The owner of the adoption agency arrives, and lets us know that the birth parent counsellor and the birth mother will be there soon. It's just as I thought - bad conditions on the road. We sit and chat for a bit before the doorbell rings again.
I try not to stare at her wonderful, round pregnant belly. I try not to think about first impressions, and what she is thinking when she sees me for the first time. Everyone hugs hello, and coats and boots are removed. We all complain about the weather.
Right away, we go to the nursery, since it's on the main floor (our house is a bit odd... the bedrooms are all on the main floor, with the kitchen and living room upstairs). We stand there in the finished room, and I can see she's impressed with all of our hard work in getting the nursery ready. I want to show her all of the things we've carefully purchased and borrowed, but I know that my excitement over this adoption is met by her sorrow and sadness, that it has come to this. I mute myself as much as I can, but hope that she can see that we are truly ready to parent her child.
We move upstairs, and sit on the couch. I won't go into details of what we discussed. She had questions for us, and we had questions for her. One of the things discussed was openness... she was pretty sure she wanted a closed adoption, because she knew this was an incredibly difficult decision for her to give up her child. We expressed that it was up to her, but that we were more than willing to have an open adoption later on if she wanted to get into contact with us.
Because of this possibility of a closed adoption, I had a list of questions for her. What was her favourite food... her favourite subject. What kind of music did she like. What things she hated. All things that one day, her child might wonder about her.
I asked her how her pregnancy was, because I knew, once this little girl grew up and became pregnant with her own baby, she would want to know to see if their pregnancy journeys matched.
We had tea. We had pastries. She asked a question which led to me talking a bit about infertility, and old wounds bled fresh. I cried. Around the same time, she cried talking about how hard of a decision this was, placing her baby up. My only regret in our four hour meeting was that I didn't hug her at that point. I wanted to, but I held back, mainly because I think I would have completely lost it.
She was heading to the hospital after our meeting. We said our goodbyes, I said thank you a dozen times. We packed up some leftover pastries for the hospital room, joking about how bad hospital food was.
And then they left.
I'm pretty sure I fell asleep within minutes of lying down, exhaustion catching up to me. With work the next day, and potentially the baby being born, I needed every bit of sleep I could get.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Presentment #3 - Chosen
So there we are, doing groceries at No Frills and figuring out how many pears to buy when I get an email from our social worker asking her to call us.
Eeeeek. We will call this Day 1.
We get home and call. There's a baby due in three days! She tells us the little that she knows about the birth mother and pregnancy, and asks if we would like to be considered. We say yes, and she hangs up to call the adoption agency to let them know that they can give our profile to the birth parent counsellor.
At this point, there is nothing that we can do but wait. We've been at this point twice before. We try not to get our hopes up. I resist on doing anything that could remotely be considered as planning, because I know once I start, I won't be able to stop.
We try to go on as normal, except that I can't help rush to the answering machine when we get home to see if there are any messages. My cell gets checked in the middle of a meeting even though I've been eyeing it the entire time. My email gets refreshed manually because clearly, the 1 minute auto-refresh isn't often enough.
Day 6. I send an email to my social worker with just five words: Any update? Let me know!
She lets me know that the birth parent counsellor is meeting with the birth mother either that day, or the next.
I buckle and allow myself to do just a bit of Googling. Just... in... case.
Day 7. I'm home sick from work. The Olympic opening ceremonies are on which distracts me from illness and impatience.
And then I get a call. The agency tells me we've been chosen by the birth mother. Clearly, I am shocked because I don't burst into tears at the news. I pace as my hand grips the phone, for fear of dropping it. My social worker calls soon after, and I can hear the happiness in her voice for us. I joke around about how much she's done for us, and she doesn't get to tell us the good news. We figure out that she needs to see us tomorrow, and that the birth mother, agency and birth parent counsellor will come by in two days to meet us, because the birth mother wants to meet us and see the house in order to feel comfortable with her decision.
A million things SHOULD be rushing through my head at this point, but all I can think about is that my husband isn't home, and that I need to come up with a good way to surprise him with the news. This is our equivalent of a positive pregnancy test - something we never got to experience.
I write on our white board in the kitchen where we write our chores:
TO DO LIST.
Get ready for baby <his last name>.
The birth mom said YES!
I pace and rewrite the sign five times waiting for him to come home. Pictures are taken for the baby's life book. I imagine how I will tell the story to our child about when I found out I was going to be a mother, and how Daddy reacted.
He comes home, I lie and manage to get him upstairs to look at the white board right away. We go through the rest of the night shocked together that this is finally happening to us.
Day 8. A quick visit to the neighbourhood children's store results in baby gates, baby safety locks for our cupboards, and outlet covers. I can't help but tell them the whole story, feeling like I need to explain why I'm so shaky and so having no clue what locks to get.
We meet with our social worker and go over the birth mother's profile. Since the birth mother is coming over tomorrow, she advises us that the nursery needs to be done as much as possible, so that she can see that we are ready. It's important for her to visualize that this is where the baby will be.
We call my husband's siblings to ask for some of the stuff that they've held for us. It's already 5 PM, but we figure out the best route to take to be able to visit my sister-in-law, her neighbour with the crib, IKEA, and my brother-in-law. My need to plan is in full force, and my husband is rolling with everything we need to do. Our feet have not touched the floor.
Everyone is thrilled for us. There's so many lovely baby items packed for us, that before we even get to my brother-in-law's, we have a packed car. We drive back to the house to empty out the car, pet the confused dog, and drive across town to my brother-in-law's to fully fill up the car again with items including a stroller.
The rest of the night is a blur. We move the old dresser to the back yard to be disposed, we move my desk to the other spare bedroom. All the walls, shelves, floor, baseboards are cleaned. We don't have time to repaint, but the previous nursery's walls are a pretty green, and is perfect for a baby whose gender is unknown to us. The new rug is laid down where the crib will go. A new blind is put in, one without loops that pose a danger to little ones. The borrowed change table is assembled, and I place the diapers, formula, and bottles on the bottom shelf. The top gets the contoured change pad, cover, and a receiving blanket over top.
I sort through the books and pull out all the ones that are for babies. They get placed on the shelf. The car seat, baby mat, and baby swing gets placed in the little nook under the shelves. We assemble the crib, place the sheets and blanket on, and decorate the crib with the small stuffed animals I've saved over the years for the little one that we've been waiting for.
The newly purchased dresser takes the most amount of time. By this time, it's 4 AM and we are so tired. At that point, the instructions look like they are written in hieroglyphs. We soldier on and get it done, and decide to get up in a few hours time to finish.
Day 9. I'm up at the crack of dawn. Adrenaline is my friend. The room is starting to take shape, with all of the furniture assembled. I go through the boxes and boxes of borrowed items and place all the unisex baby clothes and blankets in the dresser. We hang up a mirror above the dresser. I cuddle with my childhood teddy bear in the mirror, so that we can figure out the exact height that would allow the baby to stare at wonderment at his/her reflection.
The rest of the house is tidied, and then tidied some more. My husband goes off to get milk from the corner store, because we typically don't have milk in the house, and what if they want milk for their tea? He also goes to the local bakery for some sweets.
Normally I'd be tempted toattack sample them to make sure they are edible for our guests, but I can't eat.
We sit for an hour or so, waiting for the birth mother, birth parent counsellor, and owner of the adoption agency to arrive. My husband tells me he is nervous. I tell him I am excited.
They are late. The roads are bad, I tell myself, but I wonder if during the car ride, the birth mother has suddenly changed her mind.
The door bell rings.
Eeeeek. We will call this Day 1.
We get home and call. There's a baby due in three days! She tells us the little that she knows about the birth mother and pregnancy, and asks if we would like to be considered. We say yes, and she hangs up to call the adoption agency to let them know that they can give our profile to the birth parent counsellor.
At this point, there is nothing that we can do but wait. We've been at this point twice before. We try not to get our hopes up. I resist on doing anything that could remotely be considered as planning, because I know once I start, I won't be able to stop.
We try to go on as normal, except that I can't help rush to the answering machine when we get home to see if there are any messages. My cell gets checked in the middle of a meeting even though I've been eyeing it the entire time. My email gets refreshed manually because clearly, the 1 minute auto-refresh isn't often enough.
Day 6. I send an email to my social worker with just five words: Any update? Let me know!
She lets me know that the birth parent counsellor is meeting with the birth mother either that day, or the next.
I buckle and allow myself to do just a bit of Googling. Just... in... case.
Day 7. I'm home sick from work. The Olympic opening ceremonies are on which distracts me from illness and impatience.
And then I get a call. The agency tells me we've been chosen by the birth mother. Clearly, I am shocked because I don't burst into tears at the news. I pace as my hand grips the phone, for fear of dropping it. My social worker calls soon after, and I can hear the happiness in her voice for us. I joke around about how much she's done for us, and she doesn't get to tell us the good news. We figure out that she needs to see us tomorrow, and that the birth mother, agency and birth parent counsellor will come by in two days to meet us, because the birth mother wants to meet us and see the house in order to feel comfortable with her decision.
A million things SHOULD be rushing through my head at this point, but all I can think about is that my husband isn't home, and that I need to come up with a good way to surprise him with the news. This is our equivalent of a positive pregnancy test - something we never got to experience.
I write on our white board in the kitchen where we write our chores:
TO DO LIST.
Get ready for baby <his last name>.
The birth mom said YES!
I pace and rewrite the sign five times waiting for him to come home. Pictures are taken for the baby's life book. I imagine how I will tell the story to our child about when I found out I was going to be a mother, and how Daddy reacted.
He comes home, I lie and manage to get him upstairs to look at the white board right away. We go through the rest of the night shocked together that this is finally happening to us.
Day 8. A quick visit to the neighbourhood children's store results in baby gates, baby safety locks for our cupboards, and outlet covers. I can't help but tell them the whole story, feeling like I need to explain why I'm so shaky and so having no clue what locks to get.
We meet with our social worker and go over the birth mother's profile. Since the birth mother is coming over tomorrow, she advises us that the nursery needs to be done as much as possible, so that she can see that we are ready. It's important for her to visualize that this is where the baby will be.
We call my husband's siblings to ask for some of the stuff that they've held for us. It's already 5 PM, but we figure out the best route to take to be able to visit my sister-in-law, her neighbour with the crib, IKEA, and my brother-in-law. My need to plan is in full force, and my husband is rolling with everything we need to do. Our feet have not touched the floor.
Everyone is thrilled for us. There's so many lovely baby items packed for us, that before we even get to my brother-in-law's, we have a packed car. We drive back to the house to empty out the car, pet the confused dog, and drive across town to my brother-in-law's to fully fill up the car again with items including a stroller.
The rest of the night is a blur. We move the old dresser to the back yard to be disposed, we move my desk to the other spare bedroom. All the walls, shelves, floor, baseboards are cleaned. We don't have time to repaint, but the previous nursery's walls are a pretty green, and is perfect for a baby whose gender is unknown to us. The new rug is laid down where the crib will go. A new blind is put in, one without loops that pose a danger to little ones. The borrowed change table is assembled, and I place the diapers, formula, and bottles on the bottom shelf. The top gets the contoured change pad, cover, and a receiving blanket over top.
I sort through the books and pull out all the ones that are for babies. They get placed on the shelf. The car seat, baby mat, and baby swing gets placed in the little nook under the shelves. We assemble the crib, place the sheets and blanket on, and decorate the crib with the small stuffed animals I've saved over the years for the little one that we've been waiting for.
The newly purchased dresser takes the most amount of time. By this time, it's 4 AM and we are so tired. At that point, the instructions look like they are written in hieroglyphs. We soldier on and get it done, and decide to get up in a few hours time to finish.
Day 9. I'm up at the crack of dawn. Adrenaline is my friend. The room is starting to take shape, with all of the furniture assembled. I go through the boxes and boxes of borrowed items and place all the unisex baby clothes and blankets in the dresser. We hang up a mirror above the dresser. I cuddle with my childhood teddy bear in the mirror, so that we can figure out the exact height that would allow the baby to stare at wonderment at his/her reflection.
The rest of the house is tidied, and then tidied some more. My husband goes off to get milk from the corner store, because we typically don't have milk in the house, and what if they want milk for their tea? He also goes to the local bakery for some sweets.
Normally I'd be tempted to
We sit for an hour or so, waiting for the birth mother, birth parent counsellor, and owner of the adoption agency to arrive. My husband tells me he is nervous. I tell him I am excited.
They are late. The roads are bad, I tell myself, but I wonder if during the car ride, the birth mother has suddenly changed her mind.
The door bell rings.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Presentment #2
Let me time travel just one more time.
On December 6th, we got an email from our amazing social worker about a birth mother. My husband and I were both at the office, in the middle of getting ready for our office move to a new location. People were frazzled trying to get everything packed on time, but we managed to duck into a meeting room and call her on the speakerphone.
So what happens in this first call? Our social worker tells us the circumstances of the pregnancy. We are told the ethnicity, ages, occupations, medical history of the bio-parents and their family. We are usually told why the birth mother is exploring adoption. And then we are asked if we want to be presented to the birth mother for consideration.
In this instance, we immediately said yes.
A couple of days later, we dropped our profile photo book to the adoption agency, and emailed a copy to the birth parent counsellor, who had been working with the birth mother.
And then the waiting begins. During this time, the birth mother is given a few profiles to choose from. After that, she might ask to see the home study, which is pages and pages of everything about us... from our relationships with family, to income, to what our house is, to what our childhood was like.
More waiting. I can't even remember months later, but I don't think we told many people we were being considered. We remembered what it was like in July, and tried not to dwell on the possibility that we would be picked. Work kept us busy, as did preparations for Christmas.
Finally, we were told December 14th that we were not chosen.
This wasn't a huge heartbreak for some reason. I did think about feigning illness to get out of Christmas, but I cherish spending time with our families so much that I sucked it up and went and loved every minute of it.
We carried on and tried not to think about the baby that was not meant to be ours. And that brings us back to the present...
On December 6th, we got an email from our amazing social worker about a birth mother. My husband and I were both at the office, in the middle of getting ready for our office move to a new location. People were frazzled trying to get everything packed on time, but we managed to duck into a meeting room and call her on the speakerphone.
So what happens in this first call? Our social worker tells us the circumstances of the pregnancy. We are told the ethnicity, ages, occupations, medical history of the bio-parents and their family. We are usually told why the birth mother is exploring adoption. And then we are asked if we want to be presented to the birth mother for consideration.
In this instance, we immediately said yes.
A couple of days later, we dropped our profile photo book to the adoption agency, and emailed a copy to the birth parent counsellor, who had been working with the birth mother.
And then the waiting begins. During this time, the birth mother is given a few profiles to choose from. After that, she might ask to see the home study, which is pages and pages of everything about us... from our relationships with family, to income, to what our house is, to what our childhood was like.
More waiting. I can't even remember months later, but I don't think we told many people we were being considered. We remembered what it was like in July, and tried not to dwell on the possibility that we would be picked. Work kept us busy, as did preparations for Christmas.
Finally, we were told December 14th that we were not chosen.
This wasn't a huge heartbreak for some reason. I did think about feigning illness to get out of Christmas, but I cherish spending time with our families so much that I sucked it up and went and loved every minute of it.
We carried on and tried not to think about the baby that was not meant to be ours. And that brings us back to the present...
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
December is the hardest month
Wow, I have been horrible at updating. I shouldn't be surprised, I have every intention of keeping this blog up, but really:
(a) there are no updates or
(b) the updates are hard to write about at the time, and then I get distracted by shiny objects.
I might as well start with December. I am backdating these posts because I've always wanted to time travel. Pay no attention to having actually been created in March.
December and I don't really get along. Christmas is extremely hard when you are childless not by choice. Out of all the holidays, it hits you the hardest. You witness the kids in your life giddy with excitement over wrapped presents. The moms are all discussing about what happened at school, or how their kids are progressing, or the newest thing that they've started to do.
If you're REALLY lucky, you get a comment from an exasperated mom about how her kids are a handful, and doesn't she wish she could just give you one?
Thank God for wine.
Truth is, I would be doing all those things if I had a child. I can't fault people for having kids, or wanting to talk about them. The situation sucks, it's difficult and sometimes I just want to go home and cry. (Confession: sometimes I do.)
Years of this hard journey has made me a bit better dealing with things. I still get sad. I don't think that will ever change. But I choose to harp on it less.
This leads me to my next post...
(a) there are no updates or
(b) the updates are hard to write about at the time, and then I get distracted by shiny objects.
I might as well start with December. I am backdating these posts because I've always wanted to time travel. Pay no attention to having actually been created in March.
December and I don't really get along. Christmas is extremely hard when you are childless not by choice. Out of all the holidays, it hits you the hardest. You witness the kids in your life giddy with excitement over wrapped presents. The moms are all discussing about what happened at school, or how their kids are progressing, or the newest thing that they've started to do.
If you're REALLY lucky, you get a comment from an exasperated mom about how her kids are a handful, and doesn't she wish she could just give you one?
Thank God for wine.
Truth is, I would be doing all those things if I had a child. I can't fault people for having kids, or wanting to talk about them. The situation sucks, it's difficult and sometimes I just want to go home and cry. (Confession: sometimes I do.)
Years of this hard journey has made me a bit better dealing with things. I still get sad. I don't think that will ever change. But I choose to harp on it less.
This leads me to my next post...
Monday, July 22, 2013
The baby watch is over for now...
I'm not talking about the royal baby.
On July 9th, a baby was born somewhere in Toronto. The birth mother contacted an agency to start the process to find adoptive parents.
Our social worker called us on July 10th to let us know what she knew about this placement (which was not a lot), and confirmed she was submitting our profile to the agency. Most likely, we were one out of 3-5 profiles being presented to the birth mother.
I will admit that I blanked out a bit during that phone conversation. We had her on speaker, all the while staring at each other with incredulous looks. When I hung up the phone, I noticed just how much my hands were shaking.
And so our baby watch began.
What do you do when you're waiting for the news you have waited so long to hear?
- We made sure all of the items needed to pass the final home inspection have been completed. I now have a spiffy handrail up to my attic, all to code.
- We put the call out for baby items to some close friends and family. A car load of items came back from a visit to my brother-in-law's house. They had a lot of things to give us, now that our niece is two years old. I don't think I could have squeezed another thing in the car! It just goes to show how supportive our friends and family are, that we literally do not have to purchase a single thing.
- We mostly cleared the room that will house the nursery. My office desk is still in there, but it is now joined by bassinets, mobiles, bedding, clothing, baby bottles, and anything else we will need. The desk will be moved of course once we have our child.
And then we waited some more. We were cautiously optimistic. Our social worker was great in keeping us up to date as much as possible, letting us know at each point the agency confirmed that the birth mother still had not decided.
We got word two days ago that the birth mother has decided to parent.
How am I feeling? I am happy for the birth mother and the baby. All throughout this wait, I kept her in my thoughts knowing how hard of a decision it would be. I never wished that she would give the baby up. That is a horrible thing to wish for, and all I hoped during the wait is that she would do what was the best for her baby.
Of course, I am sad for us. It just wasn't our time to become parents. I am also sad for the others who were chosen to be presented to the birth mother and also received this news. I wish them well in their own adoption journeys.
I haven't been into the room we set up. It will be ready for us when we need it. A part of me wanted to sit in the room on Saturday night and let all my emotions overwhelm me.
I didn't. That room is all about dreams coming true. I want the crying in that room to be my tears of joy, or cries from my baby wanting our comforting arms around them.
I chose to shed my sad tears while lying on my couch, letting my beagle lick them off my hand.
On July 9th, a baby was born somewhere in Toronto. The birth mother contacted an agency to start the process to find adoptive parents.
Our social worker called us on July 10th to let us know what she knew about this placement (which was not a lot), and confirmed she was submitting our profile to the agency. Most likely, we were one out of 3-5 profiles being presented to the birth mother.
I will admit that I blanked out a bit during that phone conversation. We had her on speaker, all the while staring at each other with incredulous looks. When I hung up the phone, I noticed just how much my hands were shaking.
And so our baby watch began.
What do you do when you're waiting for the news you have waited so long to hear?
- We made sure all of the items needed to pass the final home inspection have been completed. I now have a spiffy handrail up to my attic, all to code.
- We put the call out for baby items to some close friends and family. A car load of items came back from a visit to my brother-in-law's house. They had a lot of things to give us, now that our niece is two years old. I don't think I could have squeezed another thing in the car! It just goes to show how supportive our friends and family are, that we literally do not have to purchase a single thing.
- We mostly cleared the room that will house the nursery. My office desk is still in there, but it is now joined by bassinets, mobiles, bedding, clothing, baby bottles, and anything else we will need. The desk will be moved of course once we have our child.
And then we waited some more. We were cautiously optimistic. Our social worker was great in keeping us up to date as much as possible, letting us know at each point the agency confirmed that the birth mother still had not decided.
We got word two days ago that the birth mother has decided to parent.
How am I feeling? I am happy for the birth mother and the baby. All throughout this wait, I kept her in my thoughts knowing how hard of a decision it would be. I never wished that she would give the baby up. That is a horrible thing to wish for, and all I hoped during the wait is that she would do what was the best for her baby.
Of course, I am sad for us. It just wasn't our time to become parents. I am also sad for the others who were chosen to be presented to the birth mother and also received this news. I wish them well in their own adoption journeys.
I haven't been into the room we set up. It will be ready for us when we need it. A part of me wanted to sit in the room on Saturday night and let all my emotions overwhelm me.
I didn't. That room is all about dreams coming true. I want the crying in that room to be my tears of joy, or cries from my baby wanting our comforting arms around them.
I chose to shed my sad tears while lying on my couch, letting my beagle lick them off my hand.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
All I ever wanted...
Little girls have varying answers to 'What do you want to be when you grow up?' A princess, a teacher, a doctor....
My only answer was that I wanted to become a mother. As a child, I would tell people that I wanted five kids. I even had a preferred order to them: boy, girl, boy, boy, girl. My reasons? A boy first, to be a big brother to everyone. A girl to even out the pair of them. Two precious boys that follow that would be best friends and playmates for life. And finally, a baby sister that would even out the group and be the little darling of the siblings.
I dreamed about their personalities, of everyone piling onto the bed for bedtime stories and snuggles, of the fights that I would have to break up between them. I have to smile a little, thinking about that little girl with big dreams of a large brood to look after (and yes, even a planner at that age!)
Those dreams have changed, and the little girl isn't so little anymore. Five has turned into 'we would be so happy with one'. But the desire to be a mother has never gone away.
There are simply no words to describe how much we want to be parents. No words. If hearts could burst with the amount of love just ready to spill out, they would. We will love them through every dirty diaper, every late night feed, every temper tantrum.
My medical issues are such that we will never be able to have kids of our own. There will be no unplanned pregnancies, and no magical oopsies that people always talk about when when couples have given up on trying to have a baby. Adoption is our only option. And I'm perfectly OK with that. We will love our children as much as any parent could.
I still wonder why I was unable to conceive when it is so easy for others. You can't help but wonder what the master plan is.
My only answer is that there must be some child out there that needs our love. Maybe they have already been born. Maybe they have yet to be conceived.
All we can do is wait, and trust that it will happen.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Remember me? My nose has been in books...
Yes, it has been a while since I've posted. In that span of time, we've received the final version of the home study, worked on our adoption profile book (which is challenging, as I hate being in photos!), went on vacation. But we haven't stopped hoping for our little one to come along.
I have been doing some reading on adoption, and have been taking books out from our public library.
The library in the little Ontario town where I grew up in had a great kids section. I remember leafing through the magazine Owl sitting on tiny chairs and tiny tables. There was an huge ostrich egg in a glass dome on a shelf that always piqued my curiosity. I would secretly hope that while watching, a little beak would peck its way through and imprint on me so that I would be forced to take it home and make it my pet. I would read everything I could get my hands on, so much so that in Grade 1 I was working from the Grade 3 reader and assignments.
Fast forward to today, and I will admit, my literary appetite has lessened considerably. Sadly, my reading is usually work documentation, and books that TV shows and movies based on books. I am currently reading the Game of Thrones series. I gleefully read all of the Harry Potter books.
Every so often, I do get into a "I need to read everything I can about <blah>". The last subject was international human rights. Lately, it's all been about adoption and I suspect this will go on for some time, expanding to various parenting books that swear that one method is the tried and true solution to all of a child's problems.
So on to the adoption reading. One of the pages I follow on Facebook is Portrait of an Adoption. The 30 Adoption Portraits in 30 Days on the right hand side of their web site is a fantastic read, exploring adoption from all angles - the good, the bad, and the ugly.
J and I have been taking turns reading out loud to one another from The Girls Who Went Away: The Hidden History of Women Who Surrendered Children for Adoption in the Decades before Roe v. Wade. How times have changed. My voice may have quivered a bit as I read the stories out loud to my husband. Somehow, it made me feel better to read out loud... these women, whose stories may have never been told before out of shame, out of guilt. By reading out loud, I felt like I was giving them their voice. It was a recognition of what they went through. It might have been a heavy read, but cemented the fact that should a birth mother want an open adoption, we would be all for it.
The other book on the coffee table right now is Attaching in adoption: practical tools for today's parents. I will admit that I have not started this one yet. I think this is one for this weekend in the hammock!
I'll end off this post with a quote from a book that I haven't read yet but might also pick it up this weekend... Nia Vardlos's Instant Mom:
“Anyone who ever wondered how much they could love a child who did not spring from their own loins, know this: it is the same. The feeling of love is so profound, it's incredible and surprising.”
I cannot wait!
I have been doing some reading on adoption, and have been taking books out from our public library.
The library in the little Ontario town where I grew up in had a great kids section. I remember leafing through the magazine Owl sitting on tiny chairs and tiny tables. There was an huge ostrich egg in a glass dome on a shelf that always piqued my curiosity. I would secretly hope that while watching, a little beak would peck its way through and imprint on me so that I would be forced to take it home and make it my pet. I would read everything I could get my hands on, so much so that in Grade 1 I was working from the Grade 3 reader and assignments.
Fast forward to today, and I will admit, my literary appetite has lessened considerably. Sadly, my reading is usually work documentation, and books that TV shows and movies based on books. I am currently reading the Game of Thrones series. I gleefully read all of the Harry Potter books.
Every so often, I do get into a "I need to read everything I can about <blah>". The last subject was international human rights. Lately, it's all been about adoption and I suspect this will go on for some time, expanding to various parenting books that swear that one method is the tried and true solution to all of a child's problems.
So on to the adoption reading. One of the pages I follow on Facebook is Portrait of an Adoption. The 30 Adoption Portraits in 30 Days on the right hand side of their web site is a fantastic read, exploring adoption from all angles - the good, the bad, and the ugly.
J and I have been taking turns reading out loud to one another from The Girls Who Went Away: The Hidden History of Women Who Surrendered Children for Adoption in the Decades before Roe v. Wade. How times have changed. My voice may have quivered a bit as I read the stories out loud to my husband. Somehow, it made me feel better to read out loud... these women, whose stories may have never been told before out of shame, out of guilt. By reading out loud, I felt like I was giving them their voice. It was a recognition of what they went through. It might have been a heavy read, but cemented the fact that should a birth mother want an open adoption, we would be all for it.
The other book on the coffee table right now is Attaching in adoption: practical tools for today's parents. I will admit that I have not started this one yet. I think this is one for this weekend in the hammock!
I'll end off this post with a quote from a book that I haven't read yet but might also pick it up this weekend... Nia Vardlos's Instant Mom:
“Anyone who ever wondered how much they could love a child who did not spring from their own loins, know this: it is the same. The feeling of love is so profound, it's incredible and surprising.”
I cannot wait!
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