Countdowns...

in 7 days.... my cast comes off
in 8 days ... baby k's ears get turned on

i cannot wait any longer

enough scratching people i love when i hug them
enough yucky peely skin on my hand
enough swelling and tightness in this crazy heat
enough moratorium on working out

my temporary discomfort will end
the world will open up for my baby boy

we are counting and ready for some semblance of normal.

too much

it seems that even though i am almost at six mo of being a mother, 2 children + one having special needs + me being very hard on myself and expecting to be supermom = just too much.  add to that a solid month of traveling and having several overnight guests and you get me, at my edge.  out of frustration and stress, friday, i punched the floor with my fist and broke my right hand.  too much.  i know, this is the second bone in 6 mo.  for those of you who don't know me in person, i promise i am not crazy.  passionate, yes, but not crazy.  but this is a crazy time in my life.  tuesday, i have an appt w/ my doc.  i will ask for meds for anxiety/depression for the first time in my life.  i have never reached such an edge before - not one i could not exercise, meditate, therapy or talk my way out of.

day to day life is really great.  it really is.  the joy i get from my boys is incalculable.  i just don't seem to be able to handle extra stuff very well.  and extra stuff is here for a while with this crazy month and k's surgery.  people always ask me about siblings - is it a good idea to adopt two at once.  yes.  but when i say it is hard, "hard" here is the hardest i have ever experienced.  blogging and commenting will be hard for a while.  this has taken me so long to write.  this is my second chance to let go of a lot of things, reach out for help and get healthy.  i am confident, but broken.

Baby Love

 

My sweet little baby son, K, is such a delight.  He has come such a long way since we first met him in Ethiopia 2 and a half months ago.  Then, at 8 months, he could barely hold his head up, he could not sit up or hold any weight on his legs, he gave no real eye contact and he shook his head side to side, side to side to soothe himself.

I cannot believe he is the same child!  He sits up, rolls over, crawls backwards, eats solid foods, screams (as you all know), is getting some very delicious baby fat, signs the words "milk" and "eat" appropriately,  puts weight on his legs and even bounces.  His eye contact is still not 100%, but so, so much better.  He also has three little games he initiates with me that just melt my heart .... blinking several times so I'll do the same, lowering his forehead towards me so I will bump foreheads with him and smiling the sweetest smile while doing a little dance so that I will reciprocate.  He loves being held.  He loves rubbing our faces together.  He lights up when I come into a room.  He squeals with laughter when I kiss his neck.

The first few weeks home, I took care of him, looked after him, but felt almost numb to what was happening in my life.  Then one day, without warning, "baby love" hit me so hard it hurt.  I was surprised by a primal, hormonal, emotional and physical love for this baby.  He didn't return the feeling immediately, but I can tell something has happened between us in the last few weeks.  He is learning what it is like to have a mommy (and a daddy, too!), what it means to be loved and to have security.  He is blossoming in that love and feelings I can't even put into words are blossoming in me, too.  Baby love.  I recommend it.

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*** Coming soon:  Loving a Three Year Old

Residual Grief From the Wait of a Lifetime

I wrote this post about 3 weeks ago.  I wasn't going to post it, but decided to do it anyway ... for those of you waiting, for anyone who, like me, is finding themselves with too many feelings and too little time to process them.  I am not feeling this way today and haven't for a few days, but Courtney's post about the wait made me remember that long, agonizing time.  It affects you!

*****************

It has been a long week.  Bill and I were going to watch a movie tonight, but we are both too tired.  He fell asleep already - yes, it is only 9 pm.  I am tired, but wired, so I've been reading blogs.  I read one post that got me teary.  I read of a couple announcing that they are adopting siblings from Ethiopia, hoping that they are twins.  The beginning.  I confess that I really, really hoped we would be referred twins.  I thought that twins would be so wonderful since we requested at least one child under the age of one - twins would mean two babies.  Have I ever said how much I love babies?

I read Straight Magic, Little Ethiopian and My Fascinating Life and just melted (I still do) at these cute, adorable babies.  Twin babies.  I read their referral stories and just gushed at their excitement, their surprise, their glee.  I had a secret wish that the same would happen to me.

Today, I also read a post of someone who was almost offered a set of twins, but because of happenstance, the twins went to someone else.  That person felt loss.  That brought back some pain that I have not shared before on this blog.  (I can say this now, right, since this blog is private.)  Someone adopting from our agency was in Ethiopia picking up their child in the Spring of 2009.  They wrote me an e-mail with these words:

"there is a set of infant twins at HH1. One is much smaller than the other (that's all I know). I'm thinking these two are going to be yours. I debated whether to email you but I'd thought you'd want to know. You are the next in line-they must be yours. I hope you find out this week."

Bill and I clung to these words.  I started holding these twins in my heart even though I knew I shouldn't.  It was a boy and a girl.  Days and weeks went by with no word.  We lost hope and we felt a loss.  We were close to two years of waiting and we were feeling so discouraged.  So reading about the hope of twins today struck an old chord.  There is a residue of pain from the longing, the waiting for children that we went through.

I know you probably want to smack me right now, tell me to shut the hello up and quit feeling sorry for myself.  But let me finish.  Tonight, as I sat with my little family, Bill and I were saying what a wonderful age three is AND how wonderful it is to have a baby - specifically OUR three year old and OUR baby.

But I confess there is a residue of pain that comes up when I am exhausted.  Even if we had gotten a referral for 2 week old boy/girl twins, they were never going to be exactly what I'd imagined.  (Let me tell you right now that ONE baby is already so much more work than I EVER, EVER imagined!)  They would be, as my children are, their own little beings, with their own personalities, their own little quirks, their own little bundle of joy and of pain.

As you can probably guess right now, I am an extreme sufferer of "the grass is greener ..." syndrome.  Tonight, I write this post not wishing that my children were different.  I wish I were different.  I wish I had a little more grace with myself.

Some Days, I'm Not Sure I'm Cut Out for This...

Take today.  Great morning ... at one point, both boys are on my lap and we are reading fun books.  A is learning so many words!  It feels so good and I am having fun.  They play on the back porch while I tidy up a tiny bit.  A and I are getting along so well and the baby is playing so nicely on the floor.

Fast forward a bit ... how did it get so late for K's nap this morning?  Why doesn't A give a flip about the marvelous airplane I painstakingly made him from a carboard box but instead only wants "uppy, mommy"?  How can I hold my three year old "uppy" while the baby needs to be burped and changed?  Why is my baby almost asleep in my arms with his bottle and then crazy jumpy fidgety awake as soon as he is down for a nap? Why do little things like that make me want to scream or kick things?

Right now, they are both in bed for their naps.  Not necessarily asleep.  I don't know how to entertain them.  Things I plan don't always go over well.  These are the days when I wonder....

Why two kids at once?  Why?  Why?
What have I done??

Even if You Just Adopted Two Children, Don't Forget to Take Care of YOU or You Might Just Break a Toe

Even though I have been enjoying having two boys and adjusting reasonably well, let me tell you, it is STRESSFUL!  It is easy to forget how stressful it is as you begin to get through the days half-way intact.  But for those of you getting ready to bring little ones home, remember that it will be stressful, so figure out a way to take care of yourself or you might end up with...

A broken toe.  I am going to write this, but let me first say I am extremely ashamed of what I did.  Yesterday, my little K would not stop crying right before his nap.  And by crying, I really mean SCREAMING at the top of his lungs in an octave I didn't think I was supposed to hear after age 30.  He would stop breathing and then start screaming, stop breathing, start screaming.  His pacifier was at the other end of the house, so I took him with me, only to trip on a wooden truck of A's.  I retrieved the pacifier with screaming baby and on my way back, tripped on the wooden firetruck again.

And now, the moment of shame, the moment I have re-played and wish I could take back ... I kicked the hell out of that firetruck!  I kicked it clear across the room in a perfect soccer ball arc - except it is not a soccer ball, but a heavy, heavy, wooden firetruck.   I was wearing my soft crocs and I immediately knew I had broken my big toe.  I hobble back, put the baby in the bed and look at the darn toe - not good! 

Mother fail!  You have no idea how much inconvenience that stupid decision is costing me and my sweet family.  After about an hour at the Social Security Office this morning waiting to get the boys a SS#, my dear husband and boys drive around town for another hour and a half while I go to the doctor (we only have one car).  Now, I can't walk my dog for 6 weeks or take my boys for long walks in the stroller.  I can't really do Yoga.  I hobble around the house and am supposed to stay off my foot.  Right!

I am so, so frustrated and ashamed of myself.  What lessons have I learned? (Though I have 6 more weeks to learn more.)  This is a HUGE, MAJOR life change that we and the boys are going through.  No matter how great some days may seem, the transition itself is still STRESSFUL.  Self-care is not a luxury at this point, it is a life-line, a must.  Stupid things I do now affect a lot more people than just me.

And WHY am I posting this?  Because I don't want to just post the highs and not the lows - this is reality.  AND, the "Baby Love" post I was planning just didn't feel genuine today.

Dabo

 

 

  

My A loves dabo (bread).  We have known of this love since we got an update for him back in the beginning of November:  

"Sister told me of a cute story about his friendship with one nanny. In between meals, this nanny lets him take bread from the kitchen.  Now he is used to doing that, so in between meals, even when she isn't there, he likes to go in the kitchen and take bread when no one is looking."

His love affair with dabo continues, rivaled only by his love for dha-dhee.  Almost any time of day, you can hear A saying, "daddy, dabo," in this pitiful, whiny voice.  His sweet daddy will take him to the kitchen.  "Daddy, dabo."  He gets the bread out.  "Daddy, dabo."  Bill gets out the butter.  "Daddy, dabo."   Bill tells him his bread is almost ready. "Dabo."  The bread is put on the table.  "Daddy, dabo!"   Thank
 God it's "Daddy, dabo," because mommy might be tempted to say some not very nice thing like, "Can't you see I'm making your freakin' dabo?"  A eats his dabo.  If he doesn't ask for more immediately ("daddy, dabo"), give him an hour or so.

A and I have baked dabo about once a week.  Two loaves each time - he eats most of it himself in a week or less.  It was difficult to explain to him that while we were indeed making dabo, it would not be ready for a LONG time.  He's gotten the hang of it though and has fallen in love with dabo straight out of the oven with melting butter.  I now see him making dabo in his little kitchen.  My grandfather must be smiling down.  Making bread was a tradition in my family.   Grandaddy was the dabo maker, then my mom.  Now it is A and me.


I'd like to end this dabo post with a snapshot of our home last week.  It is a wee hour - still dark outside.  A sleeps between us and I hear him awake and say, "Daddy, caca."  (One more reason I don't mind him being more attached to daddy.)  From the bathroom, I hear, from my dear little son, sitting on the potty, doing his caca, in the whiny voice he saves for this, "Daddy, dabo."


______________________


A's Dabo Recipe (from the More-With-Less Cookbook), 
also known as Easy No-Knead * Whole Wheat Bread:

Combine in large mixer bowl: 

• 3 c whole wheat flour
• 1/2 c sugar
• 2 t salt
• 3 pkg dry yeast (or 7 t of yeast)

Heat in saucepan until very warm (120-130 degrees):

• 2 c water
• 2 c milk
• 1/2 c oil

Add to dry ingredients:

• warmed liquids
• 2 eggs

Blend at low speed until moistened.  Beat 3 minutes at medium speed.  Stir by hand:

• 1 c oatmeal (my addition)
• 5-6 c white flour

Use enough flour to form a stiff batter.  Cover and let rise until double (it rises so much I have to put it in two large bowls).  Stir down and spoon into 2 greased 9x5" bread pans.  Let rise 20-30 minutes.  Bake at 375 for 35-40 minutes.


-----
*  My grandfather might not smile at this no-knead stuff - he was a purist, which I tend to be, too.  BUT, I am now a mom and this is just about the most delicious bread recipe I've ever found - knead or not!


AND I must add a note:  Bill just came home from his first night meeting since we've had the boys.  A heard the door and here were his words:  "Daddy!  Daddy, up (to pick him up).  Daddy, dabo."

Prize for Following Me To My Private Blog...

A video of my K and his toes ... it gets better after the first part...

One Month Home!

***  Quick reminder, this blog will be private tomorrow.  If you would like to continue reading, send me your e-mail in a comment - I will not publish it.  Thanks to all of you who wrote to say you want to continue reading!  I will send out invitations to view my private blog tonight.

______________________

Yesterday, marked one month since we have been home!  What an experience!  It feels a lot longer than a month, for both good and bad reasons :)  Good:  We love having two boys, specifically, our two boys.  They are pure joy.  Bad:  We have to deal with what most parents of two young children deal with - temper tantrums, crying, testing, unpredictability and lots of ENERGY (which means we are just much more tired on a daily basis).

Just to make sure I get a post in today while A is playing and K napping, here are some quick bullet points to mark the changes we have seen in each boy:

K (9 mo old):

• When we first met him, he was on his first week of solid food and didn't know what to do with it.  Now, he eats rice cereal, oatmeal, sweet potatoes, carrots, peas, yogurt and lentils.  He is not a messy eater at all for now (except when he sneezes).
  
• He barely held his head up when we met him.  Now, he has excellent posture and is almost sitting by himself.
• K is now able to feed himself a teething biscuit and pick up puffs with his fingers and eat them, sitting in his high chair.
• K didn't give us good eye contact at first.  Now, he lights up when he sees a familiar face and coos and smiles when we talk to him.  He gazes into our faces and looks directly into our eyes.
• His vocal ability is expanding.  He LOVES to YELL, blow raspberries and sing to himself.
  
• He has slept through the night a few times - thank you, thank you!
  

A (3 yrs, 2 mo):

• A is picking up a lot of English and Portuguese words.  He can say:  up, down, sleeping, awake, truck/caminhao, tricycle, work, Elmo, George (as in Curious George),  muito bem (very good), hot, cold, hello, baby, airplane/aviao, yes/sim, no, grandma/vovo, papa/vovo, park, hat and of course, lots and lots of animal names.
• He is having fewer and fewer tantrums (thank God!).
• He is more and more affectionate with his brother and with Samba.
• He is a very good eater - a special post on this later.
• He has gained 3 pounds.
• He has gone from screaming at a bath to playing happily for a long while in the bath.
• He repeats and retains so much of what we say :)
  
• He is learning to ride a tricycle.

Since Bill's parents (aka Ah-papah and Ghee-ran-ma) were here for a few days to help with the transition to Bill working full time, we were able to all go out yesterday to celebrate our one month of being home.

 

 

Funny Friday

So far, we haven't been out in public that much with the boys, so we have not opened ourselves up to the random questions or comments that so many adoptive parents talk about receiving regarding their family.  We have gotten some funny comments, though, from a child next door and from another child at the park...

We are coming home from yet another doctor's visit, I am struggling to get K out of his car seat and the next door neighbor boy (about 6 years old) comes over.

Me:  Hi, Rodrico.
Rodrico:  Whose baby is that?
Me:  He's my baby.
Rodrico:  Huh?
Me:  They are both my babies.
Rodrico:  How come you got a walking baby?
Me:  ????

What I think is funny about this whole exchange is that Rodrico didn't ask how I got a black baby, just how I got babies that were big and walking.

The other day, I was at the park with A and my sister, Victoria (who is six):

I see a little girl (lg) I recognized from church.  She had never said two words to me and I didn't even think she would recognize me.  She is ahead of us on the ladder to the big slide and stops midway.

lg:  Is that the boy you adopted.
me:  Yes, it is!  You remembered.
lg:  And who is she?
me:  My sister.
lg:  Wait, that's not possible.
me:  Yes, she is my sister.
lg:  Are you married?
me:  Yes, this is my husband right here.
lg:  How old is SHE?
me:  She's six.
lg:  But how can she be your sister?

I didn't quite follow her logic, but thought it was a cute exchange.  I eventually explained that Victoria was adopted, just like A, but I still think she didn't buy that.  It wasn't adoption that struck her, but the age difference.  Kids!

And now, for the gratuitous kid pics:

 

 

 

 

Fun Friday

I love the way he says giraffe.  Butterfly cracks me up.  Dragonfly is a bit tricky.  My favorite numbers are three and six. 



In other news, the I am getting the itch to make this blog private.  I am very much in a nesting, mother hen mode and just want to keep my boys close.  Thoughts?  I don't want to lose my blogfriends, but would not mind loosing the blurkers...

Two Weeks Down, A Lifetime to Go ...

I confess that I am a little bit stunned at how quickly my life got completely and utterly transformed.  A "Three Continent Family" is very, very, very different from a two contient one.  For example, this morning:  after a so-so night's sleep, Two Contient Family Evelyn would have kept right on sleeping when Bill decided to actually set an alarm and get up before the boys.  Three Continent Evelyn contemplated going back to sleep, but the thought of having an uninterrupted breakfast was so sweet, so unbelievable, that I gave up sleep to read the paper with my cereal in peace.  It never happened, though I did get to start breakfast without an interruption.  Oh, the minute little things I once took for granted!  Sleep, brushing my teeth, a long shower, an errand, a phone call, talk over dinner ...

Meanwhile, the Three Continent Family evolves.  I cannot say love is in full bloom yet in my heart, but I know the seeds are there.  I can't say I feel like a mother, though I don't know what else I could possibly be doing to have the certainty to say it.  I am absolutely a mother in everything I do now, I just don't feel like one all the way yet.  But unlike last Monday, this Monday, I have had more sleep.  I know these things will come.

For now, I am just trying to appreciate the moments when those feelings ARE there.  This afternoon, for example, I pulled out our indoor hammock (like any self-respecting Brazilian has in their home) for the first time.  I swung in it.  Agegnehu smiled.  I pulled him in.  Kibru stared.  I pulled him in, too, and found myself sitting between two little boys, swinging in our sunny back porch on a cold winter day.  They were both quiet (miracle # 1) and leaning into me, who for a second, felt very much like a mama.

Today, Bill has gone back to work part-time.  I cried when he left.  I dreaded this afternoon.  But instead of temper tantrums and too much energy, we swung in a hammock.  I put them down for a nap and the older one actually sleeps (miracle # 2).  Baby played and played and is now asleep, too. 

 

 

 

 

We've been at it two weeks, with a lifetime to go ... a tiny little voice inside says I might just be able to do this...

In case you ever find yourself feeling as though you are drowning when the thing you've wanted for so long comes true...

Evelyn and Kibru, at about hour 2 of the 30 hour journey home from Addis Ababa

You are not alone.  Here are some other posts about the "lowdown" of the first few weeks at home with internationally adopted children. Sleep deprivation + jet lag + sickness = your worst self ever.  Subtract just one thing and your self is still pretty beat down.  This is not everyone's experience, but it certainly was (is) mine.  The silver lining - things are getting better and better every day. 

"There is Only One Word..." by Claudia

"Surfacing" by Claudia
"Day Four at Home" by Claudia
"Sleep" by Claudia

"Post Adoption Panic" by Melissa Faye Greene

"Mother Fail" by Julie
"So Much to Say" by Julie


"One Month Together" by Rahel

"5 Month Summary from Mom"  by Kim

"Don't Call Me Mama" blog by Elizabeth Rias

If you have any more links that I should add here, please include it in a post!  Amasaganalo!

The Lowdown

Did anyone tell me this was going to be hard?  Yes.  Did anyone tell me I was crazy?  Yes.  Did anyone warn me?  Yes.  Did I listen?  NO!  I feel so over my head right now.  Two plus years did not prepare me in any way, shape or form for parenting.  Especially not for parenting TWO.

They are beautiful, delightful and amazing.  I, however am a mess.  A crying mess.  I cry out of sadness for my grieving babies.  I cry out of frustration for my inconsolable, sick, Kibru.  I cry because I am sleep deprived.  I cry because I miss my former life with Bill and Samba.  I cry because I, too, have been sickly.  I cry because the beauty of my boys overwhelms me.  I cry because I wonder if I'll ever be able to do this.  I cry because I don't feel fully like a mother yet.  I cry because Bill is such an amazing dad and I am so proud of him.  I cry if I talk to my mom or a friend on the phone.  Just hearing empathetic voices can make me cry.  I cry because it's in my nature.  I am a big, wallowing, boo-hooing, cry baby.

Did other people blog about these first few days and weeks home?  I don't remember reading about breakdowns, though if I did, I probably blissfully ignored the fact that I was about to step into the same road.  If you or someone you know has blogged about the first days, please send me a link and I'll include it here.

I am going to try to write some honest posts here about the first weeks home.  The cute boy pictures are true.  There is a lot of cuteness going on here.  But the picture of a crying mama is also a true one.  For all of the mamas getting ready to bring their babies home - may this help prepare you, just as much as the blogs about the joys of having children do.

I leave you with cuteness, to ensure that this is not the most depressing entry of the day.

 

First night home

 

 

The night after our 30 hour journey from Horizon House to our home:

3 am

2 exhausted parents

2 awake little boys

4 very confused biological clocks

A was so cute.  After our long journey, we had a 1.5 hr car ride in which he fell asleep.  Once home, we brought him inside and put him to bed between us in our bed.  At about one a.m., he woke up, sat up and looked around our room for a long time, then started singing, all the while thinking we were asleep.