  So, that was the first step in limiting my activity before I was even pregnant.

We went to the pharmacy, got ALL of the medications, had our schedule of when each would have to be administered, and we were ready to roll.

Ladies: You think PMS is bad? You ain't seen nothin' until you've seen a woman on IVF meds.

Stay tuned for that in my next post.