Down and Dirty

When you are in labor, to get through the hellish pain (oh, are you pregnant, sorry, it's just a beautiful moment of being a woman, you don't even notice the screaming that's coming out of your own mouth) the delivery team will tell you, "Focus on the baby being born."  Imagine holding her, seeing her-anything to get you to visualize being OUT of the moment you are IN.

That works like crap.

Okay, no, it does work some. With Evelyn, who decided not to tuck her chin, I pushed for three hours.  That is obscene, and while I was pushing I would say, "Out, out, come out."  No really, I did, ask Bard!  And sure enough, 3 and a half hours later, she did! And my first words after the birth of my first child? "She came out!" Of course, my chant had morphed into something like, "FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY GET THAT HORRIBLE CHILD OUT OF ME!!" Honestly, for me, that's nurturing, and we were just bonding.

Yes, babies who are super messy have to wear
their sisters' hand me down bibs!

If I ever write an adoption book (uh, hello, you're reading it!) I would tell adoptive parents to do the opposite.  You know that child who is now spitting at you, screaming because you are trying to feed him, going through 6 bibs, 6 wash clothes, 3 burp rags, 8 diapers, two outfits, and a partridge in a pear tree every day?  You know the one who is waking up in the night screaming?  You know the one who has you at a different doctor's appointment every day, cleaning spit up off the carpet, changing your clothes, did I mention screaming every time you try and feed him?  Which, if you are counting bibs you know is 6 times.  Every. Day.  All. Day.  That child.  That child is your paper baby.  That child is the one you prayed over, you sobbed for, you bled and broke and doubted and screamed for.

Everyone tells you all through the paper chase that this is the easy part of adoption, that when you come home and are trying not to scream at the child who is screaming at you, that is when the hard part really starts.  In fact, we were told that almost daily.  And not once did we listen because, that is just ridiculous.  You know when you take your wedding vows and the pastor is saying "Blah blah blah-it will be hard-blah blah blah-choose to love something or other blah"? Did any of you listen to that blah blah?  Yeah, I have it on video somewhere.

So of course (am I saying of course a lot?) Bard and I got in a big fight last weekend because I have barely had more than 4 hours of sleep in the last month (maybe if someone hadn't decided to give us all the flu before we took custody of a small needy child I might have been more rested, but I'm not sure because someone at our wedding told us to blah blah not keep score, blah.)  You see, I just wanted a Fair cookie.  Oh yes Tacoma, you know what I'm talking about!  A big, gooey, soft, chocolate chip cookie from the Puyallup Fair!  And lo and behold, we happened to be at the Fair-perfect!  So (as came up in our argument) Bard wanted scones-we got scones.  Bard wanted BBQ, we got BBQ.  Never mind the fact that I like those foods too, that does not fit into this argument at all. On our way out, I sent Bard to buy cookies-one for the girls to share, one for me, and maybe one for him, and yes, I did in fact specify that very amount.  So imagine my surprise, nay, utter disbelief when Bard came back with just one cookie and said we could all share because they cost 4 dollars. Um, yes, add several zeroes to that 4 and you have our adoption WHICH IS THE VERY REASON I NEED MY OWN HUGE COOKIE!

Well, I was dutifully snippy about it and we went home, got through the rest of the day, and then had at it.  To sum up, Bard was frustrated that I was cranky all the time and I was frustrated that he was frustrated that I was cranky all the time  My life had been transformed into the mundanest of mundane-laundry, lack of sleep, and loud children.  I had no energy for anything beyond spit up and was determined to wallow in the mud of self pity.  So I told Bard that the one little treat I get is some yummy dessert at the end of the day when it's quiet and I can sit by myself and not having anyone demanding millions of dirty and annoying tasks from me!  And he had taken that away! He did realize that I am not getting any sleep and that my days are long and pathetic.  But he didn't totally get it because he pointed out the fact that there was still a huge part of cookie sitting in the kitchen for me and why didn't I go enjoy it now. As disdainfully as can be I answered the obvious,

"BECAUSE IT'S MOCKING ME!!!"

And apparently I am not as ornery as I strive to be, since I could not resist giggling which made Bard crack up laughing.  But that's okay, because clearly I had gotten the last word!

So back to labor.  Now that I've had the baby, I need to remember my labor pains. All that work, all that stress, all those prayers-that's what got me my new title - "Queen of spitty screamy non sleepy babies." Weirdly, that has helped me feel a bit better.  So has sleeping on the couch. But it's a good reminder-we chose this path. We chose this child.  We would choose hom again.  And again.  And again.  The harder part is that when you have your paper baby, you can be angry at all sorts of people.  All the delays and money, they are all someone else's fault, someone far far away, and you can complain til the cows come home about them because everyone understands corruption and government incompetence.  And don't even get me started on foreign governments. :)

Now those people are all gone. There's no paper.  It's just baby.  So you can be mad at baby.  And you can be mad at cookie stealing husband.  Neither option really makes you feel better and they definitely don't help you to visualize anything different, getting out of the moment you are in. Much like my little cookie (okay, it was still the size of two regular cookies, but that is not the point people!) I will focus on little treats.

Cici reading to Max :)

Max only cried twice while I was feeding him and it took a half hour instead of 40 minutes. Yes I had to blow on his face to get him to smile, constantly wave shiny objects to distract him, chatter incessantly like an idiot, give him a spoon of his own so he could drop it on the floor for me to pick up 8 jillion times. But my blood pressure stayed where it is supposed to be, and so did his.  And I probably burned a ton of calories-which will help me with my little dessert habit.

Max gained 11 ounces in two weeks (take that screaming baby!) which is great! We saw the adoption specialist yesterday and he gave us a bunch of referrals to help us walk through some of the health issues.

Max does not need to eat at night anymore! He apparently needs to scream sometimes, but that is to be expected and has dwindled as well.

Max has started sitting up on his knees and is reaching for things above him.  He holds a spoon easily now, without looking like Mr Burns anymore, and more than once Max has crawled into another room on his own, exploring without fear just like any other child.

Max easily engages with his sisters and will even crawl over to them, which leads me to his biggest milestone. . .drum roll please!

Max started swimming class and LOVED it!

Max is crawling on is hands and knees, not army style on his stomach anymore!  We've been home three weeks tomorrow-and that is pretty impressive for just a few weeks of good nutrition, a little love, and a lot of room to act like a little boy.

We had a relatively peaceful day today-barely any screaming from anyone-and lots of sweet moments like Cici coloring a picture for Max and Evelyn playing with him after dinner. Oh, she apparently taught him to crawl, who knew?!  I'm tired, but hey, what mom of three children isn't exhausted by 8pm? And I'm thankful for little treats.  I knew it would be hard.  And I did it anyway.  It's not surprising that this is a huge challenge but that doesn't really make it less of a challenge.  I can go to bed tonight, looking back on all the hard work and the little boy it brought us, and looking forward to all the hard work, and the little boy who is worth it, always.

And, I may not even need my dessert time.  Although, let's not get crazy.  Baby steps people, baby steps.

What now? - Home for a week.

I really can't spend a lot of time writing this blog because today is a two piece chocolate cake kind of day and the slice in the fridge needs me to eat it before jet lag hits too strong and I can't enjoy its fudgy goodness anymore!

So. We have been home for five days now and have adjusted back to our normal routine of daily Target runs quite well. But what is life like and what do the next few weeks hold for Max? It's funny how much difference even a few days can make, especially considering what this kid is adjusting to-us, a new language, new food, time difference, routine. Just Sunday I was stressing about Max being on a schedule. With school starting it would be really difficult for him to nap willy nilly. But within  just five days of moving across the world-nap time schedule-check. Tomorrow marks two weeks since Max joined our family and I traumatized him by offering the poor child cold yogurt.  I've been pulling my hair out at the frustration of his food needing to be warm before he would keep it in his stubborn little mouth for longer than a second.  This morning I gave him cold yogurt (gasp, don't tell the nannies!) right out of the fridge and he ate it up like nothing's nothing.  His bottle can be room temperature now and although he still is a disaster when eating, it's a manageable disaster, not def con five.  Honestly, I'm just not a fan of this eating stage.  I didn't like it with Evelyn or Cecilia, and I don't like it now.  It's very limiting, they can't do anything for themselves, going places during a scheduled meal is difficult, and feeding takes forever and is super messy.

Football season-a great excuse for
coordinating outfits!

I think I have bought bibs every day this week.

I'm angry that he is in this phase solely because the orphanage chose to keep him on an all liquid diet.  It's not fair for him and means that he has some catching up to do. But, we give him a spoon to hold while feeding him and today he lifted it to his mouth.  We put tiny bits of food on his tray and give him a few bites with every meal. He seems to think that half a centimeter size of banana means we're trying to poison him, but I feel confident he'll learn and won't start first grade while still eating Gerber. We also put his hands on his bottle several times while he is drinking it-which he also takes as bad parenting, but as anyone who has met can attest, I am more stubborn than all ya'll and he will learn too-choose your battles Max, choose your battles.

Healthy, independent eating habits and coordinating outfits are always going to be losing battles for you-go for something else, like can your favorite color be green. Sure babe, whatever you want!

That brings us up to today.  After a whirlwind few days (ha, few months!) of family dinners and shopping extravaganzas, we started today off by saying goodbye to Dada :(  Bard went back to work and left me seriously outnumbered by chatty children.  But you know what, we did okay?! Yes, I had to bleach my bathtub after chunks from Mr Poopy Pants showed up where they most definitely DO NOT belong. Yes, I just discovered today that my preschooler does not in fact start school tomorrow but on Friday. Yes, I am so mind numbingly tired that as Evelyn would say, "My body is pulling me because it wants to lay down and go to sleep."  But when we left the house this morning, we had everything we needed, the dishes were d

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Okay, so that is where I fell asleep while blogging...on Tuesday...it is now Saturday.

Hello jet lag!!

And while I would love to fill you in on the week, I barely remember it :)  However, I will say that Evelyn and Cecilia started school without a hitch (on the right days) and outnumbered or not, I already told you, the coordinating outfit is a battlefield I will die on. And in just several more days, Max has already hit more milestones-he slept through the last two nights without waking to eat, he is freaking out marginally less when I dare to put something that is not mush in his mouth, and he held his own bottle (it only had two ounces in it and may have been an accident, but baby steps people, baby steps!)  And I've had my own milestones-taking all three children to the Dr-and surviving, loading and unloading all three children without once regretting the super good decision to NOT buy a minivan-take that suburbia, and of course, not becoming a stay at home alcoholic while I juggle doctors appointments, cleaning, washing four million bibs (note to self, buy more bibs), naps, eating my desserts, uploading 8 thousand pictures, school lunches, and falling asleep on the couch by 8pm at night.  The last one is cutting into my dessert goal.

Here's a question.  I am still eating 2 desserts a day but no longer walking 6 miles a day.  Does anyone have a formula to predict how long it takes me to gain 50 pounds?

So life is settling into a semi normal, but is that it for us?  Food and sleep transitions and then we're good?

No.  I'm not sure if life ever settles into a new kind of normal after an international adoption, but it definitely won't be the case anytime soon for us.  Max is unchartered territory and our main job right now is to explore, discover, and claim ownership.

I am unwritten

Can't read my mind, I'm undefined

I'm just beginning

Pen's in my hand, ending's unplanned

Loving his new swing!

We were given four separate diagnoses when we were first met Max.  One was dismissed immediately by our Dr at the UW International Adoption Clinic (if you are adopting CONTACT them.)  Another was shown to not have any merit fairly early on, and a third was declared better by our own pediatrician when we took Max in on Tuesday to have his cough checked out (TB test came back negative as well.)  So you would think that would be very good news-and it is-it's just that the 4th diagnosis is the doozy and we also have three new issues to worry about-and believe me-they're worrisome.

Staring at the blank page before you

Open up the dirty window

Let the sun illuminate the words

That you could not find

Sometimes I look at Max and wonder what on earth is going to happen to him. Other times I just see a regular little boy who needs a lot of food, a lot of love, and a lot of  time so that he can just be regular-for the first time in his little life. The labels frustrate me.  I've never liked all the "women are so and so and men are such and such" books.  I think I blogged a while ago about being annoyed that since I am "Type A" I can't possibly be "Creative" or a "Visionary."  

Uh. . . .Dance much?

And if labels about myself are irritating then guess what happens when you mix them with a protective mom who just moved heaven and Putin to adopt her son?! (Sidenote, very soon I have a blog coming that is song lyrics all about Putin, I call it my "Putin Monster Mash Up"  I am pretty sure it will be my greatest accomplishment.  Ever.)  But the fact is, Max is very small, and that is a concern. He has a heart defect and will likely need surgery at some point. It would be surprising if his birth mom didn't drink while pregnant, and it's hard to tell right now if his delays are due to institutionalization or f we'll be dealing with other issues later on down the road.

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin

But today he giggled uncontrollably as his sister tickled him in the car.  And he crawled from the front room to the kitchen-going into another room on his own-a big step for someone who played in the same 8x8 room with 10 other children for the first year of his life.  And he ate a blueberry.  And he looked at me while I gave him his bottle-a big step for someone who has been ignored by just about every other adult in his life.

I don't know what Max's life is going to look like.  I don't know if he'll need surgery next month or next year. I don't know when he'll learn to talk or what challenges he'll face as he approaches milestone after milestone.  But I do know one thing. 

I am his mom.

Whatever the battle may be, I choose Max.  I will get tired (uh, I am tired.)  I will be angry and I will be sad. I will loose my patience and my sanity more times than I can count, but I will get up and loose them all over again.  Honestly, I've done all that with my two children, known since birth.  The frustration they brought out in me, the downright I-am-going-to-scream-because-I-am-so-angry-and-I-never-even-knew-I had-a-temper-before-I-had-children-feeling of utterly losing it, well, let's just say I must have missed that chapter in "What to Expect When You're Expecting."

You can't know your children.  And you know what, I don't think you're supposed to. Hey, if this is coming from a control freak, you should highlight that sentence. Maybe print it out first, but whatever. This is what I know about my kids.  They're mine.  All three of them.  So yes they will drive me crazy, but I get to return that favor and besides that, they're mine to love.  That love may look a little different for Max than it does for his sisters, as I sit in hospitals or physical therapy.  But it's all love, just the same.

That's my new normal.

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful

Psalm 139

Celebrating 2 months since we met Max.