Today my sister-in-law informed me that after she gets married in March, she and her new husband will wait two years, then start trying so they can have their first baby before he leaves the military (5 years after their wedding, when he'll have been in for 20 years).  Okay, I guess it's reasonable of her to expect that they will manage to have a baby sometime in the course of 5 years.  Then she added that hopefully they'll be able to squeeze in the second one while he's in the military as well, since they want to have their kids three years apart.  Now that began to seem a little unrealistic.  Or at least, in my own selfish way, I hope that it is.

Because, you see, that was OUR plan.  She got the idea from me, that 3 years apart was the optimal spacing, even that 2 years of marriage was ideal before trying (we waited almost 4, but that's because I was only 22 when we got married!  She'll be 29).  We started trying when I was 26 and expected I would give birth at 27.  Our first would be almost two now, and we would be planning to start trying for #2 shortly after my 30th birthday (only a month away now, eek!).  Then #3 when I was 33, and then we'd be done. 

But of course, none of it worked out according to plan.  We tried for a year as instructed before going to an OB who claimed to specialize in fertility.  Found out husband's sperm count was low, did a couple rounds of Clo.mid, then a couple IUIs.  No luck.  Found a good RE, learned my FSH was elevated, jumped into IVF.  4 eggs, 3 embryos, a few weeks of pregnancy, and then a loss at the start of '08.  Devastated.  RE moved away, but we were locked into a 2-cycle plan with the clinic, so we started up again right away, on a really messed-up protocol (replacement RE was fired shortly thereafter), downgraded to an IUI.  BFN.  Started another cycle with yet another replacement RE, but left because he was just pure evil.  Seriously.  Started acupuncture, found new RE.  Waited for FSH to go down.  Started adoption paperwork, took a little break from TTC while focusing on that.  Start of '09, mega pain started in my abdomen.  Saw many doctors, including my RE, all of whom told me to ignore it.  Eight months in, CT scan and MRI pointed to endo.  Frustrated at my RE's lack of concern, I switched again, for what I've decided will be the last time.  Did an IUI with trigger shot, no luck, but new RE is willing to work with me, sees us as a work-in-progress, not a lost cause.  Laparoscopy for endo immediately thereafter.  Sure enough, it was bad-ass endo.  Recovering from surgery now, and hoping to start IVF again soon. 

That is the sad litany of our TTC journey, with this one bright spot: after 3 years of trying, in May of this year, our beautiful baby boy entered our lives, hearts & family through the miracle of open adoption.  No, this is not how I planned, originally, to become a mom.  No, I can't imagine having become a mommy at the tiny little hands of anyone but him.  Although we are still enmeshed in the misery of trying, Baby Bonsai is the light in all that darkness.  He is our reason why.  We endured all of that, had our neat little plans derailed, because we were meant to find him.  He was our firstborn.  And in those first 3 years of trying, he just hadn't been born yet.

But even with him as the answer to all our heartache, I can't help it--when my sister-in-law blithely lays out these plans, I freeze.  I wish her and her fiance the best, but know how much it will hurt if they get pregnant easily--especially if we still haven't managed to have a bio baby by then.  She and I are only one year apart in age; her fiance is my husband's oldest friend.  I can't help feeling a little competitive.  And yet, I no longer want that carefully planned family I once imagined would be mine.  Now that we've adopted, we definitely want to adopt again.  Plus a bio kid or two, in whatever order that might happen.  And then we're thinking a couple of international adoptions too.  We'll be a big, sprawling family with 5 or 6 kids of all different races, who all joined our family in different ways.  We won't be neat or even normal.  But we'll be perfect.

Maybe my sister-in-law's journey will be smoother than ours has been, and I'll be happy for her that she doesn't have to suffer as we have (it won't be easy, but I WILL manage to be happy for her!).  Or maybe it won't, and I'll be right here to help her through it, help her find her way to a different kind of dream, a different image of a perfect family.  We'll be happy to model our alternatives for her.

On Friday the 13th (ooh, spooky!), we finally signed our Adoption Placement Agreement, which means that after 6 months of raising our baby boy, we have officially gone from fost-to-adopt status (this despite the fact that we chose a pricey private agency adoption rather than adopting through foster care--we thought it would go more smoothly, ha!) to real adoptive parents. 

I am both amazed at how the past 6 months have flown by, and frustrated that it has taken this long, that the signing that should have happened mere days after Bonsai's birth was taking place 6 months into our life with him. The paperwork we signed said, "Congratulations, this is your Adoption Day!" and I was stunned when I read those words.  Adoption Day--shouldn't that be a celebratory event, something significant?  And yes, we were relieved to finally be signing this paperwork, but knew the journey wasn't even close to over yet.  We still have two post-placement visits with our agency before they'll file their final report, plus some as-yet-undisclosed additional paperwork that they informed us at the signing we'd have to complete as well.  Then our lawyer can request a finalization hearing date, which will probably not be till March 2010.  That will feel like our adoption day, when the judge officially declares us legally Baby Bonsai's parents, when Baby can finally legally bear our last name.  I feel like there are still so many hurdles before I can truly relax, although at this point all the ones that really matter are already cleared: Bonsai's birthmom signed her relinquishments, the court terminated his birthfather's rights, we signed our APA. 

But...for now, our son officially belongs to the adoption agency, which, after months of unprofessionalism and drama, I no longer trust.  I know they won't do anything to disrupt the family we have created together, but I can't wait till the day when I don't have to tell myself that, or know that it's true, or be sure nothing will go wrong.  I can't wait till it's just done, and there truly isn't anything (adoption-wise, anyway) to worry about anymore.

I love Baby Bonsai utterly, unreservedly, and despite all our TTC struggles, am nothing but grateful for the way he joined our family.  And yet, I envy those of you who knew from the moment your child was born that this baby was yours without the slightest question, that he or she could instantly claim your family name, that no withheld signature or unglowing report could alter the bonds that you felt (just as I felt) from the first moment you held your child.  Adoption is a beautiful but complicated way to create a family.  And let me tell you, I've had my fill of complications for now!

This is what it means to be an honest-to-God working mother: to be so sick I can hardly move yet still write and revise (& then revise again) a book synopsis and manage a conference call with my editor while Baby is balanced on my tummy to keep him from screaming (thankfully, this editor is a mom too, so she thinks it's cute when he breaks into our calls with coos); to feed Baby three times a day and not puke though I am so nauseous I can barely stand the sight of grown-up food, much less pureed baby food in shades of green and orange, even less, orangey-white baby puke; moreover to change two ginormous poopy diapers (kind of feel like Baby's just messing with me today); meanwhile to follow up on another book I'm writing, secure a new editing project, and work my contacts for this biz dev editorial gig I'm doing to get new work/push forward on existing work; to write notes on submissions from my new writing group even though I'm too disgustingly sick to actually attend our inaugural meeting; to bounce and rock and play with baby though I can hardly stand; and to manage all of this alone, because Husband had to work late. 

As a work-at-home-mom, I've wondered if I can really claim to have it as hard as "real" working moms, but now I think I can safely say that I'm real too.  I have to work, have deadlines to meet that won't wait while I recover from surgery or an illness (did I mention that I secured two new projects on the day of my surgery, while still working the anesthesia out of my system? also, and less awesomely, that the first day I felt reasonably normal post-surgery was the day this cold/possible flu attacked?)--or take care of a baby.  And yet somehow I have to fit babycare (and housecare, to a lesser degree) in between these deadlines--and since Baby is even less flexible than my editors, it's really more a matter of fitting the writing and editing in between his busy eating-pooping-playing schedule.  And I have--I've written several books for cash in the 6 months since he was born, edited a couple more, started two new writing groups to continue work on my novel and start a memoir, launched this business development editorial gig (that phrase doesn't quite make sense, even to me, but I really don't know how else to explain it) and set up big projects with really cool companies on their behalf--oh, and even started this blog! 

I am managing, but it is hard, especially when I am sick, really sick, and there's no one here to help.  Today I was just wishing for a nanny or a relative who could take over when I can barely lift the kiddo (& really don't want to share my germs with him, either) or am racing to meet a deadline.  But for now, there's just me.  And all I can say is, I hope these antibiotics kick this bug's butt right quick, so I can get back to the normal amount of overwhelmingness that is working motherdom. 

I am so intensely grateful for my cousin, who spent 10 days as Baby Bonsai's primary caregiver while I recovered from laparoscopic surgery (which uncovered some pretty nasty endometriosis).  I am grateful for my little brother-in-law, who stayed here too and provided an extra pair of arms for my cousin when she needed it, since I couldn't lift or hold my son at all during that time, and helped make her first trip to Los Angeles fun by taking her and Baby out sightseeing when I wasn't up to it yet.  I am grateful for my good writer friend who stayed with us for two days after my cousin left and gave me a little more time to heal up before resuming babycare duties.  And, despite what I'm about to say, I'm grateful for my husband too, who took wonderful care of me on the day of my surgery, when I needed him the most, and even took a day off this week to help with baby when no one else was free.

And yet...all you ladies out there, do you ever get the feeling that the menfolk just don't get it?  That even if they are willing to help (and mine almost always is), it's an amorphous willingness, relying completely on us womenfolk to give it direction.  When our room was embarrassingly messy, after days of me tossing books, magazines, clothes, and empty water bottles on the floor because I couldn't reach their proper places at first and then, even once I could get out of bed, couldn't stoop to pick them up from the floor, Spruce never even noticed.  I finally had to ask that he put the magazines in the magazine rack, the bottles in the recycle bin, the clothes in the hamper, the books on the bookshelf, going item by item because he couldn't extrapolate that maybe if I wanted some of this stuff off the floor, it might be helpful if he just went ahead and cleaned up all of it.  I did a ton of laundry before the surgery to make sure baby had plenty of clean clothes, bibs, & burpcloths for my cousin to choose from, but didn't have time to fold our things, which sat in their basket all week because it didn't occur to him to fold them once I couldn't.  While my cousin fluffed my pillows, fixed my meals, and most importantly, brought Baby Bonsai to visit me in bed, my husband seemed to assume I could take care of myself.  Because we flew my cousin out here expressly to help with the baby, he felt free to lounge on the couch in the evenings, watching YouTube clips with his little brother while my cousin washed the bottles, fed the baby, did the laundry, and took care of all the other baby-generated chores that usually fill my days. 

It wasn't just the lack of physical contributions that bothered me.  When I was battered and medicated and vulnerable, I could have used an extra dose of loving kindness from my husband, and instead he spent the evenings refusing to get things for me in front of my cousin and brother-in-law, apparently thinking it was funny to "tease" me in this way, starting little spats with me that he thought were all in good fun but that genuinely hurt my (admittedly extra-sensitive post-surgery) feelings.  Cuddling was out since we were both afraid of inadvertent collisions with my three incision sites, and sex was expressly forbidden, but a few sweet kisses and tender words would have gone a long way toward making me feel better--loved, taken care of, safe. 

My husband is a sweet and wonderful man, and I've been trying to figure out why these gestures he usually makes freely were lacking when I most longed for them.  Part of it is that, unfortunately, two business trips fell during my recovery time, encompassing the first 4 days after my surgery as well as what I hoped would be the last couple days of my recuperation this week (they weren't--I'm still not fully up to snuff).  Because of those, he didn't have the opportunity to simply be there for me in the way I would have hoped.  Even when he was here, I know he was extra stressed by his work, which surely contributed to his distraction.  He's also an insanely fast healer, while I am a pretty darn slow one, so he may not have been able to comprehend the extent to which I was still suffering when he returned 4 days into my recuperation and found me only slightly improved. 

But in the end, I don't know why my usually lovey-dovey husband didn't reach out to me more, even when I flat-out told him I was feeling neglected.  I only know that while I have felt bathed in the glow of helpfulness from other family and friends throughout my recuperation, beyond the day of the surgery itself, I felt out in the cold when it came to my dear husband.  And in some ways, that's been even worse than the pain of the incisions and swollen organs and bruised ladyparts, awful as it is.  At least I have pain meds for those issues.  As for the husband situation, I guess I just have to hope that he's just having an off couple of weeks, that he makes a better showing next time I'm sliced and diced. 

My surgery is (way too early) tomorrow morning, and while I'm eager to finally be rid of this pesky pain, I'm also getting scared.

My cousin arrives today to help with Baby Bonsai while I recover, but will I be able to teach her everything I've learned these past 5.5 months about how to care for him in just a day?  She's experienced with babies, even did some caretaking of this particular babe at my mom's wedding a few months back, but I know every trick with this guy, and what if I don't remember to share them all before I go under the knife (er, laser)?  What if I can't restrain myself from lunging for him when he cries and only I know how to fix it, and pop my healing gut open?  What if she's overwhelmed by all the effort (as my own mom was) and isn't really able to help after all?

And, what if it really, really hurts?  What if I'm a slow healer?  What if I'm lying here in agony tomorrow, and Spruce leaves on a business trip Friday, and Cousin is so busy with baby that she can't even begin to help me?

Oh, and I already know I won't be up to taking Bonsai out for his very first Halloween, in his adorable pumpkin costume, so that's a whole other level of suck.

EmbracingMyQuirks has awarded me the Honest Scrap award, which apparently means she finds my blog brilliant in content and/or design, and/or has been encouraged by me.  Neat, huh?  Thanks so much!  I feel so special ;)

10 Honest Things About Me:

1) I love to write but often find myself avoiding it, which makes no sense to me but apparently is a common writerly affliction...
2) Even though we have adopted, we are still very much TTC (3 1/2 years in), and will continue to do so until we get a definitive "game over" (really hoping that doesn't happen...but if it does, we'll try the donor route)
3) Speaking of the above, I already have cousins in mind to ask to be egg donors if needed, and a brother-in-law to be a sperm donor if necessary (none of this should be required, but I do like to plan ahead!).  None of them have any idea, and I don't know how they'll react. Hopefully they'll never need to know.
4) I always wanted 2 kids, 3 tops, but after all the trouble we've had, I'm thinking 4, 6 max (here's the plan: 1 more domestic adoption, 1 or 2 bio kids, & a couple of international adoptions). My mom says that's crazy, but maybe that's why all the struggle--to lead us to have the big, beautiful family we're meant to have.
5) Yes, I did adopt a puppy as a surrogate baby while we were trying (& failing), like so many other infertiles I know.  Now that Baby Bonsai is home, puppy gets far less attention than she's used to.  Sorry, puppy. (Now I'm feeling guilty, so Pup & I are cuddling)
6) Also, I think it turns out that I really am a cat person.  I love our puppy, but while I totally trust our two cats around Baby, puppy makes me nervous.  I think that's how you can tell (my theory being that a true dog person would be comfortable with dog + baby, and worried the cats would steal his breath or something).  
7) My husband and I have been together since I was 18, early in my freshman year of college.  I turn 30 in a couple months (scary!).  We've been together 11 years, and I still love him more every day.
8) I got married at 22 (Spruce is 3 years older), and being from the Midwest, didn't even know that was early until we moved to NYC right after.  But over 7 years into our marriage, I wouldn't have it any other way.
9) I always thought I'd be a working mom like my mom was.  As a freelance writer, I guess I kind of am.  But after all the trouble we had becoming parents, I find it really hard to imagine being away from Bonsai (& subsequent children) all day.  But, I do sometimes miss teaching and editing, my two most recent out-of-the-home jobs (I can edit from home, but most of the freelance gigs I get are writing). So that'll be something to figure out down the road.
10) I am an only child, which never bothered me until I got married and gained siblings-in-law, at which point I realized what a neat thing having siblings of my own would have been.

And now for the nominations:
Trinity 
Wishing4One 
Noelle
No, I'm Not Pregnant 
Lin 
Rain
Perchance to Dream

Thanks all for inspiring me during my very first ICLW!

Another fight with our adoption counselor, the person who is supposed to be our advocate in this process, lasted for a full hour yesterday.  This fight was occasioned by my asking two questions clarifying the timing of the complicated finalization process that we still have to go through, even though relinquishments are finally, finally signed.  Rather than just answering them, he told me I was a freak of nature for wanting that much detail, that none of his other clients had ever wanted that much information, and continued to refuse to answer these very simple questions.  As a child, I was always told there were no stupid questions, but this so-called counselor seems to believe that every single one of my questions about this very important and complex process is ridiculous.  When I finally insisted that he respond (my questions were about termination of the birthfather's rights and the timing on our last 2 post-placement visits--both important pieces of this process), the answers were helpful, were not information that I previously had, and I was ready to get off the phone.  But instead of letting me get back to my writing and mommying, he continued to yell at me for being anxious about the fact that we have now been caring for & loving our son for over 5 months and only now are we actually moving forward on having any real legal claim to him (until this week, we've been technically his foster parents all this time, even though we chose to pursue an agency adoption, NOT a fost-adopt situation).

This supposedly trained professional apparently cannot comprehend why this would be a stressful situation, why I would want all possible information to understand what is happening next, why I wouldn't believe that he would provide me with all necessary information when he was, right at that moment, refusing to provide me with necessary information!  He accused me of being a bad parent because I have been stressed out by this highly unusual (he called it unprecedented) situation (we were the first to fall under the requirements of a new variation of tribal law)--and this is the part that made me cry.  If I do say so myself, I am a fantastic mom.  Stressed as I am by this process, I have nothing but love & joy for our boy, who immediately became the center of my world--which of course is why it's been so hard dealing with all these delays in adopting him.  Although he was a tiny preemie at birth, he is absolutely thriving under our care, catching up to normal size, reaching all of his developmental milestones (some of them early, even though he was born a month early and thus would be entitled to reach them late), and utterly bonded to us, the happiest, healthiest little guy you ever did see. We adore him, and he us.  That is not the issue here, and I don't appreciate this counselor acting like it is.

My stress was not helped by the fact that even in the course of this phone call, the counselor kept changing his story--first, he said I should now be completely stress-free since relinquishments have been signed and I clearly was overly anxious since I wasn't immediately relieved by this development; later, he said that once the state has acknowledged the relinquishments, then I can relax (apparently not seeing any contradiction between this and his earlier statement); then he announced that once we schedule our finalization court date (sometime next year!), then we won't have anything to worry about.  He also berated me for wanting to celebrate finally having relinquishments signed after 5 months of waiting for that day (my husband was out of the country when it finally happened, so I asked our other counselor if there was any way to move the signing to before he left, and when she said there wasn't, I accepted that and celebrated with friends, but without my husband).  He informed me that once we finalize (looks like that'll be in March or something), then we can finally celebrate the arrival of our son--who will, by then, be 10 months old.  Talk about delayed gratification!

The counselor informed me that everyone at the agency believes I'm unduly anxious--and I hate that high school "everyone thinks so" crap, like it proves you're right if other, unnamed people allegedly agree with you.  Since I am a nice Midwestern girl who wants everyone to like me, though, this kind of claim does actually get under my skin.  Here's the thing: most adopting couples have relinquishments signed 2 days, not 5 months, after they bring their baby home.  Surely it's normal that I would have more anxiety over the course of 5 months than people would manage in just 2 days? (if not, that would be a hellish couple of days!)  And the two counselors we've been dealing with have dropped the ball on many occasions, leading to unnecessary delays, so of course I follow up with them a lot.  Besides, most of the adoptive moms I know are planners like me, so I can't believe my reaction is so unusual.  Frankly, I think he just doesn't want to do his job.  And soon, he won't have to, at least where I'm concerned.

Because right after this horrible, unprofessional, overemotional conversation with him, I got a call from the adoption attorney who is handling our finalization.  I had asked her several questions via email as well, and she told me it was perfectly natural to be anxious about these issues, explained what was happening with each and what would happen next, told me what they could control and what would be up to the courts, and generally made me feel confident that they were doing everything they could and are on our side.  Since Baby Bonsai came home, I have never felt that way with our agency.  From the time we started looking into adoption last May, I've been a huge advocate of agency adoption rather than attorney adoptions, but I think my jackass adoption counselor may have just changed my mind.  Much as I wanted to adopt again through this agency, I don't need the drama.  And I know a good, drama-free adoption lawyer who just might be able to help.