The Unintended Road

Just because this isn't where I thought I would be 1 year ago, doesn't mean that it's not exactly where I am supposed to be.

I debated writing this, but it has been rattling (pounding) around in my head and the point of this blog was for me to be more honest with my emotions, even when I don't like them. Lately a few more people I know in non-anonymous blog and real life have found this blog (which I am more than happy about), but I wondered if I should hold back a touch since this isn't something I would put on my family blog or chat up over a cup of coffee. But my friend Elizabeth recently reminded me that it's healthy to be honest about your emotions, both good and bad, and your honestly will help others and help yourself. So here I go.

Tomorrow (or in a couple hours from now depending on how you look at it time-wise), I will have had Little Bug in my arms for 1 year. It's been the best year of my life in every way that truly counts.

But it has also been a very hard year.

We have been celebrating our family's journey all week and tomorrow will culminate with a small party and the beginning of some cool traditions. I've been looking forward to this for a long time (a year?). I've dreamed about how this celebration would go and where we would be 1-Year-Later.

Honestly, it wasn't exactly here.

Close, for sure. I dreamed of a fully adjusted child and parents who loved to be with each other. Check please, and if that was all I could ever have, I would be happy with just that. Look, I'm so happy I could burst that Little Bug has been home for a year and that we have hit this milestone that for some reason seems so important to me, but the fact of the matter is that I never imagined that we would hit this milestone without hitting other milestones first.

Walking, talking, not drooling, good balance, playing age-appropriately….these are all things that I convinced myself would be distance memories a year later. And well, they are not. In fact, these last few weeks have been exceptionally frustrating. Little Bug's braces, which were "supposed" to help him walk sooner, have in fact caused more harm than good. New braces have an eta of 3 months….3 MONTHS. Little Bug is making good, if slow, progress with other areas, which I am thrilled with, but he still has a long way to go. Carrying around a heavy almost 2-year-old EVERYWHERE is not an easy task day in and day out. Today I spent 30 minutes ordering a neoprene body suit complete with straps to tighten appendages that my little baby will have to wear all the time. A body suit on a baby. It's par for the course in my life now, and that is okay. Little Bug rocks all sorts of awesome therapy vests and braces and still looks like a million cute bucks.

But in some fleeting moments, I can't help by acknowledge that it is a slightly bitter pill to swallow. I'm thankful that my struggles with infertility (all those Christmas morning where I swore I would have a baby to shower with gifts the next year, only to wake up the next year's Christmas morning with that hurt fresh in my heart) have taught me that thinking that I am "owed" something or that I can put a date or expectation on something outside of my control is just setting myself up for being disappointed (this has helped with our next adoption, too, as an added bonus). I couldn't help but put dates and labels on Little Bug's development when he first came home and I was struggling to make sense of our new reality, but I refuse to now. Little Bug will develop at his own pace…and I love him all the more for it.

I'm not trying to throw a pity party or looking for sympathy, because I have the most awesome child on the face of the planet, and he is healthy and happy, but this anniversary has brought back some dark moments of desperate promises and expectations I had no right to make to myself. It doesn't mean I don't love my son or that I am not proud of his significant progress, but I just had to get off my chest this slight tingle of grief that the road we have walked this last year and will continue to walk was not the road we had intended.

The positive of this post is that if 1 year ago I was able to fast forward to this moment and see us as we are today, I wouldn't change a single thing.

Well, I might bring some more snacks, but I would still take Appa and Little Bug's hands and walk (or scoot/crawl/cruise) this exact same road. Each step we take is one more step we were meant to take, and that helps me in these moments when I feel down.

I didn't want to post this tomorrow, because tomorrow is a day of pure joy. I'm being kind and allowing myself this little moment of honesty because tomorrow I am going to PAR-TY it up with some balloons, a sweet Family Day cupcake cake, and my rocking awesome boys.

Target Tantrum

Dear rich and snobby mother at my local rich and snobby Target,

Your little 2-year-old daughter was very cute with her little hair bow and purse and dress. Super, super cute. It was sweet and precious when she clutched the toy you were buying her to her chest as you went through the check out line in front of me. It was amusing when she refused to part with it, even for a moment for the man to scan it.

Less cute, but I commiserated with you when she started to say "no" more vehemently and fuss a bit when you tried to get the toy from her--I mean, I have a kid, I get that kids sometimes fuss and there is nothing you can do about it.

Only clearly, you NEVER do anything about it.

Letting your child start screaming and yelling and crying HUGE real tears because you are trying to take a toy from her to check out (especially when there is a line of people behind you) for 2 whole minutes while simply cooing "We just won't buy it if you won't give it to me" and not even attempting to physically take it from her is not cute.

In fact, I'm going to go there....it's bad parenting.

Your little baby girl just schooled you good. You might have finally managed to twist the shopping cart so that the man could use the back up gun to scan the toy in your daughter's arms, but the fact that she continued to cry really hard and scream for 2 more minutes while glaring at you for DARING to attempt to even reposition her arms showed everyone in line who runs your house.

Now, I'm not a perfect mom by any stretch of the imagination, but here are a couple tips I would like to share

1. If your child won't give you something you need, take it from them. I promise, you are stronger than your baby.
2. If you have to say more than 5 times that you are not going to buy something, how about following through on that threat and not buying it.
3. If you hold up a line of people because your prissy-pants daughter is throwing her weight around and reminding you who is boss, have the decency to look those other people in the eye and at least fake some sort of apology. Personally, no, your Coach bag and Juicy sweats and Black Amex (yes, we all saw you pull it out and flourish it around) didn't make me think you deserved to be wasting my time.

Sincerely,
A mama who will strive just a little bit harder now not to end up like you.

Adoptivus

This is an incredibly emotional week for me. I'm at work, having just got back from a business trip, and I am constantly near tears (and no, it's not a biological thing). I am just overwhelmed with an anniversary I am coining Adoptivus, and it's emotionally killing me with joy.

Adoptivus: Celebrated in the tiny kingdom of EM, Adoptivus is celebrated between September 13 and September 19, with festivities culminating on September 18. Adoptivus is the anniversary of Appa, Everyday Mama, and Little Bug's adoption journey to Korea and joining as a family. It begins with Sept. 13, the day Appa and Everyday Mama flew to Korea, peaks on Sept. 16 when they first met Little Bug and his foster mother, culminates on Sept. 18 when Little Bug joined their family physically, and ends on Sept. 19 with their arrival home to the United States. Celebrated each year by watching videos, rereading blog posts, and having a party family day.

Anyway, I adore celebrating anniversaries and rarely don't. This is our first year with Little Bug, so I'm experiencing all these memory emotions for the first time, and I am surprised by the overwhelming emotions that have been pouring out. I keep looking at the clock and thinking "where was I one year ago? "Oh yes, I was exploring the secret gardens of a palace" or "I was buying such and such at Insadong…" I keep telling people all about this, and I KNOW they are getting sick of hearing about my 1-year anniversary of getting to the hotel or eating my first mandu or seeing my first Buddhist temple.

It doesn't help that someone I know is in Korea right now walking almost identical steps to my own down to the hour. It's almost too much for me to read this week.

So, right this moment, a year ago exactly (considering the time difference), I was laying in bed at 1 am tossing and turning and trying to sleep in anticipation of meeting Little Bug for the first time. Appa was tossing and turning with me, and we both eventually got up and talked ourselves into a sleeping stupor. My gut was knotted and I kept having to remind myself that it was with excitement and not with stress or nerves.

In 9 hours from this moment, I will have known my son for 1 year….and writing that just brought the tears back.

Happy Adoptivus to us.

Don't Mess With Mama

I'm sitting in a great hotel room in Don't-Mess-With-Me-Texas right now.

Appa and Little Bug are not.

This is my first multi-night (fine, just two) business trip since Little Bug came home. I've never gone a full day without seeing my son. I thought I would be fine, since I do enjoy "me time," but instead I cried my little eyes out the entire way to my airport.

Little Bug gave me some great smiles and then promptly pushed me away when I tried to smoother him with kisses. Of course, that made me cry more.

I'm apparently that mama.

I've called more times than I should have in the 8 hours I have been away, and I am sure I will call plenty more times. I miss my boys...there is no two ways around it.

A Sneak Peek

I'm mildly obsessed with my son.

Lately I have been going to work before he gets up, so I haven't seen him in the mornings. This makes me miss him, obviously.

This morning, about 45 minutes before he usually wakes up, I let my need to see him get the best of me and I peeked into his bedroom expecting to see the gentle rise and fall of his little tummy (which, by the way, he loves to show you now when you ask "where is your tummy"....genius).

It took me a minute to realize that what I saw was his beloved raggie being waved lazily in the air in the semi-dark room. He was facing away from me, sucking his thumb and staring at the bumper on his crib, and waving his raggie in the air, which he loves to do.

My initial reaction was "THREAT LEVEL MIDNIGHT" and to step away from the door quickly and quietly. I was not ready to get him up for the morning and still make it to work at a reasonable time. Nine times out of ten, when I shut the door he hears it and demands to be let out. Then Appa and I are trying to get ready while distracting him from diving into the empty bathtub with his toothbrush.

Today, not a peep.

So naturally, I was insanely drawn to watch him some more. I lasted about 10 minutes before sneaking another peek. This time I was almost finished getting for work, so I was more prepared if things took a turn for the worse.

Instead I was treated to about 3 minutes of Little Bug in "nature." It was like some interesting Planet Earth show, only for babies. Little Bug was rolling around in his crib, cooing secret things to his raggie and exploring the textures of his crib bedding like he has done countless time before. At one point, something must have struck his fancy, because he did this crazy army roll into a sitting position and sat high and alert (but still didn't look toward the door). Turned out he wanted to turn on his aquarium for some mood music. It was fascinating to me.

I tried to go back to getting ready, but by now I was hooked on my kid. I broke my own cardinal rule and went in to get him out of his crib before he started calling for us.

I'm so glad I did. Baby boy got a huge smile on his face and immediately stood up and said "up." There is something extra cuddly about him first thing in the morning, similar to hot bread right out of the oven. Instead of getting him ready for school, he and I sat together and read books, sang songs, hugged, and laughed.

I was late for work, and it was totally worth it.

Separated

This post is all about me, not about Little Bug.

One of the lingering and most common effects of Post Adoption Blues is the lack of that heart-wrenching feeling when you are separated from your child. Once I went back to work, I occasionally would muse about how I didn't feel this intense pull to be back with Little Bug immediately. I liked having my "me time" at work (I still do), but this lack of what I had expected to be an almost desolate longing when away from my baby never came.

At first I was hard on myself, as is normal with the PADs. I felt that my lack was proof of my deficiency. As the months went on and I worked through my blues and came out on a better side, I began to think that those intense, crazy feelings were the stuff of my imagination, something I had dreamed up when I built my ideal version of motherhood, and I was kind to myself and felt okay for not being overly focused on Little Bug when I was away from him.

That has changed....sort of.

I'm not weeping on the floor and calling my son's school begging to hear his sweet voice say "na" just once as he pushed the phone away from his ear, BUT I am thinking about him a lot more. Maybe thinking about him is not the right word, because I always thought about him, even before he came home.

Missing him.

I miss Little Bug when he is not with me. I've noticed I miss him when he takes naps, when he is sleeping at night, when I don't see him for a few hours, and most definitely when he is at school. It's this steady underlying desire to see him, coupled with a joy to just know that he is somewhere in the world, especially in my world.

It's one more way that I know that I am fully attached and bonded to my son, and that makes me feel good.

Sometimes it is the little things that are missing that make everything feel much more complete when the come.

Or in my case, it's a 30 lb Korean-American child.

How do you say 'Elmo' in Korean?

Last night I had a really interesting encounter. Little Bug and I ventured over to a bookstore that begins with a B to buy a book I had been anxiously waiting to be released. Within the last week, for some inexplicable reason, Little Bug has become fascinated with Elmo, so we ventured into the kid's section to see about an Elmo book. He was riding on my back in our Ergo baby carrier and chanting Elmo (ellllmaaa) over and over. It was cute.

After a couple minutes, a 30-something Korean woman approaches me, seemingly equal parts curious and distressed. She clearly was not a native English speaker, but could speak English.

Her: "Is he saying 'Omma'?"
Me: "No, he is saying 'Elmo'. He can say 'Omma', though."
Little Bug: "Ellllmaaaa, ellllmaaaa, elllllmaaaa"
Her: "Is he Korean?"
Me: "Yes. He was born in Korea."
Her: "'Omma' means mommy in Korean. He is saying 'Omma'."
Little Bug: "Elllmaaa, Elllmaa, Ommaaa." Dissolves into giggles before turning on the Little Bug charm.

At this point it is apparent to me that she can't discern between the two words Little Bug is saying (they are close to the untrained ear), and she thinks that he is calling for Omma and not being understood. She wasn't being mean; she truly seemed a little disconcerted by the whole thing. I decide to avoid trying to argue that he is saying "Elmo," even though I am proud that he is saying it, and go with her assumption that he is saying "Omma," because at this point, he is repeating Omma every time he hears her or me say it.

Me: "Yes, he calls me 'Omma' and he calls his dad 'Appa'. He can also say 'anyeong' and recognizes some other Korean words, too. We try to speak what little Korean we know to him on a regular basis."

She seemed genuinely surprised by this, but mollified in some way. She asked if he was adopted, how old he way, how big he was, etc. She touched him a lot, which normally would bother me, but I understand it is common in Korean culture, so I didn't worry about it.

Her: "He is still Korean, you know."
Me: "Yes, he will always be Korean. It is part of who he is."

She started asking a lot of personal questions like whether I worked, who he stayed with during the day, whether or not I cooked, if he saw Appa a lot, etc. I answered them all because it was clear that she was now genuinely interested in meeting an American woman who was raising a Korean son with the intent to try to preserve some of that heritage. In her broken English and my butchered Korean, we talked Korean food, Korean culture, Korean customs, etc. It was an enjoyable conversation with just a few comedic translation problems.

Her: "What is his Korean name?"
Me: "XXX YYYY."
Her:" XXX YYYY or XXX YYYYZZ?"
Me: Not able to tell the difference at all in what she is saying. "XXX YYYY."
Her:" XXX YYYY or XXX YYYYZZ?"
Me: Not still not able to tell the difference at all in what she is saying. "XXX YYYY. X-X-X Y-Y-Y-Y"
Her: "XXX YYYY."
Me: Not still not able to tell the difference at all in what she is saying. "Yes."

Finally, after about 10 minutes later, it was time for me to head out to get Little Bug home.

Her: "He's a lucky boy."
Me: "We are the lucky ones."

I'm not sure why this conversation struck me. Maybe it was because it was interesting to see what Korean people (we live in a very Korean-populated area) might be secretly wondering when they see us together. Maybe it was connecting with someone from Little Bug's birth culture and getting a chance to really talk about it again with someone. Maybe it was just a nice chat mother-to-mother. Maybe it was the seal of approval I got from this Korean woman, a seal I don't need but would love to have.

Maybe it was just the reminder as I drove my delighted son home with his new Elmo book that our family is deliciously layered and have irrevocably bound ourselves to another culture and have and will be enriched by that connection in the most unlikely of places.