I am Thankful

I am thankful:

that it is finally December and this baby will remove himself from my belly soon (hopefully? pray pray)

that i've been able to incubate him for so long.

that i've been able to incubate him at all. pregnancy is a gift i never thought i'd receive once, much less twice.

for my precious husband who says things like " i know you're feeling aweful and all but do you think you could do laundry today, maybe?"

for my beautiful daughter and her adorable personality.

for little "Tank you, momma" s that she'll toss out without warning and just melt my heart.

that my parents are able to help me so very much.

that I am loved.

that others can make journey's when i just can't.

that life doesn't have a strict ridgid path.

that God allows life to happen.

for Ecclesiastes. It really puts things into prespective.

for clean sheets and warm blankets and sweet sweet kisses from chocolatey lips.

for Shea body butter and non asprin headache reliever.

Adoption: That first moment with your child.

http://chinaadoptiontalk.blogspot.com/2010/10/not-always-love-at-first-sight.html

This blog had me in tears this morning.
The comments are even worse.
It is terrifying to know that what is such a beautiful moment for parents is such a terrible moment for the children.
Now what?
How do we learn from this and change the situation to make it easier/ kinder/ gentler for the child?
Argh!
*kicks things*

Just when i feel like i'm prepared for anything that may come up in adoption, something like this is brought up and i wonder if i'll ever be really prepared to parent an adoptive child.
It's so... painful. the whole process. From begining to end it's pain and heartbreak and trauma.

ugh!

Magdalena's New Bedroom!

This is the room that my little sister moved out of recently. We knew it would need paint and carpet before Magda could move in and really, felt like we had MONTHS, youknow, to get it done so we were in no hurry... untill ofcourse i started feeling Baby Brother kicking my insides out at which point i decided we better get a move on. lol

Here we taped off the baseboards and stuch prepping for paint.
Look at that nasty brown carpet. ewww....

This is after a fresh coat of pure white paint and laying new fresh beige carpeting.
It's ten times brighter in that room.

Miss magdalena had herself a rush of excitement when Mommy moved that bed into the room. It's like it finally clicked. She was jumping on the bed saying "My Bed!!! My ROOM!!!!"

I painted her dresser with the same white that we used on the walls.
It's so pretty. Whenever i finish playing with the mirror, it'll get added, too.

This is just to show off our awesome storage case for Toys.
Isn't it awesome? It is. Go Ahead. Admit it. You want one. lol

And the finished product. =)

To say she LOVES IT is an understatement.

And Mommy Likes it too.
<3

"How do you feel about being Chineese and being adopted lately?"

I have resumed reading all the adoption blogs i had followed earlier in the year and have added a few handfulls more. I'm not sure if i'm drawn to China adoption blogs because of my friend Sarah or if there are just an abundance of China adoption blogs.
I stumbled into one the other day, that i haven't been able to find again, Where the mother described a conversation she had with her 7 or 8 year old daughter. The mother frequently asks the daughter "How do you feel about being Chineese and being adopted lately?" to keep the conversation open and to allow her daughter to explore those feelings and thoughts that may be difficult to explore alone.

This is going to expose the kind of parent i've always been but it shocked me that the mother asked this question and then was able to navigate the following conversation.

In all my years of parenting older children, either my step children or the foster children who came through, i don't think i EVER ONCE asked a child how they felt about their situation in life. I don't remember ever asking. I don't remember discussing it at all.

Sam's emotional lay of the land was always littered with mines. Whenever we discussed his feelings about his mother it was nearly always either him sobbing about how much better life would be if he lived with her Or he was spewing hate about how horrible i was and how i could never be a real mother to him. As a 19 year old child, myself, THIS was a difficult enough conversation to have on a simi-daily basis being as i had NO IDEA what i was doing at the time.

When i was 21, Joe moved in with us and i remember asking him to tell me about differences between living with his Mother and living with us. I don't think we ever really discussed in any kind of depth as to why he had asked to move with us. I never asked how he felt about changing households. I never asked either of the boys how they felt or what they thought about sharing a home again after nearly 4 years living apart from eachother.

With all the foster children we had move through our home, i don't think i ever discussed with any of them as to why they were in foster care. I never asked how they felt about it. I never asked what their personal thoughts were on something they couldn't controll changing the course of their lives.

And i NEVER ever EVER asked Sam or Joe how they felt about having the foster children coming into and out of their lives.

By not asking, i truely have no idea how these children felt about their lives while they lived with me.

During that time in my life, it was all about getting through the day. Getting through the day was making sure every person in the household was doing what they needed to be doing, keeping up the house, and keeping up appearances. It was coping, basically. Coping for survival. This kind of living just doesn't make for a conducive environment for emotional growth or understanding. Even if i had of had the words to ask "How are you feeling about being You in Your Life lately?" I'm positive i couldn't have managed the conversation that would inevitably have followed.

When i look back on just how much of a mess I'd made out of every effort of parenting any child during that time, I'm positive that our decision to foster was not the best decision for our family or for the children that we eventually had in our home. It is horrifying to realize so many years later. It is heartbreaking to accept that so many of the fears that i trembled under during that time came true despite every choice i made that i thought would lead us away from them.

This has left me wondering, quite sadly, "How do I feel about being Me in My Life?"

And i'm still not prepared for the conversation that should follow.

From One Extreme

I see things like "Hoarding: Buried Alive" which is a show that features families living in an environment that is overrun with items. These items can be strewn haphazardly, or stacked orderly, but always impeeding the quality of life and useability of the home environment. To be direct, these people hold on to too many items and are happy.


And then i see things like "Minimalism" which is a chosen lifestyle in which a person is able to list every item that person personally owns on one hand. (okay, i'm kind of exagerating, but still.) Pictures of homes that Minimalist live in will show a room that has possibly a rug, a couch, a curtian, a coffee cup, and a bare lightbulb as the ONLY items in said room. And the coffee cup is pushing it. These people strive to have a few items as possible and are happy.




And then there's me. Trapped somewhere in the middle. Always on the verge of what i feel might be Hoarding and wishing i could take a few steps closer to Minimalism.


What to do? What to do?
Isn't life great when the only thing i can find to complain about is that i have Too Much stuff? lol
<3

20 Months (and 6 days)

Today, i realized that we have hit a major milestone just nearly on accident.

While Mags sat on the potty this morning, i sat here staring at her wet cloth diaper bin and thinking "wow, i need to wash diapers soon." as it was almost full. Then i thought, "wait, she hasn't worn a cloth diaper in a few days...." at which point i tried to remember exactly when she HAD worn a cloth diaper. I couldn't remember a precice day, but i figured that it had been possibly TWO WEEKS since she had been in a cloth diaper. Which ment that the possiblity was enormous that i hadn't washed diapers in NEARLY AN ENTIRE MONTH! which ment those diapers in that bin were surely very very ripe.

So as i trudged down to finally wash some super stinky diapers, i had to admit that we may be past the cloth diapering stage.

My baby girl, at 20 months, is in panties for the majority of the time.

I still put a disposable on her during nap time and bedtime, but other than that, She is in panties and uses the potty.





What am i going to do?

Memory

i don't remember exactly when carl stopped being my child.
It was a slow process that started well before he left my home and continued for years.
I remember exactly when it started.
In december, his mother asked to have him on christmas day. I haven't always been such a kind and understanding person as i am today, so i told the worker quite plainly "No. I will not be traveling on Christmas day. We have plans with my family."
At the time, i felt that my response was appropriate.
His mother was crushed. She asked the worker what could be done so she could see her child on christmas. It was a very important holiday for her. The worker offered that Carl be able to have an (up until then, totally not allowed) overnight visit where he would stay with her for 3 days and 2 nights freeing me from traveling on christmas day and allowing Her to have him for the holiday.
I was utterly crushed. I went in to see the worker. I cried to her. I complained to her. I expressed concern and worry about Carl being placed in that situation, unsupervised, for days.
She calmly asked me "Leslie, do you not understand that Carl will be going back to his mother?"
and that moment was the very first time i ever truely considered losing him. I had never even entertained the idea of Carl returning to his mother. It was in my mind that she just would not meet state requirements, the courts would Terminate parental rights, and we would adopt him. I never considered reunification as truely part of the realistic picture.
That day, sitting in the DHR offices, with my face tear streaked and my heart broken, Carl started to become his mother's son. It hurt. It was difficult and painful and what was worse was i felt like i shouldn't even be feeling how i was feeling.
Month by month, she continued to steal my child from me. At the 1 year court date, When i expected the judge to suggest TPR (i still had hope!) and he offered instead a full year extention, i cried miserably. Two months later, when Carl stopped calling me "Momma" and instead changed over to "Ma'am" (a name another foster child took to using to refer to me) it hurt. I knew it was best, because reunification looks possible, but it still hurt. I was losing him every day.
Two months later, when he was spending 4 days a week with his mother and only coming home to me on the weekends, i felt horrible. I pined for him while he was gone, but he cried when he came home, wanting his mother instead.
By the time he moved, it was time. He left the monday before his 3rd birthday. He had lived with us for 16 months.

That was in 2006. I stumbled across his mother's myspace page a while back and found pictures she had posted of him. In my excitement, i clicked on through, hoping to see pictures of "my" baby, however, there were none. Traces of my child were left in the eyes and face of this boy in the pictures but he wasn't my child. In one photo, He is sitting in his mother's lap and his smile is so joyful, so happy, so loving that it makes me smile and i say outloud "Good for them."
I think about him often. I remember so much from my time with him but as the years have gone by, my memory has softened the edges, faded out the harshness and all but forgotten the hard troubles we had. I can think back on Carl now with fondness instead of longing, with love instead of loss.
I don't remember exactly when Carl stopped being my child but i will always love him for the time he was my child.