December 15, 2005

The First Six Months - An Adoptive Parent Primer

What you really need to know:

The same baby who sleeps peacefully slumped over a rock in 96-degree sunshine during a Blue Angels Air Show will awaken from a deep slumber in the middle of the night if you drop the cap to your toothpaste.

Begin now to live every day as if you will be snowed-in for a month starting tomorrow.

You can not imagine the things you will extract, touch, sniff, sample, examine and discuss. You will do so without hesitation, and you will even save some of them. (I didn't believe it either.)

Pray for the generosity of friends who cook.

Ultimately, everything is washable. (I just took a shower with an exersaucer.)

Babies produce an astounding amount of earwax. Most of it Cheeto-colored.

Take time now to locate as many drive-through establishments as you can. I mean way beyond just a bank and fast food. Pharmacy, drycleaner, grocery store, gas station, car wash, post office, bakery, photo lab, oil change, coffee shop, church, AAA, video rental, library, cell phone repair... you will need every opportunity to conduct your life without getting out of the car. If you can find a drive-through pediatrician I suggest you get on the waiting list now. I’m sure he or she has a full patient load.

Some days it's a marathon,
some days it's a sprint,
most days it's a marathon sprint.

Trust your instincts.

Keep a journal. Those first special moments, the ones you’re sure you’ll remember for the rest of your life, will be crowded out by the next special moments, which will eventually give way to others, and so on... write it on a napkin, a diaper box, the mirror, a changing pad, anywhere. Just write it. Please.

If you grow impatient waiting for a child to adopt, remember that God is finding exactly the right baby for you. When you bring your child home, you will be grateful that He took His time.

No matter what you do, time will pass too quickly.

You will be your baby’s first true love.




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December 09, 2005

Things I've Learned From Your Daddy

If you want French fries, order French fries.

Stubble may be sexy on a man, but it’s never sexy on a woman.

Holding the door is an expression of affection, not politics.

It’s impossible to argue with someone who is smiling.

Make time.

Men don’t like to carry anything. Except money.

A hotdog at the ballpark can be a romantic dinner.

Don’t read Dave Barry with food in your mouth.

Cold feet on a warm back is only funny if the feet are yours and the back isn’t.

An hour in the electronics store isn't too much to ask.

Let it go.




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December 05, 2005

I feel most like a mother...

I feel most like a mother when you don't know that I'm taking care of you. When I gently change course to avoid a loose shopping cart. When I shift you on my lap to keep you from a draft or an edge or a light in your eyes. When I deliberately linger a few steps behind because I smell smoke on the people walking ahead of us. When I smile at you and make casual conversation so you don't realize that my heart just stopped and restarted because you almost slipped in the tub or almost hit your head or almost swallowed a penny.

I've been surprised to realize that your birth didn't end my anticipation. It just changed it.




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November 28, 2005

My Pompei

I know exactly what I was doing when you were born, because it’s still unfinished, just as I left it. My private Pompei.

I was cleaning my office. Not cleaning it, actually. On my way to organizing Important Things I stumbled on the assorted This and That of the last several years, and meaning to spend only a few minutes visiting, looked up just in time to see the last light tiptoe from the room, having whittled the whole day away right from that spot.

Everywhere are piles of ideas. Some that I abandoned, others that abandoned me. Outlines and rough drafts, clever titles, opening lines, unresolved poems, manuscript middles without beginnings or ends. A writer’s unborn children.

An old address book. People and places I can neither remember nor forget.

A sympathy card I never sent. Simon & Garfunkle sheet music. A note from your Daddy.

My weights are in the corner with my step bench, half on either side, next to a box of things I keep for Reasons I Can't Explain. A set of bamboo wind chimes, an old sketch pad, a cone of vanilla incense and a mini stapler. A single garden stake. Brown shoelaces, still in the wrapper, caught with a pin shaped like a Treble clef.

Now you’re here, and you are my Important Thing. You are my This and That. You are my ideas and my address and my Reasons. And since I don't see any prospect of cleaning my office for at least the next eighteen years, I can show you exactly what I was doing while I waited for you.




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November 27, 2005

Three Strikes and You're In

I generally have a three-strike rule for people who spit up while I'm kissing them, but you have a way of making me break my own rules.




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November 20, 2005

Over/Under

Conventional wisdom is to dress a baby one layer warmer than you dress yourself. It's a typical mid-November in New York and I'm wearing two pairs of socks, flannel pants, an undershirt, a turtleneck and a flannel top. My husband (in the same house) is barefoot, wearing only shorts and a t-shirt. So...




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November 16, 2005

Diaper Wrassle

Changing a four-month old is like wrestling an alligator that laughs and pees in your face.




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November 07, 2005

Poem: baby love

I lean close and let my hair fall soft, like sunlight on your sill.
Two handfuls...tiny, waving fists, tug my face down to yours.
Cheek on cheek I whisper, “Mama loves her baby. Mama loves her baby”, and I feel you smile.
Always too soon I move to stand,
but you hold fast and chuckle, as if to say, “I’m not done with you yet.”
So I whisper again... and again... and again.
And it’s the best day ever.




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October 27, 2005

True Love

People say that when you're in love, you just know. Like when you pee on my pajamas or drool on my face, and I just know.




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October 08, 2005

Heart's Capacity 2

I guess it won't.




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October 07, 2005

Heart's Capacity

My little girl… my sweet, sweet bundle. I think that if I love you any more than I do today, my heart will burst.




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September 15, 2005

Mommy Math

Each serving of Nacho Baked Doritos provides 4% of my daily calcium requirement and 2 grams of fiber. Each bag contains 13 servings. So, by eating 2 bags a day I get 104% of my calcium and 52 grams of fiber. Not a bad deal.




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August 25, 2005

First Separation

This morning Daddy and I moved your bassinette from our room into the nursery. It's midnight, and just now, walking in the dark from the bathroom into the bedroom I swerved my hips so I wouldn’t bump into your little bed. Then I remembered. I miss my little buddy. I want to run in there and drag your bassinette back into our room, but I won't. My first letting go.




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August 08, 2005

I'm Really a Mom

I hardly slept at all last night because I was thinking about you growing up. I wonder what kind of a relationship you and I will have. I hope that we’re close, and that you share your life with me.

I’ve adjusted to having a baby... I’m still working on realizing that I have
a daughter.




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July 24, 2005

Sunday Best

We made it to mass for the first time since you were born. You and I both wore pink and spit-up.




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July 20, 2005

Sleep Deprived

Anyone who says "You'll sleep when the baby does" is deliberately exploiting your naivete.




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July 14, 2005

Lost & Found

Today you lost your cord and found my bangs.




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July 13, 2005

Growing Pains

When I dressed you this morning in your pink and white bunny onesie I didn’t understand why I had such a hard time getting your arms into it. I finally realized that you’ve outgrown it. It’s just a piece of cloth... but it's your first piece of cloth. This is the outfit we brought you home in.
Mama's crying because I don't want you to grow anymore, Baby.




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July 11, 2005

Eleven Days

Eleven days... already I can't remember what Daddy and I did before you.




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July 08, 2005

No Time to Eat

My husband: "Honey, I'm worried about you. I don't think you're eating enough."

Me: "No, really, I am. I had some pretzels earlier today."

My husband: "You had pretzels on Wednesday. This is Friday."

Me: "Friday already? Oh, yeah. I also had a handful of cherries."

My husband: "That was last Friday."




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July 01, 2005

My First Lesson

3 onesies aren't enough!!




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June 30, 2005

Baby is Born

At 9:15 a.m. a nurse wheeled your bassinette into the room. The first thing I noticed was your brown hair, then how small you were. What a tiny bundle! As she lifted you out I said to Daddy, “You can hold her first”, but he insisted, “No, honey. You’ve been waiting a long time for this. You hold her first.” I started crying even before you were in my arms. My sweet baby… so tiny and delicate. I’ve never seen such a beautiful baby. I can’t believe you’re really here and you’re really ours. Are they really going to let us take you home? Are you really our child?




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