The Visit

So many people have asked how the visit with Jackson's birthmom, T, went.  It has become a pretty normal part of our lives, these relationships, so I forget that other people find it all very fascinating.  The visit went, in a word, beautifully.  Jackson took to T immediately after not seeing her for a year.  T clearly was working hard to contain her emotions, and I so wish she didn't feel the need to do so in our presence.  I hope we can build our relationship to a point where we have complete openness and honestly.  Like all relationships, ours is a work in progress.

Jackson enjoyed showing T all around the aquarium and mall....and then feeding her french fries at lunch.  It could be in my head, but he seemed to grasp how special she was.  He kissed her on the cheek and "hammed it up" for her.  She pointed out different characteristics of his that she loved...and how he had her skin and her eyes.  Yes, he sure does.  I wish I could post pictures here - I have the most amazing photos of them (and all of us) together.  But I have not gained her permission, and I'd like to keep my blog as my own place for now (and not share it with Jackson's birth family...yet).

My friend today asked me how I felt about it all...she seemed to not know how she felt about it when I showed her the pictures.  While I see the pictures and my heart just swells with love, others see them and seem conflicted.  It's like they are holding back...not sure if they are supposed to love the image of my son kissing T's face.  I try to model pure love and acceptance, but there must be something in this society that says a photo of a little boy sitting in between his mom and birthmom carries some...what?  Sadness?  Pain?  Competition?  Jealousy?  I'm not sure.  Because none of that is true for us.

I suppose I have grown into this place, if I am being honest.  I shared with my friend that the visits in the first few months of Jackson's life were harder.  Our relationship was not yet fully established...I loved him with everything I had, but I didn't yet have the feedback from him that he knew I was his mom, his forever mom.  Infants don't always give that right away.  And he had been in her womb longer than he'd been with me.  I was a shaky mom, unsure of who I was in this role.  So, yes, seeing their bond and hearing others call her Jackson's mom unveiled my vulnerabilities.  But this time, it was different.  Jackson and I have been through so much - the fussy infant stage in which I walked and rocked him for countless hours, and my voice was often all he wanted, the new toddler stage in which he looked to me before he made any move to make sure he was safe and cried whenever I had to leave him, and the two-year-old stage in which we butt heads daily and still snuggle each night before bed, reliving our days together in words and stories and grand gestures (from him usually:)).  Our relationship is solid.  Jackson having another mom does not take away from my role as his mom, it only adds to his sense of being loved and cherished.  And it is his reality, pure and simple.  If I denied it, did not allow him to see her, did not talk about her or talk about his 10 months in her womb....well, his reality would still be the same.  I would just create conflict, fear and uncertainty in his little heart.  No thank you.  She is his birth mom, I am his adoptive mom.  Our roles in his life differ, but both roles are crucial in forming the man he will someday become.

So, there you have it, that is how things went on our beautiful visit with T!  And she loved her necklace:).  Jackson's birthdad, A, has still not re-initiated contact.  He tells his parents (who tell us) that he's just not ready yet.  That's ok.  We'll be here when he is.  Thanks for your questions and interest....your thoughts and wonderings help me to organize mine:).

A Gift

We were never able to give Jackson's birth mom a gift after she placed him with us. Her circumstances made that impossible. So when we FINALLY got to see her this past weekend under different circumstances, I was so excited to bring something tangible to give her. But what do you give the person who birthed your son (her son) and then placed him in your arms? I mean, there really is no gift that says what needs to be said. I have recently acquired the rights to the digital photos that she had taken in the hospital of her and a very sweet newborn Jackson, so I wanted to do something with those photos. Nothing seemed right. Photo gifts consist of mugs, mouse pads, blankets, etc lol! Nothing quite fit. Shutterly did have a necklace, but it was $50 and that is above our financial threshold for gifts right now if you know what I mean! So, I searched. And I found this:

 

It was beautiful, affordable, creative and...well, perfect.  It was small: she could wear it, display it, or tuck it away for the days she may need reminding of  how much she is loved.  When I ordered it, I told the artist who created it what I needed it for, and that I did not have a lot of time (it was a last minute visit that just worked out).  She was so sweet and understanding and she made sure I had the gift in time - including adding priority shipping at no extra cost to me.  It was a wonderful experience, buying this special gift from her.  So, if you are looking for a very touching and special gift on a tight budget, I would HIGHLY suggest this etsy seller!  Her website is:  www.frillychili.etsy.com.    She makes so many cool things other than this as well!  Happy shopping:)!

The Memories Come Flooding Back

I have been having some irregular bleeding for the last two months (shocker, I know, coming from someone who went through years of infertility), so my OB/Gyn sent me for an ultrasound. She sent me to the same place that confirmed my first miscarriage, back in 2008. I have walked by that office in the past couple of years going to another office a few times, and each time my stomach flipped. So I knew I would have a reaction, I just wasn't sure what to expect. The circumstances were so similar - fill my bladder so that it feels like it will burst any second, do a trans-abdominal and then a trans-vaginal ultrasound. I was lying there on the table while I heard the "click clicking" of the ultrasound machine and felt the familiar pressure on my belly, and the tears started coming. Luckily the ultrasound tech was very professional, kept his eyes on the screen, and didn't pay attention to me. How could I have explained those tears to him? There was something about lying on that table, seeing the screen and hearing the clicking, feeling the probe, smelling the office, etc that brought me back to not just that fateful day in April of 2008, but to all of the terrifying ultrasounds I endured in those years before Jackson entered my world and lit it up with joy. I kept taking deep breaths, talking to myself in my head, reminding myself that my two sweet babies were waiting for me back home....but the pain just swept over me. The grief, loss, and trauma of those miscarriages has, for the most part, faded into the background of my life. While none of it could ever be forgotten, I can go most days without thinking deeply about it all. Every day, when I see the faces of my children, I think about what we endured for them, and I celebrate. But that's usually as far as it goes. I don't usually cry, I don't feel the need to dwell on the past, and I choose to relish in my blessings. But, today, lying on that table, it was as if I was right back in the middle of those "dark days." Every emotion I was experiencing made no sense - it was almost like I couldn't even believe my two children were back at home taking their naps. No amount of self-talk was adding any logic to this wholly visceral experience for me. It was quite astounding, to tell you the truth. The pain of the past seemed to just overwhelm me. I suppose that the timing has something to do with it, as we just passed the holidays. Every Christmas, I think about (and we often mention it at least once in our home) our Christmas-that-was-not-to-be. In 2009, I found out that our second baby had passed just 6 days before Christmas. And 4 days before Christmas, I underwent surgery to remove her from my body. So, every Christmas, that pain is just slightly closer to the surface for me. Again, I don't dwell, and I mostly use it to remember her, remember where we came from, and remember to enjoy every second of where we are. But it is there, as well it should be. Those babies were MY babies. They deserve to be remembered as such. Everything I experienced is textbook for a trauma-related reaction. Those of us who have suffered through infertility and/or loss KNOW that it is a traumatic experience, or series of experiences. Today was just a reminder. And the memories came flooding back. I'm glad they did, though. I need to remember where I have been, to truly appreciate where I am. And where I am is completely and totally my dream come true.

From Our Family to Yours

Be Merry Prints Christmas Card

Create from the Heart: photo Christmas cards from Shutterfly .

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Hmmm...

I so wish I could go back and re-write my last post, after all that has happened since writing it.  Thank you all for such kind comments, for being the support I needed.  I always appreciate your thoughts.  Wow, I actually have no words to describe the depth of my emotion around the recent school shooting. I know everyone is talking about it, and I couldn't say anything new even if I wanted to.

It's not that what I wrote is not true...it's just that it isn't the whole truth.  It was just a snippet, a window into how I was feeling in that moment.  If you looked into another window, you'd see that I have cried so many tears as I rocked my children before bed the last couple of nights.  My love for them is so intense, so deep, that just thinking about sending them off to school and never seeing them again brought me to my breaking point.   I have no connection to those families, and yet my chest aches, my stomach churns, for their grief.

Yes, I do get overwhelmed.  Every parent does.  Those parents did.  What I keep learning is that I can focus on the hard, the being overwhelmed, the "dark" moments of parenting...or I can choose to put my energy into the good moments.  It's the same with the grief I am feeling - I can feel myself going over the edge in some ways.  If I spend too much time, too much precious energy, thinking of the "what ifs," I am brought to me knees with anxiety and fear.  Losing my children is something that I literally cannot imagine, for if I do, I will not be able to move forward in my life. The vulnerability in that thought is intolerable.  So, I allow the thoughts to float through my consciousness, then I make a very conscious choice to re-direct my focus to the blessings I have, and they are many.  It's all I know how to do.

I am curious - how are you balancing your grief, fear and anxiety after such a tragedy?

Under Water

I had a dream the other night that I just knew I had to share with you all.  I know some of you will be able to relate.  It started out as a normal day.  Jason and I decided to take the kids to see a family member in Benson.  Benson is about 45 minutes away from us, a straight shot up a rural highway.  In reality, we do not have family who lives that close, so I should have known it was a dream then!  Down where we live, near the Mexico/America border, there are checkpoints on roads leading away from the border.

In my dream, we reached the check point (or what I think must have been what my mind associated with the check point) and it had turned into a "fun" obstacle course to get through on our way to Benson.  Apparently it was a fun attraction for most, something to look forward to on their way to Benson.   We entered the first "obstacle" which included taking our children through some water maize.  We both had to be there, there was no way we could make the trip if not.  Each of us had to take a baby.  I had so much trouble keeping Jackson's head above water.  He kept dipping under and I kept panicking.  We were swimming through this obstacle and I was terrified I would lose Jackson or not be able to keep him above the water.  Then we got to the second obstacle.  This one was like a ride where you sit in cars with lap belts (like on roller coasters) and they sprayed tons of water at you.  I remember frantically dipping my body below the head of the "car" we were in and shielding a baby (not sure which one I had) with my body from the water.  It was awful.  I kept thinking, "This isn't fun at all!" What started out as a "simple" road trip that so many other people were taking easily became something straight out of my nightmares.  We decided after that obstacle that it would take us way too long to get to our family in Benson.  If just two obstacles were that difficult with two babies, there was no way we would get through the rest in a reasonable amount of time.  We decided to turn around and go home.

That's all I remember.  I woke up feeling defeated.  And then I immediately associated that defeated feeling with how I feel at least once each and every day - when I try to go to the store, throw in a load of laundry, go to a thirty one party with kids in tow, cook a meal, go to the zoo, do an activity, make a phone call...  Having two toddlers (or babies) is H-A-R-D!  Normal every day events that other people take for granted seems like an obstacle course under water for our family.   I read blogs and updates from people with one child and get pangs of jealousy - not that having even one baby is easy!  But there is a simplicity there, going to the grocery store does not feel like a military operation for those families!  To be sure, my jealousy is quickly replaced by reminders of how blessed I am - two beautiful faces I get to kiss all day long, two giggling toddlers that fill my life with joy.  The overwhelmed feeling passes, for the moment.

This is not how I imagined having children would be.  I had it all planned out.  I would have one baby, enjoy every second for 2-3 years, then have another and do it all over again, enjoying every moment again, lol!  I still fantasize about having one baby at a time, all the things I could do.  But I don't have one baby.  I have two.  They are hard.  Going anywhere is hard.  Doing anything is hard.  It really, really is.  And that's ok.  It's ok to feel overwhelmed...to feel "under water."  That is motherhood.  It may not be the motherhood I fantasized about, but it is the motherhood that is real, the motherhood I fought so hard for.  And my children are amazing.  They are healthy, feisty and perfect.  I realize how blessed I am that they ARE so energetic and difficult at times - they are healthy and full of life and that is beautiful.  So I allow myself the feelings of anxiety, pressure and frustration, because they are real.   There is no point to fighting them.  Then when I notice I am feeling under water, I step back and make a point to change my energy.  I can make a choice to be caught up in being overwhelmed, or I can make a choice to re-arrange things, slow down, and make the pace of my life match my reality.  I have two toddlers.  I won't get to do as much as other parents...for now.  And that's ok.  There are worth it all.

Here is an example - we decided to try and let them eat at the table instead of with their trays like they normally do.  Epic fail.  They messed with each other, got food on their laps, smeared food on the table, started hitting each other with the forks, trading food, etc...

But look how full our laps become when we pull out a book:).

Mommy Guilt Explored

I read this excerpt from the book, "The Mother's Guide to the Meaning of Life: What Being a Mom has Taught Me about Resilience, Guilt, Acceptance, and Love" by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, and just knew I had to write about it:

I don't know what I'm doing half the time.  Don't know if all my decisions and efforts and love will tally up in a way that means my children will walk away from the carnival with the jumbo stuffed animal.  I do what I can, what is in my power, but there are just so many other factors at work: things that are predetermined at birth; things that happen at school; things that happen in the in-between spaces; things I can't even fathom yet; things I'm unintentionally doing all wrong.  That which is beyond my control, beyond  my understanding, beyond the horizon, shrivels me. (pages 121-122)

I read this in the midst of a very, very tough week.  I have been sick.  The kids have been sick.  And it just kept getting worse.  I had my in-laws in town and had all these fun plans, productive plans, things I would get done now that I FINALLY had help.  None of it got done of course and I barely enjoyed some of the outings we had with them and the kids because I was so damn sick.   I was in such a foul mood, my patience was shot...and they saw me that way with my kids!

Here's the thing:  I know every single mom has lost it with their kid(s).  It is just inevitable I think.  However, most moms are smart enough to not do that in front of others!  But that was how sick, tired and overwhelmed with never-ending lists I was.  I could not contain my frustration.  I was an impatient, nagging, yelling mom to my two toddlers who were also feeling sick (which of course makes it even worse).

I am pretty sure every mom works hard to achieve the "good mom" title.  It can come from anywhere, and I'll take it...the man at the grocery store who tells me I have the patience of a saint (if only!), my mom who reassures me that I am a good mom, my husband...and we all know if our kids tell us we are a good mom, we've hit the jackpot!  But...like any annoying therapist would do (believe it or not, that's what I do for a living!), when it's dark and I am wallowing in mommy guilt, I ask myself, "What do I mean by "good mom?"  What does it take to earn that title?  Does it look the same to everyone?  Is it a handful of moments strung together, like the last week of monster mommy in my house?  Or, perhaps, is it millions of small and uneventful interactions that, over time, make up the relationships I have with my children?  I'd like to think it's the latter.  I can choose to look at the past week and beat myself up (because I was a meanie!) and remember only the bad moments.  There were good ones too - times I was told "mommy, sit!" and sat and gave my undivided attention, times I rocked them and snuggled them before bed, times I laughed when they were being silly, times I took interest in their art projects, times I kissed boos boos, fed them meals, changed their diapers...you get the idea.   I didn't put weight on THOSE times...but why?  I have to make a different choice.  I have to choose to focus on the beauty in our relationships, the things I do well, the joyous moments - of which there are many.  I am a strong believer in: you get more of what you pay attention to.  I just suck at living it.  So I'm going to keep trying to be better, to do better, and to notice when I do.

The end of the excerpt above is both freeing and terrifying.  I do not make up my children's entire lives - so much of who they are, who they will become, has to do with so many other things that I have absolutely no control over.  So, first of all, get over myself.  Second of all, lock them up!  Seriously, though, why do moms shoulder all the weight of how their children turn out?  I know...I mean, I really know, because I do this for a living...how important mothers are for their children's success and health.  I really do.  We are powerful.  But we aren't ALL powerful.  I have conflicting feelings about that.  In some ways, I'd love to be the only factor in my kids' lives - because no one loves them more than I do and I know I would always keep their best interests at heart.  On the other hand, they have so many rich and beautiful relationships and experiences outside of me.  And, yes, they will have negative relationships and experiences...but maybe, just maybe, that's what our safe, normal, every day negative interactions are preparing them for?  I 'd like to think so.  So I will.