The Mixed Emotions of our Open Adoption

Today we were lucky to get a visit from Tracey and Grandma Kay to celebrate Ben's birthday (a little late). I'm always surprised at how much emotional energy goes into these get-togethers. Not in a bad way, of course. It's just that it's impossible to see them without having a flood of memories come racing back. Memories that hold so many mixed emotions. On most days I just enjoy the joy and wholeness I feel with Ben in our family. But, our open adoption reminds me of the sorrow and the sacrifice that produced my joy.

There are no words to describe how humbling it is to be the recipient of love in the form of a baby. That is a kind of love and sacrifice that leaves me speechless.

When we first jumped into adoption, there were a lot of unknowns. Like, the obvious, who would choose us and why would they choose us, and who was the baby that would come into our lives. But, one of the big ones was how would we navigate the unknown territory of an open adoption after placement. I remember initially being terrified at the idea of it. And, though I hate to admit it, it made me feel shamefully possessive. But, the more I heard others' stories and the benefits of open adoption, I knew there had to be more to it.

What I wasn't prepared for was how much our open adoption would open my heart in new ways. On most days, I forget that Ben was adopted. Not in the sense that I forget the way he came to us, but I don't look at him and think, "oh, he's adopted, so he'll be treated differently" or whatever. I just think, "he's my son and I love him the same as I love Hugh and Lucy." But, when we meet up with his birth family, I'm reminded all over again of his adoption. I'm reminded of the emptiness of my infertility, that was in large part healed the first time I held Ben in my arms. I'm reminded of the sorrow that likely came to Tracey because of her selfless choice. I know adoption wasn't her first choice, but there were circumstances out of her control that guided her to seek adoption, all because she loved her son so much she wanted to give him something she wasn't able to at the time.

Processing this full range of emotion is draining, but I'm grateful for the reminder of how much my heart can feel. I've come to realize it is a gift to feel so much, to be reminded of the sorrows that have been healed and the joys that have filled the empty cavity carved by pain. The greatest gift I can give to Ben is making sure he knows his roots and the incredible love that motivated Tracey to place him in our family. There aren't words to express that to him. We teach him that by showing him and letting his birth mother show him when we come together. Our open adoption is truly all about love.

Voices

This afternoon when I dropped Ben off at school, his teacher mentioned that we were approaching Ben's year mark of being in his class, which meant that we'd be having a meeting soon to evaluate Ben's progress and goals. As a bit of side note, Mr. Brad commented, "you know, I'm going to do whatever I can to keep him in my class, but there's a chance that he may not even qualify anymore."

Two years ago I had Ben evaluated by an Early Start teacher who, at that time, almost diagnosed Ben as autistic, based on her first observations of him. After a couple of months she was confident that that wasn't the correct diagnosis, but there were still enough delays that we signed him up for her class and started working with her on getting him to talk and improve in other areas where he was delayed.

As soon as Ben turned 3, he "graduated" from that program and then made a very smooth transition to a different preschool with a teacher who specializes in Speech. I had assumed Ben would be in this class right up until he was ready to start kindergarten. The fact that he may not qualify to be in this particular class anymore came as a bit of a surprise. A great one! Don't get me wrong. It means that he's caught up to where he "should" be (whatever that means, right?) and there aren't any serious delays that need to be addressed.

Ben loves his teacher and the assistant. He has so much fun and it has been such a great place for him. He really has grown and matured so much socially. Ben has found his voice, in more ways than one, and has such a clever-thinking mind. I would love to have him home with me, but I think it'd be so confusing to him to all of a sudden not being going to school anymore. I know we'd find our own special things to do, just like I've been trying to do with the time I have with Hugh while Ben's at school. I just wasn't expecting to hear that today.

And, it kind of got me thinking about why that came as such a shock. So often I doubt myself and my abilities, especially when it comes to things related to parenting. I never feel like I'm measuring up... to what exactly? I have no idea! It's so absurd. But, still there sort of this constant feeling that I'm just not quite on par and may never be.

Where do those thoughts come from? I've always blamed the inner voice in my head. But, what if it isn't our inner voice? What if at some point down the road we find that voice to be from some much darker more sinister source that really preys on our weaknesses and seeks to make us miserable?

I don't think my inner voice is nearly so harsh or unforgiving. On any given day and in any given moment, we are bombarded with so many different emotions and experiences. The thoughts and feelings that come to us from different directions can all be so subtle. Unless it's some big moment, I don't really stop and consider where each thought and feeling comes from.

Starting today, I'm going to be more discerning to the different thoughts and feelings that come to me, because I have this sneaking suspicion that my true inner voice is much more like the still, small voice that whispers encouraging words that build and inspire. It could be that the negative really are coming from somewhere deep inside of me, but even if that is the true source, listening to it still isn't going to be helpful in any way.

I'm not anywhere near the mother I want to be or wish I were, but I am trying so hard... and I can look back and see how much I'm learning and how much I'm getting better at some things. And, even though I'm not perfect all of the time (who is, though?!), I do have some good moments and have figured out how to do some things right.

My biggest fear is totally botching this whole thing and ruining my kids for the rest of their lives. But, then I have moments - like today in my conversation with Ben's teacher - where I look back and see how far we've come together and how much we've been blessed in the process. And, I think we're all doing so much better than we realize. And, whatever negative voices are trying to convince us otherwise are just not worth listening to.

Growing Ben

So, Ben turned three almost three months ago, but we just barely were able to get in for his three-year physical. At his appointment a year ago he didn't handle the whole doctor's office too well. He did some kicking and screaming and made the whole process really difficult. At the time I was five months pregnant and had a really hard time keeping him from hurting himself or anyone else in his struggle.

So, with that memory still fresh in my mind I was a little hesitant in anticipation of this appointment. Thankfully I was able to leave the younger two with Grandma and Grandpa, which gave me some really nice one-on-one time with my little boy who is growing up so fast. If nothing else I realized how much I need to find more time to spend with each of my kids alone.

Right away Ben was weighed and measured. He is 34.5 pounds and 38.5 inches tall - putting him in the 75th percentile for both.

I found the doctor's exchange with Ben to be pretty funny. She started asking him yes or no questions that all had an ideal response of "yes" and Ben answered them all perfectly on cue. "Do you like fruits and vegetables? Do you eat bananas? Apples? Carrots? Broccoli? How 'bout brushing your teeth - do you brush your teeth before bed? Do you eat meat? Chicken? Do you drink milk? Water?" Anyway... you get the idea. There were some questions where his answer should have been "no", but I wasn't going to correct him. It was just too cute!

Ben continues to be far above average when it comes to gross and fine motor skills - the kid is so coordinated, running around in his rain boots that are two sizes too big with effortless ease. We're so happy with the great progress he's been making with his language skills. That has been our biggest concern with his development and I'd say that at this point it's no longer a concern. I mean, it's still something we're actively working on, but he has made such great improvements that we're not as worried about it.

Right now we're mostly concerned with his new-found love of spitting when he's mad and wanting to break things (which reminds me of a good story I should tell about our first broken window a couple of weeks ago.) But, besides the normal three-year old behavior of testing the limits and expressing his independence, he is one fantastic little boy! I love how he likes to hold my hand and when he sits next to me, he'll gently rub my back or my leg to show his affection. He is so gentle with Lucy and continues to work on being gentle with Hugh, too. Ben is so sweet, so adventurous, so creative, and such a joy!

Three Years!

The week after Christmas was one of the craziest we've had and it's taken me a few weeks to bounce back. I've got quite a lot to catch up on. A birthday, a house of sickies, a big move, and a new house to get settled into. All of that happened in less than a week. Then, there was the fun of unpacking, shopping for a washer and dryer, taking a much-needed trip to see a dear friend (just Lucy and me), and then another week of sickies. To say I'm tired is an understatement.

As much as I dislike doing big recaps, the next few posts will be exactly that, starting with Ben's big day. So, here we go...

Ben is THREE! The morning started with Marc taking Ben to the store to buy birthday doughnuts and balloons. He was so excited! Unfortunately around mid-morning, and just before his birth family arrived for his party, he started to act lethargic and clearly didn't feel well. He ended up cuddling up in Marc's lap during most of the party, eating a few bites of pizza here and there. He really perked up, though, when it was cake time.

About a month before his birthday I showed him pictures of a dozen or so different cake ideas and let him pick the one he wanted. Right away he picked the Dump Truck. I was convinced that in his usual toddler fashion he'd change his mind a dozen times before his birthday, so I asked him about every other day. But, he remained consistent in his response every single time.

The day before his birthday he hurt his wrist somehow - we think he must have sprained or twisted it. After looking at it really closely and determining that it wasn't a serious injury, we wrapped it up in an ace bandage, which he thought was pretty cool... but it was still so sad to watch the way he just let his arm hang limply to his side.

We were so happy to have Tracey join us for Ben's birthday again this year. She came with her mom and her daughter, Taylor. This was the first time for Ben to meet Taylor (besides just after he was born) and it was fun to watch them play and interact together. We also had my brother, Jamie, and his family in town and they were with us for Ben's party, too.

Soon after the party was over and everyone had left, we all crashed and slept the afternoon away. Ben ended up throwing up later in the day, reminiscent of how his first birthday ended... hopefully this won't become tradition. Poor kid.

Overall, it was a fun day and Ben seemed to enjoy having all the attention on him. He is such a sweet boy - so creative, so adventurous, so hilarious, so tender to the core. We love him more and more and more. It's impossible to even consider what our family would be like or what the dynamics would look like without him.

Re-livable moments

Since I'm putting Lucy down for bed at night while Marc is getting the boys settled, I usually miss out on the bedtime routine for my boys and I've really missed it lately. I get their energy and action during the day, which I love... but, it'd sure be nice to get a good dose of their cuddles and snuggling as they wind down and drift off to sleep.

Last night they were taking extra long falling asleep, so after Lucy was settled I got a few quiet moment with my boys. They were both wide-eyed and fighting their drooping eyelids. I laid down in the middle, so that I could hold hands with Hugh to my right and reach Ben on my left. We looked up at their big star light that hangs from the corner of the ceiling. Ben was telling me about the "big star" and the "big truck" and the "big wheels." So, I picked up on that "big" theme and started telling them a story, talking in my softest whisper at a nice slow pace.

Within five minutes or so I glanced over at Hugh to see his eyelids half-way closed, which if you're married to any of my brothers you know that in my family that pretty much means you're knocked out. Yeah, it's a little creepy, I know.

So, I continued with the story for Ben who was still wide-eyed and interjecting with his own version of the story at times. After about 15 minutes, Ben's breathing changed to its heavy, almost-snoring-like quality and I knew he was gone.

Instead of getting up right away, I just laid there, enjoying the comfort and the calm of the moment. Then, I turned to Hugh, stroked his hair, kissed him on the forehead and whispered in my softest whisper, "I love you so much." Then, I turned to Ben and did the same. They both laid still, except for the soft rise and fall of their chests, their little bodies sinking deeper into their slumber.

It was one of those moments that filled me with so much love. One of those moments I'll look back on years from now and wish I could have it back again. But, hopefully, the fact that I had it in the first place means I'll always have it in my heart, to re-live again and again.

School Bus Adventure

This time last year Ben started going to an Early Start class twice a week, after concerns we had about his slow language development. He adjusted quickly and loved his teachers, and within the first six months he had achieved all of his goals that we were hoping to reach after twelve months. We've been so grateful for the help we've gotten from his incredible teachers and it has been so much fun and satisfying to watch him learn and grow.

With a new school year starting, we opted to try out riding the bus. Ben loves buses and now that he's a little older we thought he might be ready for this next step. This week he's had his first experiences with riding the bus and so far it has gone remarkably well. We show his pictures of the bus before he leaves and tell him the bus will be taking him to school, to prepare him. The first couple of times he was a little hesitant, but by the time the bus arrives, at school or at home, he is all smiles!

Even after the mishap that happened during his very first bus ride home. Apparently the bus had mechanical problems and had to go back to the bus station to get some help. So, instead of the 15 minute ride home it was more like 50 minutes. I was a tiny bit frantic, but so relieved when he came bounding down those big bus steps with an enthusiasm I wish I could bottle, like such a big boy!

I would have captured one of his huge smiles in the photos below, but then I would have missed out on getting the huge hug as he runs into my arms... and that is far better than a photo!

Ben had an audience waiting for his arrival - Mom, Dad, Lucy, Hugh, Bapa and GG.

Can you see Ben's little head peaking out the window?!

It's still a little strange that my little two-year old is riding a bus. He's growing so fast and making us so proud. He is such a tender soul and so much fun!

Soaking up my boys

The last few days I've really been trying to soak up all the extra time I have with my boys. I know once baby girl arrives, it just won't be quite the same. Not that it'll be bad, it'll just be different. I'm not sure exactly how much they understand about how our lives are about to change. We've done things to help prepare them and I really hope it's been enough to make the transition a little easier.

As I've been doing more to be present and playful with Ben and Hugh, I've been taking note of their growing personalities and finding so much joy in who they are and how they're different.

Ben is constantly in motion and bursting at the seams with energy. I admit that at times it drives me nuts - like mealtimes when we can't get him to sit still long enough to finish his plate and have to literally follow him around the house feeding him bites of food. Then there are days, like today, when sickness strikes and he is lethargic and lifeless and, while I really love the extra cuddling, I really miss my active little guy running around the house and climbing on the table and jumping off boxes. I guess the things that drive me the most nuts are also the things that make him so darn loveable. I have to remember this tomorrow, assuming that he wakes up feeling better in the morning.

And, then there's Hugh. He is feisty and more opinionated than I thought possible at this age, whether it's about what to wear or what to eat or when it's a good time for a diaper change (never!). In public he shows this very serious side, but at home and with people he feels comfortable he is the biggest clown. He loves doing silly things just to make people laugh and then he'll do it over and over again to keep the laughter going. And, if things are just a little too boring or calm, you can always count on Hugh to instigate some drama with stealing a toy from Ben or trying out some new head-butting wrestling move. We're working on eliminating that unnecessary drama, though.

Today I had the rare treat of having some time alone with Ben for a little bit. Two days a week he goes to a play group that's intended to help him improve his languages skills. On those mornings, after dropping Ben off, Hugh usually tags along with me on my errand-running. This morning I dropped Hugh off with my parents and then took Ben to his play group, planning on doing my errands on my own today.

But, as soon as I tried to drop Ben off and he acted much more clingy and needy than usual, I realized that he really wasn't feeling well and decided to skip play group for today. I really needed to pick up a few items from the store, so we made a quick stop before heading home. And, I loved loved loved having that one-on-one time with my little Benjamin! I realized how much I value and appreciate that precious, individual time spent with my boys... and decided I really have to make it a priority for it to happen often.

The coming weeks and months are going to bring some new expectations and changes to our normal routine and schedule. I'm just hoping that I'll find a way to help my boys feel secure and loved through it all. I adore my two little guys more than I can express, even when their two-year old antics drive me a little bit crazy at times. I really do need to remember that those same things that drive me crazy are also pieces of their personalities that I love so much.

Bed transition - Success

So, after the ups and downs of our Saturday night attempts to get Ben settled for the night he ended up sleeping through the night and woke up at 7:05am.

We decided we'd try to remain as consistent as possible with our routine on Sunday night and wait on trying anything new at this point. After gently explaining to Ben that it was time to sleep and he needed to stay in his bed, as I got up to leave his room he literally ran after me and slipped his little fingers around the door to keep me from closing it. It is SO hard to be firm in moments like this, but we've learned from experiences with Ben that consistency and keeping with a schedule really works for him.

I carefully moved his fingers from the door and reminded him again that it was time to sleep. I closed the door and stayed there for less than a minute to keep him from coming all the way out, but as soon as I heard him leave the door, I went and paced the living room sure that he'd be out any minute.

Then, Ben started crying and then Hugh started crying, which on the first night we learned that when Hugh started crying (twice) it was because Ben had climbed into the crib with Hugh. But last night we thought Hugh was just upset because Ben was upset and we were sure Ben was going to attempt to come out any minute, so we just waited for a little while (maybe 15 minutes).

At that point it sounded like Ben was saying "down", so Marc went in to check on him. He had climbed into the crib and was crying from there, all while Hugh had laid himself down on the far end and was already fast asleep, even amidst Ben's crying. Marc got him out and laid him down on his bed and told him it was time to sleep and then came back out. Again, we fully expected Ben to come out, but after a minute of protesting it got quiet and we didn't hear a peep from him for the rest of the night. That was 7:45pm and he ended up sleeping until 7:15am this morning. I went in to check on him a little later and he was snuggled up on his bed with his blanket and his two favorite stuffed animals.

We were able to understand better after last night that Ben climbing into the crib with Hugh must have been Ben's way of telling us of some fears and insecurities he was feeling with this transition. I felt some terrible mother guilt once I saw the whole situation from his perspective. I really felt like crying and was determined that we'd approach this whole bed transition more gradually and give him time to feel secure with the change.

Well, if we thought last night went smoothly, tonight was a piece of cake. We did all the normal stuff - scriptures, prayer, storybooks, songs, cuddling - and just when I was about to get up and leave, Ben patted his pillow and begged me to stay, so I sat down next to him and ran my fingers through his hair and sang him two more verses of his favorite lullaby, telling him over and over how much I loved him. He calmed right down and after making sure he had Elmo and his sock monkey in each arm, asking if he was going to go night-night with Elmo and his sock monkey, he even giggled a little. I wasn't sure if it was enough, but I left him at that point and was totally shocked that he didn't follow me to the door, he didn't cry and we didn't hear anything from him at all. That hasn't ever happened - even when he was in his crib.

I don't know if the coming nights will go quite as smoothly, but I've decided it doesn't matter. I think my mind made a way bigger deal out of this whole transition than it needed to. I'll blame it on pregnancy and my fear of never sleeping again once July comes, which I see now is just silly and ridiculous. I clearly value my sleep - and I value my kids' need for sleep and my role in helping them get the sleep they need to be happy - as well as the sleep I need to be happy. BUT, even more than that I've come to realize through this whole situation that I value providing a feeling of safety, of security, of love. And, coming to that realization (even if a little delayed) is the greater sign of success here.

Bed transition - update

This is for those of you who are interested, as well as for my own attempts to keep track of what we're doing that works and what doesn't work. Our first night of transitioning Ben to a big boy bed was a bit of a long night. I slept pretty good the first part of the night, until about 1am. That was when I heard the boys' bedroom door open. In my half-sleep disorientation, I jumped out of bed and ran through our living room and down the hall, hoping to get to Ben before he stumbled into something in the dark. And, luckily, in the process I didn't stumble into anything myself! He had barely closed the door behind him when I scooped him up and took him back to his bed. He was being really talkative, which was making it really difficult to get him settled down. I had been hopeful that it'd only take me 10 minutes before he'd be fast asleep and I could go back to the comfort of my own bed. Not so lucky.

I made five attempts to leave his room, when I thought he was asleep enough not to notice, and before I could get to the door, he was awake and making his way to the door with me. On that fifth attempt I had to use the bathroom so bad and was so tired and uncomfortable from laying down next to him in awkward positions, that I left him and hoped he'd just stay put. I was really surprised to come out and see that I'd been in there for two hours. That was when I decided to ask Marc to take a turn with him.

I tossed and turned the rest of the night, waiting for Marc to come back, but he ended up falling asleep with Ben until morning. I guess being non-pregnant made a difference in the comfort level.

Thursday night we repeated the bedtime routine from the night before and we both laid down with Ben expecting it to just be a 10-minute process. But, since he'd had a three hour nap that afternoon he wasn't nearly as exhausted. After 10 minutes Marc had to get back to a work project, so I stayed with Ben until he fell asleep. An hour and a half later I emerged from his room, admittedly a bit annoyed and impatient that it took him so long to fall asleep. But, that night he slept through the night and didn't come out until 6am when he woke up.

Friday night I let Marc have a turn laying down with him, which ended up taking about an hour. But we were both starting to feel like it was becoming a bit of a game and making Ben more distracted and dependent on us being there than we wanted him to be. So, we decided it was time to switch things up a little for our routine tonight.

7:00-ish - baths are done, scriptures are read, prayers are said, and snuggle time begins.

7:17pm - We say good night and leave the room.

Between 7:24 and 8:26pm - Ben comes out 25 times and Marc patiently and stoically takes him back to bed. There were about a dozen other moments when he opened the door and shut it again on his own without coming all the way out. By around 8pm he was getting a little fussy, a sure sign that tiredness was starting to hit.

9:00pm - After a half hour of complete silence I went in to put him in his bed, because I was fairly sure that he'd fallen asleep right by the door. In the process of carefully pushing the door open, he woke up and became really frantic when we tried to continue what we'd been doing of laying him down and leaving the room.

So, I caved and laid down with him. As soon as he realized I was laying down with him he wiped his tears and leaned in to kiss me and then cuddled his face right up against mine. I hummed a calming lullaby and within ten minutes his breathing was heavy enough that I thought I was safe to leave. Before I could get to the door he was up and running towards me, totally in a panic.

So, I went back and laid down with him again. I kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "go night night, baby." He then very sweetly brought both arms up and around my neck and pulled me close and would not let go. So, I stayed and cuddled him back to sleep. Again, when I tried to leave, he woke up just as I got to his door. So, the next time, I put his sock monkey in one arm and laid his Elmo next to his other arm. And, rather than laying down, I just sat next to him. It was obvious that he was exhausted by how quickly he was falling asleep. It was just that his radar of being left alone was on a high alert.

9:45pm - On my third attempt to come out, he woke up again, so Marc took a turn going in with him.

10:25pm - Marc emerges without Ben waking up. Success! Well, kind of, I guess.

I'm not really sure what this means for our night tonight, if he'll be so zonked out that he'll sleep through the night like he has been or if our efforts were more traumatizing than we intended and he'll wake up in a panic at some point. And, at this point, I'm really not sure what our plan will be for tomorrow night. But, somehow, someway, we'll all make it through this transition successfully. Hopefully sooner than later.

The First Night

So, a month or so ago I posted about Ben's attempt to climb out of his crib. With how tangled up he'd gotten in the process, we sensed that he was too timid to make another attempt. We decided we'd buy ourselves a little more time to figure out what our next step would be for him. Today we suddenly ran out of time.

Nap time came and everything was going just like normal. Both boys in their cribs, babbling away, which usually ends up in both eventually settling down and falling fast asleep. After about 15 minutes Ben was the only one still babbling, so I guessed that Hugh must zonked out and Ben would soon be on his way.

And, it was right about then that I heard his bedroom door open. I immediately covered my mouth in shock and to stifle the laughter as he came running out, with a huge grin on his face clearly pleased with his accomplishment. Then he turned right back around and ran back into his room and shut the door. A minute or so passed and then Hugh was awake and crying. Ben had gone back in and turned the light on and done something to arouse Hugh.

I took Hugh to my bed to get him back to sleep while Marc worked on getting Ben settled. Since he still takes 2-3 hour naps consistently we know he isn't quite ready to give up his naps completely. Anyway, to make a long story short, after getting Hugh back to sleep I spent the next two hours trying everything I could think of to get Ben to fall asleep, eventually leaving him in there alone, only to have him climb out at least a dozen times before I finally gave up.

By late afternoon, I think we had both morphed partially into monsters. Lucky for us both that my parents got back home today and were kind enough to take both boys to the playground down the street for a little while. In the meantime, I rearranged the boys' room and set up a temporary bed with one of our camping pads and brand new monkey sheets I bought a few weeks ago. I tried to make it look fun and inviting, but was totally dreading our bedtime routine tonight.

We did everything like normal, but Ben was so tired and was clearly having a slightly harder time than normal getting settled down. And, since we put Hugh's crib away and moved him into Ben's, there was some confusion about who was sleeping where and why. Ben kept trying to climb into the crib with Hugh, so we laid down next to Ben to help him with the transition. He was so tired that within 10 minutes or so he was totally out. Hugh was still wide-eyed, but seemed content to settle himself to fall asleep on his own.

That was two and a half hours ago and we haven't heard a peep out of either of them at all. But, I'm very cautious in my optimism! Not sure exactly how the rest of the night will go... if either one will wake up disoriented and scared, or how much sleep we'll all end up getting tonight. But, this marks the beginning of the transition I've been putting off. And, just to be prepared, I'm heading to bed early tonight!

The extra exhaustion of illness

This last week has been exhausting. I mean, life in general right about now is a little on the exhausting side - two active toddlers coupled with being six months pregnant. But, when illness strikes, exhaustion takes on a whole new meaning.

It started last Tuesday when Ben woke up from a four-hour afternoon nap (which is quite a bit longer than normal) and was extra cuddly. I noticed his little body was generating more heat than it should and just let him rest in my arms while we watched some Curious George. As soon as Marc was done with work for the day, he took my place on the couch while I headed into the kitchen to get dinner started. Within maybe ten minutes Ben was throwing up all over himself, the couch, and Marc.

Before bedtime he had thrown up one more time and his fever persisted. But, fortunately, he was holding water down. The night that followed was long and uncomfortable for the little guy. We took turns responding to his cries and with each check on him, that darn fever wasn't showing any sign of breaking. Finally, by the time morning arrived his fever was gone and he was mostly back to his normal, active self.

We initially felt relieved that Hugh wasn't showing any sign of being sick. Then, Thursday morning came with Hugh feeling feverish and miserable all the day long. No appetite, no interest in anything, no energy whatsoever. He would accept water to drink, but shook his head in refusal to anything else we offered. Maybe that was the secret to the absence of any vomiting.

Friday morning, and throughout the weekend, both boys seemed back to normal health again and I was relieved their episodes were relatively short-lived. I was more than a little shocked when I went to drop Ben off at his Early Start playgroup on Monday morning and while helping him get settled, I found myself catching his unexpected vomit in my cupped hands. Luckily we were standing by the sink, so I dumped and when back to catch more as he continued to heave over and over again. I felt so terrible. He had been a little more clingy that morning, but I attributed it to him waking up earlier than usual and just having a harder time getting started.

After getting him cleaned up, I brought him back home, where we spent the entire day snuggled on the couch and his little body refused to hold down anything I tried to feed him. Hugh kept himself busy with an old cell phone, pretending to talk to BaPa and GG, no doubt wishing like I was that they would hurry and come home from their trip to visit my brother and his family.

Today, once again, the morning greeted us with two little boys who seemed back to normal health and activity, but I'm feeling a little skeptical and on guard, just in case tomorrow morning comes with another unwelcome illness, bent on knocking us down once and for all.

On a somewhat related note, I did notice that Ben is just starting to cut the first of his two-year old molars. Is there any chance that vomiting/fevers are related to cutting molars?

25 weeks and counting

I've been terrible at documenting this pregnancy. Life is busy. And, I have to admit that, even though I'm not feeling overly anxious about something going terribly wrong with this pregnancy, I think I tend to keep myself focused on other things to purposely keep my mind from going there. I worry a little about how I'll explain to Baby Girl why I don't have weekly photos of my pregnancy with her (although, I didn't do that with Hugh, either) and why I didn't record more of my feelings during these nine months. So, I'm going to make more of an effort to document more of this, for her sake.

This last Sunday I reached the 25 week mark. To celebrate, my tummy decided to reject everything I'd eaten that day. Throwing up at 25 weeks is not fun. I'm really hoping that night marked the final rendezvous with the dreaded porcelain bowl.

I don't know how much the boys understand what's about to happen, but they pat my tummy and say "baby", as well as understanding that "baby" also refers to a tiny human being. (I should also clarify that they also pat their own tummies and say "baby"... so clearly there's a little confusion still. haha.) Last week, while I was busy making dinner, Hugh came up to me with a ball, trying to stuff it under his shirt and saying "help." So, I helped get that shirt nice and stretched out enough to fit the ball in there. He giggled and then trotted off with his back slightly arched back. Then, of course, Ben had to get in on the fun and brought his ball over with the same request. Funny boys!

I almost wasn't going to include this very unflattering photo of me with the boys, but since when have I ever claimed to live a glamorous life?! This is the real deal, on most days, I tell ya. Tired, pregnant, make-up-less me, just trying to make and keep a happy home. And, actually, I'm totally cool with that.

Here's a more traditional shot of the baby bump, taken two days ago... so roughly at 25 weeks and 3 days. I find it so awkward trying to figure out how to stand for these photos. Do I wrap my arms around my belly? Do I hold it from underneath? Should I put my arms down to the side? Smile at the camera? Look off in the distance? Maybe that's the real reason behind not taking these photos every single week. Too much pressure for this analytical head of mine.

And, I'll leave you with one of my most favorite photos of the boys right now. Sitting on our front porch, Ben wearing Grandpa's beret and Hugh wearing Grandma's newsies cap. Here's the deal, though. This photo is not posed in the least. They are always wearing these hats - as soon as my parents walk through the door, the boys plead/demand to wear their hats. This photo captures so much of their personalities... I love it!!

Transitions

Nap time around here has it's usual routine that goes almost exactly the same every single day. We put the boys in their cribs, sing a calming song, tell them it's time to sleep, and close the door behind us. Then Marc and I sit in the quiet living room and talk briefly about our plans for the rest of the day while we listen to the boys in the background giggling and babbling and laughing some more. There are times when we can't help but laugh just at the sound of their squeals of delight, and wish so much we could sneak a peek of what exactly is going on in there. Eventually they settle down and fall asleep, but sometimes that can take up to an hour.

Well, this past Thursday I was enjoying listening to their joyful noises and wondering at what point I should go in to remind them it was time to sleep, when all of a sudden I hear a frantic scream from Ben that clearly required an urgent response. I rushed into their dark room to see the shadow of Ben's body hanging from the front of the crib, so I flipped the light on to see that he was hanging upside down on the outside of the crib, his legs wrapped in and around the crib slats with his ankles interlocked around the top bar, and his hands gripping the slats near the bottom, hanging on for dear life.

I'm still not sure if he purposely wrapped his feet the way he did to keep himself from falling or if that was done by accident. Either way it scared me good, while at the same time kind of made me want to laugh in disbelief. The urge to laugh only increased as I was carefully getting Ben untwisted from the crib slats, when I looked down to my side to see Hugh's concerned expression and realizing that he had climbed out of his crib successfully at some point before this emergency happened. (The sides on Hugh's crib are slightly lower and a bit easier to climb out of, but still came as a shock that he'd attempted and succeeded.)

Okay, so with the next baby on the way we had already been talking and thinking about the next transitions and sleeping arrangements for the boys, but I was clearly expecting to be able to make those decisions calmly and according to our time line rather than being forced into a decision and a situation I wasn't quite ready for.

And, it made me think - "is this something, as a parent, I should just get used to now?" - because I get the feeling that things like growing up and making transitions through stages in life are most likely going to happen much differently and much more chaotically than the way my OCD-perfectionistic-leaning-little-head would like them to go. And, really, I guess that's okay... I just need to prep myself better to expect that to be the case.

So, we spent part of our Saturday afternoon looking at big boy beds and trundle beds and bunk beds and got lots of information, without any final decisions yet. I think eventually we'll probably do the bunk bed thing, but I look at my little Hugh (who just turned 22 months yesterday) and find it so hard to imagine putting my little baby in a big boy bed already, not to mention the idea of putting Ben on the top of a bunk bed at this point. So, bunk beds eventually, but not quite yet! Even as I write this I can't keep my head from shaking in disbelief.

I'm finding these kinds of transitions to be hard to face head on. I kind of want to just pretend like their attempts to escape their cribs was just a fluke thing and they will be fine in their cribs for another few months until I decide they aren't my babies anymore and they're ready to move up, goshdarnit!

But I know I need to let them take the lead and show me when they're ready for change and opportunities to grow. I don't want to limit them or hold them back, even with something as insignificant as a bed. It's my job to provide a safe environment and a soft place to land as they make those changes and start to grow up. I just can't believe there are moments of growing up that seem to happen overnight. And, really, I get the feeling this is nothing compared to what's to come! Heaven, help me!

Ben turned TWO!

Yeah, I know that was over two months ago. I think I mentioned that on the day of his actual birthday we went out to ice cream and gave him just a couple of his gifts because we wanted to save the big stuff for his big party on a day that his birth mother could make it up. Well, that party happened at the end of January, but since I failed to get the photos off the camera right away, I kept forgetting to post about his big celebration.

After seeing an Elmo cake that a friend made for her daughter, I knew that would be the perfect cake for Ben. For weeks leading up to his party, I'd show him a picture of the cake and tell him that I'd make him his own Elmo cake. Whether or not he fully understood, the excitement would show all over his face. And, the moment he saw his cake for the first time was awesome! The biggest smile I've ever seen... it made me so happy!

I wasn't sure if he'd actually eat the cake since he wasn't interested in his cake at all on his first birthday, but he dug right in and ate every last bite. As did Hugh! So messy and so fun!

It was so great to have Tracey and her mom there for the party. I know someday that will mean a lot to Ben and I'm grateful for their willingness to make the sacrifice to be apart of big days like this with us.

What a happy two years it has been with our sweet, blue-eyed Benjamin! I cannot imagine life without him and feel so incredibly lucky to be his mother. He is such a joy and we are truly blessed!

Photo Catch Up

After finally getting photos from the last three months off our camera, I found some great shots of the boys that I'd totally forgotten about. So, here's a little glimpse into the last couple of months.

These first three were taken while we were visiting Marc's mom. The boys were running around with their cousin Eliza, playing and laughing.

The boys have started to show a lot more interest in helping me in the kitchen, whether I'm cleaning or cooking or doing the dishes. They want to be right in the middle of the action. It's super cute and I really love it, even if sometimes it takes a little bit longer and we all get a little bit messier. Here they are helping me make bread, standing on buckets to be able to reach the countertop.

I love this next photo! I'm not sure what prompted them to do it, but they both spontaneously got into their praying position - Ben tucking his fists under his chin and Hugh folding his arms. Maybe they thought they'd get the bread right away after saying a prayer... who knows? So cute, though!

And, just so you don't mistakenly think that they are perfect little angels all the time, just seconds after being in their praying position, Ben smacked Hugh on the head with the pancake flipper, then smacked himself on the head, perhaps hoping that would even things out. What you don't see since I was scrambling to get to their side to break up the scuffle before someone really got hurt, is Hugh's revenge. Hugh got down, grabbed Ben by his shirt and pulled him off his bucket and onto the floor on his back. Funny how things can go from happily baking together one second to fighting and crying the next... just part of life, I guess!

Since Marc and I both wear glasses, both boys are constantly wanting to wear glasses. In Nursery at church we're told that they are always trying to put Mr. Potato Head's glasses on their own faces, and the only two kids in the group who are interested in the glasses at all. So, every once in a while we'll give in and let them try ours on for a quick second. Here's Hugh wearing mine:

Today I slowed down

But, as I sit here reflecting on the day's highlights, I'm realizing it still wasn't enough.

The day started overcast and very dreary, as it has been for the last week. Time spent outside in this past week has been nearly non-existent, which for two active toddlers is its own form of torture, which also translates into its own form of torture for Mom. Am I right?

Fortune was on my side this afternoon, though, when the clouds cleared and sunlight streamed through our windows, begging us to come out and play. And, that we did as soon as the boys were up from their naps.

As I was getting the boys strapped into the stroller, I noticed a tiny, red ladybug on the siding of our house. I think it was the boys' first time with a ladybug, so I carefully picked her up and let her crawl on my hand, letting the boys watch its delicate movements. Then as I reached toward Ben, he willingly held out his pointed finger to get to know the little ladybug himself. He was so careful and gentle, allowing the ladybug to explore both sides of his hand. Hugh was a little more hesitant, but still curious enough to hold out his hand and have a turn.

Before taking off to the playground, I carefully placed the ladybug on a little flower plant by our front gate and felt so grateful for such a small moment of discovery and wonder that I was able to have with my two boys. So, see, there's my proof I did slow down today.

It was after spending a good glorious hour at the park, sliding down slides and swinging on swings and climbing up slides, that we came home and I went into serious dinner-prep mode. I was so singly focused on that one task that the earnest pleadings from Ben to understand his needs and fulfill his wants went grossly unheard.

I paused a couple of times to peer down at him, hoping it would all of a sudden became very clear what it was that he wanted, but I know I gave up much too easily and was much too hurried in my own task to understand what he was trying to communicate. I offered all of what I thought were the obvious options - crackers, water, Fireman Sam, cottage cheese - but each offer was met with a sharp shake of the head and a clear "eh", which in Ben language means a very emphatic "no!"

I'm mostly ashamed to admit that at one point I briefly lost my patience and responded with "I don't know what you want" in an exasperated tone of voice that even at his young age he felt hurt by and tears immediately welled up in his eyes.

That was enough to snap me out of my robot-like, dinner-prep mode. I knelt down in front of my sweet and sensitive little boy and took his face in my hands and told him I was sorry. I still didn't know what it was that he wanted, but I knew a little lollipop we got from Aunt Caryn would heal his wounds. And, it pretty much did.

A little bit later I was at the kitchen sink, washing my hands and Ben came up to me, with his lollipop stick cleaned off in record time, softly patted my little baby bump with both hands and looked up at me with his big blue eyes and said, "Mama." Right away I asked if he wanted some water and when he smiles and does his sweet little giggle that means "yes!" So, I got him a cup of water and almost didn't pause long enough to recognize the beauty of that little moment. Six months ago I would have begged for him to even say "mama", let alone have him approach me and call me by name with "Mama".

Today was a good reminder for this Mama that many of life's most precious moments are so small and so simple that if I don't slow down to recognize and capture them, they'll pass me by without any idea of what I'm missing out on.

The Joy of Christmas

Christmas was about a million times more exciting this year than it has been since maybe 1982 (for me, anyway). At first, Ben and Hugh seemed just as confused as they were excited, but once the reality of their new toys started to sink in it was just pure joy!

This was their first view upon coming out to the Christmas tree... the unwrapped fire trucks from Santa:

Look at that exchange of expressions... so magical!

Hugh figuring out how his truck works.

At about this point both boys were playing with their own trucks, but kept eying each other, almost as if they couldn't believe they each had their very own truck.

Ben opening another gift, but clinging tightly still to his truck!

That look says it all, doesn't it?!

It was a wonderful day! We enjoyed the company of my parents, who added their own surprises to this mix and making the day even more special. We enjoyed a delicious breakfast of bread pudding and my Mom's trademark tea ring. Opened lots of gifts and felt so full of gratitude. After the morning excitement, we headed to Church for a wonderful meeting. Just before rushing out the door, we got really lucky with snapping a quick photo with the help of the camera's timer. Not bad, right?!

I hope it was a very Merry Christmas for all of you!

Adoption: My Dream Come True

November is National Adoption Month. I had plans of sharing more about my feelings about adoption throughout the month, but this particular November proved to make that much more difficult than I would have expected. I'll probably get around to explaining the reasons behind that in the coming days, but for now I can't let myself get distracted from sharing just a few thoughts about adoption (before the month is officially over).

I suppose the following story, though short and simple on the surface, was the very beginning of our adoption journey.

It was September 2005. Marc and I had been married just over three years. It had been two years since our miscarriage and two years of experiencing the painful ride of infertility. Then, one night I had a dream. I don't remember much about the dream, except the very specific image of a little boy. He had blond hair and blue eyes and a mouth full of teeth, which was what made me guess that he was about two years old. He was smiling at me and me at him. There were no words exchanged, but there was this overwhelming feeling of love and gratitude. As I watched him, there came two very clear thoughts. One, that he was my baby boy. And, two, that he did not come from my body.

I honestly didn't take the details of my dream too seriously (even though the image was so detailed and etched in my memory forever), but I did feel the power of its message. I just figured that the little boy in my dream was simply the face of our adoption hope and the push behind us to find our baby. It wasn't until the following year that we finally jumped into adoption. And then it was another two years before our adoption dreams came true.

And come true they did. In every way I could have imagined. That boy from my dream six years ago is very real and brings us so much joy. To look into those blue eyes and to run my fingers through his soft, blond hair, to hear his giggle and watch him do all sorts of daring things, I feel so incredibly blessed that I am able to call him mine. And, that he came to us in such a special way, through an amazing woman that loved him first. Adoption is a gift and a blessing, on more levels and in more ways that I can count. I find it so fitting that the month set aside for honoring adoption is shared with our holiday of giving thanks.

Two Little Monkeys

Correction: MY two little monkeys...

... feeling extra grateful tonight for the blessing these little boys are in my life.

In Knots

A few days ago Marc and I decided we really wanted to take the boys to a pumpkin patch this year. After some searching online, I found what seemed like the perfect place. A pyramid of hay bales for climbing, a petting zoo, pony rides, and pumpkins, of course. We figured a Thursday afternoon would be the perfect day and time to avoid big crowds and so that was our big adventure for today.

We made a scenic 45-minute drive past beautiful autumn-colored grapevines and those lovely rolling golden hills, with Grandma and Grandpa in their car behind us and some other friends following behind them. It was the makings for a perfect day of fun!

We started off watching the chickens behind their cage. Ben got pecked on his curious little finger that got a little too close, but didn't seem to mind. He did learn his lesson, though, and would just lean his face in close to the cage instead, but clearly keeping a much safer distance. There were cows and at least five little piglets, two ponies, and lots and lots of flies. There was a large field of rows of pumpkins and old rusty tractors for playing on and taking fun photos.

Our two boys and our friends' two boys ran around from one fun corner of the patch to another, with smiles and laughter and that contagious joy you wish you could bottle up and keep forever.

Then, it happened.

Marc was holding Hugh, watching the ponies from behind some railing. Ben ran over to join them and I was standing just a few feet behind them, watching. Then, before I knew what was happening, Ben was on his hands and knees crawling under the railing into the ponies area. Marc tried to grab the back of his pants, but he wiggled free. I ran over as fast as I could, but it was too late. One of the ponies got scared and jumped out of the way, hitting Ben right on the side of the head with his hoof.

It's all such a blur. I grabbed him up as fast as I could. He was screaming and I was so scared of what I'd find when I turned his head over to survey the damage. There was some blood on the upper portion of his right ear and some mud (and/or poop) caked into his hair and head right behind his right ear. My Dad whipped out his trusty white handkerchief (so glad he still carries one around with him) and I used that to put pressure on the part that was bleeding and then we took him to a far corner to try to clean him up and look at everything a little closer.

Luckily, our friend is an RN in the ER and was able to take a look and reassure us that Ben was going to be okay and that his cuts wouldn't need stitches. The upper part of Ben's ear has some cuts and was pretty badly swollen by the time we laid him down for bed tonight, but that seems to be the extent of his injuries.

Oh, and that my stomach is still in knots from replaying the scene in my head all night. But, really, the main reason for the knots is knowing how much worse it could have been. I'm just feeling so relieved and grateful that Ben was spared more serious injuries from what could have been a much more serious situation. With this being the third blood-involved injury in a week, I have two main thoughts: I'm really grateful we were required to take a First Aid class for the adoption process and I'm wondering how I'm going to survive life with such fearless boys.