Letters to My Girls

Between the Stirrups

So, that guy - the one with the white jacket and blue face-mask?  The one whose eyes are smiling at  you from beyond the white drape, holding just beyond your sight a long, thin tube with some stuff in it?  The one who you might have fantasized about once or twice because, after all, he will ultimately be the one who impregnates you?  The one who is about to bill you $10K for the next five minutes of his time? 

Yeah - that one! 

This is what he's not going to tell you about the baby he's about to put in your belly and what happens to you as a result:

-  You will bake approximately 18 dozen cupcakes by the time the child is 5 years old. (Exception:  Those who get the cupcakes at the bakery, slide them into a pan filled with "Ariel" paper liners, and swish a bit of canned frosting on top, all in the interest of appearing as though it matters that they should look home-made.)

-  You will stress over teacher's gifts every year for the rest of your child's schooling.  (Should I do this or that?  Did I spend too much?  Are the other mommies doing gifts?  Will it be tacky if I sew something? Once I do this, does it set a precedent for next year?)

-  If you have a C-section, unless you have cosmetic surgery insurance, the area between your breastbone and bikini line will have numerous saggy bits that fold over or hang down lifelessly, like dead turkey skin.

-  You will be pee'd and pooped upon in the most extraordinary of circumstances,  however, the hormonal changes will render you incapable of being grossed-out or angry, and will leave you viewing everything through very Seuss-like, pinkish colored glasses.

-  After having seen a few Disney movies, your child or children will remind you that you're fatter, uglier, or meaner than the Queen in Alice in Wonderland.  All done, of course, with a sweet, innocent, and helpful little smile.

-  Your "slam dunk" choice of toys, books, games, dolls, and clothing for your children will be viewed by the little imps with complete disdain.  They will end up on the floor, be stepped upon, broken, soiled, stretched, mangled, hidden, tossed out the window, left in the mud, and/or forgotten before the next holiday.  Your child will then have the worst Target tantrum ever upon discovering a version of the dolly (scooter, ant farm, gun) she really wanted that you won't get for her.  Or, it might be that you refused to purchase the bouffant, blue-eyeshadowed, mini-skirted, boob-enhanced doll (fist-fighting, gun-wielding, mask-wearing, warlord) you wouldn't purchase for her if it only cost $1.22 on clearance.

-  Each meal - and I mean every single meal- from the time the kid is born to the time she leaves for college will be a struggle, made more complex by the inclusion of additional family members all requiring various and constantly changing dietary additions, deletions, or exceptions.  The only solution?  McDonalds. 

-  The one-time-only "fee" you pay to school each year is just something they put on a sales brochure to get you to matriculate.  After that, plan on dropping $50 per week on book fairs, tee shirts, very specific gym clothes, even more specific gym shoes, cheerleading outfits, birthday presents, ER visits, lost lunch money, backpacks, stuffies, valentines to give anonymously, valentines to give publicly, fines to the library, lost glasses, lost retainers, oh-and lunch off-campus at McDonalds, of course. 

All of this, made totally worth it, of course, by the hugs and smooches and an occasional "I love you Mom!"  Nevertheless, since you won't get a chance after the baby is born, take the opportunity whilst your feet are hoisted up in the stirrups to gently nudge that handsome egg-wielding doctor right in the teeth with your stiletto.  

Wait - you don't wear stilettos to the OB/GYN?

Naomi's Story: Infertility, Loss & Love

When I asked my friend, Naomi, to be my first guest blogger, and knowing what a devoted mother she is, I knew she would have stories to tell.  I've read this one now a half-dozen times, and I still feel a little piece of me fall away each time the message hits me.  This story poses those "why?" questions we so often never find answers to, and end up carrying with us throughout our lives, the possible answers (if there are answers) changing as we grow and become wiser. 

Sit down with a box of tissues, and read about what this brave mommy had to endure. 

My admiration and thanks to you, Naomi, for sharing your story.     

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As a child, I always envisioned myself as a mother.  I would get married and have 2 or 3 kids.  They would be little stair steps like my sisters and I.  They would grow up fighting over crazy little things and be there to comfort each other when the little kid down the block was being mean.  Never once in my childhood fantasy world did I see struggling with infertility.  Growing up I never heard about anyone not being able to have a baby or having a baby that was stillborn.  I never considered the possibility.

My husband and I got married in June of 1993.  In October of that same year we bought our first  house.  In November I was pregnant with our first child.  Everything was going according to plan.  I worked full time during the pregnancy and never had an issue.  Jordan was born August 12, 1994.  He was 8 pounds 5 ounces and completely perfect.  I was 23 when he was born.  I enjoyed every stage and every accomplishment.  Jordan started walking around 10 months old.  He would hold onto furniture and eventually started racing around on his own little feet.  When he was 17 months old he stopped being able to walk.  His balance was gone.  He would stand up and just fall over.  We took him to our pediatrician and he thought it was something viral but wanted to do an MRI of Jordan's brain to make sure.  We went to Children's hospital and had an MRI.  Our worst fears came true as the doctor told us Jordan had a brain tumor.  It was on his cerebellum and that was causing his balance issues.  Jordan immediately had brain surgery and the tumor was completely removed with two surgeries.  His recovery and stay in the hospital is enough for a whole different story that I will tell another day.  He made an amazing recovery and we feel blessed every day for that!

 Once Jordan was home and healthy John and I decided to have another baby.  It truly was like that….hey let's have another baby.  It came so easily the first time, we assumed it would be the same.  Jordan was two years old when we started trying.  Every month was another disappointment.  When Jordan turned three we figured it was about time to see a specialist.  I went and saw a fertility doctor the fall of 1997.  He assured me that my body just needed a little push to get pregnant again.  I went on Clomid for a few cycles, the pill for a few cycles after the Clomid to regulate my system.  Next thing I knew, it is December of 1998 and still no pregnancy.  That month John was transferred and we moved to Indiana.  After unpacking the house and getting us settled, it was time to find a new fertility doctor.  This doctor said I needed surgery.  In the spring of 1999 I had scope surgery to determine if I had endometriosis.  During the procedure it was determined that I did in fact have endometriosis and the doctor removed a bunch of "stuff.”  I'm not sure what the official term is, but I knew this stuff was supposed to be keeping me from getting pregnant.  After recovering from the surgery the doctor suggested we try insemination.  This was the next step, the next push my body would need to get pregnant.  We did two rounds of insemination….no luck.  Now it is December of 1999 and guess what?  John got transferred again.  We packed up the house and moved again.  We arrived in our new town, I unpacked the house, John went to work, and Jordan started preschool.  Preschool?  I couldn't believe my little boy was old enough for preschool and still had no siblings!  Next on the to-do list was find another new fertility doctor. 

 In the spring of 2000 I found a wonderful fertility doctor.  He patiently listened to all my stories, what we had already tried, what surgeries I had, what I felt.  He suggested a dye test, injecting dye into my tubes to make sure all was open and well.  Of course they were and he wanted to try in-vitro fertilization.  John and I agreed and this started the year from hell!  As anyone who goes through the in-vitro process knows, it is a mind twisting, body tangling, confusion inducing process.  The first obstacle for me was giving myself shots.  They were daily and required a self pep talk every time I looked at that needle.  Then there were the egg retrievals where they use a drug called Versed which puts you in la -la land but you are still awake.  I once woke up to a room of laughing nurses who told me I said I was "dreaming of the Backstreet Boys."  Next up is putting the fertilized eggs back in.  Once that happens, you stay in bed for a few days hoping they will implant.  Then the real fun begins with every other day blood draws and ultrasounds.  The doctor monitors all sorts of levels in your blood and changes on the ultrasound.  After two weeks of this when you are very cranky and almost annoyed with the process, the doctor calls and says the words you have waited to hear forever…..YOU'RE PREGNANT!

I heard those wonderful words in December of 2000!  John and I were so excited but with reservations.  We knew it was so early and we could lose the pregnancy but I just felt like it was all going to be okay.  In no time we made it through the first trimester.  I was ecstatic!  Now nothing could go wrong!  That honestly was my thought!  I am good as gold!  In April we went to Disneyworld.  John's parents came with us.  It was our last big hurrah with Jordan as an only child and we wanted him to have a blast.  Three days into the trip we were standing in line for a show.  I felt like I was peeing my pants and realized I was leaking amniotic fluid.  I ran to the bathroom and John's mom followed.  We both knew this was not good and someone called an ambulance.  I made John's parents take Jordan back to the hotel because I didn't want him to see me loaded into the ambulance.  John and I went in the ambulance to the hospital.  They did an ultrasound and put a heart rate monitor on me.  The baby seemed fine.  There was still enough fluid and they couldn't tell what was causing the leak.  I stayed in the hospital for the next 4 days.  The fluid stopped and they released me on the last day in a wheelchair to catch the flight home.

We arrived back in Ft. Wayne and my first trip was to the OBGYN.  He for the first time used the word that I came to hate….fluke!  He saw no signs or issues from the previous week.  He put me on modified bed rest at this point.  No lifting, no exercising, etc.  I felt relieved and again felt like we had made it through what would be the worst and the baby would be here in a few months.  May and June were uneventful in a good way.  The baby continued to grow and all was well. 

I woke up the morning of July 24, 2001.  I was getting my haircut that day.  I showered, got ready and Jordan and I went to the salon.  John came and got Jordan and they went and had lunch while I got my hair cut.  That afternoon Jordan and I went home.  I felt something was off and I wasn't feeling the baby move.  I took out my trusty What to Expect When Expecting book and read about less movement later in pregnancy.  The book suggested drinking some fruit juice and see if the baby moved.  I had some apple juice and nothing happened.  I called my friend and asked if I could drop Jordan off.  I called the doctor and he was out playing golf, but suggested I go to the hospital where they could monitor me since his office was closed.  I arrived at the hospital feeling sort of silly.  I thought the nurses would all think I was overreacting.  I got checked in and the nurse tried to find a heartbeat.  She couldn't.  Then she brought in an ultrasound machine.  I had so many ultrasounds during the pregnancy that I knew what to look for.  The nurse also assumed everything   was fine because the screen was facing me.  As the ultrasound started, the screen became clear and the nurse quickly turned it away.  She was not quick enough as I had already seen enough to know that baby was gone.  The baby was lying across the top of my belly, arms hanging down.  I was 35 weeks and 4 days.

At this point I was still at the hospital alone.  I hadn't called John because I figured all would be okay.  I had to call him and tell him over the phone that the baby was dead.  I honestly don't remember making the call.  I do remember him asking if I was sure.  He came to the hospital and we just cried.  Neither one of us could speak.  Then the reality of it started to hit.  I had to have a C-section.  John had to go get Jordan.   Someone had to tell our families.  The next couple hours were truly a blur.  I don't remember all the details.  I remember being wheeled in for the C-section, the epidural, again being given Versed so I wouldn't remember.  Soon I was in recovery and the nurses were bringing me my little baby boy, wrapped in a blanket, a little cap on his head.  He was perfect.  The chaplain came in and prayed with us, baptized him.  We named him Austin John, as we had always planned to do.  We both held him.  We cried.  We said goodbye. 

 The only explanation I have is that word…..fluke.  There was no explanation.  There was no separation of the placenta.  The cord was not around his neck.  Maybe the cord wasn't strong enough.  Maybe the blood supply wasn't enough.  Maybe if I had gone to the hospital earlier.  All these maybe's that are still there as I type this 9 years later.  I will never know why Austin was stillborn.  I will never know why my body decided to betray me.  All I know is that this long and winding road has made me appreciate my son Jordan all the more.  If it weren't for Jordan, I don't know that most days I could've gotten out of bed.  He was my light in a very, very dark tunnel.   This road also led me to Jillian.  Without Austin I wouldn't have Jillian.  That is what I always tell myself.  It is the only explanation that I have.  He was my light that led me to her.  I don't understand it!  I don't think I ever will, but I have two amazing children that I get to look at every day and one that I talk to every night in my prayers and my dreams!

Naomi's Story: Adoption and Sisterhood

I strongly believe that certain souls are placed into your life to teach you something you need to know that is spiritually significant.  My friend, Naomi, is one such person in my life.  We worked together in the 80's in banking, where I was lucky enough to learn some very useful lessons in management from her.  She helped me to be a kinder, gentler person.  We lost touch, found each other last year on Facebook, and she now is teaching me even more about life and motherhood.  I knew she had stories to tell, so I asked her to be my first guest blogger. 

Naomi (39) lives in Illinois with her husband, John, son Jordan (16 and just started driving), and daughter Jillian (5).  She is the consummate stay-at-home-mom, with family, photography, and fitness her chief interests.  And, she has some beautiful, touching stories to tell us.  Today's story is about how adoption became a part of her life through her sisters and her children.  Check back next week to read her story of living with infertility and the loss of a child.  

Thank you, Naomi, for being my first guest blogger!  

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From as early as I was old enough to understand, I was told my oldest sister, Lainie, was adopted.  Lainie was the firstborn.  Jess and I soon followed, biological daughters of my dad and my mom.  I always knew we were different because people were always very quick to point it out….how come Lainie doesn’t have blond hair?  How come Lainie is so quiet?  Lainie must look like your dad (always the assumption made when the three of us girls were with my mom).  Jess and I were the spitting image of my mom, blond hair blue-eyed Norwegians.  Lainie had dark hair and different facial features.  As the three of us girls got older the differences became more obvious.  Lainie was a straight A student.  She was very quiet in the classroom and obedient.  Teachers loved Lainie.  Next in line was Jess.  Jess was also a straight A student and the teachers love her too,  but she was much LESS quiet in the classroom.  Back in our high school days, teachers gave a letter grade for assignments and a number grade for “respects the rights of others” and such.  Lainie always had A1’s, which meant quiet and a good listener.  Jess always got A3’s, meaning not so quiet and not a good listener unless that meant listening to gossip.  When I entered high school it was inevitable that I would get the same teachers as my sisters.  I remember one teacher saying, “So which sister are you like, Lainie or Jess?”  She said it with such hope….hoping my answer would be Lainie.  I guess my behavior modeled more closely to Lainie's and teachers were happy about that.  As I recall I had a lot of A's on my report card too, but not straight A's.   The comparisons and the questions never sat very well with me.  I always took it as some sort of dig….like the difference wasn’t good. 

As the three of us entered college and went our separate ways in the world, we followed our own paths.   As we were all in different cities and rarely got together, we weren’t compared to one another as often.  Jess and I each got married.  We both got pregnant at the same time.  We delivered our boys within 3 days of each other.  Lainie soon followed with marriage and a baby girl.  Now we were all mothers.

 After I had my son, my husband and I started trying to have another baby.   The second time it wasn’t so easy.  We found ourselves unable to have another baby and started thinking about adopting.  My first thought was, what if our child is treated differently like Lainie?  You see, growing up I always cringed when the questions would come.  It made me uncomfortable and it made me sad for Lainie.  When John and I started seriously considering adoption my first phone call was to Lainie.  As John and I were looking at  all ethnicity options of babies we might receive I couldn’t help but think of how different they might be from us.  When I called Lainie I simply asked her, “How did it make you feel when people would ask why you looked different?”  In typical Lainie fashion she said, “Well I always knew I was adopted, so to me  it was such a stupid question.  Duh.”  It truly amazed me.  What I had always seen as a jab or a dig, Lainie saw as a stupid question.   She always knew she was wanted.  She was loved.  She was part of a family.  She had parents who loved her the second she was put into their arms.  She had sisters that would be with her for life.  Suddenly having a different “birthparent” seemed so irrelevant.

Shortly thereafter John and I dove headfirst into the adoption process.  We filled out all the paperwork, usually me filling out the papers while reading aloud to John.  I recall his only hesitation.  We were filling out our preferences for a child.  I checked off ethnicities I didn’t even know existed.  John nodded or voiced a yes as I went.  We got to type of birth….I read single, check.  Twins, check.  Triplets, check!  John yelled “WHOA.”  That seemed to be his only concern.  We did the FBI background check, home study, and fingerprints.  We made a book of pictures and descriptions of our family, why we thought we would make a good adoptive family.  The first week of July we received a letter from the adoption agency saying all our paperwork was done and we were ready to be “shown” to birthmothers.  The last week of July we got a call from the agency….a birthmother had chosen us.  I remember being overjoyed and just knew this was meant to be!

Jillian Faith was born November 17^th.  John, Jordan and I flew to Florida the day she was born.  When we arrived at the hospital, we went straight to our birthmother’s room.  We all took turns holding Jillian, staring at her, crying with joy.  When our adoption coordinator told us it was time to leave, my heart sank and I cried.  The birthmother had until the next day to change her mind.  We went back to the hotel and waited.  The next afternoon, we got the call to come pick up our daughter at the hospital.  We couldn’t get there fast enough.  The nurses took us through everything that I remembered going through when I left the hospital 10 years before with Jordan.  It still didn’t seem real.  Did we really get to leave the hospital and bring this perfect little life with us? 

We did!  As I write this I am trying to think when Jillian became ours.  Was it always written this way?  From the first phone call from the agency, she seemed like my daughter.  Was it our first meeting with her birthmother when she said she would trust us to raise her birth child?  Was it during the last couple months of her pregnancy when I dreamt about when this baby would come, what she would look like, what our first moments together would be like?  Was it the first time I held her in the hospital?  Was it when we left the hospital as a family of four?  I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I do know that Jillian was meant to be my daughter and I was meant to be her mom, the same as Jordan was meant to be my son and I was meant to be his mom.  I see no difference between them, no distinction of biological and adopted.  Maybe that is why Lainie never saw the questions as an issue….she was raised not thinking there was any difference between adopted and biological and that everyone looks different.  That is what makes us each unique and wonderful in our own way.

We talk about Jillian being adopted.  She knows we brought her home from the hospital when she was one day old.  Jillian understands as much as she can at 5 years old that she was in another woman’s belly. She knows that her birthmother gave her to us because she thought we would be the perfect family for her.  We certainly don’t talk about it everyday.  But I want Jillian to be aware of it, to know it is part of her story, to understand that being adopted is a great thing.  That way when the questions come, the differences are pointed out, she can embrace it and tell her story just like Lainie always has.  No big deal.  I’m different because I am me.  Adopted or not, isn’t that the best lesson we can all learn?  Embrace the fact that what makes you different, what sets you apart, what some people criticize and fault,  are the same amazing things that make you you!  Nobody else in the world is just like you?  That is a wonderful thing!

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Have a question or comment for Naomi?  Write us in the comments section below and Naomi will answer!