Christmas Reflections

It has been a wonderful month with my little family, leading up to today's celebration. I've loved watching Ben and Hugh start to catch on to the whole idea of Santa Claus, but even more starting to understand the real reason is to celebrate Jesus' birth. They seem very familiar now with the role of the three wise men, thanks mostly to Marc's role and costume at our Church's Christmas dinner.

I've especially loved the quiet moments with my little Lucy. I love her so much, to the point that my heart aches with love. (Not that I don't love my boys just as much... it's just a different love.) I don't know quite how to describe it. I think there is some aspect of feeling extra protective of my baby girl, as well as some part of me that is reminded of how much I love my other two girls.

But, there is something extra magical about celebrating Christmas with a baby around. It seems so much easier to imagine being Mary, holding her precious newborn, anticipating what blessings and surprises the future will hold for that little one. I can't imagine what emotions she must have experienced knowing her perfect, tiny babe would be the most important person ever to come into the world.

The other day at church, my heart was particularly tender and as we closed the final meeting with Away in a Manger, the words overwhelmed me to tears. Since I was the one leading the music, I tried my best to hide it, but at one point I was too choked up to even get the words out.

We had just had a lesson, based on this talk by Elder Holland (my favorite talk from this past General Conference). I was feeling so overwhelmed with gratitude for the Savior's love in my life, for His willingness to fulfill His mission, His willingness to suffer for my pains and sins, His willingness to die so that we can live again and find purpose in living when life falls apart. He has been with me through life's hardest moments, I've felt it and know it without a doubt. He has been my source of strength and hope.

Lucy had fallen asleep in my arms about half way through the lesson. The weight and warmth of her little body cuddled up against mine filled my heart with so much love. Love for her and love for the little Baby born so long ago, making it possible for my little family to be eternal. But, not just my family. Every family. Those grieving families in Connecticut. I'm still thinking of and praying for them.

So, after that particularly touching lesson and with my little Lucy still softly sleeping on my shoulder, as we sang the final verse of that Christmas hymn, there was no way to keep the tears from coming.

Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask thee to stay Close by me forever, and love me, I pray. Bless all the dear children in thy tender care, And fit us for heaven, to live with thee there.

This is precisely why it's the most wonderful time of the year. Music and words that make us pause and reflect and recommit and prioritize. The challenge now, like with every year, is to remember those reflections and promises to try to be just a little bit better and remember the love and role of our Savior just a little bit more.

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!

Christmas Eve

It's Christmas Eve. Ben and Hugh are tucked in for the night. Marc is wrapping some last minute gifts. I'm trying to stay away from the pies until my stomach has recovered from our Christmas Eve dinner of the most delicious Maple-glazed ham. It has been a wonderful day, going back and forth from my parents' house to ours, trying to stick closely to our nap time routines but still be a part of the fun traditions and activities.

One of the highlights was acting out the story of the birth of Jesus, with my dad narrating from Luke 2 and other verses of scripture. It should be fun to go back and watch the recording we got of it. Since Hugh is the youngest member of the family here, he played the part of baby Jesus, which meant that Marc and I were Joseph and Mary. Ben was the lone lamb who was more interested in wandering than sitting calmly in our imaginary manger. Then we had three shephards - mom, Malachi and McKayla. The three wise men - John, JB, and Denison. And two angels - Dawnette and Talea, who had the cutest lines to repeat. (We had a sick Truman laying down in the other room, who wasn't able to play his part.)

Later, as I was feeding Hugh just before putting him down for the night I thought back to his birth and reflected on many of the feelings that came with his arrival - the fear, the panic, then the relief. I still find myself thanking God for his life that was preserved. I was so honored today to finally get the part in the nativity story that I've always coveted.

I thought of Tracey, who just a year ago was so close to bringing Benjamin into the world. What was it like to be in her shoes? What would it be like to carry a child for nine months and then place him in the arms of another mother? How does it feel to make a sacrifice like that, even if you know it's the right choice for you and your baby?

I don't know how Tracey did what she did. She gave us the greatest gift. Our little Benjamin. I'll never fully understand what it takes to make that kind of selfless choice, but I'll spend the rest of my life making sure Benjamin knows the unconditional love it takes to do what she did. 

Then, I thought of Mary, the mother of the Son of God. As I looked down on my little Hugh, so peacefully cuddled against my chest, I wondered what feelings she might have had as she welcomed her son into the world. Was she overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy? Was she afraid of the sacrifices that would be required of her and/or her son? Did she wonder if she'd fulfill her responsibilities well enough to raise her son in the right way?

I don't know how Mary accomplished what she did to raise and nurture the baby boy who would become the Savior of the world. I can't imagine the burden that she must have felt at times, fully aware of her own inadequacies and weaknesses.

I feel so indebted tonight to some great mothers, my own included, who have fulfilled roles and accomplished great things that have directly blessed my life. I feel a bit overwhelmed at my own responsibilities to be the kind of mother that my boys need me to be. I'm grateful, at least, to have so many good examples to follow after. 

It is really a wonderful time of year. A time of reflection. A time of gratitude for blessings. A time of renewed determination to be a bit better. A time to spend with family, making memories and strengthening bonds. 

Speaking of, I should go and do just that. Marc is snuggled comfortably on the couch, saving a spot just for me. 

Merry Christmas! I sincerely hope this season is one filled with love and hope for good things to come for all of you.

Sleep and Bells

Have I mentioned how much better Ben and Hugh are sleeping these days? I read the book - Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child - and was totally skeptical. I was convinced that the examples in the book of babies that improved their sleep habits were just naturally good sleepers. Mine clearly were not and never would be.

We were desperate, though. So, we decided to give it a try and to stay the course for at least a week before giving up. Little did we know that we'd see dramatic improvements within just a couple of days. It definitely took some determination on our part to be consistent and some will power to stay focused on the ultimate goal of helping them to sleep better.

We now put them down to bed by 6pm. Ben is now sleeping in his crib, through the night, for 12 hours. Hugh still wakes usually just once during the night for a feeding, but he's getting 11-12 hours of sleep at night, too. And, maybe the biggest change is that now we're able to just lay them down and have them go right to sleep without rocking them to sleep. That would sometimes take hours to do and was just wearing us both out. It has been really amazing to see the changes. I was so sure that we just had bad sleepers. Turns out we were doing things wrong, without even knowing it. It's such a relief to have our sleep back!

That said, Hugh woke up at 3am this morning and after his feeding just wouldn't go back to sleep. He'd had a bit of a fever last night, so I'm sure that's what was bothering him. After the morning nap, Hugh was still fussing and Ben was screaming, so I took the boys out on a walk. The sun was shining today and the temperature was in the 60s. Plus it's been a while since we've been up to their favorite fountain. 

After our quick stop at the fountain we walked down to the post office to mail a couple of things. On our way the bell tower of one of the churches near downtown rang, signally noontime. I love the sound of church bells ringing. It feels so quaint, so old, and reminds me so much of my fond memories of Italy. And, after the twelve dongs of the bell, it played a Christmas song that at the time I couldn't quite put my finger on its name. (I later discovered it was God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.) 

There was something about the feel in the air, the leaves chasing down the sidewalk, Christmas bells ringing through the streets, being with my two little boys who were happily enjoying our little outing. Everything about the moment made my heart feel light. This is the feeling I'd been wanting to feel. The calm, the joy. It came in the most unexpected of ways, in a completely unexpected moment.

On a day that started much too early with a baby who was too miserable for words, I felt especially grateful for this little moment. We'll have to follow our same route and schedule in the coming days to find out if the church bells ring out a Christmas carol every day at noon or if there was something special about today. I wouldn't mind hearing those bells again and again and again.

Looking like Christmas

I think this is the first moment today when I've sat down to relax all day. It's just been one of those very busy Saturdays. Even though it was busy, it feels good to have accomplished a lot of things I was hoping to get done.

We had some free time this afternoon when both boys decided to just take a 20-minute nap. Rather than trying to force them back to sleep for longer naps, we opened the curtains and blinds and dug out our Christmas decorations. We got the tree up. (Which also involved clearing a particular space that has been collecting clutter for some time now and getting more and more on my nerves.) It feels so warm and comforting to have the Christmas lights glowing. The excitement and curiosity reflected in the eyes of our boys seemed to be extremely contagious and I enjoyed the process even more than usual.

The weather has been on the gloomy side for most of the last week, and the forecast predicts more of the same. Amid the clouds and the threat of rain, we bundled up and headed out to the cemetery. When we purchased the plot, it was actually a third of a plot with the other two sections being reserved for other babies. It was a little unexpected to see today that one of the other sections has now been claimed. I couldn't help but wonder about the story of little Oleta, while sending a quiet prayer heavenward for her family still mourning their separation.

I'm still not really sure how we'll tell Ben and Hugh about Elliana and Emmaline. I don't know what we'll tell them or how we'll celebrate or remember them as a family. Marc and I were talking the other night about how we'll talk about Santa Claus with our kids. Maybe talking about the twins will just come naturally like any other special person or holiday that we celebrate with special traditions. We still have a couple of years to figure it all out, I guess.

I have a feeling this is going to be one of our more memorable holiday seasons and I'm looking forward to every aspect of it. 

The Night Before

This morning, after a pancake and egg breakfast, Marc and I started the day with a visit to the cemetery. We left some poinsettia bunches at the twins' headstone. We paused for a bit in the warmth of the sun (it was 60 degrees here today), and couldn't help but feel warmth fill our hearts as well. I feel so grateful to have Marc. I feel so grateful for the gift of perspective that has come with the twins joining our family. I especially feel grateful for the role of that perfect Babe born so many thousands of nights ago.

With so much family in town, the day has been filled with last minute preparations for the big Christmas celebrations and traditions tonight and tomorrow. One of my favorite moments today was spent at the piano with my two sisters. We're planning a special (secret) musical number for our Christmas Eve program around the tree with everyone. Since I haven't been blessed with the same natural vocal skills as my sisters, I'll do my best to provide them with some accompaniment. Luckily their voices are beautiful enough to hide any of my fumblings.

While playing the piano for my sisters, I was struck by the beauty and truth of the lyrics of the latter part of the second verse.

The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our Friend.
He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!

In all our trials born to be our Friend. On this particular Christmas Eve, I feel especially grateful for this aspect of the birth and life of the Savior. For much of my life I haven't felt comfortable with calling Christ my friend... it has always felt too presumptuous or something. Like, this feeling that He is much too great and untouchable for me to call him that. But, after passing through this last year things have changed. As never before in my life I'm grateful to know from firsthand experience the special way that Christ is my friend.

There is something special about Christmas Eve. I can't help but wonder a little at what it might have been like the night that Christ was born. I love that we can pause long enough to imagine the feelings of beauty and wonder of such a perfect night.

On this similarly perfect night, wishing you all a Christmas celebration filled with love and wonder.

Some thoughts on being different

My favorite place these days is relaxing on the couch in our front room, surrounded by the soft glow of our Christmas tree. There is a warmth and a calm that comes with it. And since I know our time to enjoy it is temporary, I'm trying to soak it up as much as possible.

I took a quick Sunday afternoon nap in front of it today. Before shutting my eyes, they wandered around the tree to the different ornaments we bought or received last year in memory of our girls. Every ornament has an identical match - there are a couple of sets of crystal angels, a few different sets of birds, the crystal-like "Joy" ornaments, and two silver stars engraved with "Love". I love our tree and I love the love I feel for my little girls when I look at it. And I love dear loved ones who have added their love for our girls to our tree. (That's sure a lot of love!)

It's been interesting to share our news about adopting and being pregnant. As is maybe obvious, we are completely overwhelmed by the news ourselves. We recognize how much we're being blessed beyond belief. Even still among the welcomed joy of these approaching blessings, there is still a place in my heart that aches. As I've interacted with older women who have lost babies decades ago, and I witness how easily the tears flow when they've opened up their hearts to me about their loss, I get the feeling while watching them that the aching will always be there. Of course, until we meet our girls again. Then, maybe then, the holes will be completely healed and my joy will really be full.

I worry a little about some who might expect some dramatic retroactive change in my personality, now that we have these blessings to anticipate. It's true that I haven't been quite the same since losing my girls. Honestly, though, I don't expect to ever be the same person that I was before such a life-changing experience. Those moments in the hospital altered the core of who I am, who I want to be. And, really, isn't that a good thing? So maybe I'm not as happy-go-lucky or however you want to call it... but really I haven't been that way since maybe 8th grade basketball games when I was burning off the Mountain Dew caffeine high. And, that can probably be more classified as immaturity or the results of stimulating substances than anything else.

The truth is that, even while we feel deep joy and gratitude for the blessings that are approaching, there is still a plot at the cemetery that we visit. There are two stockings hanging next to ours that will never be held by the shaky, excited hands of our little girls on Christmas morning. With time we've learned to be okay with this part of our life. We accept the place our girls have in our family, and rejoice that they are eternally a part of us. And while most of those closest to us have accepted us as we are now, I hope that more will accept the ways we've changed because of our girls... rather than expecting us to be back to how we "used to be."  

We're different. And, we're okay with that.

Christmas Morning

Some highlights of Christmas 2008....

Opening gifts:

German Pancakes for breakfast:

Bird-watching:

And, finally, one of the sweetest moments of our Christmas morning. It rained non-stop the week before Christmas. Since I've been sick all week, and with the rain, we haven't been riding to the cemetery. We were happy to wake up to the sun shining on Christmas morning, and decided that after the morning activities we would leisurely ride over to the cemetery. There, we found that someone had left a Christmas card at the twins' gravesite.

So sweet.

So precious.

We were so touched. I don't quite know how to explain what it means to know that there are people out there who would have loved our girls so much, had they had a chance to live a little longer... people who love them even without having had a chance to meet them. Moments like this make this mother's heart so tender. 

Celebrating Christ

I have a lot to catch up from these last few weeks of absence. Not tonight, though. That comfy half of the couch that I call mine is being held... with a waiting, cuddly Marc. I couldn't bear to miss out on that on a night like tonight.

But, I couldn't let tonight pass without checking in and wishing you a very merry Christmas. We are most definitely celebrating Christ at our house - perhaps more completely than any other Christmas past. We are so in awe of that perfect Christ-child, who would grow into His intended full stature and become the Savior of the world. Since He is not here, it is in our hearts that we come before Him, adoring and worshipping. So grateful for Him. He is the reason we have hope. He is our Prince of Peace.

He is the reason we still are a family of four.

Unless, of course, we count Einstein and Watson....

From our home to yours, wishing you a Merry, Merry Christmas!

Thoughts of Christmas

It's late and I should be in bed, but there seems to be a build-up of thoughts and feelings lately that have corroded my sleeping habits. So, I gently laid a kiss on Marc's cheek and rolled myself back out to the Christmas tree with it's welcoming, white glow.

I've always loved the peacefulness of the Christmas tree. Right now ours just has the lights on it. We haven't pulled any of the other decorations out yet. It's been a slow start this year. Just as we were warned, the holidays have added a new layer of difficulty. 

There are the obvious reasons - mainly, the dreams we had of how Thanksgiving and Christmas would be with our twins. We had so many dreams... and really, we still do. But, for now we're sitting in front of our Christmas tree listening to Bing Crosby and Perry Como, eating apple pie, watching movies like Holiday Inn - and while I'm so grateful, especially for the "we" part, it's still more than a bummer that we don't have two little bundles of joy to distract us. We got the tree up too fast, we're sleeping in too late, and have way too much quiet time. I know for many people that probably sounds like a dream come true... but, I've never felt so sad to have such a quiet house. It's definitely harder than I expected it to be.

But, there is another aspect of the holidays being hard that I hadn't anticipated. There are so many distractions that leave me feeling agitated... strangely enough, they are the same distractions that usually make me excited about the holidays. Searching out the most perfect gifts, getting out all the decorations, wrestling my way through the crowded stores (okay, you're right, I don't get excited about that one)... but, really, usually there is an excitement that comes with doing all the normal traditions of Christmas.

I guess a lot of it is that I've become so aware of how tainted my own view of Christmas has been, and still is. As much as I want to think that in past years I celebrated Christmas for the right reasons and with the right spirit, I'm realizing this year that it's a completely different experience. Because our life isn't normal anymore, none of the usual things seem normal either.

Laying in my hospital bed on the night of July 16th, holding my two daughters within minutes of being born, in awe of their perfection, my heart was tender, but at peace. Panic didn't exist in that moment (though, naturally, it was there in the moments prior and has come multiple times since). Instead, on that mid-summer night, I found my thoughts urgently turning to another night in another place and time, when another baby was born. For possibly the first time in my life, the story of the birth of Christ really mattered to me on a very personal level. It became so much more than just a nice story. Even though I had always tried to make Him a personal part of my life, it always felt a little too abstract or something.

There's nothing like death to force you from abstract to reality. All of a sudden, there we were saying good-bye to Elliana and Emmaline. It was different than saying good-bye to grandparents. Maybe that's because in my mind I had always figured that if for some reason there really wasn't a heaven, then I could feel satisfied that after 90-something years, at least they had lived a good, long life. But, in this case, I needed to know like I never had before that it was all true. Those stories of the Carpenter of Galilee - were they just a fairytale, or possibly exaggerated history from 2000 years ago? Did Jesus really do what He said He would do? And, did it really extend to the whole human race, including our precious girls? Did he overcome death for them? Would we really see them again? Are they really ours forever?

In what should have been a moment of sheer terror and panic, there was the strongest assurance that filled our hearts that it was all true. Our experience in the hospital with our daughters is so sacred to us that I won't get into the details here, but the feelings that dominated were ones of gratitude for the Son of God, the Savior of the world. His birth, His life, His death, His victory over the tomb... all of it mattered more than it ever had before. It wasn't abstract anymore. This was real.

It mattered that Jesus was born, that He lived a perfect life, that He willingly laid down His life, that He victoriously raised Himself up again. It matters because through Him I have hope of dreams yet to be fulfilled in this life and in the next, and an indescribably joyful reunion to look forward to.

Since July I've been learning over and over again - He is real. His peace, His healing, His comfort. It is all so real. And, even though He has always been just as real, His reality is so much stronger in our hearts than it ever has been before.

For that reason... this Christmas is different. And, I'm honestly hoping the change will last.

Puzzles and Movies

One of our favorite traditions at Christmastime is building puzzles. It's the only time of year we do it, so it always feels exciting to get out the puzzles. This year, we decided to buy a few new ones. We've finished one and are still working on the second one, but that should be done very soon.





And, while building the puzzles, we've been watching movies! There is a movie rental store we like to go to where you can rent 5 movies for 5 days for 5 dollars. There's nothing like movies and puzzles to make it feel like vacation!

The other night we were watching Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events and it was a little bit on the weird side, to be honest. But, I loved the ending and the message they brought home. Without giving away too much, this is part of a letter the children read after experiencing quite a few "unfortunate events":

At times the world can seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe us when we say there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events, may, in-fact be the first steps of a journey.

I loved that message of the movie.

Then, yesterday we watched Nicholas Nickleby, which is based on a novel by Charles Dickens. Another great movie, with a great message at the end:

In every life, no matter how full or empty one's purse, there is tragedy. It is the one promise life always fulfills. Thus, happiness is a gift, and the trick is not to expect it, but to delight in it when it comes, and to add to other people's store of it … What did these people do when their families shrank? They cried their tears, but then they did the vital thing. They built a new family, person by person. They came to see that family need not be defined merely as those with whom they share blood, but as those for whom they would give their blood.

Before we got into adoption, Marc and I talked openly and honestly about our ability to love a child that wasn't made up of our genes. We started first by looking at our nieces and nephews. Could we love them as if they were our own? Yes, of course. Then, we looked at the children of our close friends. Could we love those kids with a parent's love? Yes, definitely. Then, we started asking the same question, this time about children that we've never had any contact with.

Over and over again we have felt an overwhelming love overflow in our hearts. There is absolutely no doubt that we will cherish and rejoice in opening our hearts to any child that comes into our home, no matter how they get here. And, that is why I love the ending quote in Nicholas Nickleby. Family is so much more than genes and blood.

For much of the last few weeks, my thoughts have been turned to Joseph. I love this inspiring story of a young father opening his heart to a Son of another Father, and loving him and teaching him as his own child. It's an amazing story of the miracle of a family created by love.

On Christmas day I got to hold a friend's two-week old baby girl. Oh the joy! Such a perfect little soul. Fragile and beautiful, bringing out the most tender and gentle feelings. I have moments when I'm afraid that my desire to be a mother will lessen with time, like maybe I'll find some other area in life that will take priority over motherhood. But after moments like holding little McKenna, I feel the yearning has only multiplied with time. I think at times I may appear aloof around people with babies... only because I'm afraid to reveal the aching in my arms to hold a baby I can call my own. I am hopeful that day will come soon.

I know miracles happen and I know they can happen for me personally.

Merry Christmas!

O Christmas Tree

So, we like to buy our Christmas tree about a week before Christmas... hoping that the pine needles will stay on the tree until after Christmas is over, rather than having a bare, needleless tree on Christmas morning.

Well, it has always worked fine for us to find a tree the week before... except for this year. We went to the place we've gotten our tree the last two years and they were out. Okay, no big deal, right? We'll just find one somewhere else. Well, in all our searching we couldn't find any place that still had trees to sell.

At one point we had half-jokingly talked about buying a potted tree. And, it turns out that is exactly what we've done! At the last place we'd gone to check for a Christmas tree, we looked at their potted tree section and finally decided on buying an orange tree. (The choice was actually really easy as that was the only tree they had in stock.)

So, we have an Orange Christmas tree... well, it's actually green, but produces oranges instead of pine cones, but I guess you probably figured that out. :)


Here's Einstein checking it out:


And, Watson also gives his approval:


The best thing about having this as our Christmas tree? We'll plant it next to the apple tree in the Spring, and hopefully have some of our own home-grown oranges for Christmas next year. How cool will that be? Yes, we are feeling rather self-sufficient and environmentally friendly with this little adventure!

As we were driving home from the store after having bought the tree, we were laughing at our situation and how crazy it was that we were using an orange tree as our Christmas tree. That was about when Marc said, "Procrastinate now, get oranges later."

So, there you have it. We have gone against tradition and it's actually been kind of fun. Although, I think I'm going through withdrawals of "pine-scentedness" right now. I'll have to find some pine branch somewhere. Or a candle.

Sarah McLachlan and Adoption

I used to have a very strict rule of No Christmas Music Until After Thanksgiving. But, I happened to marry a guy who likes to listen to Christmas music on random days throughout the year. As a result, I've found my rule slowly going out of style. So, this year I started listening to Christmas music on the Monday before Thanksgiving. Which, is a huge deal for me!

I love listening to old classics like Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, Fred Astaire... they remind me of my Mom's old record player and picking out her records to play during the holidays. Such great memories! I expanded my Christmas music collection last year when I bought Sarah McLachlan's Christmas CD, which is full of great songs! Most CDs only have one or two really good songs... not this one. I love every single song on this CD. So, if you're looking for something new to listen to this time of year, I highly recommend Sarah's Wintersong CD (at this site you can listen to samples of all the songs on the CD).

Here is a video of Sarah performing the title song of the CD:


I first started listening to her music about ten years ago and she has become one of my favorites that has passed the test of time. I love her music, I love the depth of her lyrics, I love her voice... and I've recently learned something new about Sarah that makes me love her even more.

She was adopted.

Sarah McLachlan was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, to a woman named Judy James (or Kaines; sources differ) and was adopted soon afterwards by an American couple living in Canada, Jack and Dorice McLachlan, who have two other adopted children.

From the age of four McLachlan was a singer and played the ukulele, and studied music later at the Nova Scotia Royal Conservatory. She joined a band called October Game when she was 17 but did not become a full-time musician until after completing her education at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design.

It was during her time at NSCAD in 1986 that one source claims a friend remarked on her resemblance to another friend of hers, who turned out to be her birth mother. They now have a continuing friendly relationship.
(Information from http://www.adoption.com/)

I love hearing other peoples' adoption stories. I have grown to love all things related to adoption. So, on this last day of National Adoption Month, I just want to say that I love adoption. I am so grateful for the chance it gives us to grow our family. Not only do we look forward to welcoming a child into our home, but we also look forward to expanding our family to include the birth family, who we will love forever. Words can't express the feelings we feel.