It is a very good thing that I have a sense of humor and never get offended. Because I've heard it all when it comes to adoption. And I've noticed lately that the comments have been coming more frequently: "Is your husband darker?" "So, are you the babysitter?"
A friend asked if I thought the personal questions flow more freely because we live in the midwest now, surrounded by mostly white people who aren't used to more, um, "culture." However, I don't think that's really it. I think people are totally confused by the idea that we could have adopted two kids first, and then have gotten pregnant. Before I was pregnant, people kind of wondered, but for the most part they usually assumed the boys were adopted. But once they saw a pregnant lady out with two African American kids ... well, you could see their brains working as they looked at me and tried to figure the whole thing out. And if Aaron happened to be out with me somewhere, they were totally lost. And now that I have a little white, blond haired, blue eyed baby, they're even more confused. Am I babysitting the other kids? Do the boys have different daddies? Was I an unwed mother?
And of course, some people have no filter, and so they just ask. That's why if you're considering adoption, and especially a transracial adoption, you'd better have a sense of humor and be able to let things just roll off your back. You have to think through how to respond to the questions, when it's appropriate to share about adoption and when it's better to just leave people confused (I love when people ask if they're all mine, and I just say "Yes!" with a smile and move on, knowing they want more details). And you have to know that the mothers will get all kinds of questioning glances and that people will probably assume things that aren't true. But what do I care if some stranger thinks I've been married 3 times?! People who know us know our story, and who cares about the rest?!
Now I'm working on coming up with ideas for things my sons can say back to people who ask them questions as they get older. I prefer things that make people confused, things that are kind of an inside joke to us. I love the idea that all 3 of our boys will be able to stand together and say, "Yep, we're brothers" and know that people will be totally confused. I hope they learn to laugh at people's ignorance, rather than be hurt by it. Because really, if you're part of an adopted family, you'd better have some thick skin and be able to extend a lot of grace to people who just don't think before they speak.
P.S. A couple of months ago I wrote a blog on "What Not To Say" to adopted families. Check it out if you're really curious about how crazy the questions can be!
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
1 Week Down ...
Elias is a week old today! And today was the first day since he arrived that things almost felt "normal." And by "normal" I mean, I didn't want to strangle my oldest two boys or myself. That's a good day! So I thought that in between feeding Elias, I would share a few of the lessons I've learned in the first week:
1. A week after giving birth, I still don't understand why people use words like "amazing" and "wonderful" to describe their birth experience. The only words I think of are 4-letter words that shouldn't be written in a family friendly blog. Everyone keeps saying that if I give it time, I'll feel differently. Nope, I'm pretty sure I won't. Labor sucks. I never want to do it again. Period. Don't try to change my mind. And no, I don't feel like my life is now complete since I got to experience the birth of my third son. I would have been perfectly fine without that.
2. I don't feel any differently about Elias than I did the other two boys. I've had people ask me if it's different -- do I feel more attached or something like that. Nope. I adore him, just like I adored the other boys, but it's not really any different. In fact, Malachi was probably the easiest one for me to attach to, because I could give him all of my attention. Isaiah was probably the hardest, because he was in the hospital for so long and then when I finally brought him home, it was the day before Aaron returned from deployment, and then Isaiah was the hardest baby known to mankind, so ... I was actually worried that I wouldn't feel that close to Elias (being #3 with 2 older brothers vying for my attention, it didn't look promising), but as Aaron pointed out, I should probably be grateful that I had a c-section. It gives me 4 weeks where the only child I can really "parent" is my new baby (as both of the other boys are over my 10 pound weight limit). I hate not being able to pick up Isaiah and hold him or chase Malachi around or play like I did before, but it is a perfect opportunity for me to sit and hold Elias and stare at him and focus on him for a month without feeling guilty about it (or at least knowing that feeling guilty is just going to have to happen, because I have to follow doctor's orders).
3. Breastfeeding is actually not that bad. It was the thing I dreaded most about having a biological child, and I'm still not nearly as comfortable with breastfeeding as bottle feeding (too much worry about is Elias getting enough, is my milk "letting down" whatever the heck that means, will my boobs ever stop hurting, will they ever return to a normal size, etc.), but it's actually kind of cool to feed another human being. And it's a great excuse to eat more food. And while it made my stomach hurt pretty bad when the uterus that had been cut open started contracting, it is making it shrink (I think). And it has definitely helped with bonding. Aaron likes it too -- no reason for him to get up in the night for night feedings when he can't do a darn thing about it (though I have heard that you can milk anything with nipples ...).
4. 2-year olds and 1-yeard olds do not understand the pain you are in when you have a c-section. If my mom weren't here, I would die. Literally die, probably of my stomach exploding when one of the kids jumped on it. Have I mentioned that my mom is awesome? Because she is. I'm pretty sure she and Aaron have it way harder than I do right now, trying to take care of 2 toddlers. At least all I have is a tiny infant. But you can all feel sorry for me when I finally heal up and then I have 3 boys under 3 to take care of by myself. I expect a lot of pity and sympathetic looks then.
5. Getting sleep with a newborn is a whole lot harder with 2 other boys. I can't just take naps during the day when I want to, and the older two wake up before the infant does in the morning. 3 kids is exhausting. I'm tired. So if this blog is in no way coherent, cut me some slack.
P.S. I decided to change the name of the blog to reflect the fact that our story is about more than adoption -- it's about raising our three sons. I plan to continue blogging on adoption issues, but I will also post stuff on what it's like to be a mom of 3 boys who are less than 3 years apart. It could get interesting ...
1. A week after giving birth, I still don't understand why people use words like "amazing" and "wonderful" to describe their birth experience. The only words I think of are 4-letter words that shouldn't be written in a family friendly blog. Everyone keeps saying that if I give it time, I'll feel differently. Nope, I'm pretty sure I won't. Labor sucks. I never want to do it again. Period. Don't try to change my mind. And no, I don't feel like my life is now complete since I got to experience the birth of my third son. I would have been perfectly fine without that.
2. I don't feel any differently about Elias than I did the other two boys. I've had people ask me if it's different -- do I feel more attached or something like that. Nope. I adore him, just like I adored the other boys, but it's not really any different. In fact, Malachi was probably the easiest one for me to attach to, because I could give him all of my attention. Isaiah was probably the hardest, because he was in the hospital for so long and then when I finally brought him home, it was the day before Aaron returned from deployment, and then Isaiah was the hardest baby known to mankind, so ... I was actually worried that I wouldn't feel that close to Elias (being #3 with 2 older brothers vying for my attention, it didn't look promising), but as Aaron pointed out, I should probably be grateful that I had a c-section. It gives me 4 weeks where the only child I can really "parent" is my new baby (as both of the other boys are over my 10 pound weight limit). I hate not being able to pick up Isaiah and hold him or chase Malachi around or play like I did before, but it is a perfect opportunity for me to sit and hold Elias and stare at him and focus on him for a month without feeling guilty about it (or at least knowing that feeling guilty is just going to have to happen, because I have to follow doctor's orders).
3. Breastfeeding is actually not that bad. It was the thing I dreaded most about having a biological child, and I'm still not nearly as comfortable with breastfeeding as bottle feeding (too much worry about is Elias getting enough, is my milk "letting down" whatever the heck that means, will my boobs ever stop hurting, will they ever return to a normal size, etc.), but it's actually kind of cool to feed another human being. And it's a great excuse to eat more food. And while it made my stomach hurt pretty bad when the uterus that had been cut open started contracting, it is making it shrink (I think). And it has definitely helped with bonding. Aaron likes it too -- no reason for him to get up in the night for night feedings when he can't do a darn thing about it (though I have heard that you can milk anything with nipples ...).
4. 2-year olds and 1-yeard olds do not understand the pain you are in when you have a c-section. If my mom weren't here, I would die. Literally die, probably of my stomach exploding when one of the kids jumped on it. Have I mentioned that my mom is awesome? Because she is. I'm pretty sure she and Aaron have it way harder than I do right now, trying to take care of 2 toddlers. At least all I have is a tiny infant. But you can all feel sorry for me when I finally heal up and then I have 3 boys under 3 to take care of by myself. I expect a lot of pity and sympathetic looks then.
5. Getting sleep with a newborn is a whole lot harder with 2 other boys. I can't just take naps during the day when I want to, and the older two wake up before the infant does in the morning. 3 kids is exhausting. I'm tired. So if this blog is in no way coherent, cut me some slack.
P.S. I decided to change the name of the blog to reflect the fact that our story is about more than adoption -- it's about raising our three sons. I plan to continue blogging on adoption issues, but I will also post stuff on what it's like to be a mom of 3 boys who are less than 3 years apart. It could get interesting ...
Thursday, June 7, 2012
The Arrival of Elias
I am one of those people who likes to be prepared for every possibility. I read about 5 books on childbirth, went to the childbirth class at the hospital, and, of course, wrote up a birth plan. Everyone said to make sure I was flexible with my birth plan, but I didn't make it too complicated. There were really only 4 things I was set on: no meds (pain or labor inducing), no c-section, immediate contact with the baby after birth, and not Dr. P. to deliver if my doctor couldn't be there (apparently he goes to my church and is very good looking, and I just found that weird). Unfortunately, not one of my desires happened.
First, the doctor was concerned, because I was measuring small. But after my doctor's appointment Monday night, I started having contractions lasting about 60 seconds and 7 minutes apart. I was excited because I knew that I had an ultrasound on Tuesday and if my doctor thought things didn't look good, he would induce me. I was hoping that having contractions would mean I could avoid being induced.
Tuesday morning I went in for an ultrasound and the doctor noticed that the amniotic fluids were low and told me we were going to have a baby that day and to head straight to the hospital. I told him I'd meet him there in an hour after I called Aaron at work, told him to tell his patient goodbye and get his butt home. When we arrived at the hospital around 11:30, they checked me and I was dilated 2cm and 100% effaced and already having contractions! They decided to let me continue labor on my own, but after about an hour, the doctor decided to get things going a little quicker and came and broke my bag of waters. Labor intensified then, but I was still progressing pretty slowly, despite having 90 second contractions that were about 3-4 minutes apart. And I continued to have mostly back labor (which really sucks, in case you didn't know). However, they let me move around, get in the hot tub (best place ever!), sit on a ball, walk around, etc. Contractions got stronger and closer together, but after several hours, I still wasn't more than 4cm dilated. But when the doctor checked me, I was already a +1 (if you know labor terms, it means Elias' head was really low -- much lower than it should have been at 4cm. Many people don't get to a +1 until they've started the pushing phase of labor).
The doctor decided to start me on pitocin, but I convinced him that my contractions were really strong and I thought I could continue to labor without it. Labor got even more intense, and I was convinced I was dying, but Aaron was AMAZING and helped me through all of the crazy long contractions, and after a couple of hours I was 7cm dilated! Things were looking up! Then the contractions came long and hard with almost no break between contractions, which should have meant I was getting close to the end. Unfortunately, my cervix wasn't dilating anymore. I made it to an 8 and wanted to die. They kept letting me move around and sit in the hot tub, but after another hour and not progressing past an 8 despite the awful contractions, I gave in and did what I said I'd never do -- I got an epidural. The doctor was hoping it would help me relax my pelvic muscles, because I kept tightening them due to the back labor. The hope was that I could relax and the baby could just come on out since he was already a +1 and I was close to a 9. I sobbed uncontrollably for about 15 minutes while they gave me the epidural. I knew I didn't want the pain meds, but I didn't think I could take it anymore. Talk about feeling like a failure! However, when the pain relief came, I was pretty glad I had the meds. It slowed down labor for about 20 minutes, and then contractions started up again 2 minutes apart and nice and strong. But that's when things got bad.
2 hours after the epidural, despite the continuous contractions and then pitocin at the end, I hadn't dilated anymore -- I was stuck at 9cm. Then all of a sudden, as my feeling was coming back, I started having severe lower abdominal pain that didn't coincide with contractions. Along with the pain, Elias' heart rate started rising and dropping and rising again. That was when the doctor came in and said it was time do to a c-section. C-sections are pretty much my worst nightmare -- I'd had a previous abdominal surgery 4 years ago that was almost the same thing as a c-section, and it was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I did not want to deal with recovering from major surgery while caring for a newborn and trying to take care of my two other sons. But at that point, Elias' health and safety was more important than my pain level, so off we went to the surgery room. Nothing was going as I had hoped and planned, and then what doctor should show up in the operating room to help out -- yep, Dr. P., the one doctor I said I didn't want to deliver my baby. He was great and very personable, and he and Dr. G. did an awesome job getting Elias out, but I had to laugh -- could everything I wanted to happen be opposite of what really did?! Of course, I also couldn't hold Elias right away, because they were stitching me up, but I got to watch him being weighed out of the corner of my eye, and Aaron was able to be with him from birth to the nursery. He came out with the biggest conehead I've ever seen in my life (I guess that's what happens when you're stuck so low in the pelvis for over 12 hours) and looked more like an alien than a baby, but he was healthy and strong and crying (as was I). I was just glad it was over and that he was okay.
Aaron and I have been reflecting a little on the whole experience (and how it made me never ever want to give birth again). We were talking about how having natural childbirth had potentially become an idol for us. It was definitely a pride issue for me -- I wanted to prove I was as tough as everyone else. Of course I know it's better for the baby to not have meds, etc. and of course we question if there were things we could have done differently so that a c-section wasn't necessary, but in the end, we have a healthy, happy baby boy. Why does it matter how he got here? Why do women look down on each other for not doing things naturally? Why does it have to be a competition? In the end, there are more important things in life than whether or not my birth plan was followed. I think God was reminding me again that I'm not in control. And that when you're raising kids, you have to be flexible. And just maybe He was trying to humble me a little bit and show me that life isn't a big competition, and no, I don't have to "win" or do something to impress God or others. He loves me no matter what.
So even if Elias' birth didn't go as planned, I still have a healthy baby boy, and I won't let his birth define me or him. It's time to move on and enjoy him now -- not look back with regrets on 29 hours that could have been different. Because in the grand scheme of things, 1 day isn't really all that big of a deal. Except as the day I finally got to meet my third son!
First, the doctor was concerned, because I was measuring small. But after my doctor's appointment Monday night, I started having contractions lasting about 60 seconds and 7 minutes apart. I was excited because I knew that I had an ultrasound on Tuesday and if my doctor thought things didn't look good, he would induce me. I was hoping that having contractions would mean I could avoid being induced.
Tuesday morning I went in for an ultrasound and the doctor noticed that the amniotic fluids were low and told me we were going to have a baby that day and to head straight to the hospital. I told him I'd meet him there in an hour after I called Aaron at work, told him to tell his patient goodbye and get his butt home. When we arrived at the hospital around 11:30, they checked me and I was dilated 2cm and 100% effaced and already having contractions! They decided to let me continue labor on my own, but after about an hour, the doctor decided to get things going a little quicker and came and broke my bag of waters. Labor intensified then, but I was still progressing pretty slowly, despite having 90 second contractions that were about 3-4 minutes apart. And I continued to have mostly back labor (which really sucks, in case you didn't know). However, they let me move around, get in the hot tub (best place ever!), sit on a ball, walk around, etc. Contractions got stronger and closer together, but after several hours, I still wasn't more than 4cm dilated. But when the doctor checked me, I was already a +1 (if you know labor terms, it means Elias' head was really low -- much lower than it should have been at 4cm. Many people don't get to a +1 until they've started the pushing phase of labor).
The doctor decided to start me on pitocin, but I convinced him that my contractions were really strong and I thought I could continue to labor without it. Labor got even more intense, and I was convinced I was dying, but Aaron was AMAZING and helped me through all of the crazy long contractions, and after a couple of hours I was 7cm dilated! Things were looking up! Then the contractions came long and hard with almost no break between contractions, which should have meant I was getting close to the end. Unfortunately, my cervix wasn't dilating anymore. I made it to an 8 and wanted to die. They kept letting me move around and sit in the hot tub, but after another hour and not progressing past an 8 despite the awful contractions, I gave in and did what I said I'd never do -- I got an epidural. The doctor was hoping it would help me relax my pelvic muscles, because I kept tightening them due to the back labor. The hope was that I could relax and the baby could just come on out since he was already a +1 and I was close to a 9. I sobbed uncontrollably for about 15 minutes while they gave me the epidural. I knew I didn't want the pain meds, but I didn't think I could take it anymore. Talk about feeling like a failure! However, when the pain relief came, I was pretty glad I had the meds. It slowed down labor for about 20 minutes, and then contractions started up again 2 minutes apart and nice and strong. But that's when things got bad.
2 hours after the epidural, despite the continuous contractions and then pitocin at the end, I hadn't dilated anymore -- I was stuck at 9cm. Then all of a sudden, as my feeling was coming back, I started having severe lower abdominal pain that didn't coincide with contractions. Along with the pain, Elias' heart rate started rising and dropping and rising again. That was when the doctor came in and said it was time do to a c-section. C-sections are pretty much my worst nightmare -- I'd had a previous abdominal surgery 4 years ago that was almost the same thing as a c-section, and it was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I did not want to deal with recovering from major surgery while caring for a newborn and trying to take care of my two other sons. But at that point, Elias' health and safety was more important than my pain level, so off we went to the surgery room. Nothing was going as I had hoped and planned, and then what doctor should show up in the operating room to help out -- yep, Dr. P., the one doctor I said I didn't want to deliver my baby. He was great and very personable, and he and Dr. G. did an awesome job getting Elias out, but I had to laugh -- could everything I wanted to happen be opposite of what really did?! Of course, I also couldn't hold Elias right away, because they were stitching me up, but I got to watch him being weighed out of the corner of my eye, and Aaron was able to be with him from birth to the nursery. He came out with the biggest conehead I've ever seen in my life (I guess that's what happens when you're stuck so low in the pelvis for over 12 hours) and looked more like an alien than a baby, but he was healthy and strong and crying (as was I). I was just glad it was over and that he was okay.
Aaron and I have been reflecting a little on the whole experience (and how it made me never ever want to give birth again). We were talking about how having natural childbirth had potentially become an idol for us. It was definitely a pride issue for me -- I wanted to prove I was as tough as everyone else. Of course I know it's better for the baby to not have meds, etc. and of course we question if there were things we could have done differently so that a c-section wasn't necessary, but in the end, we have a healthy, happy baby boy. Why does it matter how he got here? Why do women look down on each other for not doing things naturally? Why does it have to be a competition? In the end, there are more important things in life than whether or not my birth plan was followed. I think God was reminding me again that I'm not in control. And that when you're raising kids, you have to be flexible. And just maybe He was trying to humble me a little bit and show me that life isn't a big competition, and no, I don't have to "win" or do something to impress God or others. He loves me no matter what.
So even if Elias' birth didn't go as planned, I still have a healthy baby boy, and I won't let his birth define me or him. It's time to move on and enjoy him now -- not look back with regrets on 29 hours that could have been different. Because in the grand scheme of things, 1 day isn't really all that big of a deal. Except as the day I finally got to meet my third son!
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