Thankful Thursday

I have been thinking a lot about what I wanted to post as my very first Thankful Thursday. I decided that I should start with the person who I am most thankful for. My best friend, the most amazing daddy, my Spencer. He is a funny, passionate, loving person who I don't know what I would ever do without.

I am so thankful for him for so many reasons. As I mentioned he is my best friend. We have now known each other over 12 years. I can talk to him about anything, everything. Some of my favorite nights are the nights that we just lay in bed in the dark talking. Talking about anything, everything. Or on a road trip, or a walk, when we just have the deep long talks. Talks about everything that is on our minds.

He is such a great daddy. Roman runs squealing when he hears the door open when Daddy gets home. He loves that boy more than anything, and Roman loves his daddy just as much. There is nothing better than watching them wrestling on the floor or sitting on the couch watching a movie together.

I am so thankful that Spencer took the time to find a career that he loves. Most people would not love to do what he does, He loves what he does and that is huge. I am so thankful that he took the time to finish school.

I am eternally thankful that he honors his priesthood and that we have a worthy priesthood holder in our home. I am thankful that I am able to spend eternity with him!

Just a few amazing stories about Spencer, just to show you why I am so thankful for him. This first story I don't share very often. When we were first struggling with infertility, fertility treatments, diagnosis it really took a toll on our relationship. Anyone who has ever taken fertility drugs understands, they are such a hormonal hell. When we finally found answers as to why we were unable to get/stay pregnant I was DEVASTATED to say the least. The problems were 100% me which is hard to hear. I told Spencer that if he wanted out I understood, we had been through so much I would have completely understood if he has said goodbye. Instead he showed me what unconditional love was. He told me he hadn't married me for the children we would have, sure he wanted kids but he married me for me. He showed me that our love was eternal that the obstacles thrown at us wouldn't break us.

Spencer has always been good at sweet surprises. One year for Christmas he filled my stocking with a dozen red roses. Christmas morning is always fill of such suspense, but nothing brings a smile to a girls face quicker than flowers, what a perfect way to start Christmas morning!

There are millions of sweet stories I could share about my sweetheart. I am so thankful that I found my best friend, and have had 8 great years with him so far, I can't wait for the next 80 (and eternity for that matter!)!

Remembering the good

This year I have let myself get into a little bit of a rut, a pity party of sorts. I am not going to lie, this has been a rough year. Things happen, life doesn't always go as planned, but that doesn't mean that the world is against me.

Last night we drove home from California where we went for a memorial service for Spencer's cousin's husband. The memorial was in the late afternoon so by the time we got on the road to head home it was getting late. Spencer started out driving and I slept then it was my turn to drive.

I drove for about 4 hours in silence while Spencer slept quietly next to me and Roman was asleep in the back seat. The quiet time driving gave me a chance to think. I started out thinking of Spencer's cousin, Liz. She said something that made me so sad for her, she said "Oh sure, I just need to find a new life, the old one was too good anyway." My heart just broke for her. I can't imagine losing my husband at 26 years old, they have a sweet little girl who lost her daddy and really doesn't understand. That was where my thoughts went next was to that sweet little girl, not quite 4 years old who doesn't really understand except that her daddy is gone.

I will admit I started having a bit of a pity party at this point. This year has by no means been a walk in the park for us, but we have had SO many blessing and for some reason I forget about the blessings when I start in on a pity party. How is it that I forget about that miracle running around my house that calls me Mommy (or mama, or occasionally Mommy Wendy)? How is it that I forget about the amazing house that we have, and the friends that we have had that have helped us to fill it with laughter? The friends who have laughed with us and cried with us?

I have decided that I am going to start posting Thankful Thursday posts. Something every Thursday I am thankful for. Heaven knows I could go on forever. I have SO much to be thankful for!

I just need to remember that there are so many good things happening in our life! They far outweigh any bad!

And as a preview, wou know what Roman is thankful for? A garden that is producing CUCUMBERS!

(Gosh I love this boy!! That smile gets me EVERY TIME!!!)

Grab a box of tissues

Okay, I don't usually watch 16 and Pregnant. I heard about last nights episode and I just had to watch it. It is about an amazing 16 yr old girl and the most supportive 17 year old boy I have ever seen. I don't know what I was thinking watching this, I know it's something that makes me very emotional. Thankfully there was a box of tissues sitting on our desk already.

This is the entire episode, it's about 40 minutes long, but absolutely AMAZING!

MTV's 16 and Pregnant - MTV Shows

I am so thankful that Catelyn and Tyler had the courage to realize that they were doing the very best thing for their baby girl. I hope they know how amazing they are!

Wanting to choose The Ones.

Where I left off telling my story, I was mentioning a certain website where I was spending a lot of my time…

I’m a researcher. I rarely had questions for my doctor because everything I wanted to know I learned myself by reading online and by getting books from the library. Many of my Google searches for various questions landed me on the same website: Babycenter. Babycenter has quite a bit of information about pregnancy, including those graphic childbirth videos that no one really wants to see. So I ended up on this site quite a bit. Wandering around on the site I found my way to the message boards. On the message boards there are groups for everything you can think of. One of these groups was the LDS board. If you haven’t figured this out already, I am LDS. So naturally I was drawn to this board out of a sense of belonging and mutual understanding. I started posting there- getting answers to questions or just chit-chatting. This was all during the time that I found myself wanting to withdraw from the “real” world, since I found it difficult to trust anyone and also because of that instinct I felt to protect myself and stay close to the nest. It was nice to be able to have so much interaction with people while still being safely and comfortably at home.

Sometime around January, 2007:

For a few months now I was engulfed big time in harsh, bitter reality and longed to see something good and miraculous happen. So I was eager to choose a family. Once I did finally break down and see a caseworker, he encouraged me to wait until I was around 6 months along to choose the family. His reasoning and explanation for that advice made perfect sense to me. But I wanted that emotional rush of finding the ones. I had already been looking at online profiles from time to time, looking for inspiration. What was I looking for?

- College degrees
- Strong testimonies of the gospel
- Intelligence
- Seriousness about the adoption process
- A glimmer, a spark: something in the eyes that speaks to me
- An appreciation for family
- A sense of understanding of my position in all this
- About one state away of distance
- That burning feeling of confirmation

I admit I remember dejectedly looking at profile after profile, clicking from one page to the next and feeling nothing. Or very little. I felt some discouragement that I didn’t seem to be able to find that last criterion- that burning feeling, the overwhelming confirmation that I had found the ones. It just wasn’t happening. I still felt strongly and confidently that adoption was right for me but I just wasn't finding that perfect fit.

So I did something that looking back, surprises me. I just picked one that I liked. Don’t get me wrong, there was nothing wrong or inferior about the couple I chose. They fit all of my criteria with the sole exception that I liked them, I just didn’t overwhelmingly love them. Though I didn’t really know that at the time because I had nothing to compare it to.

February 2007:

I emailed the couple through the LDS Family Services website (which, thank goodness has been completely re-done) and soon we were emailing back and forth, getting to know each other. If I’m remembering correctly it was after a couple weeks of emailing that I told this couple I had chosen them to adopt my baby. Emotional rush! Hooray, just what I had wanted. Yet, again, looking back it just wasn’t quite what it should have or could have been.

Then Valentine’s Day of 2007 came and shook up my whole world.

The best part

This week I have been appreciating how lucky I am to be a mom. I LOVE being a mom. Sure it's hard, sure there are things that I don't love, but I wouldn't trade those few things for all the good things.

I love sneaking in at night just to get one last peek.

I love snuggling on the couch in the mornings.

I secretly still love when he wants to sleep in my arms.

I love teaching him new things.

I love listening to him talk.

I love watching him love others. (Most especially his Daddy, his Mommy Katie, his grandparents (boy do they ever LOVE him!!!), his aunts and uncles, and his cousins)


I love playing outside with him.

I love playing inside with him when we can't play outside.

I love when he tells me something that I had no idea that he knew. (For example, yesterday he told me that Grandpa drives a dump truck. Grandpa does indeed drive a dump truck, but how the heck did he know that? Every time he puts his Legos man into the dump truck he now says it's Grandpa.)

I love that he loves me!

I love when he says words wrong (Like Uncle Semen) but he is trying so hard.

I love that he addresses everyone by name.

Most of all, I just plain love him and I love being a mom!

Visit with Mommy Katie

Mommy Katie came for Roman's birthday.We hadn't seen her in almost a year so it was way overdue. It was SO MUCH FUN to have her here. Because we haven't seen her in so long I was a little nervous about how Roman would do. We talk about Katie all the time, look at pictures etc but really didn't know how he would do. Well, Saturday came and as soon as Roman was up he was waiting for Mommy Katie, didn't want to take a nap for fear that he would miss her, and sat out on the porch waiting for her to get here. When she finally got here he was shy for a few minutes then he warmed right up to her.

Katie was able to stay for almost a week, (she was here after we left, and Roman LOVED that. She took him to the zoo!)




In that time we did SO many things, and had so many other things planned that we didn't do because Roman was sick. He loved Katie's laptop because she would let him watch Winnie-the-Pooh on her computer.



We went to the Draper Temple so that Katie could see it, and to the Oquirrh Mountain Temple Open House.



Oh how we love that Mommy Katie and are so thankful that she was able to come! Can't wait to see her again soon!

derailed

Today our roller coaster was derailed.

We are going to wait a bit before we decide to get back onto the roller coaster.

Rollercoasters

Yesterday we were planning to take Roman to Lagoon for his birthday. He is such a little dare devil we knew he would just love it. Even though we didn't make it to Lagoon, we have definitely been on a roller coaster lately.

Almost 2 weeks ago we climbed on the roller coaster called "Adoption #2." Well, we were on it before, but the ride finally started rather than sitting in the car waiting for the ride to start. You know that feeling right as the roller coaster starts to climb, the pit of your stomach, anticipating the turns, climbs, drops, and that final HUGE hill that makes it all worth while? The one where you start to wonder if it was in your best judgment to climb on, but it's too late to get off so it's time to "Keep your hands, feet and all objects inside the ride at all times, hang on and enjoy the ride." That describes the last 2 weeks for us.

On Saturday (June 13) we received an e-mail from another amazing woman. She has been trying to decide for months what would be right for her and for her sweet baby. She didn't have much time left. She was scheduled to be induced on June 25.

We responded to her e-mail Saturday morning and over the course of the past few weeks we have had a chance to get to know her a little. She is amazing and sweet. She has a great heart. She wants to give her baby the world. She is a fabulous mother to two adorable children.

Today we climbed on an airplane. We are going to meet her for the first on Wednesday then Thursday we will be there to welcome sweet baby Tessa to the world.

I can't even express the gratitude we feel, not once, but twice now to be chosen by these amazing women. I love them both so much and can't wait to get to know this new birth mother better. I hope our next post will be to introduce the world to the newest member of our family, miss Tessa McKenzie.

There are some things that could cause some MAJOR bumps on this ride so PLEASE keep us in your prayers. We can use them all.

The best two years

The last 2 years have been 2 of the best years of my life! I can't believe Roman is 2 years old! Last year I took the time to reflect over our life together here.

This year I have been reflecting on the past 2 years and how blessed we have been.

Two years ago today we climbed on an airplane with an empty car seat, full hearts, and a prayer. When we boarded the plane to come home we were parents. If only it were that simple.



In the time between those two flights our entire life changed. . .we went from a family of 2 (or 3 if you count Brodie) to a family of 3 (or 4 with Brodie, now known as Brew according to Roman).



We went from a family that suffered from infertility, to a family that was blessed by adoption.



I think our hearts doubled, maybe tripled. There is no other way that I can explain how we had so much love to give that sweet baby.

One year ago I thought I was the luckiest mom in the world. Today I know I am.


I can not forget about that special Mommy Katie today either. There are never enough words to express what a special person it takes to be a birth mother. I can't even imagine making the decision that she was faced with. We thank Heavenly Father for her EVERY SINGLE DAY. And we are pretty excited that we get to see her today!!!

Roman's Special Bubba

When Roman was 5 days old we went to the LDS Family Services offices for official placement. At placement we had a gift for Katie and she in turn had a gift for Roman. Katie gave Roman this special blanket that has a scripture embroidered around the edges. It was so sweet and special. It says "For this child I prayer; and the Lord hath given me my petition which I asked of him: Therefore also I have lent him to the Lord; as long as he liveth he shall be lent to the Lord. 1 Sam 1:27-28"


Friday Spencer's cousin came over to borrow some baby things for her new little man. We got out all the crates and boxes full of baby clothes, blankets, and gear. We hadn't touched them since we moved because they were labeled "baby stuff." In going through these boxes we found a few things that do NOT belong with baby stuff just to be put away and forgotten. One such thing is Roman's Special Bubba. I took it out along with a few other special things I found. I set them on the chair in Roman's room to put them away. He saw his special bubba and wanted to sleep with it. At first I was a little apprehensive but Spencer said "He isn't going to hurt it, and it will be even more special if it's something that he remembers." So since Friday Roman has been attached to his Special Bubba.

I am so lucky.

Today on Birthmother's Day, I feel so much gratitude. I am feeling so lucky to be Roman's birth mom. He is truly an amazing little boy. I also feel lucky (or should I say blessed!) to have Wendy and Spencer, who have been so good to me and are truly friends for life. Really, friends for eternity. I could not have wished better parents for Roman or a better support for me. Also I feel so blessed that I was given this incredible experience. Of course it has changed my life so much and I would never go back and change it. Never.

Today I shared some of my adoption experience at a training for LDS Family Services adoptive couples, most of which have not been placed yet. I never exactly love talking about very personal emotions and experiences, and sometimes wonder if I'm articulating my feelings well enough. But I share because my experience has been so overwhelmingly positive. I wanted them to know that they don't need to be afraid of having a very open relationship with their birth moms, and also that the birth moms can be just as blessed by the experience as they are. I believe those are important things to convey.

How did I gain so much from this? I am often at a loss for words to explain just how and why bringing this amazing boy into the world had just a profound impact on me. I scoff at the idea that I am somehow damaged by the experience, and that Wendy and Spencer have benefitted at my expense. This could not be further from the truth. But there are still many misconceptions about adoption. What I want the world to know is that I consider this the greatest thing I have done in my life, and I thank Heavenly Father for giving me the opportunity.

Today at the training, we talked some about adoptive parents who go back on their word about the level of openness and even cut off contact with the birth mother after everything is final. It is rare, but it happens. It caused me to reflect on the relationship I have with Wendy and how grateful I am that she has gone above and beyond in keeping me a part of Roman's life. There is an intense amount of trust in an adoption. First they trusted me when I promised them they would become parents; now I trust them that they will keep me part of their lives. That kind of trust is hard to find in this world.

So yes- today I feel overwhelmed with happiness, gratitude, and peace. I am one lucky girl.

Happy Birth Mother's Day Katie

What can I say
Where are the words
To share the love we feel

This little boy
Our pride and joy
Our love for him is real

That sweet sweet smile
The crazy shrills
He makes our life so full

He came to us by other means
He found our hearts and whispered hope
And peace to his special mom

She held him close
And kissed his head
Then lovingly she said

"Take care of him
I love him so
Be sure he always knows."

She placed him in our loving arms
And helped us with our dreams
She gave us hope and love and joy, she gave us everything.

To love, To hold
To watch him grow
We share it all with her.

To see him growing
To watch him learn
The wonderment he brings.

New York Times article - An Adopted Child Is a Riddle. Now I Have a Clue.

Katie posted this article on Facebook the other day, and I have been debating since then. . .should I repost it here? There are so many of the emotions the author expresses that were so close to the feelings I felt, but there are so many differences as well. I came to realize that is what makes every adoption unique. No matter how similar two adoption stories are, they aren't the same. They have their own elements that make them unique.

So I decided that I would share and share my feelings on the article as well.

You can see the article on the New York Times website here.

Modern Love

An Adopted Child Is a Riddle. Now I Have a Clue.

By NONA MARTIN STUCK

Published: April 22, 2007

BY our own clear-eyed assessment, my husband and I sprang from relatively shallow ends of our respective gene pools. Had we chosen to try to overcome our infertility and produce our own children, they most likely would have had crooked teeth and bad tempers and been as myopic as moles.

Instead, we adopted three of the loveliest, brightest and most interesting people I know. And the three women responsible for our good fortune have remained strangers, largely unaware of how they have enriched our lives.

Our fourth adoption began just like the others. Domestic and private, it required, in addition to a lawyer, a social worker to ensure once again that we were suitable candidates for parenthood. She was also responsible for conducting the interview with the birth mother and was, in effect, a state-sanctioned go-between in what had always been for us an anonymous affair.

But times were changing. The previously locked doors of adoption information were swinging open, and what had once been considered a shameful secret by many was increasingly seen as a loving choice.

So it was that the social worker one day asked me whether I had ever wanted to meet one of my children’s birth mothers.

“Oh, God, yes!”

“Well,” she continued, “this one is interested in meeting you. Do you want me to arrange it?”

I was stunned into an uncharacteristic silence. Meeting the birth mother had not even been presented as a possibility in our other adoptions. Always, though, I had wondered about them, worried about them, imagined conversations with them. I knew they were young, between 15 and 19, and unmarried. And I assumed they were as frightened and uncertain about the future as I would have been in their situation.

On a Friday morning in mid-September, the social worker called to tell me that a meeting had been set up for the following Wednesday at a coffee shop in a small town an hour’s drive away.

When I shared the news with my husband, he was less than enthusiastic. While supporting my decision to meet the woman, he wanted no part in the meeting. “Too much raw emotion” was how he put it. Even talking about it made him uneasy.

I, on the other hand, was twitchy with anticipation. My children were 8, 6 and 3, and their personalities were emerging before my eyes like quick-developing photographs. Watching these transformations, I had begun to have a sense of their biological mothers as I have of the characters in my favorite books, never actually seen but unmistakable in their particularity.

Where had these surprises in disposition and style originated? Where was the adult version of that one’s smile, another’s playful confidence with strangers, his perfect pitch, her gift for mimicry? Were there other children, brothers and sisters with the same endearing traits and annoying habits? And would knowing the answers be a blessing or a curse?

On the day of our meeting, I chose my outfit as carefully as I ever had for a date. As I drove, I let my thoughts drift to those other three women. They were in my mind often, especially at the milestones of my children’s lives: the first haircuts, steps taken, words spoken; as training wheels came off their bikes and as braces went on their teeth; on each first day of school, and at every soccer game and piano recital. At birthday celebrations I experienced a vague unease, as if I had forgotten to invite a close relative.

I remembered precisely where I was and what I’d been doing at the moment I received each phone call bringing the news of the birth. Surely their memories of those hours were more intense than mine. Yet did they observe those anniversaries? I could only imagine, and I did.

When the coffee shop came into view, I resisted the urge to drive past and had to rely on deep breathing to maintain my composure as I parked the car. Getting out, I caught sight of myself in the side mirror and saw that sprigs of my hair were sticking up at goofy angles and my mascara was smudged, but it was too late for repairs.

Inside, a very pregnant woman sitting alone in a booth rose to shake my hand. She asked about my drive, laughing nervously when I mispronounced her name. By the time the waitress had refilled our coffee cups, the awkwardness had passed and we were interrupting each other, eager to tell and know everything.

She was in her late 20s, divorced and raising two preschoolers on her own. A lapsed Catholic, she maintained she was still under the sway of what she had been taught.

Sensing I was in favor of abortion rights, she looked directly at me and said, “I really am pro-choice, and my choice is to have this baby.” And then, with conviction and regret, she added: “But I can’t raise it. I can’t single-parent another child. I just can’t.”

We traded pictures and stories of our children. I told her I felt fortunate to have held all three of my children within their first 24 hours. About the births of her son and daughter, she said: “Those first few minutes after they’re born are amazing. They look right at you, as if they already know who you are.”

As we prepared to leave, she took my hand. “My mother and sister will be there for me, to help and all, but I don’t think I can be there for this baby, not in the way I was with my others.” She looked near tears, but went on. “I want him to have somebody right from the beginning.”

Finally we said our goodbyes, and I drove home in a rich sensory fog of baby lust and the giddiness of this new relationship.

Three months later she called me, not to announce a birth but to explain that a satisfactory fetal stress test had stamped the O.K. on an induced labor. The holidays were fast approaching, and neither of us wanted the delivery to fall on a day ideally devoted to celebration with our other children, hers and mine. My husband again declined to join us, promising instead to arrive the next day to drive our new baby and me home.

I reached the hospital in midafternoon, anticipating an all-nighter. I carried along magazines, a pillow and the tiny needlepoint stocking I was trying to finish for Christmas. I had just unwrapped a skein of yarn when I heard my name called. I looked up to see the face of a young woman who was clearly the birth mother’s sister.

“Would you like to come into the birthing suite?” she asked.

I hadn’t expected to be summoned until after the delivery but followed her along the hall and into the dimly lighted room. There I found the birth mother, propped on pillows, smiling, but well into the hard work of late labor. Her dark red hair was tangled, and sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip.

Her mother stood at the bedside, a damp washcloth and basin at the ready. It was she who motioned me nearer. We waited through a strong contraction, then the four of us joined hands, and within minutes our boundaries seemed to dissolve and we began the work for which we had gathered.

My memory of the next three hours is as clear as any I hold, and as otherworldly as if from a dream. The delivery and the minutes following remain in my mind more impression than distinct images. I remember cutting the umbilical cord, and then I was holding the baby, and he was, just as she had promised, looking into my eyes.

Someone was crying, then everyone was crying, and my attention was once again drawn to the woman in the bed. A nurse lifted the child from my arms, explaining that he would need to be weighed and have the routine newborn blood tests in the nursery. She left the room, and I slipped back into my place, an integral member of this group of smiling, weeping women.

“You’re not Catholic, are you?” the grandmother asked sheepishly.

“No, I’m Presbyterian.”

“But you’re not one of those, you know, who wait until they’re teenagers to baptize them?”

“No,” I assured her. “Definitely infant baptism.”

She slumped with relief.

“A month at the most, just after the holidays,” I said. “Don’t worry, he’s safe.”

A tension that I hadn’t been aware of seemed to evaporate and we all laughed and began to talk at once, about Christmas and gifts and food, about almost everything but babies.

AFTER a while the birth mother reached for my arm, and I steadied her as she slipped gingerly from the bed. She moved toward the bathroom, leaning against me a little, and as she turned, she gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m fine,” she assured me, and closed the door.

When she emerged she was fully dressed. She had combed her hair and put on lipstick, and only the redness of her eyes and the huskiness of her voice gave her away. “I think I would like to go home now,” she said, looking past me to where her mother and sister were standing.

“You’re leaving?” Even I could hear the quaver in my words. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

My mind raced with unasked questions. I suddenly needed to know everything, not only about her family and history but the histories of the other three birth mothers, whom I had never met. Somehow, in the intensity of our shared experience, I had combined them and made her the repository for the secrets of all their lives. As foolish as it seemed, I wanted her to tell me that they would be O.K. as well.

As we made our way along the hall, we attempted to fill the awkward space with generic goodbyes. There were no assurances about keeping in touch. We knew we wouldn’t. As the elevator doors were closing, I thought of the baby and my pulse quickened, but I knew it was more than the thrill of new motherhood.

There was now a person and a past where only a fantasy had been, and in the years ahead I would come to appreciate the importance of this connection. I would watch my child’s intense response to music, be enchanted by his smile, stand in awe of his feisty determination, and I’d know the origin of these characteristics.

And I could choose, when the time was right, to share this story, his story, with him. For the moment, though, it was with a silent “thank you” to the mother I knew and those I didn’t that I turned back, headed for the nursery and my son.

I love how the author expresses her feelings of meeting her son's birth mother. I took a minute and relived our experience meeting Katie after reading this. I re-read what I had written about that experience here and the words were just not adequate. Truly life changing moments.

Reading about being there for the birth of her son was also so special. I don't talk about that part of Roman's life a lot because it was probably one of the most spiritual days of my life. It was exciting, scary, overwhelming, and completely surreal. I still, two years later don't have words to express the amazing spirit that was in the room that day. I told a little about it here.

Lastly, I am SO thankful our story has continued where the article ended. As I said in the beginning every adoption is so unique and I am thankful for the unique relationship that we have with Katie. That our story did not end with Roman's birth. That was just the beginning. . . .

today is a special day for our family

Two years ago today we found out that Katie had chosen us to be Roman's parents. I love remembering this day. It is almost as special to us as Roman's birthday!

We like to think about Katie!

We like to remember the years before Roman was born, and the blessings that he has brought into our lives!

We hug and snuggle.

We read the book Katie wrote for Roman.

We taught Roman how to say "Thank you Mommy Katie!" Hopefully he will always remember to tell her thank you!

Thank you Katie!

We love you!!!!

To read about our special day 2 years ago, click here!