Well, if you've checked out our adoption timeline page or my Facebook lately, you know we got the news that this most recent couple decided to parent. We really weren't surprised, because the agency had prepared us for that possibility from the beginning. We're obviously disappointed, but hope everyone's happy and healthy, and they're at peace with their decision.
Not getting this baby does clear the way for something unpleasant I've been putting off for a few months now. This week, I called the doctor to schedule a hysterectomy. I'm really scared, but I know my pain isn't going to get any better, and in a way, it feels like closure on the possibility of a miracle surprise pregnancy. I'm afraid of being in menopause at such a young age, and I'm scared of having hot flashes for the next twenty years, but at least I'll already be awake in the middle of the night for feedings.
The wait's really been wearing on us lately. I'm sure a big part of it is feeling like so much is out of control right now, with my health and whatnot. But there have definitely been times lately when I've felt as though I wish this wasn't so vitally important to us. I wish we could just be ok with having a dog and each other, and feel complete. But we don't. I wish that our dream didn't require someone else's sacrifice and pain. I wish this were a world where people who weren't ready for children couldn't get pregnant with them, and have to face the difficult decision of how to best handle something for which they aren't prepared, and where people who desperately wanted a baby didn't get a hysterectomy instead.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
all quiet on the western front
Well, as we enter week 3 of the wait within the wait, there's nothing new to report. So I'm going to blog about a fun side-effect of having years, instead of just nine months, to prepare for a child: thinking about what kind of parent you're going to be.
My dad came from very humble beginnings, and my mom dropped out of college to marry my dad. So they struggled financially when I was a kid. We never had trips to Disney World, and I never had a Cabbage Patch Doll. I learned that when my parents said "no," they meant it, and even though I was an only child, I wasn't spoiled, at least not with material possessions. I also learned to appreciate what I got, because I didn't get everything I wanted. Instead of buying "stuff," my parents invested in making me a well-rounded person. They paid for the gymnastics lessons that proved that my clumsiness was not just a passing phase. They paid for cheerleading camp, and violin lessons, and dance class. They paid for piles of craft supplies, and books by the thousands. But brand name clothes and fad toys were luxuries they didn't feel I needed. When I got new toys or games, I had to decide which of the old to sacrifice. Instead of elaborate and expensive vacations, most Friday evenings in the summer, they'd throw some sleeping bags and a tent in the back of the truck, grab a map, and pick a place for us to camp for the weekend.
That's the part of my childhood I want to recreate for my child. I don't want to have an ADD kid who is surrounded with so much crap that she doesn't know how to amuse herself, or live without constant stimulation. I don't want my son to rip through Christmas presents, tossing each one over his shoulder as soon as it's opened, anxious to see what's in the next box. I want my child to feel free to find his or her own personal style, not be chained to wearing the "right" clothes and shoes that are acceptable because all the other kids have them. I want her to learn a sense of appreciation, instead of entitlement. I want my child to have fun chasing minnows in a stream in the woods, not standing in line for hours with 3,000 other sceaming, sweating children and their irritable parents, waiting for a 2 minute ride at Disney, or chained to a television playing video games, because that's the only version of fun he's been exposed to.
I don't want to give my child everything she wants. Cause a lot of what a kid wants, isn't good for her. I want my child to be imaginitive, and play independently, and be totally ok with not being the center of attention all the time.
I want to let my kid try, and fail. Because that's how you figure out what's important to you. You want to keep trying, even after you fail. You want to try even harder. That's the part about my childhood that I want to do differently with my own child. My mom especially had a hard time watching me fail, and so she tried to minimize my failures by doing things for me, or pushing me to keep trying after I failed repeatedly, and wanted to quit, not just in school, but in extracurricular activites, too. So it was sometimes difficult to tell what was important to me, and what was important to my parents. If my parents hadn't pushed me to go to college, I'd probably be a carpenter now, because I love working with my hands. Instead, I have a boring desk job. Being good at something and really enjoying it are two different things. I want my child to find what she enjoys, not just enjoy doing what makes me proud.
I want to instill a strong work ethic and sense of personal responsibilty within my child, though. You have to live with the consequences of the decisions you make, so it's important to make good ones. Being reliable and following through with commitments is important, but saying no to making commitments is ok somtimes, too. Not everyone is going to be nice to you, and not everyone is going to like you, but as long as you like yourself, and try to be nice to others, you're not the one who needs to change. I want my child to know that sometimes you have to stick up for yourself, because if something is worth doing or being, it's worth the flack you'll take from your peers to do or be it.
Of course, it's easy to say what kind of parent you'll be before you become one. But you've got to strive for something, and this is the type of parent I'm committed to try to be.
My dad came from very humble beginnings, and my mom dropped out of college to marry my dad. So they struggled financially when I was a kid. We never had trips to Disney World, and I never had a Cabbage Patch Doll. I learned that when my parents said "no," they meant it, and even though I was an only child, I wasn't spoiled, at least not with material possessions. I also learned to appreciate what I got, because I didn't get everything I wanted. Instead of buying "stuff," my parents invested in making me a well-rounded person. They paid for the gymnastics lessons that proved that my clumsiness was not just a passing phase. They paid for cheerleading camp, and violin lessons, and dance class. They paid for piles of craft supplies, and books by the thousands. But brand name clothes and fad toys were luxuries they didn't feel I needed. When I got new toys or games, I had to decide which of the old to sacrifice. Instead of elaborate and expensive vacations, most Friday evenings in the summer, they'd throw some sleeping bags and a tent in the back of the truck, grab a map, and pick a place for us to camp for the weekend.
That's the part of my childhood I want to recreate for my child. I don't want to have an ADD kid who is surrounded with so much crap that she doesn't know how to amuse herself, or live without constant stimulation. I don't want my son to rip through Christmas presents, tossing each one over his shoulder as soon as it's opened, anxious to see what's in the next box. I want my child to feel free to find his or her own personal style, not be chained to wearing the "right" clothes and shoes that are acceptable because all the other kids have them. I want her to learn a sense of appreciation, instead of entitlement. I want my child to have fun chasing minnows in a stream in the woods, not standing in line for hours with 3,000 other sceaming, sweating children and their irritable parents, waiting for a 2 minute ride at Disney, or chained to a television playing video games, because that's the only version of fun he's been exposed to.
I don't want to give my child everything she wants. Cause a lot of what a kid wants, isn't good for her. I want my child to be imaginitive, and play independently, and be totally ok with not being the center of attention all the time.
I want to let my kid try, and fail. Because that's how you figure out what's important to you. You want to keep trying, even after you fail. You want to try even harder. That's the part about my childhood that I want to do differently with my own child. My mom especially had a hard time watching me fail, and so she tried to minimize my failures by doing things for me, or pushing me to keep trying after I failed repeatedly, and wanted to quit, not just in school, but in extracurricular activites, too. So it was sometimes difficult to tell what was important to me, and what was important to my parents. If my parents hadn't pushed me to go to college, I'd probably be a carpenter now, because I love working with my hands. Instead, I have a boring desk job. Being good at something and really enjoying it are two different things. I want my child to find what she enjoys, not just enjoy doing what makes me proud.
I want to instill a strong work ethic and sense of personal responsibilty within my child, though. You have to live with the consequences of the decisions you make, so it's important to make good ones. Being reliable and following through with commitments is important, but saying no to making commitments is ok somtimes, too. Not everyone is going to be nice to you, and not everyone is going to like you, but as long as you like yourself, and try to be nice to others, you're not the one who needs to change. I want my child to know that sometimes you have to stick up for yourself, because if something is worth doing or being, it's worth the flack you'll take from your peers to do or be it.
Of course, it's easy to say what kind of parent you'll be before you become one. But you've got to strive for something, and this is the type of parent I'm committed to try to be.
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