Arrival and Aftermath

A good friend recently told me that her blog was 'her memory'. An excellent reminder of a forgotten goal-the events of this summer should be recorded before they fade into distant memories.

Pregnancy flew by until the last month-each week seemed an eternity of moaning, groaning and sleepless nights full of heartburn. Incubating in the Texas heat was certainly not pleasurable. I spent my days waddling around (exercise? what's that?), on the wrong side of every door and became quite the vocal critic of supermarkets that watched me lug my own groceries from the check-out line to the cart.

Keeping busy was still a major priority-it gave me precious time with the boys that I knew I wouldn't have later on and kept my mind off how uncomfortably round I had become. Newbie O was due to arrive on July 26th. I had a very strong feeling that she would be at least a week late, so despite my mother's protests at coming earlier, I told her to come just a few days before.

THE PLAN (or LACK THERE OF)
Seriously. I did plan. I was going to go shopping on Thursday for food and extras, clean the house on Friday, and (most importantly) get my hair done on Saturday morning. Other than that, my overnight bag was in the backseat and my parents were flying in on Saturday night. I did not feel in any way that I was cutting it close. Wednesday afternoon I went for my 39 week check-up and she confirmed that I was no closer than I had been in the previous three weeks. We even discussed what would happen if I went past my due date.

Little Miss Sassy Pants (or Miss Saucy Pants as Baby O refers to her) had other plans. I remember waking up with a contraction and looking at the clock at 1:11 in the morning.  Basing everything on what I'd seen in movies and episodes of A Baby Story, I was expecting dramatic and it just didn't seem all that dramatic.  I just wasn't positive that my water had broken, so I decided to get up and wait it out.  I did nudge Daddy O on the way out of the bedroom and (deep sleeper that he is) he mumbled something and promptly rolled over.

Google does come in handy during moments such as these.  I typed in phrases like, how do you know you're in labor, what do labor contractions feel like, how to time contractions.... It wasn't all that helpful, but it did pass the time.  I ended up writing down every time I felt a contraction and after about an hour, they were consistently 15 minutes apart.  I decided to call the doctor, who said that if my water had in fact broken that I needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible.  My response to her was, "But how do I know if it broke or not?  What if I just peed in my pants?"  Her response was much more decisive and went something like this, "Just get your butt in here."

Well, crap. Crap, crap, crap.  I had planned on this happening when my parents were here.  There was no plan for where the boys should go.  And it was the middle of the night.  I didn't feel right about waking up neighbors that we had only just met to watch over the boys.  And what if it was a false alarm?  So, once Daddy O was up and moving (no small task, I might add), we got the kiddos up and dressed and piled into the car.   Denial is a strong thing...Daddy O was convinced it was a false alarm but as I noted the time every time I felt a contraction, I noticed that they were now coming every five minutes and it was then I realized that this was most likely the real thing.

The boys dropped me off at the emergency room and met me in the maternity ward after they had parked the car.  The doctor came in to check on me and took less than five seconds to say that this was no false labor.  She went outside to break the news to Daddy O and I took to the phone to call my Mom.  My mother must have been ready, because even at 3 o'clock in the morning, my parents answered on the first ring.  There were a few pleasantries and then I could hear the resolve in my mother's voice, "I will be there as soon as I can."

Up until then, the contractions were pretty minor-uncomfortable, but manageable.  Then all of a sudden they were coming quicker and MUCH stronger.  I didn't have much of a birth plan-I figured I'd just wait it out and see how things went.  I wasn't necessarily opposed to an epidural, but I secretly thought I could withstand the pain.  I would like to add that I am no stranger to pain.  I  have broken both my legs, my hand, my nose, several finger and toes.  None of them were pain free and those injuries led me to believe that I had a very high tolerance for pain.  Nothing, absolutely nothing compares to the pain I was feeling during these contractions and when they asked if I would like an epidural, there was no hesitation on my part.  When the anesthesiologist entered the room, it was as if  the heavens above opened and a glittering light followed him to my bedside.

In the meantime, Daddy O was trying to be there at my bedside while also caring for the boys.  Yes, they were in the room with me while I was writhing and screaming in pain.  There were points where it was so bad that I told Daddy O to please just take them into the waiting room.  I didn't want them to see me like that.  They remained pretty nonchalant about the whole thing and once I received the epidural, everything was much better.  From that point forward the boys played nicely in the room and had breakfast in the cafeteria.  I remained in pain-free bliss and waited for Newbie O.

Around 9 in the morning, the nurse gently informed Daddy O that the boys could not be in the room during the delivery.  We were waiting on relatives to arrive and thought they would arrive soon, but just in case Daddy O called his one of his best friends and college roommates to see if he could drive up quickly.  Thank goodness we made that call because he arrived just in time-probably a half an hour before I started pushing.   And of course, lesson learned:  always have a plan B when childbirth is concerned.

The last part of labor seemed somewhat anticlimactic.  I didn't feel ready-I felt tired and vacillated between wanting juice and going to sleep.  The doctor promised I could have some juice as soon it was over and I began to push.  I really could not feel a thing and I felt slightly annoyed at the nurse who every time I pushed kept saying things like, "You are an incredibly strong woman, be strong, be strong!"  It was a little too much for me and I kept looking at Daddy O, hoping he could read my mind.  I think he did, because I remember him smiling a little every time she decided to give me her strong woman cheer.  Honestly, I was not in the mood to be a strong woman.  I just wanted some bleeping juice.

Newbie O ended up coming out just fine and I got my juice-strong woman cheers and all.  I won't get into too much more gory detail, but there were a couple of observations that I made during the last half hour:  1) I don't need a mirror to see more of the birth.  I got enough just being up where I was. 2) Why did they give me a hospital gown?  It seemed pretty useless as it was just hanging like a rag around my waist while the doctor was doing her thing.

I probably would have made several other cutting observations but once Newbie O was out and I had a gargantuan gulp of juice, joy and exhaustion took over.  I'll let the pictures tell the rest.

NEWBIE O

She was born at 11:47 that morning weighing in at 7 pounds 2 ounces and was 20 inches long.  I think she looks just like her Daddy.  She's already starting to smile and babble-especially when you sing head, shoulders, knees and toes to her.  She especially loves her brothers and being outside.  Even though I still feel sleep deprived, she is almost sleeping through the night-giving us 4.5 hour spurts at a time.  

The boys love her as well and fight over being my helper during diaper changes.  Boy O has finally figured out that it means to carry the stinky diaper to the garbage can, so he has mostly lost interest.  But Baby O loves his new job.  Boy O enjoys entertaining her and most of her smiles seem to be specifically reserved for him.  Baby O can't quite figure her out-he doesn't grasp why she can't walk, talk and play yet.  

SEVEN WEEKS LATER
Time passes by so quickly and looking back, we were so lucky to have help from family and friends.  Our Moms were here for the first few days when I was still in the hospital.  My parents stayed for the first two weeks while I recovered.  They single handedly took care of the boys, my emotional well-being (what a roller coaster!), cleaned and made meals.  Daddy O then took his paternity leave after they left and the Mom's group I belong to delivered meals to our door for the next two and a half weeks.  All in all, I had a good month to get myself together.

I am so fortunate to have had such support, because to be completely honest, this has been really hard.  By no means did I expect it to be easy, but it never hits me until I'm in the thick of it, sleep deprivation, breast feeding and all.  As the weeks go by, they seem to get easier. I'm getting used to balancing the needs of an infant and two active boys which has been the most difficult part of this transition. School has started and we are getting closer to a 'new normal'.   It took us about 6-8 months to find that normal when the boys arrived home back in 2010 and I expect it will be the same this time around.  And when I look back it's hard to believe that in just over 2 years we have gone from zero to three kids...and I whole heartedly agree with Newbie O-I'm happy, content, but tired!

Updates on the boys are long overdue, so please tune in soon for the many firsts that have taken place in the past few weeks as well as upcoming birthdays....

One Year Later: Reflections

One year.  To sum it up in one sentence: One life changing awesome year. 

I could just end it there, yet I do feel the need to write more, recall more and explain more about year one.  Maybe it's for me so I don't forget, maybe it's for the people that actually read this blog, maybe it's for my boys down the road and maybe it's a combination of that and other things I cannot quite put my finger on. 

Following other people on their personal journeys via blogs helped me in a tremendous way when I needed to see something tangible, that the light at the end of the tunnel did in fact exist. It is why I ultimately made the decision to log our experiences in such a public forum.

More than one person has told me that our transition with the boys seemed easy and seamless.  Rainbows and sunshine.  In many ways it has been and in others, well-I just chose not to share them. That's the advantage of being the author.  There is a line, there are things that I don't write about, things that I don't discuss and things that will remain private.   That being said, there are moments that were glossed over and I hope this recollection will resonate with some and perhaps shed some candor to my usual rosy thoughts.

THINGS I DIDN'T WRITE ABOUT

The first few weeks were hard.  I remember being exhausted.  Not only did we travel for 24 + hours, we really never adjusted to being 13 hours ahead in Ethiopia. So on top of trying to to parent two children who we had known for less than a week, we were going on at least seven days of no sleep.   Lack of sleep and any other additional undertaking is never a good combination.

The day after we arrived home was a disaster.  Despite all my meticulous planning and meal freezing there were still some things that had to be done.  The clothes we had bought Boy O were way to big, so big that it was absolutely necessary to go to the store and find him pants that didn't fall off his small frame.  There was no getting around this, we needed clothes, we needed fresh fruit and veggies, we had doctor appointments, neighbors stopping by...completely overwhelming.  So there was no routine, no schedule, even I didn't know what was going to happen next.  I remember we had been up half the night with Baby O (who would still need about three weeks to adjust to the time difference), I was completely distraught that Boy O had very strong opinions on shoes and wardrobe matters and the fact that he refused to hold my hand in a busy store. My thoughts were jumbled, but I remember just being very distraught.  The what ifs took over my head...What if I have to carry him out of here kicking and screaming...what if he hates me...what if these people think I'm nuts...what if my husband thinks I'm nuts and leaves me...what if Baby O wakes up and starts screaming...what if I'm not cut out for Motherhood? It spiralled on from there.

Here's the other end of the spectrum that few take the time to consider: Imagine yourself at any age, being placed with a family and in a country that is so totally foreign to anything you can think of. Then imagine yourself listening to sounds and seeing sights that are unrecognizable. Even the background is different-the lighting is strange, the colors are overwhelming. So many things to process. Then try to communicate by speaking any word of the language you have known your entire life only to be greeted with a helpless look and some charades. You try to search for another word, and another, but it doesn't work. The only people you have to cling to are people you have just met.  At what age can one possibly process the gravity of what has happened in the course of only a few days? And if you do, even just grasp a tiny fraction of how your life has forever changed, how would you go about expressing it? Words aren't going to work. I don't even know if I could articulate it now at my age, much less as a 4 year old or a 7 month old. How much time would you need? When I ask myself this question, I am in awe of my children and their ability to be loved and return love.

We did make it through the day, but that is what I would call it.  All of us just trying to make it through the day.  After the kids were in bed, I shut the bathroom door and cried.  I called my Mom to talk, but I didn't have much to say, except that I was tired.  I didn't really feel like I could talk to anyone-after spending several years trying to make this moment happen, hearing the worries and skepticism from so many, I felt that there was no one that would understand or want to listen to my fear and frustration-I asked for this, I signed up for this, I prepared for this...but deep down I just felt very scared and alone. 

That was a low point and fortunately, things got better as time went on.  It helped that I could talk to my spouse about my thoughts.  It helped that I wrote out a routine and I made it as close to their previous schedules as possible.  Having an expectation of what was going to happen next made everything easier.  Having Daddy O take off two more weeks of work was a godsend.  By the time he went back to work, I felt fairly confident that I could hold down the fort.  I should also mention that he single handedly kept my what ifs at bay with his ever logical perspective: We have been home for less than seven days, remember what I said before we traveled? Give it a year. Then and only then, can you tell me how it's going. This was repeated to me over and over when I said at one month, three months, six months....I think we are doing ______________, what do you think? And he was right. It takes time. 


OTHER THOUGHTS

I have said this before and I will say it again: no amount of preparation could have prepared me for this. Those parenting classes we took? Silly. Toting around a rubber baby for eight hours in a sling and changing its diaper is no substitution for a real infant. If you don't know how to feed, clothe or take care of a baby-you will will learn and you will learn quick. Most parents will laugh at this, but the thing that shocked my system the most was that every second of my day and night was busy and full, sometimes it felt like there was not one moment in which to take a breath and when there was, it was spent sleeping.

I had and have read loads on adoption, bonding, and attachment.  I spent a lot of time worrying about it and both Daddy O and I did whatever we could do within our power to spend time bonding with our boys and creating sound attachments.  I discovered that both my boys are different-they are different ages, they had different experiences, different personalities and thus responded differently in our relationship with one another.  They were not a chapter in one of my parenting books, nor did I expect them to be.  But I will say that while I may not have been surprised at their responses, I was at times surprised at my own.  It is easy to say you don't have expectations, it is easy to say you will understand given past life circumstance, it is easy to say it is not personal.  Whether you approach it spiritually and/or scientifically, experiencing rejection at the hands of your child will cut you off at the knees.  No matter how logical and understandable the behavior may be-it is hard to watch your child take someone else's hand or reach for someone other than you.  I did not expect myself to react jealously or shed the tears that I did.  I did not expect myself to ask my husband what I was doing wrong.  But at the end of the day, it isn't personal, it is a reminder that there is still work to be done but it has taken a year to be able to look back on it with this perspective.  Again, it takes time.

WHERE WE ARE NOW

We have come a long, long way from the family we were twelve months ago.  Issues surrounding adoption dominated our conversations and how we dealt with most things involving our sons. It is significant to me that we have reached a point where adoption does not rule our lives anymore.  I am not in any way suggesting or denying that our family wasn't created or made richer by adoption, but the past and the fact that my sons are adopted and how it affects present behavior does not override my thoughts anymore.  We have emerged from our cocoon one year later not just as an adoptive family, but a family.  And it's a great place to be.

Cocoon

We are about to embark on a long days journey to visit family under sunnier skies.  This trip will be out of the ordinary for our family who for the past eight months, have been very careful to keep most activities low key.  We have not been overly social or scheduled and have successfully created a nice 'cocoon' as a new household of four.  I like this term (common in adoption literature) because its description illustrates how I see the progression of our family.  A cocoon is in fact the antithesis of rest.  This is where the body of the caterpillar is transforming into a mature moth (I wish I could say butterfly (that would be a chrysalis), but the inner biologist is telling me to be accurate).  It is a stage where the antennae, amazingly complicated mouth parts, and wings will be fully formed.  After it emerges, the moth cannot fly and will wait until its wings are fully dry to take to the air. 

I imagine that most folks on the outside see us a bit crazed, our children are rarely out of sight and I have seen several raised eyebrows and comments all politely suggesting: overprotective.  What may seem to others as a somewhat isolating time has been everything to the contrary.  Our cocooning has been absolutely vital in transitioning and adjusting to one another.  We needed to get to know each other and find our new normal without the blur of outside distractions.  That brings me to this-I think we are almost ready.  December has been telling.  While deliberately keeping the holidays calm and simple we have done some branching out.  A few restaurants here and there, a very long day trip, a close friend's wedding...  And each time, we departed from normal bedtime and schedules, and things have been good.  We even survived the week of sleepless nights when Baby O was getting his molars in.  I can almost feel the wings forming and hope we can begin the new year by branching out more and more. 

My husband often laments that running long distances is all about recovery. When the subject comes up, he'll go on to say that anyone can run a marathon [but without proper preparation/training] you might have a tough time getting back on your feet for a few weeks (or longer).  I view the last overprotective months as training if you will for the the tougher times ahead.  With this strong family bond and understanding, we can hopefully overcome the hardships that come our way. 

It's time.  We are ready.  Family, here we come!

Before I Forget...

A comment from an earlier post asked what my impressions of being a first time Mom to both a toddler and a baby was like and how it was different with two. It was a great 'assignment'!  I thought that I should probably write these thoughts down before they become a distant memory. 

I really do think that Daddy O and I prepared for parenthood as much as a couple could.  We took parenting classes, watched instructional DVDs, read endless books on adoption & discipline as well as listened to scores of solicited and unsolicited advice from just about everyone we knew (and a few folks we didn't for that matter).  We baby proofed our home, bought age appropriate toys, clothes, furniture and books.  Just before traveling to Ethiopia, I even took the time to prepare exactly seven family dinners that could be stored in the freezer (I estimated that it would take me exactly one week to recover and start cooking again) and pureed one months worth of vegetables for Baby O.  I also made plans to resign from my full time job as a biologist-in my mind, that just about covered everything.  And yes, in case you haven't already guessed, I have been compared to the character 'Monica' from the TV show Friends.

Despite all my best intentions, I liken the first few weeks of parenting a toddler and an infant to the picture below.  I ended up with pages of descriptions in my journal, but this just sums it up better than words:

Now that I am able to look back, I honestly don't think that anything could have properly prepared me for the reality or shock of going from zero to two children.  I've heard people say that it is harder for us because we started with two boys at such different ages and that we didn't 'ease' into it like a family that gave birth to kids of the same age.  Is it any harder?  I don't know-I've never had just one.  I think it doesn't matter how you decide to start or add to your family or with how many-it will always give your body and schedule a 'jolt' and take time to adjust.  I would venture to guess that as new and experienced parents alike, we are all just as exhausted as the other. That being said, I will say that when I see people with twins or people with more than two, I am silently in awe and want to ask them how they do it.  Two months later, I still feel like the picture above on a regular basis :) by the end of the day.

Having two children, I find myself worrying whether or not I'm spending quality time with both boys equally. Sometimes I feel like I'm being pulled in different directions and have to decide which need to fill first.  "Mommy look!, Look at me Mommy....Mommy? Mommy?  MOMMY?", then when I do turn to look and lose sight of Baby O for one second, he has already crawled over to the dog bowls (which I always seem to forget to put up high in the morning) and either has a fistful of dog food or has turned over the water bowl.  I feel like I'm not as patient or understanding as I could be all the time.   Some days my attitude is a bit lacking. When I find myself getting frustrated, I try to find an activity to do outside with both boys-I am always amazed at what a little fresh air can do for a (aka my) poor attitude. 

Another issue that consumes much of my thought is attachment and bonding-something that every adoptive parent must deal with to some degree.  Are they looking me in the eye? Are they smiling and laughing enough?  Are they comfortable?  More importantly, do they recognize us as their parents?  This last question always leaves me wondering.  Baby O definitely recognizes our voices and faces now.  He will reach for us and lets us know what he needs.  He smiles more and looks us in the eye.  He just started to return our kisses this weekend.  These are huge milestones to us. 

From the outside, I'm sure it looks like Boy O has transitioned beautifully-and he has-given the fact that we have only been home for eight weeks.  He is anxious when we leave the house and new people come to visit-now that communication has progressed, we can explain that we will be coming home and visitors will be leaving. He genuinely wants to be here and  is always eager to please.  People seem amazed and sometimes impressed that he called us Mommy and Daddy from the beginning.  But what they don't understand is that it's just a word to him.  He's just now noticing that other children in the neighborhood call their parents Mommy and Daddy too.  It will take more than eight weeks to know the true meaning of what Mommy and Daddy means in this family.  It breaks my heart sometimes as his parent but those are times that I have to step back, take a deep breath, think logically and trust that the unconditional love we feel for our beautiful boys will prevail.  

Even though I whine and worry a lot, parenthood has been an absolutely amazing ride and it is by far everything I thought it would be and more-with every frustration there are far more touching and funny moments-too many to count.  We are having so much fun. We have waited for what seems like eternity to have our sons with us and wouldn't change a thing.  Not a thing.

Back to the basics

In my previous life as a competitive gymnast, I remember the month of June as the month of 'going back to the bascis'.  After months of weekends on the road traveling from meet to meet, we finally ended our competition season (our parents breathing a sigh of relief) and instead of learning new tricks-we would work on the most basic and seemingly boring (to us at least) skills.  Forward & backward rolls, front & back walkovers, cartwheels and endless handstands.  We groaned at the thought of repeating a simple full turn on the balance beam and making sure our legs were straight and toes pointed as we transitioned to the high bar.  Only after thousands of these skills had been repeated to perfection and our bodies knew how to do the skills in our sleep could we begin to work on more difficult and thrilling skills. As basic as the drills were, our coach knew that in order to build on our old routines our bodies and minds needed a 'touch up' to prevent us from getting sloppy in our performance.  The discipline gained from the month of June allowed us to gain endurance and strength, learn new skills safely as well as prevent injuries.  It may have seemed redundant then, but as I reflect back on that time, I am reminded of the past few weeks.  Just as in years past, Family O has gone back to the basics.  Instead of rolls, cartwheels, and handstands-we are learning the skills and routine of being a family.  To everyone peering in, it may seem repetitive and somewhat odd that we seem so scheduled, but our basic routine has been so important in establishing a good relationship and bond with our children.  The last year or more has been in constant motion for these two.  I don't know if anything has been consistent or stable in their lives and the 'routine' has allowed us all to get to know each other better without wondering what is going to happen next.  It has allowed us to see what (very technically speaking) the 'baseline' behavior is.   Things have been working out wonderfully so far-I can see that there is a certain amount of comfort for the boys with our schedule.  Even so, I can tell that the trust isn't completely there yet-it's going to take time.  We have noticed that new people and new situations in and outside the home cause an increase in anxiety and we will need to monitor future interactions with others very carefully.  That being said, nearly one month to the day of arriving home-we let our hair down so to speak on Friday and deviated from the routine and it was as fun as learning a back handspring back in the day.  Instead of just the basics, we ordered pizza, rented a movie, stayed up a bit later than usual and although Baby O stuck to the regularly scheduled program, we had a fabulous time saying 'yes, you can eat this with your hands' and seriously rocked out to the movie Madagascar 2.  Who knew that hippos kissing could be so funny and Mommy and Daddy O dancing to 'I like to move it, move it' could induce such giggles?

Each day the basic skills we have been working on become old hat and we will be able to branch out more and more, but for now working on being a family is our number one priority.  It's going to take more than a month of the basics to learn that Mommy and Daddy O will be there for the long haul and that Family O is here to stay.