Growing Family

The Giant Stretchy

At this point, the little bun in my oven is gaining about an ounce a day. My skin is trying to come to terms with that fact, but I think my skin might be on the losing end of this battle.

This morning I received the most gorgeous package from my sister. A lovely box covered in magazine photos for wrapping paper. I'd take a photo if the battery in the camera wasn't dead.

Inside the box I discovered a bottle of rich, creamy, thick lotion: bath junkie lemon verbena and vanilla. Super yummy.

Experts say that no amount of topical lotion, no matter how expensive, is going to prevent stretch marks. I spoke to a midwife who said it's what you take internally that makes the difference (a tablespoon of raw pressed oil a day, lots of water, and zinc supplements) and I'm trying to keep up with that. At the end of the day, though, I am turning to the lot on my bedside table, hoping to save my skin.

Vitamin E oil, Rose lotion, and now the Bath Junkie line up like little soldiers, fighting for my epidermis. 

I am still sleeping through the night rather comfortably, and rarely get up for any (ahem) reason. I have less indigestion than I did last time as this baby is lowwwwwww. And while there is a definite waddle to my gait, I can still tie my own shoes...most of the time. Not bad for 36 weeks, eh?

But by the end of the day my belly is often red and angry with the giant stretchies, and my back and uterus feel incapable of carrying the weight of baby any longer. If I try to stand and wash the dishes at the end of the day, my body is screaming! In general, my "to-do" lists are getting shorter and shorter. When hubby asks me what we did in the day, I am happy if I can list one or two things accomplished, and I leave out vivid descriptions of me sitting on the couch, propped up with every pillow available, or sneaking to my room to lie in bed for a couple minutes while the kids are busy with something. I don't want him to think I just lie around all day! (Even though I lie around as much as I can manage!)

So that's it. I am one giant stretchy. My shape is losing its pert circularness and deteriorating into sagging ovals. I think I'll go shopping soon to buy some post-baby things to pamper myself with. Not skinny jeans, mind you, more like comfortable cardis (cardigans, you non-Aussie readers!) and socks without holes.

Ah, socks without holes. What could be better than a new baby and socks without holes? Sigh. Grin.

Another Adoption Head-Spin

In facing the challenges I've had this week with Small Sun, I emailed my old playgroup friends in the States. We have a yahoo group that has acted as the forum for many a lively discussion, from breastfeeding to schooling decisions. I love that group of women and often turn to them for encouragement and ideas when I'm facing a parenting challenge.

The responses I received were helpful. Some new ideas emerged, and some things I'm already doing were reinforced. Also I felt surrounded by community as I focus on parenting in this particular season. One thing that several people said that got me thinking, however, was the sentiment along the lines of "God put Small Sun into your family, so you can trust that God will help you to be the parents he needs."

I just want to unpack that statement a little bit and share how I feel about it, purely from the angle of how I react to it, not from examining the accuracy of the statement itself.

I put a lot of trust in the sovereignty of God in our lives, and find comfort in His omniscience. So on one hand, this statement could be incredibly comforting to me. It would be if it was made about my daughter. I discovered her there in my womb, and it felt nothing short of miraculous that God chose to knit her there, in me. I can believe that God meant for me to parent her because He put her right there in my body. Kind of hard to miss His intentions on that one.

But with Small Sun, well he was planted somewhere else. He was nurtured and carried and cared for in the womb of another mother. I think in most voluntary placement adoptions it's like apples to oranges if you try to line up the pros and cons of the first family and the adoptive family to figure out who was "more fit" or where the child would be "better off". I think it's a futile exercise and pointless to do. Things are lost and gained on either side. Some things are more easily measured, like financial stability, private school education, etc. But it's the things that are harder to measure where I feel the child loses and gains more: it is in belonging to a genetic heritage, matching with your family, and having your gifts, and personality make sense within the framework of your family that really end up meaning something in the end.

So to stumble back around to statements like "Small Sun belongs in your family", "You are the best parents for Small Sun", and "God put Small Sun into your family for a reason", well, they just make me squirm. I can't flat out disbelieve them because I CAN see so much Providence in the joining of The Captain and I with Small Sun's first mother. Yet I certainly can't believe them because to say that Small Sun belongs with us, is to say that he did not/does not belong with his first family, and I don't believe that to be true. To say we are the best parents for Small Sun is to say that his first mother wasn't the best mother for him and I don't believe that either. And while I do believe that God had purpose in bringing us into Small Sun's life, I don't believe that it was God's hand that severed the mother-child relationship he had with his first mother.

Perhaps some of this is tied up in open adoption longing? If we had a more open adoption, perhaps I could believe those statements to a greater extent, because my mothering wouldn't feel so much an exclusion to Small Sun's other mother. I don't want to be the only mother present in his life, but I am.

So when I receive this intended encouragement, I actually feel myself grit my teeth and batten down the hatches a little bit. I feel like I've got to do this adoptive parenting thing the best that I can, but I can't be deluding myself with any platitudes about Small Sun's supposed belonging in our family. I can't indulge in making my experience in the relationship more comfortable, at the risk of further alienating Small Sun from his first family. I can't rest easy on the belief that he is "supposed to be with us". 

Flip that coin around though, to a situation where someone is questioning Small Sun's belonging in our family, and I will fight with claws and teeth to defend him. In the space of a breath I will be nose to nose with the offender, declaring myself definitively and permanently his MOTHER. That is different though. That is a matter of defending him in our family and making sure that he is protected and that he belongs.

Belongs...there it is again. Tricky thing, belonging. I guess it is when belonging in one place means not belonging in another that I begin to squirm. I think that there are seemingly opposing truths that can exist simultaneously but I don't feel like I've matured enough as an adoptive parent to be there yet.

Instead of helping me sort out my thoughts, this blog entry feels like multiple muddy footprint trails all over a nice white rug. Rather than finding the head and the tail of the animal I think I'm wrestling, I am groping blind finding a foot here, a wing there, all muddled and confused. Sorry, but that's the way adoptive parenting is a lot of the time.

Stuck on Adoption Losses

We're in our second week of school holidays and the whole schedule is off kilter. If I know anything about my son, it's that he NEEDS to have a schedule, and know what's happening next, and how it will go down. Besides the holidays he knows that it is his birthday "soon", and baby is going to be born "soon". I try to explain that those things are happening next month, but he keeps asking "is it my birthday tomorrow?"

We are dealing with some really hairy behavior here at the moment. Hairier and scarier than any previous toddler carryings-on. Aggression. Defiance. Physical hostility (okay, violence).

The behaviors Small Sun is displaying freak me out. That is usually my response when our children start pressing a boundary they haven't tested before; I feel overwhelmed until I've got my Plan in place. Once I've got The Plan, I just keep plugging away at it until the tide turns.

Here's the thing, though - my concern over the impact of adoption losses on my son clouds my vision.

We have got a clear vision of how we are parenting. We've got our ideals and approach solidly in place. We may tweak the approach from time to time as needed, but we are unified and decided on how we are raising our kids. Within that framework, I know what needs to be done in light of this new behavior. Consistency, maintaining the boundaries even when they are being pushed to the limit, and keeping a calm and even tempered demeanor while having a backbone of steel.

But when I look at the situation through the lens of adoption, primarily adoption loss and primal wound perspectives, my resolve comes all undone. I see the disrupted schedule, the uncertainty of the future from the perspective of a (nearly) four year old, the looming impact of a new sibling (a boy who "matches"), and all the questions and emotions surrounding these things. I am filled with empathy and I understand the wildly ranging emotions and the difficult behavior.

That's where the gears stick for me: stalling at empathy and failing to deliver the consequences that will help my son learn self control and self assurance. It's like I can either stick to the plan and disengage from an empathetic response, or I can engage my empathy and have trouble maintaining the boundaries. I really struggle to do both simultaneously.

Here's the thing: it really doesn't help my son if I feel like I understand him, but I don't help him along in making good choices in life. And at the same time, I would be neglecting his emotional needs if I was consistent with setting boundaries for him, but didn't engage his heart. I need to do both. Some days that is just so hard.

Pasen - Easter

In Australia we have Good Friday and the Monday after Easter as holidays, so we are at the close of a wonderful four days of family time.

Friday included a wonderful morning in the reserve near our house, with the kids riding their bikes and laughing. Then on to a friend's birthday party where there was a fabulous spread and face painting and a jumping castle for the kids.

Saturday we started with an Easter Egg hunt and egg painting, which the kids REALLY enjoyed. Then, in the evening, The Captain and I got a date night (we haven't been out since November! eek!). We went to Surry Hills, which is a neighborhood we liked when we were searching from the States. We never actually went there after moving here, so we went to check it out. Then on to a walk in Hyde Park where we saw two possums, a number of mice, and a bat (this is in the heart of the city). Our time out was curtailed by some seriously strong contractions. I'm still six weeks from my due date so we don't want to encourage those!

Sunday we attended church and The Sprout enjoyed the pony rides provided afterward. Small Sun preferred to observe, but not participate. Then we had some American friends over for a combined effort dinner of salad (almond mandarin orange salad, yum!), leg of lamb, roasted veggies, garlic pesto crustinies and olives, and chocolate cake. We then proceeded back to the reserve for another afternoon of walking, feeding the ducks, and sitting on the hill while the children tumbled and ran all over the place.

Today we did part of the coastal walk, from Tamarama to Bondi. I've been wanting to do this since we got here, and enjoyed it so much. Then, home for an afternoon with The Captain's cousins who are always a joy to be with. We took a walk in the rain to the playground for the kids to let of some steam. It ended up pouring! Back home again for the children to have a bubble bath and hot chocolate to warm them up. After the cousins left we watched Alvin and the Chipmunks before having breakfast for dinner and putting the kids to bed.

I am seriously tired; nearly falling over from exhaustion (or low iron, it's a toss-up). But we had such a wonderful long weekend and I feel like we made memories, even if we didn't leave the city. Now we have no obligations for two weeks as all of our activities cease during school holidays.

I hope your Easter was enjoyable. Check out these pictures from the coastal walk. Sometimes I just pinch myself living here!

The famous Iceberg club pool at Bondi.

28

Today started with breakfast in bed, and a gift wrapped shovel from The Captain. Now before you shame him for giving me a gift with the romance equivalent of a vacuum, know that I have been asking/hinting/begging for a shovel for weeks. I was absolutely delighted.

My day was filled with pleasant surprises. A gift from my mother on the front porch, following her annual tradition (executed by The Captain and a good friend).

A knock on the door from my neighbor, with a pot of daffodils and a birthday card.

The good friend mentioned above coming over for morning tea, bearing chocolate cake and a bag of "mummy only" chocolate hearts.

Another friend coming over to bring me plants and bulbs for my garden.

Birthday packages from my Oma-in-law and my mother-in-law, with lovely gifts and kind cards.

An endless stream of Facebook greetings and texts and voicemails and emails.

Hours spent digging happily in the garden.

Perfect weather, sunny and warm with a bit of fresh crispness in the air and the blue sky.

An hour long nap while the children napped.

Baking an apple spice cake with my sweet children.

Eating take out from Jaipur Bazarre, and topping it off with yummy cake and ice cream.

Children going to bed quickly and without fuss.

Really, what more could a girl ask for? I feel love coming to me from over my neighbor's fence and from the far side of the world. Thanks to all of you who made it a wonderful day for me!

From 2 to 3

Only six weeks and two days until we become a family of five. Time seems to be simultaneously hurtling forward, and dragging by. I am so eager to meet the new baby, and it seems like it is taking forever! But then each week I blink and the week is gone, eaten up in playgroup and play-dates and preschool and church meetings and errands and birthday parties and girl's nights and book clubs.

We bought a car seat on Saturday. The plan was to go peruse the options and then look for the favored model second hand, but after trying the only four "narrow" seats in the back of our wagon, and having only one fit where we can still close the door, we went ahead and bought it. Having a car seat sitting there, ready to go, well that feels like a big deal to me.

I thought that I would be more nervous about transitioning from two kids to three kids, but strangely, I am feeling completely calm. Now that we've got the birth plan (I'll lie still while the OB cuts the baby out), and the childcare (blessed in-laws coming to stay) worked out, I am significantly less stressed. Having three kids under four isn't worrying me at all.

Perhaps it is perspective? I know the first six months or so are likely to be VERY challenging, and I expect to feel like I'm going back to ground zero with productivity/freedom/etc. If I can keep my children fed, clothed, hugged, and get Small Sun to preschool, I will have accomplished my six month goals for our family. If that means ordering over-priced groceries online to be delivered to my door, letting the kids wear goofy outfits, snuggling on the couch while they watch too much tv and movies, and being the "bad parent" who doesn't volunteer to help with anything, anywhere, so be it.

I worry about not being able to pick up and snuggle Small Sun and the Sprout. I worry about it raining a lot this fall and us being stuck inside, snarling at each other. But really, I don't worry much.

New Baby will come. We'll all be ecstatic. We'll take it easy and rely on the help of friends and family (three rounds of reinforcements spending a total of 8 weeks with us over a four month period), we won't look too closely at the baseboards or the ceilings or under the claw-foot tub. We'll spend lots of time cuddling and eating take out.

I have a really good friend here who has three kids. Her baby is five months old, and her son is four. I don't know how she's survived the last six months, truly. But she didn't slow down. She didn't say "no". She just kept up the same pace. I don't think I can do that and stay sane. To me, having a new baby means we hunker down in the family bunker, we hang a permanent "NO" sign to the rest of the world, at least until we're ready to rejoin society.

With Easter coming up, The Captain and I were talking about how our church here has so many Easter services and attending holiday services is a big part of the church culture we're in. For both of us growing up, holidays were a time when we attended church very little, even foregoing Sunday services, as our families believed that the sharing of faith is most salient within the walls of our home, with our families. We would close the doors to huddle together to read the scriptures, to share the outworking of our faith in our lives, to eat together, savoring the blessing of family, which is the gift of God. I don't think it is selfish or indulgent to turn inward (bringing others into our family circle, at times) instead of participating in outward activities, during momentous occasions.

So, maybe I'm being naive. Maybe it will be harder than I think. I really don't know. I just expect it to be hard and beautiful as it was when Small Sun came home, and when The Sprout was born.

I am finding that I am more excited about the arrival of this baby than I was with the first two. With Small Sun I felt so much hesitation, trying to identify when he was really "mine" and I could give him my whole heart without encroaching on his mother's time. With The Sprout I had mothered a newborn, but I hadn't experienced the resulting baby after giving birth. Being pregnant was to carry mystery inside me. Now I know the before and after: the kicks inside that take my breath away, that very soon will become little feet tucked against my ribs as I nurse.

I am surprised to find that my two children are very grown up these days. At almost 2.5, The Sprout is potty trained, sleeping in a toddler bed, and can put on her own clothes. At nearly 4, Small Sun is able to help in SO many ways. This is completely different than when Small Sun was 1.5 and I had a new baby. I know their ages may present different challenges, but they are not babies that need me to do everything for them. At the same time, they were babies so recently, that I am not too far out of the habit of diapers and night feedings. I think the fact that they seem so "big" and capable is helping me not feel too concerned.

I'd love to hear feedback from other mothers about the transition from two to three, and about recovering from a c-section. This isn't a beautiful post, but it is a record of how I'm feeling, on the cusp of three!

Circles

I am a study in circles. I even thought about making a toothpick creation to illustrate, with olives and cherry tomatoes and the like...but then I got hungry and ate some lunch (healthy lunch, people!).

I always fall firmly in the "hourglass" category, but then my waist thickens in pregnancy (understatement of the century!) and everything gets more and more round. You know those women who are lean and long and their pregnant bellies just kind of cling to them with bits of sinew and scotch tape, like they could just pop off and roll away? Well I am not one of those women.

You see, I am an empathetic person and even my body responds in sympathy to my growing womb. The rest of me doesn't want my belly to look out of proportion on my body, so it grows as well. Huge round breasts. Giant round belly (going more lopsided these days as this baby presses the boundaries of decency in his efforts to get comfortable). And yes, a really giant bubble butt. It is verging on comical.

The only thing funnier than this round body is the fact that in a few more weeks the breasts will grow even more as the rest of me shrinks. At that point I might end up like a unbalanced stroller where the shopping bags hanging on the handles pull the whole thing over when the child climbs out. I recently saw an add for a nursing bra where there were tiny cranes lifting all the seams to offer support that is supposedly unmatched. Yes, I think I will need one of those bras with built in crane action, I kid you not.

Many of my friends here are Asian and fall into the stereotype - size 2, less than 100 lbs (post kids!), boyish figures. Next to them I am a circular giant. In a group of them I am the answer to the song "One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just isn't the same..." One friend, presumably not knowing her lack of tact, exclaims "you are so big! How can you get bigger?!", and asks to squeeze my fingers, saying "are your hands swollen or are your fingers so big!" I absorb it all with good humor. They don't know what I know.

In the next seven weeks I can get much, much bigger than this! To comfort myself on days where I have trouble getting up off the couch, I remember the pictures of the last couple of days in my first pregnancy. My belly was like a watermelon turned longways, away from my body. Forget mini-cranes for the breasts, I nearly needed a walker just to support that belly!

So yes, sometimes I cry snottily onto The Captain's tshirts (after careful maneuvering to be able to position myself that close to him), something muffled but resembling "snufflesnufflebigfatcowsnufflestretchmarksnuffleneverrecoversnufflejustwanticecream". But most of the time I just shake it off and acknowledge that this, this study in circles, is what my body does. I am eating well, I am chasing after two kids, I am working in the garden, I am pressing into life even when I'm tired. I'm doing my best to not add to the roundness. Now, if I can just keep my chin up for seven more weeks, the numbers on the scale will begin to fall and I'll be able to hug my husband again.