A couple days ago Appa and I had the chance to pick Little Bug up from school together. Whenever Appa surprises Little Bug at school he gets *really* excited. Me, I'm no big thang, but Appa....it's like Christmas.
Little Bug was in the potty room when we walked in. The other little kids started chanting "Little Bug's Mommy and Daddy." THAT got his attention. His little head poked up over the swinging door and his eyes lit up.
"DadDDDDDDDDDDa!"
He kept chanting excitedly as his teacher tried to wrangle a diaper on him. He was chattering away to his teacher and would randomly yell "DadDDDa" in joy. Nothing could rain on this kid's joy parade.
Until he got a touch too excited and pushed the swinging door out too fast. In the blink of an eye, he was on his hands and knees as the door swung harmlessly away.
The moment suspended for a second until it became clear nothing had actually happened other than Little Bug clumsily falling as the door opened. He was fine.
He looked up from his hands and knees into the eyes of his friends and his teacher and his mama and dada.
And then he wailed.
His teachers were shocked. I was shocked. Little Bug was busting out his serious, I.AM.INJURED tears and lip quiver and wails. Not because he was hurt; he wasn't.
He was surprised, a little scared, and embarrassed. Emotions that are never fun to feel.
I've been noticing more and more of this lately, a social awareness, a desire not to be the object of laughter unless it is on his terms. It has been fascinating to watch develop. It's also very age appropriate, which is always a huge bonus in our book.
So when the tears dried and the hiccups stopped we gave him a chance to show off some of the new skills he is pretty proud of. He was back to feeling like a king in no time.
My little macho man.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Hope
Hope is a funny thing. As a mother, I feel like it is my job to have hope and optimism for my child and my family. However, as a person, I worry that hope will ultimately lead to having my heart crushed.
It's happened before. Infertility makes hope a pretty dirty word. I still cringe when I hear it.
Faith is different. I am getting pretty good at keeping faith for my family. I have faith that Little Bug will continue to grow and develop and be the best he can be. I have faith our family will weather whatever storms we face (not that we are currently really facing any). I have faith in Appa and I as parents. I have faith in our choice to adopt Little Bro.
But hope....hope scares me. I don't have total faith in hope.
Hope can buffer your heart from so much pain and sadness, but that buffer isn't based on anything other than abstract hope. There will come a time when the thing that is hoped for either does or doesn't materialize, and when that time comes, if it doesn't swing hope's way, the blow is devastating.
I never want to feel it again if I can help it.
Adoption is all about faith and hope. I'm really good at one and really crappy at the other. I've found myself feeling alienated by those who chose to hope for the impossible. I find myself unable to even entertain the idea of hope, even when it is dangled before me in a precarious half-official way.
I'm not better off for it, but it's the only way my mind works now.
So I struggle to pair my faith that things will work out, even if I don't like the way they go about working out, with my lack of hope in anything extraordinary. I try to remember that many of the extraordinary things I chose not to hope for actually DO happen. Hope would have been rewarded.
I want to raise my children to have faith and hope. I can only do that through example.
So today I am trying something new. A teeny bit of hope has sprouted in my heart. Hope that something extraordinary could possibly, just maybe happen. I'll only share this secret hope with Appa, and he can nurture it to.
And we'll see....
It's happened before. Infertility makes hope a pretty dirty word. I still cringe when I hear it.
Faith is different. I am getting pretty good at keeping faith for my family. I have faith that Little Bug will continue to grow and develop and be the best he can be. I have faith our family will weather whatever storms we face (not that we are currently really facing any). I have faith in Appa and I as parents. I have faith in our choice to adopt Little Bro.
But hope....hope scares me. I don't have total faith in hope.
Hope can buffer your heart from so much pain and sadness, but that buffer isn't based on anything other than abstract hope. There will come a time when the thing that is hoped for either does or doesn't materialize, and when that time comes, if it doesn't swing hope's way, the blow is devastating.
I never want to feel it again if I can help it.
Adoption is all about faith and hope. I'm really good at one and really crappy at the other. I've found myself feeling alienated by those who chose to hope for the impossible. I find myself unable to even entertain the idea of hope, even when it is dangled before me in a precarious half-official way.
I'm not better off for it, but it's the only way my mind works now.
So I struggle to pair my faith that things will work out, even if I don't like the way they go about working out, with my lack of hope in anything extraordinary. I try to remember that many of the extraordinary things I chose not to hope for actually DO happen. Hope would have been rewarded.
I want to raise my children to have faith and hope. I can only do that through example.
So today I am trying something new. A teeny bit of hope has sprouted in my heart. Hope that something extraordinary could possibly, just maybe happen. I'll only share this secret hope with Appa, and he can nurture it to.
And we'll see....
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Best Part of Adoption is _________
The best thing about my adoption journey: my sons.
The second best thing about my adoption journey: the friends I've made.
When I brought my son home for Korea, I thought my little Korean cupcake was going to be the only real "addition" to my life. I had no idea that the other mothers I would meet through adoption would becomes such a special, important part of my life.
I'm grateful that the biggest blessing in my life has ushered in so many others.
The second best thing about my adoption journey: the friends I've made.
When I brought my son home for Korea, I thought my little Korean cupcake was going to be the only real "addition" to my life. I had no idea that the other mothers I would meet through adoption would becomes such a special, important part of my life.
I'm grateful that the biggest blessing in my life has ushered in so many others.
Friday, October 1, 2010
A Freaking Awesome Hyung
Someone very wise reminded me last night, somewhat out of the blue, that less than a year ago Little Bug was still almost 2 months away from even being able to stand up by himself. She reminded me that he's only been walking independently for 9 months.
IN FACT, 8 days from today will be the anniversary of his first step ever.
I've been thinking a lot lately about having two little boys and a part-time gig as a "single mother". I get a little nervous when I think about some of the challenges it will bring, especially with Little Bug's needs.
And then, thanks to someone wise, I remember that we still have a while yet before that time comes. A while that will see all of us growing and changing.
In my heart, I don't believe we'll meet Little Bro in less than 7-8 months from now. I just truly don't see it being possible.
So I look to how much has changed with Little Bug in less than a year and I know the big brother who will welcome Little Bro home in May or June will be leaps and bounds more amazing than he is now.
And he's pretty freaking amazing right now, so I'm thinking I don't have much to worry about on that front.
IN FACT, 8 days from today will be the anniversary of his first step ever.
I've been thinking a lot lately about having two little boys and a part-time gig as a "single mother". I get a little nervous when I think about some of the challenges it will bring, especially with Little Bug's needs.
And then, thanks to someone wise, I remember that we still have a while yet before that time comes. A while that will see all of us growing and changing.
In my heart, I don't believe we'll meet Little Bro in less than 7-8 months from now. I just truly don't see it being possible.
So I look to how much has changed with Little Bug in less than a year and I know the big brother who will welcome Little Bro home in May or June will be leaps and bounds more amazing than he is now.
And he's pretty freaking amazing right now, so I'm thinking I don't have much to worry about on that front.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
My Favorite Stress Reliever
Yesterday was a bad day.
I was home, not feeling well, dealing with work stuff, pushed publish on that adoption manifesto, and was having these crazy panic attacks all day long. I haven't had panic attacks like that in years.
Of course, like most anxiety, it was over very little.
But it was consuming me, making me ill, freaking me out.
When it came time to get Little Bug from school, I spent the whole drive over swearing that I would not let our evening be consumed by my distraction. I didn't want Little Bug to feel my stress. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could actually do it, but I wanted to try for him.
As super cheesy as it sounds, seeing him was like a balm to me. His smile and laughter over the flute section of "Hello, Everybody" as it played in the car CD player broke something in me that was wound really tight. We ended up having a fabulous box-cooked and steamed veggies meal and enjoyed spending time outside on a glorious Fall evening.
Occasionally it would creep back into my thoughts, this anxiety I was feeling, but it was surprisingly easy to fall right back into step with my boy.
We rounded out the evening by cuddling together and reading four books (something that hasn't happened in a while) and a charmed and unicorn/kitten/rainbow early bedtime. I even allowed myself to drop the sleep training nazi hat and cuddle him all the way to sleep.
I needed him last night.
Being a mama is stressful. We give and give and give, but I usually forget how much Little Bug gives, too. His toddler antics might increase my anxiety sometimes, but his toddler adoration is also one of my biggest stress relievers.
My baby woke up in a fantastic mood this morning, and I agreed to his request of "up on Mama." We watched cartoons for a couple minutes together, my hair dripping wet as my brain wound up for today. I found that, although so many of the stressors were still there, I'd pushed passed the silly panic portion and gotten a handle on things. Thanks in no small part to my awesome son.
Today has actually been a stressful, but pleasant day.
Suck on that, anxiety.
I was home, not feeling well, dealing with work stuff, pushed publish on that adoption manifesto, and was having these crazy panic attacks all day long. I haven't had panic attacks like that in years.
Of course, like most anxiety, it was over very little.
But it was consuming me, making me ill, freaking me out.
When it came time to get Little Bug from school, I spent the whole drive over swearing that I would not let our evening be consumed by my distraction. I didn't want Little Bug to feel my stress. Honestly, I wasn't sure I could actually do it, but I wanted to try for him.
As super cheesy as it sounds, seeing him was like a balm to me. His smile and laughter over the flute section of "Hello, Everybody" as it played in the car CD player broke something in me that was wound really tight. We ended up having a fabulous box-cooked and steamed veggies meal and enjoyed spending time outside on a glorious Fall evening.
Occasionally it would creep back into my thoughts, this anxiety I was feeling, but it was surprisingly easy to fall right back into step with my boy.
We rounded out the evening by cuddling together and reading four books (something that hasn't happened in a while) and a charmed and unicorn/kitten/rainbow early bedtime. I even allowed myself to drop the sleep training nazi hat and cuddle him all the way to sleep.
I needed him last night.
Being a mama is stressful. We give and give and give, but I usually forget how much Little Bug gives, too. His toddler antics might increase my anxiety sometimes, but his toddler adoration is also one of my biggest stress relievers.
My baby woke up in a fantastic mood this morning, and I agreed to his request of "up on Mama." We watched cartoons for a couple minutes together, my hair dripping wet as my brain wound up for today. I found that, although so many of the stressors were still there, I'd pushed passed the silly panic portion and gotten a handle on things. Thanks in no small part to my awesome son.
Today has actually been a stressful, but pleasant day.
Suck on that, anxiety.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The Reality and My Reality
This topic makes me cringe. I'm hoping by writing some of it down I can get it to stop rattling around in my head.
Lately I've been doing a lot of reading on adoption issues, specifically the idea that adoption is morally reprehensible because women are trapped in low economic or social situations with no way out except to relinquish their children to people of higher economic or social situations.
This situation isn't an opinion. This is a fact. I look to the women in Korea, women who are stigmatized and shunned for having a child. I would venture that many, many, many of these women want desperately to be able to parent their babes, and yet, their societies offers them no support. Their children are practically forced out of their hands.
That is a fact.
It's like that in countries all over the world. The majority of children who are available to be adopted around the world are victims of economic and social problems, not a lack of love or caring arms.
To a slightly different extent, it is that way in this country, too.
I don't like reading about it, to be honest, but I am compelled to. I've been lurking on some first mother sites and some adoptee sites. I've read in depth some of the advocates who consider adoptive parents to be akin to kidnappers, and I've read some pretty close minded stuff from advocates who think adoptive parents are the heroes of the world. Both leave my stomach turning.
Then I sit in the middle ground and look up at the nursery door and wonder if I'm part of the problem or the solution. Or either.
Both my children were not able to live with their birth family for reasons FAR from a lack of love. Both my children have mothers in Korea who expressed sadness at not being able to keep them.
That is how my children came to my waiting arms. Not because I could love them more or better, but because I am randomly luckier than their birth mothers in my circumstances.
And that makes me uncomfortable.
But where does that leave me? Where does that leave my children? How can I fix a problem so global?
The reality is that both my children were relinquished and needed homes. They were unable to have a home found for them in Korea. I'm the 3rd best option, and I understand that. But some would argue by being an option at all, I'm still perpetrating the problem.
This is where I struggle. By adopting my sons, I am participating in a cycle that is clearly destructive to mothers and children. But then again, these two children are not hypothetical spokes in this cycle, they are living, breathing children who need and deserve a family....and there was no family in Korea for them at the time when they needed one. I don't believe they would have been better off in an orphanage. I want to think by raising them with as much exposure to their Korean culture and an openness for any type of communication with their birth families that the might possibly have, coupled with a loving home, will be enough to make this 3rd best option better than an orphanage. My sons might some day feel differently...I hope not, though.
But how do I become part of the solution for these yet-to-be-born babies and their mothers? It seems from my research that no one is exactly sure of that. Extremes seem so....extreme, and yet, it stands to reason that only an extreme will force any sort of change.
This isn't about me. Of that, I am sure. I don't have a right to be a mother. I can't give birth to a child, but that does not give me a right to parent someone elses.
But at some point, children will suffer from lack of families if adoption is ended. There will be a gap between the problem and the solution, and children will be caught in the middle. How do we determine which children get the be the martyrs for the future?
That's what I can't riddle out. How can we solve a problem by hurting the very people we are trying to save? But how can we continue to happily pretend that women all over the world have babies and choose to give them up for completely personal reasons and are happier for their choices? How can we pretend that the competent, loving (albeit perhaps poor and young) birth mother and the child's lives are best served by allowing or even encouraging a separation?
I don't know.
I don't know if this even makes sense. I doubt it does. I lay in bed at night and my head does circles as I think about my children and their mothers and myself and how we all fit together.
Ultimately, this is where I am at.
I can't change the past. I can't and won't contact my Little Bug's birth mother and apologize and offer to let her parent Little Bug while I pay her the money I would have spent parenting him myself (which isn't a legal option anyway, no matter what some advocates suggest). It is selfish, but I love my sons and I am glad to be their mother. That's a reality, too.
And until something happens on a larger scale, there will still be children, especially children with special needs, that will need a home. Our wished for Little Sis will, mark my words, be one of those little children. I don't believe us choosing not to adopt again would make any different in the current climate, except to deny a child who legitimately needs a home a family. Individual boycotts are not nearly as effective as other methods of change.
I can't change a global climate. I can't change the way a country supports unwed mothers or their children. I can help by supporting causes and organizations that are working on a bigger scale to make change. One of our new annual donations this year is to an organization that supports unwed mother's rights in Korea. We make our donation in honor of Little Bug's mother.
I can help by continuing to be aware of issues and talking about them. I can help by not putting on my rose colored glasses and reading books about how baby, we were meant for each other, as if everything and everyone beforehand was only a means to our end.
I love my sons. I love my family. I love the way our family bonds are created. I don't love the reason for adoption to be necessary. I don't love the hurt of two families that has resulted from it. I don't love the gaping hole in my sons' hearts that I will never be able to fill.
But even after it all, I come back to the thought that I am grateful for my children. I am grateful for my reality. God, I love Little Bug so painfully much. I know I will feel the same about Little Bro.
I owe it to everyone involved to try to make our blessings count, to pay it forward. I think that starts with having some hard conversations with myself and using my lucky circumstances to advocate for those who have less resources.
Lately I've been doing a lot of reading on adoption issues, specifically the idea that adoption is morally reprehensible because women are trapped in low economic or social situations with no way out except to relinquish their children to people of higher economic or social situations.
This situation isn't an opinion. This is a fact. I look to the women in Korea, women who are stigmatized and shunned for having a child. I would venture that many, many, many of these women want desperately to be able to parent their babes, and yet, their societies offers them no support. Their children are practically forced out of their hands.
That is a fact.
It's like that in countries all over the world. The majority of children who are available to be adopted around the world are victims of economic and social problems, not a lack of love or caring arms.
To a slightly different extent, it is that way in this country, too.
I don't like reading about it, to be honest, but I am compelled to. I've been lurking on some first mother sites and some adoptee sites. I've read in depth some of the advocates who consider adoptive parents to be akin to kidnappers, and I've read some pretty close minded stuff from advocates who think adoptive parents are the heroes of the world. Both leave my stomach turning.
Then I sit in the middle ground and look up at the nursery door and wonder if I'm part of the problem or the solution. Or either.
Both my children were not able to live with their birth family for reasons FAR from a lack of love. Both my children have mothers in Korea who expressed sadness at not being able to keep them.
That is how my children came to my waiting arms. Not because I could love them more or better, but because I am randomly luckier than their birth mothers in my circumstances.
And that makes me uncomfortable.
But where does that leave me? Where does that leave my children? How can I fix a problem so global?
The reality is that both my children were relinquished and needed homes. They were unable to have a home found for them in Korea. I'm the 3rd best option, and I understand that. But some would argue by being an option at all, I'm still perpetrating the problem.
This is where I struggle. By adopting my sons, I am participating in a cycle that is clearly destructive to mothers and children. But then again, these two children are not hypothetical spokes in this cycle, they are living, breathing children who need and deserve a family....and there was no family in Korea for them at the time when they needed one. I don't believe they would have been better off in an orphanage. I want to think by raising them with as much exposure to their Korean culture and an openness for any type of communication with their birth families that the might possibly have, coupled with a loving home, will be enough to make this 3rd best option better than an orphanage. My sons might some day feel differently...I hope not, though.
But how do I become part of the solution for these yet-to-be-born babies and their mothers? It seems from my research that no one is exactly sure of that. Extremes seem so....extreme, and yet, it stands to reason that only an extreme will force any sort of change.
This isn't about me. Of that, I am sure. I don't have a right to be a mother. I can't give birth to a child, but that does not give me a right to parent someone elses.
But at some point, children will suffer from lack of families if adoption is ended. There will be a gap between the problem and the solution, and children will be caught in the middle. How do we determine which children get the be the martyrs for the future?
That's what I can't riddle out. How can we solve a problem by hurting the very people we are trying to save? But how can we continue to happily pretend that women all over the world have babies and choose to give them up for completely personal reasons and are happier for their choices? How can we pretend that the competent, loving (albeit perhaps poor and young) birth mother and the child's lives are best served by allowing or even encouraging a separation?
I don't know.
I don't know if this even makes sense. I doubt it does. I lay in bed at night and my head does circles as I think about my children and their mothers and myself and how we all fit together.
Ultimately, this is where I am at.
I can't change the past. I can't and won't contact my Little Bug's birth mother and apologize and offer to let her parent Little Bug while I pay her the money I would have spent parenting him myself (which isn't a legal option anyway, no matter what some advocates suggest). It is selfish, but I love my sons and I am glad to be their mother. That's a reality, too.
And until something happens on a larger scale, there will still be children, especially children with special needs, that will need a home. Our wished for Little Sis will, mark my words, be one of those little children. I don't believe us choosing not to adopt again would make any different in the current climate, except to deny a child who legitimately needs a home a family. Individual boycotts are not nearly as effective as other methods of change.
I can't change a global climate. I can't change the way a country supports unwed mothers or their children. I can help by supporting causes and organizations that are working on a bigger scale to make change. One of our new annual donations this year is to an organization that supports unwed mother's rights in Korea. We make our donation in honor of Little Bug's mother.
I can help by continuing to be aware of issues and talking about them. I can help by not putting on my rose colored glasses and reading books about how baby, we were meant for each other, as if everything and everyone beforehand was only a means to our end.
I love my sons. I love my family. I love the way our family bonds are created. I don't love the reason for adoption to be necessary. I don't love the hurt of two families that has resulted from it. I don't love the gaping hole in my sons' hearts that I will never be able to fill.
But even after it all, I come back to the thought that I am grateful for my children. I am grateful for my reality. God, I love Little Bug so painfully much. I know I will feel the same about Little Bro.
I owe it to everyone involved to try to make our blessings count, to pay it forward. I think that starts with having some hard conversations with myself and using my lucky circumstances to advocate for those who have less resources.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Eye on the Prize
For 3 months I have had my eye trained on today, Little Bro's 15 month birthday. We had been told that after his first birthday he would only go in every 3 months. Although we have been super lucky to get pictures from traveling friends on his 11 and 12 month birthdays, we've not actually received a development update or official pictures since he was 8.5 months old.
So really, all we know is that he can stand without support, has at least 5 teeth, wasn't walking on his first birthday, and is ridiculously cute.
The secret truth is that I am a little gun shy after what happened with Little Bug. I need a development update telling me he is still on track and hasn't plateaued. I need my faith in our agency to be reaffirmed over and over this time around.
We had a care package waiting for him, and I was sure that he would have official pictures and an update done this month. Sure of it. I've spent the last 3 months mentally crossing off the days waiting for today so I could start stalking my e-mail in the hopes of an update popping up.
Earlier this week, just as I was really keyed up for the week, I found out our information was wrong, and the children go in every other month, not every 3 months.
Which means Little Bro went in for a check up last month.
And we didn't hear boo.
The good news is that he will be going in more often, which means we will have a greater chance at updates and a more robust medical history when he comes home.
The bad news is my heart has to wait another month to even begin to hope for an update. I'm so not a patient person when it comes right down to it.
We've decided to burn one of our two update requests on the check-up next month. I've literally got to hear something. Even if we don't get pictures (which would be such a bummer but is possible because I most likely won't have his next care package there in time for the check up), I just want to know he is walking and talking and playing age appropriately. And if he isn't, I want to know that, too.
Someday soon this will all be a distant memory. New pictures will come from the agency and then old pictures from the foster family and finally new pictures from my own camera. In the grand scheme of things, these updates don't matter, don't change the course of our lives or how we are living them.
But it sure would be nice to be able to add a couple more pages to my brag book.
Happy 15 months, my baby big star. I hope you enjoy a day of not having to go to the agency and be poked and prodded.
So really, all we know is that he can stand without support, has at least 5 teeth, wasn't walking on his first birthday, and is ridiculously cute.
The secret truth is that I am a little gun shy after what happened with Little Bug. I need a development update telling me he is still on track and hasn't plateaued. I need my faith in our agency to be reaffirmed over and over this time around.
We had a care package waiting for him, and I was sure that he would have official pictures and an update done this month. Sure of it. I've spent the last 3 months mentally crossing off the days waiting for today so I could start stalking my e-mail in the hopes of an update popping up.
Earlier this week, just as I was really keyed up for the week, I found out our information was wrong, and the children go in every other month, not every 3 months.
Which means Little Bro went in for a check up last month.
And we didn't hear boo.
The good news is that he will be going in more often, which means we will have a greater chance at updates and a more robust medical history when he comes home.
The bad news is my heart has to wait another month to even begin to hope for an update. I'm so not a patient person when it comes right down to it.
We've decided to burn one of our two update requests on the check-up next month. I've literally got to hear something. Even if we don't get pictures (which would be such a bummer but is possible because I most likely won't have his next care package there in time for the check up), I just want to know he is walking and talking and playing age appropriately. And if he isn't, I want to know that, too.
Someday soon this will all be a distant memory. New pictures will come from the agency and then old pictures from the foster family and finally new pictures from my own camera. In the grand scheme of things, these updates don't matter, don't change the course of our lives or how we are living them.
But it sure would be nice to be able to add a couple more pages to my brag book.
Happy 15 months, my baby big star. I hope you enjoy a day of not having to go to the agency and be poked and prodded.
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