Happy Birthday James!

March 30, 2007: I woke after only 2 hours of sleep, got a shower and did my hair. Then Chris and I got in our car and drove to Mercy Hospital to become parents for the first time. I was excited and nervous, I remember rubbing my belly in the shower and asking my baby if he was ready to meet us. We got checked in and had all the c-section preliminaries done, and were joined throughout the process by my mom and dad and my mother-in-law, who gave me great advice about which route to take to numb my body. Right as I was being wheeled down to the OR, my sister came in with a tray of goodies, which I couldn't eat yet, but gave me a kiss and a good luck wish. Once everything was in place on the operating table, the doctor started the procedure, and I wondered if I would know when they pulled my baby out. Not to worry, there was no pain but tremendous pressure on my abdomen, and then suddenly my little boy's cries filled the room, and they held him over the fluid splattered curtain to show me James. He was tiny, covered in waxy vernix and amniotic fluid, and squirming and crying at the "cold" room and bright lights. They told me his feet were pressed against his ears when they opened me up, and he had little Spock ears for a week, until they finally curled under. He was 6lbs 15oz and 18 inches long. I had expected that he would be bigger, since I was at full-term, but he soon outgrew the tiny preemie clothes he wore that first week, and then continued to grow and need new sizes every few months! He also latched on for breastfeeding right away, and was a wonderful eater from the start. He's not such a big fan of trying new foods these days (unless it comes in a bright shiny wrapper) but he always has a healthy appetite.

Becoming a mom changed my life. It has taken me in directions that I never could have seen, and never thought I would do well. During my pregnancy, I kept saying that we wouldn't have any more kids, because the experience felt terrible, but looking at James' tiny face and pursed lips in my hospital room made me want to do it all over again. Things I would never want to forget: the feeling of him leaving my body, the closeness we experienced during breastfeeding, the first time I heard him laugh, then the first time he laughed at something on tv (an episode of Pink Panther), feeling pressure from his arm and realizing that he was hugging me back, every time he fell asleep in my arms and let me cuddle him (including this past weekend), watching him learn to walk, feed himself, dress himself, talk, use the Wii, the dvd player, the iPhone, the computer, light switches, doors, a flashlight, the way he would rub my pregnant belly and kiss his future brother, the way he smiles, the way he laughs when he's being tickled or sees something really funny, the first time he counted to ten and when he learned the alphabet. In just 4 short years we have experienced all of those things, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for my special boy. I love you James!

Becoming Foster Parents

This coming week marks a new experience for our family. Chris and I will begin our Foster Home licensing classes and what promises to be a long process of paperwork. We are excited that our family will be able to grow this way, and ultimately hope to give a forever home to at least one of our foster kids. At the same time, this is a completely different way to become parents than how we have done it in the past, and I'm nervous not only about the experience, but also about how people will react to our situation. The friends and family we've talked with have so far been very encouraging and supportive, and for that I am so grateful. I am also so glad to have a new friend who has gone through the foster and adoption process with our local Children Services, to use as a resource and possibly a cheerleader when things get tough.

I'll be learning about how the system works and what to expect over the next four weekends, but what lies behind me is a long path of inspiration and experiences that have gotten us here. I recently tried to think back on all the ways that foster care has popped up in my life, and why I have been called to do it. One strong memory was reading "White Oleander" by Janet Finch. I think I picked it up because it made Oprah's book club, but it was a beautifully-written account of the ugliness of human nature, with a young woman in foster care at the story's center. When I finished the book, I remember thinking that there has to be someone good to be a foster parent, not someone who will sleep with a teenage girl, or lock up her cupboards and starve the children in her home, and I wanted to be that person. Another experience was getting to know a little boy named Joshua, who was in foster care when I met him, and was later adopted by the family he lived with. My mom signed up to take Joshua out and give his family a free afternoon on the weekends, and he soon became a regular fixture at our church and in our home. I was a teenager and loved spending time with this precocious and affectionate kid. Certainly, Joshua had issues associated with being in foster care, being neglected by his birth parents, and generally at-risk in a society that preys on children without an advocate. Again, I wanted to be able to protect him and care for him in a way that would help him reach his full potential. Over and over, foster care seems to pop up in my life, as though someone has used an orange highlighter to bring it to my attention. And every time, I want to be a part of it.

The next piece of the story involves my family; certainly I want to do many things, but I need my family to willingly participate with me. So how to get my husband on board with my plan? I started with prayer, which you can scoff at if you want, but it has been hard at work in my life, and made a difference. So I prayed that my husband would be open to fostering children with me, if that was what I was supposed to do. In the meantime, we started a family of our own: two blond-haired, blue-eyed boys with amazing smiles and independence to spare. I became a stay-at-home mom to save money and keep them close to me while they are still willing to sit on my lap and cuddle with me on a cold day. Finally, this past September, our church offered an opportunity to spend a weekend at a nearby Children's home and volunteer at a carnival to raise money, then visit with the children who live there. A little persistence got my husband to agree to go, and our kids stayed with the grandparents while we were gone overnight. The trip was life-changing. Chris and I spent the first morning helping set up the carnival, then ran a few game booths and had a chance to socialize with all the different people who came to the event, including the staff at the Children's Home. That night, we went to the "houses" on the property and played board games and colored with some of the children who live there. The ages we met were early elementary school, and so likeable and excited to spend time with us. We left the next day and spent our car ride home talking about what we had seen and done. That was when Chris shared that the time he spent with a kid named Michael had filled his heart with the desire to give a home to a kid that needed it. We finished the morning at church, where the sermon focused on following through when you are called to do something good that seems scary or uncertain. And that was when we requested paperwork to begin the licensing process.

So sometime in the next 6-18 months, we'll be placed with a child who needs a temporary family. And maybe that will turn into an opportunity to adopt, or maybe we'll be able to send that child back to his or her birth family and open our home again. I can't wait!

Well-rested

I haven't posted a blog in months! The reason being a good one: I started blogging late at night when I couldn't sleep, and I've been getting fully rested lately. My husband is the biggest influence over my sleep, partly because he's truly embraced the daddy role even when its his wife resisting bedtime, and also because he sometimes takes kid duty when I'm too exhausted to rock a fussy baby for one more minute. Anyway, I think its been good for me to rest up since my days are packed full of activity with the beautiful spring weather creating many more opportunities for my boys to run around outside and more opportunities for me to chase after them and make sure they don't eat dirt, play in the street, or roll in poison ivy. Also, we've been dealing for several months with the stress of helping our older son, James, increase his communication. Most of the winter was marked by huge snowstorms and appointments to test James' hearing, receptive communication, and social interactions. It was very difficult to be present for these tests, to see that there was something not completely normal about my child, to have professionals tell me that he had developmental delays, signs of autism, abnormal behaviors. This is my first-born, the carrier of all my hopes and dreams, my special, beautiful baby! And after all the tests and evaluations, I still feel confused about the "diagnosis", since there really was no one hard-and-fast answer to what was causing him to not talk. So I have nothing to focus my attention on; instead a litany of suggestions that can be contradictory and overall don't feel effective, as well as no good answer when friends and relatives ask what's wrong. The one point everyone seemed to agree upon was the treatment. So my sweet little boy has begun attending a public, "integrated" preschool where he can receive both speech and occupational therapy one-on-one, as well as interacting with a teacher and "typical peers". To clarify on integrated preschool, this is not referring to race, ethnicity or gender, but identification of disabilities, so that half the class is developing normally and the other half are experiencing delays. We've seen a definite increase in James' verbalizations, although most are still a bit garbled and can't be interpreted. He's added new words to his vocabulary as well as increasing his use of words he already mastered. But more recently I have been impressed with James' increased self-care skills, such as using utensils at meals, picking up after himself, and steps toward potty-training. Its been such a difficult year caring for a new baby in addition to the extra attention James has needed to identify and treat his delays, but I'm feeling hopeful that school and therapy are making a positive difference for my boy. I feel so blessed to be able to send him to school with a caring and knowledgeable teacher!

Pro-Life Superbowl Commercial

I am really excited for the Superbowl tomorrow(technically, later today). Football is a rallying point for my family, including my in-laws, and I love the hype and excitement the Superbowl generate. We'll be watching at home, since the last few have been interrupted by fussing babies, but my husband is planning a tasty meal of roasted chicken and twice-baked potatoes! Like most people, I'm almost more excited about the commercials than the game(lifelong Cowboys fan, so not really vested in either team playing). And the ad getting the most attention before it has even aired is Tim Tebow's commercial against abortion, since his mother was apparently counseled to abort him during her pregnancy. I am definitely pro-life, even more so since I have actually experienced pregnancy and motherhood, so I hope this commercial gets that message across in a meaningful way. The Tebows are raising a great point: that abortion snuffs potential by cutting short a life that could be destined for greatness, in this case, a Heisman-winning quarterback. But do we sometimes forget the potential for the men and women who are losing the opportunity to become parents? It has been my experience that our human relationships pull us further out of ourselves to experience life more fully than we can on our own. With marriage and parenthood, I have known joy and sorrow, humor and anxiety, love and anger, unlike anything I knew before. By linking our lives to others, we have a chance to grow and experience redemption and truly become better people. I read an amazing article on the Tebows' Superbowl ad by Sally Jenkins which got me thinking about how we can make a difference on this very controversial issue. Jenkins, a pro-choice feminist, states that everyone "wishes the 'need' for abortions wasn't so great." This made me do a double-take. I had assumed that if a person was pro-choice, that they would be pro-abortion no matter what. Well, if we are all agreeing that abortion is not a great thing, that unplanned pregnancies put people in a difficult position of having to choose between three painful options (raising a child unprepared, giving a child up for adoption, or killing that child), then why are we still arguing about this? Let's stop fighting over whether abortion should be legal (let's face it pro-lifers, just because something is illegal doesn't mean it won't happen) and instead, do what we can to reduce/eliminate the need for it! Let's encourage responsibility, education, and support for young men and women before they have a knife over their heads. Let's stop encouraging promiscuity, sending mixed messages about sexuality, and criticizing abstinence! Who's with me?

Hope for Haiti

Since I became a mom almost three years ago, so much in my life has changed. For starters, I spend my Friday nights at home with my family, such as tonight. We also have cable now, so usually that gives me some variety to what I can watch, unless all my favorite channels are showing the same thing... a Hope for Haiti telethon! Then my choices are numbered! But watching this and other footage about the recent earthquake has also made me aware of another change that began during my first pregnancy. I love to read, and besides What to Expect When You're Expecting, I also picked up Flags of Our Fathers while I was pregnant with James. It was a great book, especially for a history buff such as myself, but while I was interested in learning more about the preparation for and resulting battle on Iwo Jima, I was also struck by the background provided by the author. Even now, the part that sticks out in my mind regards the "Rape of Nanking", which was a terrible time in Asian history, when the Japanese invaded China and perpetrated horrors against its people. I don't want to go into the gory details, but let's just say "rape" is putting it mildly! I realized then, with my baby boy floating around my uterus, the other members of my family safe and alive, that we live in a volatile world. What used to make me shrug as I heard it ("War? Eh, I'm not involved." or "I'm not affected by poverty, who cares?"), over the past few years I have come to hate! Because these things are always going on, and its only the lucky accident of when and where I was born that allows me to live in peace, with a relative measure of safety for myself and my family. There are some truly horrifying reports from Haiti right now, just as there have been from various countries around the world, and even here in the US, during my lifetime. So I'm wondering... why me? Why do I live in peace and downright luxury compared to others who are just as human as I am, just as deserving of the right to have a family and a home? I don't know, but I thank God tonight for it.

Teen Mom

I wanted to stay up last night to watch the after-show for "Teen Mom" on MTV.com, but 3 nights of insomnia caught up with me and demanded that I go to bed at the uncharacteristically early 11 pm. "Teen Mom" is without a doubt one of my favorite shows; its the follow up to MTV's new series "16 & Pregnant", chronicling the lives of 4 of "16"s original 6 teenage mothers. As I watch "Teen Mom" or read Tori Spelling's autobiography Mommywood, I am struck by how universal motherhood can be, while also dividing women along the lines of age, economic status, and education level. For instance, Amber and Maci on "Teen Mom" juggle the lives with giving their children proper care, and constantly wish that their partners would contribute more as parents. Even though my husband is an amazing dad who tries to find that same balance in his life, I find it hard to accept that he's probably doing all he can, because I wish he could do more. I think this comes from a desire for me to be able to do less, but would probably still do as much as I do now even if my husband managed to find some way to pitch in even more. However, what I take away from "Teen Mom", and I'm sure the producers hope that many young girls do as well, is how the "traditional" path to parenthood could also be described as the correct and smart way. By that, I mean graduating from high school, completing college or some form of advanced vocational training, so that you can then work, earn and hopefully save money, while meeting, dating, and marrying a man who shares your values and respects you, settling into a home of your own, and then starting a family. I struggle daily with all the difficulties of parenting two young children and maintaining a home and marriage; I can't even imagine having to do all that I do while studying for school, worrying about where I'm going to live, and making a relationship work with a man who can't commit to forming a stable family with me. Why the young women on "Teen Mom", and so many others who share their fate, make me feel sad is how quickly they want to grow up and be independent of their own homes and parents, while failing to realize just how difficult that can be. Motherhood has certainly dampened the judgemental view I used to take of the world, so I watch this show wishing the best for Amber, Maci, Farrah, and Catelynn, knowing how hard their decisions have made things, but also knowing that a child is the strongest encouragement to making a better life for yourself. Keep going ladies, you can do it!

Up All Night

Why am I here? More specifically, why am I sitting alone at a computer in the middle of the night, watching a chick flick on Netflix and crocheting a baby blanket for my 7 month old? I know that the responsible, healthy thing to do would be to head to bed, synchronizing my sleep schedule with the rest of my family. But what keeps me anchored in place is a need to be alone. Once I tuck my children in bed, a wide array of solitary activities open themselves up, and I feel energized by the prospect of having my hands free to do as I please and the night stretches in front of me. Hopefully my boys will konk out for a nap at the same time tomorrow, giving me a chance to make up for these stolen hours; regardless, morning will come too soon, with a day full of caring for other people, so for now, I'll do something frivolous that makes me happy.