Of memories and manatees: meandering miscellany

Well, we're two thirds of the way through a three day weekend, and I have lots of odds and ends rattling about in my brain, none of which in and of themselves feel worthy of an entire post. I shall, therefore, collect them all here in what is guaranteed to be a long-n-rambly entry. Without further ado, let the rambling commence!

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Kiddo fell the other morning, on our way to the bus stop. She was, as per usual, ignoring my repeated suggestions that she walk, not run, down the sidewalk and BAM, down she went, tearing a hole in her pants and skinning knees and palms. She was more upset by missing the bus and having to have Mommy drive her to school than she was upset about her injuries. (I was more upset about the ruining of an almost-new pair of khakis, myself.) To cheer her up, I told her the following story, something I'd forgotten about for years but that popped into my mind as I was comforting her and getting her cleaned up:

When I was in kindergarten through second grade, I walked to school along with a group of other children in the neighborhood. One day in mid-October when I was in first grade, my grandmother (who was staying with us as my parents were unavoidably out of town) decided she would drive us instead of having us walk. It was cold and rainy and we had school pictures, so we were all dressed up and looking spiffy. This was a treat regardless of the situation, so the six or seven of us kids gleefully crowded into her old, boat-like sedan. (I'm not sure what the car was - I'd have to ask my dad or my uncle. I just recall it was dark green, large, four door and had those fins on the tail lights that have always struck me as really cool. Remember, this was the mid-70s.) Two girls sat up front, leaving the other four or five of us plus my younger sister to jam into the back seat. This being back in the era before seat belt laws were mandatory and also due to the large number of grade schoolers wedged into the back, none of us were secured by any means other than by being squished in place by our companions. I was on the far right, up against the door. Nana pulled out of our driveway and headed through town to school. As she steered around curves or turned corners, the row of us in the back would sway against each other, and we exaggerated the amount of "tipping" as kids are wont to do in such cases. Well, a little more than halfway to school, we turned and everyone shoved over into me, and the next thing I knew, the door I was pressed up against opened up and I went tumbling out of the car! I landed face down in a drainage ditch full of sodden, muddy leaves at the side of the road. I scrambled up in time to see the door swing shut as Nana completed the turn and then kept on driving. Convinced that she would stop at any second and back up to retrieve me, I stayed put. I was unhurt, but my dress and tights were filthy and I was covered in bits of leaves from my hair on down to my shoes. I was amazed when Nana didn't stop or turn around to come back for me and instead drove on out of sight. I later learned that even though all the girls were screaming for Nana to stop, that I'd fallen out of the car, when she glanced in the rearview mirror, all she saw was that the door was closed and that there were a bunch of heads in her view. She was convinced that we were playing a trick on her and that I was just hiding. It wasn't until she pulled up at the school, several blocks later, that she realized I was not, in fact, still in the car. She dropped off the rest of the girls and circled back to find me, pissed off and shocked beyond tears to have been deserted as I was, standing on the side of the road. She collected me and brought me home to change, and then proceeded to add insult to injury by making me wear an outfit that was not the one my mother had carefully selected before her trip for class picture day, and one that I didn't even much like. Inexorable as my grandmother was, she didn't even have the good grace to either apologize or allow herself to be guilted into a trip to the 5 & 10 for consolation candy, either.

Kiddo was shocked by this story, mostly by the fact that none of us had seatbelts or were in booster seats like the first graders she knows use today. It was one of the first times that she ever truly seemed to get the concept of "back in the day" - to her the seventies are the equivalent of Little House on the Prairie to me, I guess!

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We've been enjoying some serious Indian summer weather this weekend, so how did Kiddo and I take advantage of it today? By going to the movies, of course! (In my defense, we were outside for a good portion of the day yesterday and plan to be outside all day tomorrow as well, and she played in the back yard for a decent amount of time today too.) Hubby had some work to do (being in the financial services industry, needless to say, there is never an end to the work in these ridiculous and scary economic times), so I took Kiddo over to the local IMAX theater where the movie Dolphins and Whales 3D: Tribes of the Ocean is playing to give him some peace and quiet in which to concentrate on his work. I'd seen an ad for it in the paper earlier in the week, and Kiddo is all into 3D movies after our trip to Disney World, where we saw "the Donald Duck movie" and the Muppets 3D movie more than once, so I thought this would be a cool, albeit expensive, thing to check out. Turns out it was indeed cool - at times it seemed like the gigantic whales were coming right at us and we really got the feeling of being underwater with the various animals - and educational as well. The fact that stuck with Kiddo the most? Manatees, due to their diet consisting mainly of vegetation, are very flatulent creatures. Yes, we were treated to the sight of manatees farting (oh sorry, "tooting" in Kiddo parlance) underwater, in glorious, 3D technicolor. The gas bubbles - they're coming right at us! (And yes, Kiddo tried to pop the bubbles, as she also reached out to pet various dolphins and whales and she even squeaked back in "dolphin talk" to the pods on the screen a few times.)

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Kiddo broke her glasses on Friday. I'm not sure when the actual breaking occurred, but while she was washing up before dinner, she looked down at her hands and - clink! - a lens popped out. The frame itself was broken, right at the temple, which is a first. I chose these specific frames for their super-bendy properties, and as we've been in to the optician's office about once a week since August when she got her glasses for adjustments, I think it was a good investment since this was the first actual break. Luckily for us, the frames are under warranty so replacing them will only cost us $5, and even luckier, the optician put Kiddo's lenses into one of the "demo" frames so she has glasses to wear in the interim. The loaner pair were the runner-up choice when Kiddo was picking out her frames; they're the same frames except in purple (hers are pink) and seeing them on her as we have since yesterday morning, I'm very happy we did choose the pink, as the purple are much more "HELLO! WE'RE HERE! ON KIDDO'S FACE! YOO-HOO!" than her regular frames. Once we find out if she will need glasses for the long term (we go back to the eye doc next month), I think I'll get a spare pair for a back-up just in case they can't do a loaner pair the next time her frames break. I remember all too well from my own childhood how often glasses break, so I'm sure there will be a next time!

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I'm presently in reality TV heaven, with my three favorite reality shows all on right now. I am addicted to The Amazing Race (and seriously, are these teams the stupidest contestants ever on the current race? The mistakes they make, it's like they've never seen the show before - read the flippin' clues, folks, yeesh!), Project Runway (I'm totally rooting for Leanne and absolutely cannot stand Kenley) and America's Next Top Model (McKey is my favorite, though Marjorie and Elina are both possible contenders). I'd love to do The Amazing Race, but never, ever could. Number one, I'm not in nearly good enough shape; number two, I have that whole issue with heights which always is at least one of the Detours or Road Blocks; and number three - the big one - I couldn't bear to be away from Kiddo for a whole month (I don't think they allow families to join teams down in Sequesterville, so even if we were the first team eliminated, I still wouldn't see her for way too long). Maybe if they do another Family Edition someday, the three of us could compete together...

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Just so you don't think my brain is entirely rotted by reality TV viewing, I've been reading, too - grown-up books, not just my beloved Entertainment Weekly and Ramona the Pest (Kiddo's developed a penchant for "chapter" books thanks to her kindergarten teacher reading them Junie B. Jones books at school). The book I'm reading right now is quite interesting - My Lobotomy: A Memoir. (The link takes you to an NPR story about the author.) As the title says, the book is the memoir of a man who had a lobotomy as a child, and as an adult, gained access to his medical records while on a quest to learn why he was lobotomized (there was no valid reason, his stepmother who hated him was the driving force behind the whole idea!) and how his father could have let it happen. It is hard to read in some places, but from the preface, I know there will be a good outcome at the end - as good an outcome as there can be for someone who had to endure such a horrible miscarriage of medicine and justice, so I'm going to finish it.

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Last week, Kiddo went on her first kindergarten field trip, and I was one of the moms who chaperoned. (The other two chaperones are the class moms, and boy, was I bummed to learn that I'd missed out on the opportunity to be the class mom myself! I totally wanted to be the classroom parent - actually, I'd always dreamed that I would be the classroom parent when my children were in school, the way my mom was for me and for my sisters when we were little.) Anyhow, we were standing in the classroom while the kids were sitting at their tables before the field trip, and one of the other moms asked me which kid was mine. I pointed Kiddo out to her and she looked from Kiddo to me, then said "Oh yes, you two look like each other, I should've been able to figure it out." I responded "Well, it's actually purely coincidental that we resemble each other at all, because Kiddo was adopted." I didn't say this with any snark or tone, mind you, I said it easily with a smile on my face, but sure enough, the other mom looked quite discomfited by hearing this and began to stumble over herself in an attempt to correct what she perceived to be her faux pas. As I sincerely took no offense and didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, I went on to say that I too was adopted, and growing up, I didn't in fact resemble my family - they're all tall, light haired, light eyed WASPy looking people, and I'm not particularly tall, and am dark haired and dark eyed. I also told her that Kiddo's birthmother and I have some resemblance to each other, and that even though Hubby and I were completely prepared for our child to not resemble either of us at all, by pure chance, we do "blend" as a family. I mean, no one has ever questioned whether she is our child or commented on Kiddo not looking like she "matches" us, anyhow... So, I tried to put her at ease, but I guess the larger world is still unused to the world of adoption and views it therefore as some Big Deal, so as soon as she could, she excused herself and went to the other side of the room, and then didn't really speak to me directly again the rest of the day.

Here's the thing: it isn't a Big Deal. I grew up with this, the "sticky issue" of genes and resemblance, and I know it can make people uncomfortable to discuss. But, what is the alternative? Should I just have nodded and changed the subject? Ignored the comment altogether? Lied? I don't think so. Throughout my life as an adoptee, I never avoided the subject when it came up, and I refuse to treat it like the elephant in the room it can otherwise become. So, since Kiddo was born, I've chosen to always take the honest route, even if it is the less comfortable route, and give credit where credit is due. (Kiddo certainly does NOT get her artistic abilities from me, for example, but from her birthfather, who is quite talented artistically. Likewise, her gorgeous brown eyes, while they may look similar to my own, come from her birthmother, who looked like a cross between Catherine Zeta-Jones and Valerie Bertinelli back when Kiddo was born.) I don't want Kiddo growing up thinking that there's anything wrong with her genes, wrong with her heritage. I guess I haven't figured out the proper amount of finesse yet, but I will continue to be open about giving credit where credit is due when it comes to Kiddo's biological family - they are the ones who created her as she is, after all.

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Finally, thanks to everyone for your comments of support and encouragement with the ongoing struggle to ensure Kiddo's needs are being met per her IEP at school. The latest is that I've been assured that there will be a temporary sub who will be trained by Kiddo's occupational therapist in the classroom for the coming week to do her sensory diet, and then the permanent person is supposed to start next week. I've been asked to come to school next Monday morning to meet with the OT and the new aide to make sure everyone's on the same page about what needs to be done for her sensory diet. I didn't think it was so vague or unclear, what with it being spelled out step by step and having a checklist and all, but apparently the lack of compliance with the IEP is being chalked up to a "miscommunication issue" between me, the annoying parent, and the school/school district. I'm a little annoyed (as befits my title, right?) about the buck-passing and refusal to accept responsibility that is going on at their end. I'm frustrated because they really seem more concerned about not getting in trouble or taking the blame for the noncompliance, rather than being concerned about failing the children for whom they are responsible, which should be the priority, you know... it really isn't a miscommunication at all, but whatever - so long as Kiddo's needs are being met, that's all that matters. Right?

Okay, that's enough for now. I guess this was enough for a couple separate posts - hope your eyes aren't crossing with fatigue! I'll end by saying keep an eye out for my blog on Tuesday when I'll be taking part in something exciting that is happening over at the fantabulous SITS - it's going to be wild and even includes chance to win an autographed picture of George Clooney, be still, my beating heart!

Sick Day

Yesterday, I had my first sick day in over five years. "Whaaa? But I remember you complaining about being sick many times before, even on this very blog!" say you. True, true. It isn't that I haven't been sick at all in the last five years, for I certainly wind up coming down with most of Kiddo's illnesses (something to do with being Mommy the human Kleenex, I suppose). But yesterday was the first day that I actually had a sick day since Kiddo was born.

As in, I stayed in bed almost the entire day, save a trip downstairs for some food and getting up to shower in the afternoon. Hubby got Kiddo her breakfast and made her lunch (which I'd been too wiped out and feverish to make the night before, as I usually do), so all I had to do was get her onto the bus before I could go back to bed, and then I could stay in bed until it was time to collect her from the bus at 3:15.

Now, when I was working, I rarely took a sick day. I had to be really, really sick - I even went to work in the waning stages of a migraine, though granted, I don't know how productive I actually was during those moments... Anyhow, to give you an example of how little sick time I used, by the time we adopted Kiddo, I had accrued so many hours of unused sick time that I was able to take a month and a half off, paid, out of that stockpile. (Because, you know, when you become a parent through adoption, you're not necessarily going to get maternity leave, especially paid maternity leave...) But when I was really, really sick, nothing helped me kick the germies more than just huddling in bed with a box of Puffs Plus and possibly a fair amount of Nyquil coursing through my veins. That all changed once Kiddo came home. There is no "sick day" for a stay-at-home mom with a child at home. Yes, there certainly have been times that I've been sick, and times when Hubby came home or stayed home and took over the childcare duties so I could stay in bed, but it wasn't the same. (I'm sure all the other stay-at-home parents out there know what I'm talking about!)

Yesterday, with kiddo gone for the majority of the day, hearkened back to those pre-Kiddo times when I'd stay home, sick. I slept and slept. I watched some TV - I got sucked into the Kenneth Branagh version of Hamlet for a few hours (I am a sucker for Shakespeare, it's true) and then balanced that with half an infomercial about a "miracle" ceramic hair styling contraption and part of the Tyra Banks show. (Turns out that while I love her on America's Next Top Model, and oh yes, but I love that show - cannot wait for next week's makeover episode woo-hoo!, I am not such a fan of her talk show. It's a little too "Look at me, I'm TYRA!" for my taste.) I read and slept and ate some yogurt and cereal and blew my nose about a zillion times. Seriously - I could've recreated the Great Blizzard of '93 with the number of balled-up tissues I went through in a matter of hours. I did pop in on the internet a couple of times, but not for very long, as my head was pounding and much preferred the comfort of reclining on a pillow. (Yes, I know, I was pathetic - barely able to keep my head upright, yeesh.) Eventually, I went and stood in the shower until the water ran cold, then got dressed and shuffled off to the corner to wait for the school bus. That was the most taxing thing I did all day - walking to and from the corner.

While I miss many things about the way things were up until two weeks ago when Kiddo started kindergarten, having the chance to actually take a sick day and spend it in bed is definitely a silver lining to that cloud. I'm feeling a good bit improved as of today - still have a fever, but it is lower, and my head isn't pounding like it was yesterday (hence my ability to sit here and blog) - and I fully credit that to the ability to sack out and sleep it off yesterday.

Oh, and on the Kiddo IEP front - a quick update. We have an emergency CSE meeting set for first thing Monday morning that Hubby and I will both be attending. Also, the school managed to do Kiddo's full sensory diet both Thursday and Friday, and guess what? With the full sensory diet, Kiddo had two perfectly good days. Whaddya know - give her the sensory input that she needs, and she is able to be successful in school, imagine that... I'll let you know how things go after the meeting.

Friday Five: Olympic Edition

In honor of the Olympics starting today, let's have an Olympic Friday Five! Please play along, either by answering in the comments here or on your own blog (be sure to link back so we know where to find your responses)!

TGIF everybody!

1) Which are your favorite: the Summer or Winter Olympics?

2) What Olympic competitions do you most enjoy watching?

3) Who is your favorite Olympian?

4) What is your most memorable Olympic viewing experience?

5) Are there any particular Olympians you are rooting for in the Beijing games?

And my answers:

1) I like both seasons equally, I think. I can't pick a favorite!

2) My favorite events to watch are gymnastics, swimming, diving, skiing and skating (figure and speed). I also will watch other events, like track and field or volleyball or what-have-you, but I don't follow those; it's more of an "oh look, this is on and I can't find a rerun of any Law and Order family episode I haven't already seen" kind of thing.

3) My favorite Olympian of all time would have to be Greg Louganis. I watched every minute of his competitions in both '84 and '88, including the infamous dive where he cracked his head on the board. (Watching that still makes me wince!) Besides being an incredible athlete, he also was adopted, so we have that in common (um,whereas on the "incredible athlete" part we have nothing in common, that's for sure). I had the honor of meeting him once when he spoke to the media at Cornell while Hubby and I were living in Ithaca. Hubby used his radio credentials to get me in to the press conference, and afterwards I had a chance to speak with Mr. Louganis (I just can't bring myself to call him "Greg" like we're actually friends or something) and he also graciously signed my copy of his autobiography.

Other favorites would be Nadia Comaneci and all the members of the '84 Men's Gymnastics team. I followed the 1984 gymnastics competitions very closely and became a fan to the point that not only did I continue to follow their individual careers, but I went to see American Anthem in the theater (Mitch Gaylord, swoon) and I also saw Rad, which had Bart Conner in it, albeit not in the theater as it never played near me. My sister and I did rent the movie several times the summer it came out on video though. Heck, I even watched the team compete on a celebrity edition of Family Feud! (Another wince-inducing moment was when Tim Daggett snapped his leg at the World Championships a couple of years after the '84 Olympics. I believe that ended his competitive career, though he and Bart Conner have both popped up on TV as commentators over the years since the 80s....)

Oh, I've kind of got summer sports on the brain here, but I also was a big Brian Boitano fan back when he was competing...

4) I'd have to say it is a tie for me between the night the '84 US Men's Gymnastics team won the gold and the day that Greg Louganis won the gold medal after that horrible head-cracking.

5) I'm really rooting for Michael Phelps and Dara Torres in particular this time around.

And now, I will leave you with an appropriately themed LOLcats picture:


more cat pictures

Eye carumba!

I have to take the kiddo to an eye doctor appointment today. This is not her first time going to the eye doctor (actually that is why I'm more than a wee bit frazzled at the thought - Experience, she is a good teacher) but it is the first time going to this particular eye doctor, so there is also a bit of "fear of the unknown" added into the mix.

You see, the kiddo? Not such a good eye patient. This despite having accompanied me to many eye doctor visits (when I was dealing with my horrific eye malady over the past year) and having seen Mommy being brave and calm and not freaking out at all over more horrible eye examining than she ever would be subjected to in her own exam. When she's watching me as the patient, the kiddo is positively fascinated. She's also helpful, pitching in to read the lines on the eye chart for me so I don't have to and asking me "better? worse? One or Two?" She always wants a turn looking through the doctor's side of the machinery (he's never let her though) and loves to play with the giant, 3D eyeball model in the exam room. (Whoops, where'd that cornea go?) When my exam is done, she climbs up into the chair requesting a turn, even. Oh yes, she looooves going to the eye doctor... as long as she isn't actually the patient.

Unfortunately, the kiddo seems to be having problems with her vision and thus we are headed to the eye doctor again. This is actually a second opinion visit; we just suffered through her routine check-up two months ago. She's been going to the eye doctor since she was an infant; Hubby and I thought that her eyes weren't quite lining up and focusing in the same direction and the pediatrician thought he saw what we thought we saw, so eye exams are old hat to her by now. (There also is a family history of eye issues on her birthfather's side, which added to our concern.) The eye doctor we've taken her to for the past five years has consistently reassured us that there is nothing wrong with her vision beyond being slightly farsighted (not enough to require correction), and that what we see when we think her eyes are wonky is merely an optical illusion caused by the fact that her eyes are shaped slightly differently. We've always accepted this and felt reassured, but earlier this summer, Kiddo's occupational therapist shared with me her concerns about the kiddo's vision, specifically that she has noticed Kiddo is squinting "a lot" and that her tracking seems to be off, especially in the one eye. (That'd be the same eye that we thought wasn't quite in tune with its mate back when she was a baby...) So, I got a referral to a new pediatric eye doc and made the appointment. Which is for today. Which is why I'm filled with such anticipatory dread right now.

Two months ago, Kiddo was all about telling me how much she was looking forward to it being her turn to go to the eye doctor. "I'm such a brave, big girl, Mommy!" (famous last words) she kept telling me. "I don't even CARE about the eye drops!" "It is MY turn to read the letters, Mommy, so you have to be quiet!" "I get to sit in the chair today!" It was all good until the eye drop bottle came out. Then, as always, things got ugly.

Have I mentioned that my kid is that kid when you're at the doctor? Yeah, I thought so... Well, she's that kid at the eye doctor, too. The one who is screaming SO loudly that you think surely they're stabbing her with hot pokers, if not plucking out her nasal hairs one at a time or doing that horrible finger torture they did to my beloved George Clooney in Syriana. All over the eye drops - things she sees me putting into my own eyes twice a day (down from six times a day, and she saw that too). And her eye doctor is a pediatric specialist, so his office is a child's paradise - toys, toys, and more toys! Flat screen TVs on every wall (which always seem to be playing one of the Shrek movies, something Kiddo hasn't been allowed to watch at home yet, so there's the thrill of the forbidden too)! Overflowing candy dishes on the receptionist's desk AND in the exam rooms! None of that matters to her once that tiny, little bottle comes into view.

Needless to say, I'm not looking forward to this morning's trip. I will feel obliged to warn the doctor (sotto voce) that she doesn't take well to the eye drops, so if they have a soundproof exam room, they should put us in it. I've been working on a list of bribes - erm, I mean rewards, too - things I'll gladly promise the kiddo if only she doesn't scream. If only she cooperates. If only she'll be good. Oh please, let today be the day that she is good. Ice cream for dinner! Play Doh in her bedroom! Two TV shows tonight! Anything, just please, no screaming! I am so not above trying to induce good behavior via lavish bribes in situations like this...

So, if you hear a piercing shriek echoing across the Great Lakes in a few hours, you'll know the source. I apologize in advance for any eardrums that may be ruptured. I'm also fervently hoping that this second opinion agrees with her regular eye doctor and there is no problem... Fingers crossed!

Open adoption agreements

Okay, while I'm on the topic of adoption (see previous post) I might as well put this out there and be done with it.

I wish that open adoption agreements were done differently. I don't think they are right (as in just or fair) the way they tend to be written now, or at least the way they were written back when we made ours with the kiddo's birthparents. And this is why: When we made our open adoption agreement, it was all about what we, the adoptive parents, would do for them, the birthparents. It spelled out how many times a year we would send updates and what those updates would include. It was done, intentionally or not, as a promise to the birthparents of what we would do if they placed their child with us, even if not in so many words. And that is wrong, I've come to realize in the five years since we made that agreement. You see, I don't think open adoption agreements should be about what the adoptive parents are promising the birthparents or vice versa. I think they should solely be about what will be in the best interests of the child being adopted.

It has bothered me at times over the years that in our situation, we are the only ones upholding our end of the agreement. Looking back at that agreement, though, it was written very one-sidedly. It doesn't really spell out anything explicitly in terms of the birthfamily staying in contact with us or the kiddo, and they haven't. Why is it fair to the adoptee that one side of the family - birth or adoptive - is allowed to just disappear or end contact? Well, it isn't, that's obvious. You hear all the time about how adoptive parents promise birthparents the moon and stars and then, once things are finalized, they close the adoption, end all contact. I wholeheartedly agree that this is wrong and unjust and shouldn't be done. But what about when it is the other side who ends contact, as in our case? When a birthparent just vanishes, stops writing, stops calling?

I think that it is equally unacceptable for either side to vanish, to effectively close an adoption by stopping contact, if an open adoption had been agreed upon. You may think I say this because I, as the adoptive parent, feel put out or wronged, and I'm not saying I don't get frustrated when weeks or months or years tick by without hearing a word from the kiddo's birthfamily, or when a package gets returned to us for an address that is no longer valid.

The thing is, it is not me feeling anger or frustration on my own behalf, but on the kiddo's. My heart breaks to think of the hurt that this might cause her when she's older. She's the one who will someday look through the things we've received from her birthfamily and she's the one who will notice the gaps, the scarcity of the contents of that box. It makes me sad to know that she will know that her birthparents didn't maintain contact with us, that this might hurt her.

And this is why I think open adoption agreements need to be done differently. They shouldn't be done as a reassurance to the birthfamily (as ours was), and they definitely shouldn't be a bunch of promises made that the adoptive parents have no intention of keeping once everything is said, done and finalized. I think that they need to be made in the best interest of the child, the adoptee, who is the one human being in this situation who generally has little or no say in what is happening. In open adoption situations, I think both the adoptive parents and the birthparents need to, to put it bluntly, suck it up and do things that make them uncomfortable if that's what it takes. The adoptee should be put first, and it is the adoptee's future that should be considered when writing the agreement up, and that alone. I cannot tell you the number of times I've been browsing an adoption-related message board and have read posts from adoptive parents who think it would be best for them if they stopped contact with the birthfamily, as well as posts from birthparents about how they want to stop contact because they "need a break" or something. They all have their reasons, their justifications for why this is really the best thing to do. In all but the most extreme cases, I think this is a load of crap. If you read between the lines - and sometimes, you don't even have to - what comes through is the adult in the situation, the parent - be they birth or adoptive - wanting to do this because it would be easier for them. Less stressful for them. Less difficult for them. This is what I think is wrong. When these adults made the decision to go ahead with this open adoption, it wasn't done because it was supposed to be what was best or easiest for them, it was supposed to be - should always be, in my opinion - about what was best for the child. The adoptee. (Please note: I am speaking specifically to open adoptions, not foster care situations where there are often extenuating circumstances regarding post-finalization contact. I understand that there are most definitely situations in which, despite an adoptee's desires, contact isn't in the child's best interest.) So it is inconvenient to have to explain to your friends about who this birth relative is at your daughter's dance recital, or it would make you, the adoptive parent, feel uncomfortable to have her there? Tough noogies. If your child, the adoptee, wants her birthmother there, is your discomfort at having to explain really so important, your personal angst the priority? So many times I've read where adoptive parents have complained that they don't feel like the "real" parent if the birthparents are in the loop, are present in their child's life. That they need to feel like a family. I've also read where birthparents feel that it is too difficult to stay in touch because it just hurts too much - I'm not saying that the adoptive parents are the only ones who are capable of wrongdoing here, just that it seems more prevalent from what I've read for an adoption to close from the adoptive parents' end of things.

I think if we had written our agreement up keeping the kiddo in mind first and foremost, it would've been worded differently. Not that we would have agreed to less contact or updates or anything, but I would have wanted it to be less a list of "this is what we will give you/send you/do for you" and more of "this is what we, as the birthfamily and adoptive family, will do to ensure a good life for this child." I know, maybe this wouldn't have prevented the disappearances, the returned letters, the sporadic contacts. I realize that. Our open adoption agreement isn't even legally binding, but as I said, I consider it to be morally binding. It would've been nice to have all the parties involved make a morally binding promise to the kiddo, for the kiddo, that we as the people who loved her would act in her best interests at least until she reaches adulthood. As it is, Hubby and I have done our best to uphold our end of the agreement, because we feel it is in her best interest to do so. I guess I can't really expect more than that, agreement or not.

Update time

Back when the kiddo was born, we made an open adoption agreement with her birthparents. By "made" I mean that her birthparents wrote up a list of what they wanted out of an open adoption and we wrote up a list of what we wanted, then we sat down all together and compared lists, coming up with a final draft together that everyone agreed upon. This was then signed and notarized in the presence of our attorney along with the other adoption papers. Now, I've always said that our open adoption is "morally binding" if not legally so. I'm not about to get into the whole issue about open adoptions - good, bad or otherwise?, nor am I going to say that one way or the other is right or wrong. For me, as an adoptee who grew up in a closed adoption (as there really was no open adoption back when I was born), open adoption seemed the right choice, the best choice. Hubby agreed with me, so that is what we pursued.

I've always envied the families who have a great, warm, open relationship with their children's birthfamilies. I would not characterize our situation over the past five years as particularly great or warm. The details of this will remain private, but suffice it to say that there have been difficulties along the way. That being said, Hubby and I have continued to send the update letters, photos and videos as best we are able, per the schedule her birthparents requested. Unfortunately, there have been more than a few times when we've had our packages returned to sender, at which point we hold on to them until we again have a valid address.

We send these packages hoping for but not really expecting a response. That's part of what I envy in those other families' relationships - this is not as much of a relationship as it is a one-sided giving. That's another post in and of itself, my thoughts on how an open adoption really ought to be considered binding on both halves of the family - that the birthfamily should, by rights, owe the adoptive family the respect to keep communication/correspondence up from their end as well. More on that some other time...

So, whenever update time rolls around, I get a little obsessed. I sort through the hundreds of pictures I've taken since the last update with painstaking care. I take soooo many pictures of the kiddo, her life is extremely well documented, to say the least. There is hardly a single day in any given week when I'm not pointing the camera in her direction for one thing or another. Sam's Club's Photo shop has a love-hate relationship with me; I generally order triple or quadruple copies of whatever pictures I'm printing - sets for us, the kiddo's birthfamily and the grandparents. While Sam's Club must love the bills I rack up at least quarterly doing this, they also hate processing my online orders and more often than not, my order gets messed up somehow. (Like a month or two ago when I got a call from them that they had a batch of pictures for me - pictures that were an extra set of ones I'd had processed back in December.)

I pore over the pictures that we send. The kiddo's birthmother once requested that we not send pictures that include either Hubby or me in them, so I try hard to only send along shots of the kiddo. (Same thing for the video, though occasionally you will hear one of our voices in the background.) I don't go for all "glamor" shots, either, where she is all cleaned up and looking pretty - I want her birthfamily to have an accurate picture of the kiddo and her life, scrapes and dirt and all. (Though we always get copies for her birthfamily whenever we do have professional pictures done. I mean, yeah, I want them to see her looking pretty too, as she is the cutest thing around, of course...) I try to cover every major event as well as day-to-day happenings. I write a short description on the back of each photo to place it in context and date it as well. It typically takes me at least an hour or two to get the pictures together and ready to send once I've had them printed. It's always at the back of my mind whenever I'm taking pictures to capture the occasion for her birthfamily, so they can see the kiddo's life as clearly as possible.

A lot of folks don't get it. They don't understand why we persist in sending the updates after all this time, especially those who know the entire history. Even those who seemed to think it was a good idea right after the kiddo was born are surprised to hear that we're still sending updates five years later. The fact of the matter is, we're doing it because we said we would. We made a promise on the kiddo's behalf that we would keep her birthfamily updated on her life after we adopted her. Maybe someday, when the kiddo is old enough to take over as the primary correspondent, she will choose not to send anything. When we reach that point, it will be her choice, because she is the adoptee. Until then, we will continue to do this on her behalf, regardless of whether we get a response. Besides, how would it feel to know that you had a child out there somewhere and you didn't know - couldn't know - how they were doing? If they were even alive or dead? I can't imagine having to wonder about that for a second, much less a lifetime. I've asked people to put themselves in those shoes for a moment, when they shake their heads in disbelief. As a mother, I would never want to have to wonder about my child. So, that's one more reason why we continue to send the updates we promised, but mostly it is because this adoption plan wasn't made to suit us or her birthparents. It was made to be in the kiddo's best interests, and we as her parents were entrusted with the responsibility to act in her best interests five years ago. To our minds, it's pretty simple.

Now, if I could just get the hang of our new video camera's editing software, I'd be all set!

Five Years

Five years ago this morning, Hubby and I were waking up on what was supposed to be the second day of a five day trip to Las Vegas. We were taking our last couple-only, pre-baby vacation, as we had "matched" with an expectant couple who were planning to place their baby girl for adoption with us when she was born at the end of June/beginning of July. (There was some question as to the baby's exact due date, but it was at least five weeks away.) Hubby had gotten up already and headed downstairs at the Mirage, where we were staying for that trip. We were going to be meeting my sister and brother-in-law, who were also on vacay in Vegas that Memorial Day weekend, for breakfast over at the Mandalay Bay, where they were staying. I was just getting out of the shower when I heard my cell phone ringing. Instead of it being my sister, which is what I was assuming, it was a number I didn't recognize from our hometown area code. It was the expectant mother calling from the hospital to say that the baby had been born overnight, quite enexpectedly and several weeks early. I dressed as quickly as I could and raced downstairs to tell Hubby. I repeated the information I'd been told on the phone to myself the whole way down in the elevator. "Four pounds, nine ounces, seventeen and a half inches long, in the NICU." Hubby and I spent the next few hours on the phone, desperately trying to find a way to get back to our hometown as soon as possible. This was extremely difficult, as it was a national holiday and the last day of the long weekend. We eventually managed to get seats on a flight to a city a little over an hour away from our home (thank you, Southwest Airlines) and once we landed there, we rented a car and drove directly to the hospital. We saw and held that baby girl a little over 24 hours after she was born. She was tiny (down to four pounds even by that point) and covered in wires, in an isolette with portholes on the side. She had some complications, and in the early days she was only eating teaspoons of formula at a time - less than one fluid ounce, every two hours. The first time Hubby ever changed a diaper in his life, it was while she was still in the isolette, with wires coming off her - I told him that if he could manage that, changing a diaper at home would be cake. Two weeks later, her birthparents signed the necessary adoption papers and that tiny, little girl was released from the NICU and came home with us.

Five years ago today, the light and joy of my life came into this world, tiny but strong and full of life and spirit. Today she is a "big girl" as she never fails to remind us, a girl who loves dinosaurs and music and animals, who loves the color pink but isn't particularly fond of dresses, who can draw the most amazing pictures and is well on her way to learning how to read, who has a sharp memory and a surprising eye for detail, who loves vanilla ice cream and baby spinach and any kind of fruit she can get her hands on, who sings and dances and makes us laugh every day. It doesn't seem possible that she is five years old already, though the memory of her being placed in my arms by her birthmother seems a lifetime ago.

Happy birthday, kiddo!!! I love you more than anything!!!

The world of adoption online

I've been a part of the online adoption community for a while now. I joined one of the largest sites back in 2002, and have been a member of other adoption-related sites in the subsequent years as well. When we were first looking into adoption, I found the online adoption world a valuable resource - it was a place to not only find information, but encouragement and support. Prior to starting our journey to becoming parents through adoption, I had only occasionally visited adoption-related sites, because as an adoptee, I never felt much pull towards them. I felt much more connected as an adoptive parent than I did as an adoptee.

Of the three main sites that I belonged to, I now only participate on one. The first one I joined, I left after it came out that the site discriminated against GLBT couples who were hoping to adopt. The second site, I took an extended break from about a year ago now, and on the third, I am only an occasional poster - I've really stepped back a great deal from the level of participation I was used to on adoption-related forums a few years ago.

The reason I've significantly decreased my participation on these sites is because there is never ending drama among the online adoption community. (In case you didn't know, the adoption community consists of adoptees, parents who have relinquished children for adoption, and adoptive parents - aka the "adoption triad" as it is called these days.) The drama generally stems from one group of folks (or subset of a group) jumping on another group of folks, usually with some sort of sweeping, declarative statement(s) about that other group that is found (and rightly so) to be offensive and hurtful. The maligned group then fires back, the pot is stirred up and the moderators of the board in question find themselves having to deal with injured feelings and out-of-line comments flying all over the place. (I know this from firsthand experience, as I was a moderator for a while on one such site.) It takes an extraordinarily thick skin to be able to read some of the things people write about other members of the triad, and even the most armored heart can't help but still feel occasionally slighted or hurt. I know, because I've been hurt by things I've read, some of which were directed at me, others generalizations about adoptees or adoptive parents - the two-thirds of the triad to which I belong. Most of the offenders in my case were actually other adoptees, strangely enough. It finally came to a point where I needed to step away from the sites because I didn't feel I had anything worthwhile enough to contribute (as anything I shared was only ever my personal opinion based upon my own personal experience, after all) to justify fighting with those who shouted loudest or were most forceful in expressing their views. I have found that I do not miss the drama one bit, and I am fortunate to have a circle of friends online who are all part of the adoption triad and with whom it is safe to share, even when we don't agree, and from whom I can find the support, encouragement and friendship I'd been hoping for in the larger forums.

Nowadays, with blogs being so ubiquitous, there are many adoption-related bloggers out there. Sometimes, the comment sections of these blogs - online, personal journals, mind you - become places for people to attack and hurt other members of the adoption triad. A dear friend of mine recently was hurt by just such a situation. It hurts me to know that there are people in the adoption world with such malicious intent, who seek out controversy and who have nothing better to do than stir the pot. It hurts me even more to know that people I care about have been hurt by such malcontents. I have a suggestion for those people who feel the need to attack in this manner - if you find that a blog's content is something that offends you or doesn't agree with your own personal opinions, and you can't restrain yourself from attacking the blogger or commenters on that blog, don't read the blog any further. Just stay away if you can't read with respect. Does it really make people feel better to attack a fellow human being? I just don't get that. There are several adoption triad-related blogs that friends of mine frequent, have listed in their blogrolls, etc. I don't read most of them, because I know already that what I read there will be upsetting to me personally. It's like closing my eyes during a gory scene in a movie or TV show - I know in advance it's gonna bother me, so I don't look. While I may disagree or dislike what those people are saying, that doesn't mean I feel entitled to go to their blog and rant and attack in the comments section. What they say has value to themselves (or why would they've written it?) and may be informative or eye-opening and therefore have value to others, just not me. So, I don't click on the link and I don't read those blogs. It's not that difficult...

I'm going to close by posting here something I first wrote back in August of 2005. Sadly, it still holds true today.

I'd just like to put out a plea/reminder/wish/hope...The internet has people from all walks of life, corners of the world and all three sides of the adoption triad. Everyone has their own beliefs and opinions about adoption. It just isn't fair for any one person to assume that s/he knows better about any other person's life, circumstances, opinions or feelings. For every happy adoptee, there is an adoptee who is sad. For every happy adoptive parent, there is an adoptive parent who is struggling. For every happy birth parent, there is a birth parent who isn't happy. Adoption is complex, we all know this. What I'd like to ask is that we all please, PLEASE try to keep in mind that we all should show respect for each other. It's okay not to agree with everyone else, but it isn't okay to presume we know better than any other person. No one person here has all the answers (especially not me). What works for one person doesn't for another. Such is life... We can try to support and inform other folks based on our own knowledge and life experience, but again, we should try to do this in a respectful manner. (Anyone else hear Aretha Franklin singing in the background? ) So, please everyone, when reading a post that has a dissenting view, push back from the keyboard and take a few deep breaths before firing off a response. Everyone is equally entitled to their own thoughts and everyone is equally entitled to share them without being jumped all over - in other words, everyone is entitled to be treated with respect.

Okay, /soapbox for now. I just needed to get that off my chest.