The King and I...

 

...plus Bear and Ababa are off to spend the week in San Antonio.  Do me a favor, will ya?  If you live close by, stop over and water our flowers?  Thanks!

Down a Rabbit Hole

Let's keep it light tonight, shall we?  I couldn't agree more.

When I was younger I loved to play a game under the covers in my bed where I would pretend to be a bunny.  I would make a cave-like dwelling with my blanket stretched over my back and would try to hop around foraging for food.  I can't remember if I used to do this before I went to sleep at night or when I woke up in the morning, but it seems like it laid some pretty solid ground-work for my adult years of finding it terribly difficult to get out of bed in the morning.  Just five more minutes in my bunny hole...

I have since passed this game onto my kids.  When they want to get into bed to snuggle with me, I tell them about the bunny hole and how we can go under the covers and practice our hopping.  Superman has readily taken to this game, as it's right up his alley pretending to be an animal.  But Bear, who is quite literal, is absolutely cracking me up.  At first he's afraid of getting in the bed with us, because who knows what those wily rabbits are up to.  Days pass and he gathers enough courage to climb up into bed and the hilarity ensues.  "Mama, mama, whaiw the bunny?  Whaiw the bunny at? Can I see him?  Does he bite me?  Can I pet him?  Does he bite me?  I scawey mama, I scawey." 

He is convinced we keep live rabbits in our bed, which may or may not want to bite.  Scary indeed.

When he finally did work up the nerve to check out our bunny hole, complete with going under the covers, he got scared half way down to the foot of the bed and hung a sharp right, careening straight off and onto the floor.  He wasn't hurt, so no harm done in laughing for 10 minutes, right?

Most recently he decided to arm himself a little better and came thoroughly prepared.  With Ramen.  For the bunnies.  Perhaps the thought process went a little like this: I know there are live bunnies in mama's bed.  I am unsure if these bunnies ever get fed, so they may try and eat me.  I do not want this to happen, so I will bring bunny food.  Ramen, it is.   

This child cracks me up daily.

 

So this is what grief feels like

Once upon a time we had a plan.  Remember back in your 20's when you thought you could scheme all the details of your life?  We had such ideas and nothing seemed out of our prowess.   

The plan picked up momentum with our greatest adventure to date:  parenting.  Specifically through international adoption. 

I was irked when people would ask about our journey with infertility.  What doctors had I seen, what treatments had been pursued, what blogs I followed.  Why would people assume we hadn't chose adoption as our first choice?   We found adoption to be beautiful and pursued it whole heartedly.  Then once we were home and settled the intended plan included one or two birth kids followed by many, many years of raising the wee lads.  Maybe when we were older and wiser with calmer waters once again, we would see what this whole foster care system was about.      

We met a couple from Michigan while we were in Ethiopia who had such a plan as ours.  Rare, no?  They were our age, had met in college and had been together the same amount of time as us and had no birth children.  They adopted two young boys, whose ages varied from ours by about 6 months.  And they are now expecting their third son due sometime mid-summer.  Rarer, no?

And I am really happy for them.  It is after all, one hell of a plan. 

But still I sit here with a lump in my throat, a keyboard in my lap, knowing that I need to tell you more.  We tried for a while and didn't get pregnant.  (You knew that was coming, didn't you, you clever little minx.) Then we went to a doctor who was able to point out some problems right off the bat and gave us a prescription.  Then we didn't get pregnant.  Then we had some more tests done.  Then we had a phone call the equivalent of getting the wind knocked out of you. 

I'm well aware that my blog is a garden variety, scrapbookish family affair that manages 60 readers on a good day.  Why post all of this, you ask?  Because approximately 22 of you 60 readers knew in some vague shape or fashion that we were trying to conceive and I simply cannot have this conversation more than 20 times.  It was hard enough having it once with Jon and a doctor.  Not to say this topic is off-limits, just tread lightly friends and expect tears.

Of course other doctors will be asked and second opinions will be pursued, but truth be told when I was getting some info back on the latest round of tests I about fainted.  IVF was mentioned as our best bet due to an amalgamation of problems.  Holy shit.  Irony or poetic justice you tell me, because now I do follow infertility blogs.  And let me tell you, IVF is the surest and fastest way to annihilate your sanity.  Even if we could overlook the aspects of peace of mind, there are the ethical considerations of what to do with extra (as the case could be) fertilized eggs.  Freeze them for later?  Donate?  And of course the cost.  IVF has no sure outcomes (other than the aforementioned hormone induced insanity), while we could be back to Ethiopia on the same dime. 

So now's there's grief. 

I'm already a mom.  We are already in love with adoption.  I assume that makes this whole bit of information a veritable cake-walk compared to others.  Truthfully, I'm not too fussed about seeing a mini-me or Jon toddling about.  Or having a child that I can see my personality in.  Honestly, God has given us a child with interests so close to Jon's that it is spooky.  (Spooky in the good, wow, this was the Holy Spirit matching this little guy up with us as his second family kind of way.)  I've got a four-year old that talks about Morning Doves and Blue Jays and what his "Granddad" (He just started saying this.  Darling.) and Grandma think are the best birds when comparing cooing.  (Is that even what you call it?)  Honestly he knows more tree names than I.  Nature excites him.  Sound familiar? 

But I still feel like I'm missing out on a right-of-passage type of experience in which most women partake.  I can't ever remember myself longing for or fantasizing about having birth children or being a mom while I was growing up, but it was always an understood in my mind.  Assured. Undeniable. Pretty much what God had in mind when creating my sex.  I'm all for voting, careers, and equal pay, but I'm no feminist.  I wanted to be pregnant.  I assumed pregnancy. And not the type of pregnant where you have to fight and claw your way in just to have a chance.  Maybe it's all a myth.  Maybe no one ever glows.  But that's what I wanted.  To be glowing and have a chance to sit at the big kid table.  To feel a kick, some movement.  To have Jon race in with out stretched hand. To have something to add  in conversation with every women-only room I've been in for the last 5 years.  

So pray for us.  Not for news that our doc was a quack and that all systems are a go.  Not that we would have some miracle child.  But that our peace would be enormous.  That our love of Christ would grow.  That we would better learn to love and support one another.  For our current children and the ones who will join our family in non-traditional ways.       

My Cuties

And the death blow...

 

 

 

Deep thoughts

"Why was I born in Ethiopia? 

Why wasn't I born in an egg?"

Saturday

Some random thoughts:

• Superman has his first crush.  I can't decide if I should blog about this or not.  It is quite darling and he has made a dozen hilarious quips about this young lady, but I am not sure if blogging about it would be considered an invasion of privacy?  I'm looking ahead and thinking perhaps that in the eyes of a growing tween/teen, this entire blog may be considered an invasion of privacy....     
• Tube surgery went great.  Anesthesia can be really rough on kids, with a very intense waking up period, but Superman did so wonderfully.  The nurses and doctors were such a blessing to us.  Afterward we went out and grabbed some doughnuts and headed home for a movie. 
• Jon and I have been thinking about foster care and foster-to-adopt for a while now and recently decided to jump in.  We just finished up our first class, PRIDE: Parent Resource for Information, Development, and Education.  We are thinking we will probably become licensed some time mid to late summer, so we still have quite a bit of paperwork, classes, and our checklist to get through.  So far the differences between adopting from the state and from another country seem a mile long.  I'll save some of those thoughts for another day, though.  
• Happy Weekend!

‎

Tubes.

We learned English, so why wouldn't we make up new words?

No one can understand my kids, which is a problem with many roots.   Superman loves making up words; here's a sampling. 

Cyper- vacuuming up leaves and dirt
Hickyball- what you yell when you are really, really excited, like when you are swinging really high.
Humpty Lumpty- when something falls down.  As in, "my sandwich is humpty lumpty." This probably evolved from Humpty Dumpty.
Galawin - this one has a changing meaning.  I haven't totally mastered how to use this it in conversation yet. 

Do you know who Bear loves to imitate more than anyone?  Yep, his older brother who is just a Frindle-type of kid, meaning Bear will never be understood by any of his Sunday school teachers when he asks for a Hickyball (Please push me on a swing?).

Oh, and Bear can't remember the word "peppermint".  He's always asking for cucumbers. 

I'm sure they will have out-grown of this or at least be using different made up words in 2 months, and these are the type of things I hope I never forget. 

 

World-Wide Flash Mob Geocache Event

 

If you are wondering where Bear is in all the pictures, he was a sleepy-head and napped through the entire thing and missed all the fun.  Poor Bear.

Chores

When Bear does the dishes.

First Friday Art Trail

Dinner with friends, a little shopping, cupcakes, and a trolley ride. Yes, please!

 

Waiting for the trolley!

20 months

Some thoughts on adoption. 

God gives some amazing, sustaining grace. 

Every time I look back on our journey of becoming a family, I pretty much always think the same thing:  HOLY HECK! How did we make it through those days???  It doesn't matter if I'm thinking of 19 months ago, a year ago, or even 6 weeks ago, my thought process pretty much starts at the Holy Heck part.  But here's the really amazing part: I never, ever (well maybe just once or twice) have thought that in the moment.  You realize what that means?  That God is and has been so gracious to us.  Our days have been so blessed in the present, yet continue to improve even when I didn't realize it was possible. 

It amazes me to compare my boys in many differing ways, from language mastery to behavior to small areas of growth in attachment, to even 4 weeks ago.  4 weeks ago I would have told you the same thing comparing their growth to 6 weeks prior to that.  And 10 weeks ago I would have told you how my family has "arrived" and that we are pretty much exactly where we need to be, and then I would have marveled about all the growth we've experienced in the 6 previous weeks.    

I feel like I can almost hear God chuckling as I come to understand this tiny part of what it means when He says, cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you.  Every day He has not only sustained us, but also made the bulk of the days feel like a joy and then He saves a secret surprise by making the next two months even more enjoyable and full of growth. 

Are they brothers?/Are they real brothers?

20 months later, everyone still has the same favorite question.  This always leaves me in something of a quandary for a few reasons.  Reason #1:  Adoption is one of my favorite things to talk about, and I would love to answer all of your questions.  Reason #2:  My boys' history is private and I deeply guard their stories and lives.  Reason #2 will trump reason #1 every time.  Reason #3:  Can we all agree to stop using the word "real"?  Let's use birth or biological instead.   

With all adoption questions, I try to let the tone of voice/tone of question and relationship with the person dictate how I will answer questions.  If you are truly interested in adoption or helping vulnerable children, I have much to say and would love to talk.  If you are just trying to think of something adoption-y to say to me, I'd rather not go there.     

Honestly, we have not had many awkward or negative comments or questions about our family, but I'm beginning to see that is partially because we are not in the public much.  Next year will bring pre-school, possibly the start of some team sports, and generally mixing more with people outside of our church and group of friends.  I have already noticed that the moms sitting around in the waiting room at OT are all too curious to know private details of my kids' lives.  No thanks, ladies.  No thanks. 

I have learned a ton about child development.

Superman got the brunt of our ignorance.  I try not to dwell much on it, but it is oh so true.  Bear is pretty much the same age Superman was when we came home and I am seeing now how hard it would be to be adopted when you are 2.9.  All those willful toddler battles, desiring of independence (Bear: "I do it myself!") and general toddler moodiness coupled with a new language, culture, and new parents who have yet to navigate a child from toddler years to preschool years is a lot.  A heck of a lot. 

We've got a good friend who adopted three of her four children from Ethiopia.  Her first was a 6 mo. old girl, her second was a 10 year old boy, and her third was a 3 year old girl.  She claims that hands down, the 3 year old was the hardest.  Our apologies, Superman, for being woefully ignorant about what you were up against.

We are still totally normal.

Introduce me to a family with small kids, and we will talk all day. 

"Have you looked into preschools?  Yeah, I heard that one was good too.  Is he potty-trained?  Yeah, for some reason it seems like he is trying to un-potty train himself and has started having accidents lately.  Oh really?  Your son did that too?  He's pretty much driving me crazy because he wants to buckle his seat belt by himself every single time and he can't ever do it.  Ever. Yeah, we decided to try t-ball, but now I'm finding out that the practices are at 8 pm and we usually go to bed at 7:30.  I'm not sure if we should quit or if that is just part of growing up.  Let me tell you, this one hasn't taken a nap for three days in a row.  I know what you mean.  Our youngest freaks out in the church nursery,  too."

If you have ever thought that adoption was too hard or not for you, I've got news for you.  If you have any desire to parent, you can adopt.  Just ask me, and I'll tell you how.  Just don't ask if my boys are real brothers.  :)

Ho