Things That Make You Go Hmmmm...

• One of the main reasons I wanted to move from our old house is because we had a snake problem (make that the only reason I wanted to move). Turns out we have an equally terrible problem here. Dead birds. I'd say G has disposed of 10-15 dead birds in the 6 weeks we've lived here. And it REALLY freaks me out. There are massive power lines behind our old house and behind our new house. I'm not paranoid about things like that because in all reality, they are quite a distance away. And if I get cancer it's probably going to be from all the junk I eat. The folks that bought our house had somebody come out to test for electromagnetic force and wouldn't you know the test came back great -- meaning it wasn't an issue. But before we knew for sure we made all sorts of jokes about "cleaning up the dead animals in the yard before the buyers came over" and that sort of thing. Weird that we really do have dead animals in our backyard now. It's not really funny anymore. So I've come up with a few causes. Either (1) the power lines, (2) avian flu, (3) the birds are running into the plexy glass (sp?) on our fence (my mom's theory). Please study the above picture and let me know what you think. Can you see the power lines?
  
• I found out today that Buddy doesn't know the ABC song. I asked him to sing it to his brother and he had no idea what I was talking about. I said, "You know, A-B-C-D-E-F-G." And he looked at me like it sounded familiar, but when I pressed him to do it, he couldn't. He knew the tune but jumbled up the letters worse than a 2-year old. I've been racking my brain all day to determine if I forgot to teach him that, or if he just forgot it. I hope they don't ask him to sing it at Kindergarten roundup next week or that will be a bit awkward. (For the record, he can read pretty well now so I'm not too worried about his knowledge of the alphabet.)
  
• Last night Buddy was talking to me about Ryan Seacrest as we snuggled in my bed and watched a few minutes of American Idol together. He was rather impressed by Ryan. That's my boy! He asked me how old Ryan is, so after he went to bed I went to my trusty Wikipedia bookmark and looked it up. By golly! Ryan and I share the same birthday (but he's two years older.) Hmm. Explains a lot. I knew I liked that guy! (If you don't like Ryan Seacrest, obviously you weren't a broadcasting major and obviously you don't know how hard it is to do what he does.)
• I learned yesterday that good old fashioned love is a lot better than the rod when it comes to discipline. Buddy has had a few behavior/sleep issues lately and I had tried everything. Then I remembered that to discipline is to teach. So I did that instead and interestingly enough, I didn't have a single issue with him yesterday or today. (See above to get an idea of how I rewarded him.)
• The utilities in our new house are actually cheaper than in our old. I'm not complaining. I guess this place is insulated a little better because otherwise that just doesn't make sense
  
• What is fundamentally wrong with the DMV and the folks who go there? There is something just creepy about that place and talk about inefficient. Enough said.
  
• Sambo had his 15-month checkup the other day and it turns out he only weighs 21 pounds which puts him in the 10th percentile for height and weight. I just cannot stop laughing/crying about that. He is tiny, but I guess he fits in height-wise with the rest of us. It is interesting to note though, that the child eats like a grown man. I can hardly imagine how much he'd weigh if he ate like a normal child. Most nights he eats the same amount as me for dinner, and everybody knows I can really pack food away myself. It is also interesting to note that when Buddy was 6 months he was 21 pounds and that the clothes Buddy wore when he was 8-12 months do not yet fit Sambo at 15 months.
  
• I've been doing a hot yoga class (95-degree room for 75 minutes) once a week for the past month. Plus I've been doing my usual high-intensity weights class twice a week and then I run a bit (2 miles) during the week. To recap, I've been exercising like crazy for a solid month. And wouldn't you know, I haven't lost a single pound. I'm not complaining because I rather like my eating/exercise routine. But it is interesting.
• And now that you're done reading this, please go straight-away to itunes and download the new Beyonce album. It is phenomenal. You know how much I love the Killers? This CD is almost as cool. And that's saying something.
  

Miniatures (by G)

Why do miniature foods taste so much better than the regular-sized foods? I haven’t been able to figure out why, but they just do. For example, when we were kids and we would travel with the family, my mom would buy miniature candy bars. My favorite candy bars were the miniature snickers bars. For some reason they would taste so much better than the regular-sized candy bars. And that is saying something, because I love the snickers bars.

Just recently, Burger King has come out with “Burger Shots.” This actually is not anything new because when I was a kid, they had the same thing for a little while and called them “Burger Buddies.” Anyway, it’s the same concept: miniature-sized burgers. The other night M was coming home from a meeting and asked if she could pick up anything for us. If I remember correctly, it was Tuesday night and we were preparing to watch The Biggest Loser. I have a tendency to sympathy eat when I watch The Biggest Loser, but that’s another story. I asked her to pick up a 2 pack of Burger Shots.

Now I like BK burgers ok, but I don’t typically crave them. She got home and I bit into the first one. It was fantastic. I polished off both of them in no time. For the next few days I was craving more Burger Shots. Finally, on the weekend, we went back to BK and I decided that a six-pack was the way to go. They were just as good. I’ve had more since then and I’ve recommended them to other people. I think that I’m operating under the illusion that because they are small, I can eat more of them to make up for their size. But they are good.

One Room Down Several More to Go (updated)

I finally got around to painting and decorating the boys' room. It just happens to be the easiest room, since I already had the paint and decor.
We used the same color that we used in our last house because I already knew I loved it. I have the philosophy that if you find something that works, you stick with it. The blue walls are the color of the sky in Utah, which was pretty much my favorite part of living there (besides BYU and Cafe Rio, of course.)
Since I am terrible at choosing paint colors, it was an easy choice. And I must say, it turned out great, especially with the white trim. I have painting OCD and it was much easier to get a perfectly straight ceiling line in this house, I'll tell you that.

And Buddy is really happy with the beach/shark theme, which is great news considering he's been very slow to warm up to the new house. This has definitely helped.

Update:

I forgot to include the most exciting part of the story. We had two minor catastrophes while painting. The first day Buddy was sitting on the bed watching me and he somehow fell off the bed right into the paint pan. By some miracle, no paint got on the carpet, which is how I got the photo.
The next day I had box full of painting garbage to be taken out when G got home (in like 15 minutes). While I was making dinner, Sambo got into it. There was painter's tape and other trash all over the place. But I didn't think too much of it until he walked past me with a wet stir stick in his hands. And that's when I noticed the wet painted hand prints on the carpet and hardwood floors. And all over his clothes. Unfortunately, I sprung into cleanup mode and didn't get a chance to take a photo. So you'll have to use your imagination.

Now onto the next room...

Apparently I Ought to Help Buddy Get Dressed

Back by popular demand, another couple Buddy stories.

Me: It's time to go to the doctor. Go to the bathroom and put your shoes on. Make sure you put some socks on too, since I don't want to get turned into DHS for taking you to see the pediatrician without socks on.

Buddy: Will you get turned into DHS if I'm not wearing underwear again?

Me: (shocked voice) What in the world? You aren't wearing underwear?

Buddy: No I'm not.

Me: Why not? And you didn't wear underwear yesterday?

Buddy: No I didn't.

Me: Yes, I will get turned into DHS if I take you to the pediatrician without underwear.

* * *

Also, Buddy came downstairs the other day after a bath fully dressed, but sopping wet. His hair was dripping water and his shirt was so wet, he looked sweaty. I asked if he had dried off and he said no. I was totally confused so I asked why not. In a huff, he said, grizzly bears don't dry off. They just climb out of the water and walk away. I check his towel later and it was totally dry. This has happened two other times since and so now I have to monitor him after his bath and it's like pulling teeth to get him to dry off. And I wouldn't worry too much except it's been pretty cold and it takes his hair like two hours to dry if he doesn't towel dry it. Plus he has bad hives and I'm worried that his hives will turn to athlete's foot if he doesn't dry his skin off. I know it's asking a lot, but sheesh.

Openness Continued

We returned home from Las Vegas to await the birth of our second baby and we were more resolved than ever to create a wonderful relationship with Sambo's birth mother. I had learned so much about Buddy from his birth mom -- how he got his charisma, his spirituality, his loyalty, and his energy -- he didn't get those from me. Those wonderful gifts were received in the womb and in the 5 days he spent in her arms. I wanted to know the same things about Sambo. But I knew the road would be long and hard. It was November 2007.

We had been working with Sambo's birth mom since July of that year, when she had first prayed to know if we were the right parents for her son. The circumstances surrounding his birth were very difficult. Some of which are too difficult to share on a public blog. His birth mom was very ill with her pregnancy for one thing. So ill that some of the best doctor's in this area advised her that she should strongly consider terminating the pregnancy. She has juvenile diabetes and her insulin levels were so out of control she had high risk of organ failure herself and serious birth defects for the baby. She spent a few weeks in the hospital early in her pregnancy and returned many, many more times before she finally delivered. It was a miracle that her home was a two-minute drive from the hospital, which allowed her to spend much of her time at home on bedrest rather than being confined to the hospital the entire pregnancy.

We didn't know her health history (and that was only the tip of the iceberg) when we started communicating with her. We did know she and her mom had tough questions for us. And we answered them honestly. We knew she desperately wanted a couple that would embrace an open adoption, so we tried mightily to convince her we were serious. She originally wanted a couple without children, but her caseworker expressed how loved her son would be by an older brother. Little did any of us know at the time how true that argument would be. I already had a name picked out for my next-born son and we shared that with her, as well as the very spiritual and emotional naming of Buddy. Buddy's birth mother had also named him before she chose adoption and it was a name with so much power and meaning, we decided to use that as his middle name. We told Sambo's birth mom we would love to do the same thing with her baby.

Over the next few weeks we emailed at least once -- but often several times a day. At our first meeting in person, we realized how hard this adoption would be. She was committed to placing her baby, but she required a lot more emotional support than Buddy's birth mom had. She shared her medical history and told us of her doctors' concerns. But she also told us that she knew that her baby deserved life and she believed that he would be born perfectly healthy.

A few weeks later, at 24 weeks, I went with her to a doctor's appointment. She had appointments often and an ultrasound at each appointment. I was almost too nervous to go because she hadn't officially told us she was placing her baby with us. I couldn't bare the thought of seeing him on ultrasound if he wasn't meant for me. I knew she hadn't been feeling well, so I was also nervous about bad news regarding the baby's health.

The weeks surrounding all of this were an extremely difficult time for our family. We received counsel from our bishop who came to our home often, advice from caseworkers, and support from family and friends. And it all helped.

At the appointment, the doctor determined she was in labor, which explained the way she had been feeling. She was having contractions every three minutes. They monitored her for a few hours while I was with her, then they admitted her to labor and delivery. Throughout the day we had a lot of time to talk, and she convinced me that she wasn't afraid. She knew, and the doctors admitted that her baby was completely fine. I trusted her -- and looking back, I was more calm that I should have been. She invited G and Buddy to the hospital that night and she told us officially that she had chosen us.

Those words are priceless to an infertile couple.

She was put on medication to stop the contractions and was sent home several days later. We were all hoping she'd make it to 30 weeks. Around that time contractions came again but after a few days in the hospital, she never progressed so they sent her home to endure until the baby came. By 35 weeks there was still no baby but she had developed pre-eclampsia, so she was admitted back to the hospital where they ran tests several times a day to determine the best time to deliver. I remember that night at 35 weeks. It was my friend's birthday and we went to a movie to pass the time. I thought for sure he'd be born that night.

The next day she was doing better than expected, so they tried to prolong her delivery as long as possible. Her contractions were frequent and hard, but the days ticked on without a baby. At 36 weeks they finally decided to induce her. Sambo's lungs were strong and her health was getting worse, but her body wasn't progressing. They started the drip Monday night at midnight. Tuesday nothing happened. She was in agony because her contractions were hard -- but still no baby. Three epidurals later, they finally took him by c-section with general anesthesia. Apparently whatever kept him in the womb at 24 weeks also kept him at 36 because her body was unable to deliver him.

He was born on Wednesday morning. December 5, 2007. He was perfectly healthy. He had no problems breathing, no jaundice, and his sugar levels were totally normal, which is remarkable considering how out-of-whack her sugar levels and oxygen levels were.

We realized her body took the entire toll to spare his.

She was too sick for us to visit that first day he was born, which was frustrating and devastating. Thursday afternoon, we finally got a call from her mom saying we could come to visit.

G and I were afraid and bitter that day, but when we entered the hospital room and saw him laying on the bed, I knew instantly that he was worth all our hard work. But most importantly, he was certainly worth all of his birth mother's efforts to bring him safely into the world.


I've never seen anything change G's attitude and demeanor more quickly than that sweet baby. We went from panic-stricken and angry to calm and madly in love.

He was darling and absolutely precious. Almost every day now people still remark about how precious he is.

The next few days were awful. She was released from the hospital and took him home to be with her for a few days. Apparently she never wavered in her commitment to place him for adoption during that time, but we had no way of knowing that for sure. All we knew was our baby was bonding with his birth mom. Six long days.

But placement did happen. And the days, weeks and months after that were very hard on her. Our idealistic plan for a loving open arrangement with each other blew up in all of our faces. Nothing was as we had hoped (and by we I mean her, her mom, G and I.)

But last week she had a birthday and the day of her birthday, Sambo turned 15 months. Buddy, Sambo and I took her out to dinner to celebrate (G was out of town, unfortunately). We've seen her frequently in those 15 months, but this time things were different. First of all, Sambo has grown so much since the last time she had seen him. He's walking/borderline running, getting into things, curious, and can now pack away as much food as his older brother, which is quite an impressive achievement for a child that barely weights 20 pounds.

But more has changed with her and I, I would have to say. Time and gratitude do an amazing job of healing hurt and resentment. As I sat across the table from her and saw the woman with the same face and expressions and gentleness as my beloved baby, I was overcome with gratitude. I've always been grateful, but to see them together and to see the way he looked at her... it's a priceless experience that is hard to articulate.

There was something missing before Sambo came to our family. He is a gift and he brings G, Buddy and I more joy than I even could have imagined. And I know that if I hadn't been committed to a positive and respectful relationship with his birth mother, I would have been missing something greater in my life.

It was worth the hard work. And it'll only get better.

Buddy was 17 months the first time we saw his birth mom after placement. Sambo was 15 months the first time we saw his birth mom since we put aside our pain and focused on her sacrifice.


For more inspiring adoption stories, click on the button to the right and hear several birth mothers share their stories in their own words.

Openness

As soon as we met Buddy's birth mother we fell hard in love. She is an amazing woman with so much love and so many talents. She's stunningly gorgeous too. Buddy is so much like her, which will be a wonderful blessing in his life. We feel lucky we get to enjoy his (and her) wonderful personality.

To say I was nervous the first time we met is an understatement. I had never felt that level of emotion or nervousness before -- and I haven't since -- like I did the morning we met. Til the day I die will will never forget that experience. I was a nervous wreck as we sat in the caseworker's office in Idaho Falls. And then I heard her laughter down the hall. She didn't sound nervous at all, which surprised me considering I was almost ill I was so nervous. As she came into the room she hugged me, sensed my stress, and immediately put me at ease by complimenting us up a storm and telling us how excited she was to finally meet us.

(If that's not like my son, I don't know what is.)

Sometime I'll have to tell the whole story because truly our visit was unforgettable. And the weeks until placement were as well.

After placement I felt such a huge loss because I missed her. We wrote every week and G and I would often tell each other we hoped we'd be able to see her again. It was totally selfish and had nothing to do with Buddy. (Although that's since changed.) She told me early on that she felt like if we had met under other circumstances, we'd be close friends. I couldn't have agreed more. Both G and I genuinely liked her and all of her family.

One day a few shorts months after placement, we asked our caseworker if we were "allowed" to visit with our birth mothers after placement. We had an "open" adoption, but we still weren't allowed to exchange last names, phone numbers, addresses, email addresses, etc until after finalization and only if all parties agreed. Until that time, that was agency policy. He told us that things were changing at the agency and that we could "do whatever we thought was right." He was a really cool guy, but he always told us that sort of thing. Just do whatever we felt was right, was harder than it seems.

Months passed. Finalization happened. Buddy was sealed to us. We immediately revealed all of our identifying information in hopes she'd do the same with us. She did. After he turned a year, she emailed us one day to ask if we'd be open to visiting with her some time. We had been too nervous to ask, so we were so happy she made the first move. We arranged a time to visit when we were in Utah visiting family a few months later when Buddy was 17 months old.

That visit was wonderful. Unless you've been in that situation, there are no words to describe the "connection" between Buddy and her. He was so much like her family, especially the boy cousins -- it was eerie. They share common interests, they look alike, they love the same foods, and don't even get me started on the commonalities in their personalities.

The months passed and we made arrangements to see her again. By this point we realized we wanted an open adoption for Buddy and would work hard to keep that relationship. We loved her and it goes without saying that she loved him dearly, but we knew it would be a blessing to him. At our second visit, Buddy had just turned 3 years old and we spent Christmas Eve with her whole family.

We returned from Utah and felt such a deep love for her that we wanted more to create that loving relationship with a second birth mother. We had been waiting to adopt a second child for two years at that point, so in an act of inspiration, I composed a heartfelt email to our caseworker describing our visit at Christmas. I don't know why I was compelled to do it, besides I wanted him to know we were serious about an open adoption and I hoped he'd use our letter to tell potential birth mothers that he met with that we wanted a relationship with them.

Our caseworker was frustrating to work with on a good day, so I didn't really expect much of a reaction from him. But he called me immediately and said he was very moved by it, wanted to send the letter to the agency headquarters in Salt Lake City as a "success story." Several months later he asked me if he could publish it in the adoptive couple support group newsletter. The letter was published in July.

A few days after it was published, Sambo's birth mother was in the agency frustrated about not being able to find a suitable couple to adopt her baby. She had been searching for a few months and had been in contact with several couples, none of which met her strict criteria. She wanted a couple without children, from Oregon, who could demonstrate that they were serious about an open adoption, and they had to be willing to name the child the name she had chosen. July 2007 a caseworker suggested Sambo's birth mother read my letter about our feelings about having an open adoption. Her heart was touched, so she went home and prayed fervently if we were the right family for her precious baby boy. She isn't a particularly religious young woman, so that was a big deal.

Later that year, in November, during an extremely stressful time for our family, I felt very compelled to visit Buddy's birth mom again. She had recently gotten married to a fantastic man and I wanted to meet him. Buddy was just about to turn four and was under too much stress for a little boy. So the two of us flew to Las Vegas to visit a dear friend, and one day we were there we drove to Utah to visit Buddy's birth mom. I'm running out of positive adjectives, so I'll repeat, again, it was wonderful. Do you think it was coincidence that Buddy and her were wearing the same black and white checkered Vans that day? The same shoes!

To be continued...