I recently had my first encounter with some anti-adoption groups. This encounter was, to put it mildly, less than pleasant. Without repeating what they said (it doesn't belong in civilized conversation), let me just say that it was very mean, very hateful, and very personal. Although the experience was negative and slightly damaging, it did get me thinking about the other side of the coin. I've heard it said that hurt people hurt people, and I had a strong suspicion that the hateful things these people were saying came from a place of pain, not malice. With that in mind, I set out to find out about this anti-adoption thing, and I learned some interesting information.
The term "anti-adoption" is a little bit of a misnomer. Most of the people I encountered (with the exception of the very vocal minority I was unfortunate enough to run into first) were not against adoption in every form and every situation. They're against unethical adoptions. Let me backtrack a bit to explain what MOST of them mean by "unethical".
As I was meeting people who defined themselves as anti-adoption, I noticed a lot of them were Canadian, and a lot of them were birthmothers who felt they had been coerced into placing their babies for adoption. When I enquired as to this Canadian mindset, I found out something disturbing. Back in the 80s, the Canadian government made the executive decision that babies are better off in homes with 2 parents who are married, rather than a single mother or an unwed couple. The hospital protocols were changed so that unwed mothers would always be in the same maternity wards in every hospital, they would always have pain medication during delivery, and while they were still under the influence of those medications a government social worker would convince them to sign over their parental rights, effective immediately. Many of them had no idea what they were signing, assuming it was more hospital paperwork, and only found out later when they asked to see their babies that they in fact had given them up. Many of these mothers have formed a coalition and are bringing lawsuits against the government for violation of rights and punitive damages. To add insult to injury, Canadadian adoption records are closed, completely. The children can't find out who their birthmothers are even if they do want to know, and the mothers are left with no answers, no closure, no resolution.
Needless to say, this was an abomination and I certainly share their opinion that this is not the way adoption should be practiced. The laws have changed and it's no longer done this way in Canada, but the damage is done.
Others of the anti-adoption crowd are against trafficking and sex slavery to create a baby mill. This is something we think of happening in third world countries, but it does happen here at home too. Again, something I'm not interested in supporting.
A smaller number of them are against any form of private adoption where money changes hands and agencies get richer by making families wait longer. I find myself leaning in their direction on this one, but it's because our first encounter with a private adoption agency was so negative that it turned us off completely.
And of course, there are those who believe adoption shouldn't happen at all, that you can teach anyone to be a good parent and that what you should do is support unhealthy birth families instead of removing children for their own safety and placing them with a family who can raise them and give them a future. Oh, sorry, did my opinion on that one show? Good.
Most importantly, I found out that the issue is far more complicated than being for or against adoption. A blanket label in either direction is misleading. I also found out something I've known for a while: you can't convince someone to agree with you by being loud, obnoxious, and insulting. People want information, not verbal beatings.
Bottom line: if you're pro-adoption, don't assume everyone else is, too. If you're anti-adoption, don't assume all adoptions are unethical.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
I'm Important, Too
I have decided that today is a day for honesty. I have, therefore, prepared a couple of confessions for your perusal and consideration.
Confession 1: I love makeover shows. I do. I love the one where they take your clothes one by one and shoot them up a vacuum tube, and then all your friends shop for clothes they think are appropriate for you and you pick the ones you like. I love the one where a bunch of fat people go to boot camp together and get eliminated based on how much weight they lose. I love the one where people hang on to every candy wrapper they've ever owned until roaches have made their house unlivable and then they bring in a professional organizer (who usually has no clue what they were getting themselves into) to get rid of all the junk, clean the house, and make it like new. But my favorite one is the one where they film you for two weeks to show what a disaster your wardrobe is, throw away all your clothes (making fun of you the whole time), and then give you $5000 to go buy new ones.
Something I hear all the time on these makeover shows is the story of the "Martyred Mom". You know her, you love her, maybe you ARE her. She's the mom who has spent the last 20 years taking care of everyone else, and hasn't bought so much as a stick of gum for herself. So the makeover staff go out of their way to let her know that now's the time. She deserves it. And certainly she does. In the face of all she does, two weeks buying her own clothes are but a small reward. However, this brings me to my second confession.
Confession 2: I am not a martyred mom. I don't have the syndrome where I have to ignore myself in order to take care of everyone around me. If I get a chance to take a long shower, shave my legs, and put on makeup, I take it! And I don't care that I let the dishes or the laundry or the housework wait for an hour or two while I do it. Maybe that means I'm selfish. But I don't feel like I have to ignore myself in order to take care of my family. I'm acutely aware of the fact that if I don't take time for myself, I get overwhelmed and start to feel taken advantage of. That makes me feel like I'm the only one doing any work which makes me impossible to live with. I know these things about myself. I also know that because of these things, I take better care of my family when I do a few little things for myself every now and then.
So I will not apologize for taking a long shower every few days, dying my hair every few weeks when my roots start to show, or going through my wardrobe every now and then and getting rid of things that don't fit, and replacing them with things that do fit, do flatter, and do look amazing. I don't wear Mom jeans, I don't wear tennis shoes everywhere, and I certainly don't wear those velour track suits that do nothing but make EVERYONE look fat. I will not apologize for having good hair, cute clothes, and a stack of books by my bed without the name Seuss on them.
My final act for the day is to let all the moms out there know that you don't have to be the martyred mom. It's not selfish to get your nails done while the kids are at ballet class. It's okay to put styling product on your hair. It's just fine to buy that dress you saw that you totally love, provided you actually have the money for it. Your family doesn't want you to suffer for them. They DO need you. They DO depend on you. You ARE an important and vital part of them. And it's BECAUSE of those things that you owe it to yourself to be nice to yourself, every chance you get. There aren't a lot of those chances, so when you see them, snatch them. There's no doubt this can be a thankless job, so take every chance you can to thank yourself. Write yourself a speech. Because in this case you're the only nominee, and therefore a shoe-in.
Enjoy the after party.
Confession 1: I love makeover shows. I do. I love the one where they take your clothes one by one and shoot them up a vacuum tube, and then all your friends shop for clothes they think are appropriate for you and you pick the ones you like. I love the one where a bunch of fat people go to boot camp together and get eliminated based on how much weight they lose. I love the one where people hang on to every candy wrapper they've ever owned until roaches have made their house unlivable and then they bring in a professional organizer (who usually has no clue what they were getting themselves into) to get rid of all the junk, clean the house, and make it like new. But my favorite one is the one where they film you for two weeks to show what a disaster your wardrobe is, throw away all your clothes (making fun of you the whole time), and then give you $5000 to go buy new ones.
Something I hear all the time on these makeover shows is the story of the "Martyred Mom". You know her, you love her, maybe you ARE her. She's the mom who has spent the last 20 years taking care of everyone else, and hasn't bought so much as a stick of gum for herself. So the makeover staff go out of their way to let her know that now's the time. She deserves it. And certainly she does. In the face of all she does, two weeks buying her own clothes are but a small reward. However, this brings me to my second confession.
Confession 2: I am not a martyred mom. I don't have the syndrome where I have to ignore myself in order to take care of everyone around me. If I get a chance to take a long shower, shave my legs, and put on makeup, I take it! And I don't care that I let the dishes or the laundry or the housework wait for an hour or two while I do it. Maybe that means I'm selfish. But I don't feel like I have to ignore myself in order to take care of my family. I'm acutely aware of the fact that if I don't take time for myself, I get overwhelmed and start to feel taken advantage of. That makes me feel like I'm the only one doing any work which makes me impossible to live with. I know these things about myself. I also know that because of these things, I take better care of my family when I do a few little things for myself every now and then.
So I will not apologize for taking a long shower every few days, dying my hair every few weeks when my roots start to show, or going through my wardrobe every now and then and getting rid of things that don't fit, and replacing them with things that do fit, do flatter, and do look amazing. I don't wear Mom jeans, I don't wear tennis shoes everywhere, and I certainly don't wear those velour track suits that do nothing but make EVERYONE look fat. I will not apologize for having good hair, cute clothes, and a stack of books by my bed without the name Seuss on them.
My final act for the day is to let all the moms out there know that you don't have to be the martyred mom. It's not selfish to get your nails done while the kids are at ballet class. It's okay to put styling product on your hair. It's just fine to buy that dress you saw that you totally love, provided you actually have the money for it. Your family doesn't want you to suffer for them. They DO need you. They DO depend on you. You ARE an important and vital part of them. And it's BECAUSE of those things that you owe it to yourself to be nice to yourself, every chance you get. There aren't a lot of those chances, so when you see them, snatch them. There's no doubt this can be a thankless job, so take every chance you can to thank yourself. Write yourself a speech. Because in this case you're the only nominee, and therefore a shoe-in.
Enjoy the after party.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
There Are No Two Ways About It
Two types of matter cannot occupy the same space at the same time. It's a law of physics as well as an important Spiritual reality.
I have previously alluded to some faith issues I have faced, but I have refrained from going into detail. Yesterday I had a bit of an epiphany and feel that I have finally reached a place where I can let the world know what has been going on.
When I was first diagnosed with infertility, I had a few niggling doubts about the entity I have always called "God". However, I have always believed in a loving, caring God who always wanted what was best for me, and I knew that sometimes even the faithful have doubts. In my past, when doubt has arisen, there has always also arisen a way to overcome it; some small miracle that made me believe again. Bearing that thought in mind, I paid little heed to my doubt and moved on, knowing it would subside.
When our first adoption fell through, those doubts went from niggling to screeching. The God I had always known would never allow this to happen. He would never take two amazing children from a loving, nurturing home, and return them to parents who had gone to prison for felony endangerment. That single thought was so big and so loud and so important that the day we handed those children back to their parents, I said to God, "This is my reward for a lifetime of service? This is reaping what I sowed? This is your plan for me? Well forget it. I'm done with you. I gave you your shot and all you did was mess everything up, so I'll be doing things myself from now on, thanks."
I lived in that place of bitterness and anger right up until quite recently. It caused me to do many things I never thought I would find myself doing. I looked into other religions. I doubted whether God loved me or anyone else. My husband told me I sounded like an atheist, but the reality was so much bleaker: I believed God was out there, I just didn't think He gave two shakes about what happened to me. Which expanded into wondering whether He cared abut anyone at all. And if He doesn't care, how can He be in control? And if He's not in control then everything I've ever believed was wrong.
And I did all of it alone because I was so afraid of hearing nothing but trite, well-rehearsed "Christianese" from my friends. I was even angry at people around me that I loved because they could say, "Well, trust God," and I would think, "Oh sure. Trust God. Let's all trust God. Look how well that's turned it so far."
But a few weeks ago, I decided to confide in a trusted friend who I knew had also had significant doubt in her life. Since then, she and I have begun a partnership to rediscover who God is and how I can relate to Him. It's a slow process and I'm a difficult student, but together she and I are focusing on one important and fundamental truth: God is. My plan is to rebuild the faith I once had starting from scratch. As a church-kid, this is something I never expected to have to do. Faith has always been like breathing to me. So easy. As an intellectual person, understanding it has always been a bit of a mystery, but since faith was so easy, I could always fall back on it for things I couldn't explain.
There has been, however, one aspect of faith that I have been as yet unwilling to surrender. I was willing to move forward and rediscover God, but I felt I was entitled to keep that anger about the failed adoption. That was mine, and I refused to let God take it away. I needed that anger, I believed, in case God ever let me down again. That way I would have more than one example to point to in order to prove I was right and God didn't care.
Yesterday, in the middle of folding laundry, I realized that this is not the case. I can't hate Him for taking the other two away, and love Him for bringing me the new one. I can't believe He wants the best for me, except for that one time. I can't say He's in control except for that thing that happened. I can't be angry and move on. Those two states of mind can't exist together.
I can live in this place where I am at the moment where I don't know or understand God and how I relate to Him. I can seek Him with any sort of faith, philosophy, or Spirituality I choose, but I can't hate Him and love Him at the same time. Although this is not what the Apostle Paul was talking about when he said it, it is truly being "a house divided". And as Paul said, it WILL fall.
Where am I now? A step or two closer than I was before. And there will be many times in the future when I'll have to let that anger go again (it's been such a comfortable place for me). But I am now truly stripped. I don't know who God is or what He wants from me or anyone else. And that's okay. I know eventually He'll tell me. And this time I'll be listening.
On the hillside you will be delivered
Sinner sorry and wrecked by the fall
Cleanse your heart and your soul
In the river that flows
For you and for me and for all
I have previously alluded to some faith issues I have faced, but I have refrained from going into detail. Yesterday I had a bit of an epiphany and feel that I have finally reached a place where I can let the world know what has been going on.
When I was first diagnosed with infertility, I had a few niggling doubts about the entity I have always called "God". However, I have always believed in a loving, caring God who always wanted what was best for me, and I knew that sometimes even the faithful have doubts. In my past, when doubt has arisen, there has always also arisen a way to overcome it; some small miracle that made me believe again. Bearing that thought in mind, I paid little heed to my doubt and moved on, knowing it would subside.
When our first adoption fell through, those doubts went from niggling to screeching. The God I had always known would never allow this to happen. He would never take two amazing children from a loving, nurturing home, and return them to parents who had gone to prison for felony endangerment. That single thought was so big and so loud and so important that the day we handed those children back to their parents, I said to God, "This is my reward for a lifetime of service? This is reaping what I sowed? This is your plan for me? Well forget it. I'm done with you. I gave you your shot and all you did was mess everything up, so I'll be doing things myself from now on, thanks."
I lived in that place of bitterness and anger right up until quite recently. It caused me to do many things I never thought I would find myself doing. I looked into other religions. I doubted whether God loved me or anyone else. My husband told me I sounded like an atheist, but the reality was so much bleaker: I believed God was out there, I just didn't think He gave two shakes about what happened to me. Which expanded into wondering whether He cared abut anyone at all. And if He doesn't care, how can He be in control? And if He's not in control then everything I've ever believed was wrong.
And I did all of it alone because I was so afraid of hearing nothing but trite, well-rehearsed "Christianese" from my friends. I was even angry at people around me that I loved because they could say, "Well, trust God," and I would think, "Oh sure. Trust God. Let's all trust God. Look how well that's turned it so far."
But a few weeks ago, I decided to confide in a trusted friend who I knew had also had significant doubt in her life. Since then, she and I have begun a partnership to rediscover who God is and how I can relate to Him. It's a slow process and I'm a difficult student, but together she and I are focusing on one important and fundamental truth: God is. My plan is to rebuild the faith I once had starting from scratch. As a church-kid, this is something I never expected to have to do. Faith has always been like breathing to me. So easy. As an intellectual person, understanding it has always been a bit of a mystery, but since faith was so easy, I could always fall back on it for things I couldn't explain.
There has been, however, one aspect of faith that I have been as yet unwilling to surrender. I was willing to move forward and rediscover God, but I felt I was entitled to keep that anger about the failed adoption. That was mine, and I refused to let God take it away. I needed that anger, I believed, in case God ever let me down again. That way I would have more than one example to point to in order to prove I was right and God didn't care.
Yesterday, in the middle of folding laundry, I realized that this is not the case. I can't hate Him for taking the other two away, and love Him for bringing me the new one. I can't believe He wants the best for me, except for that one time. I can't say He's in control except for that thing that happened. I can't be angry and move on. Those two states of mind can't exist together.
I can live in this place where I am at the moment where I don't know or understand God and how I relate to Him. I can seek Him with any sort of faith, philosophy, or Spirituality I choose, but I can't hate Him and love Him at the same time. Although this is not what the Apostle Paul was talking about when he said it, it is truly being "a house divided". And as Paul said, it WILL fall.
Where am I now? A step or two closer than I was before. And there will be many times in the future when I'll have to let that anger go again (it's been such a comfortable place for me). But I am now truly stripped. I don't know who God is or what He wants from me or anyone else. And that's okay. I know eventually He'll tell me. And this time I'll be listening.
On the hillside you will be delivered
Sinner sorry and wrecked by the fall
Cleanse your heart and your soul
In the river that flows
For you and for me and for all
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
The REAL Monster
It is officially Holloween season. I love Halloween. I love it (GASP) more than Christmas. I love costumes and haunted houses. I love scary movies and carnivals. I love jack-o-lanterns, candy, and bouncy houses. I love the magic in the air. For a whole day, anyone can be anyone or anything they want. I spend months planning my Halloween activities. October 1st, I devote myself to finding scary movies on TV, the perfect Halloween candy (I have to be the good house), and the most fun festivals, parties, and carnivals I can.
Monsters are fascinating to me. Wolfman, Dracula, Frankenstein, whatever that thing was that lived under my bed when I was a kid. Each one scarier than the next. However, I have recently discovered a monster scarier than any other I have ever encountered (and I've been to Knott's Scary Farm many times). This monster strikes fear in the heart of everyone it encounters. Angels certainly fear to tread in its presence. And yet, there has never been a single movie made or book written about this monster (at least that I know of). Perhaps it's because it's so fearsome we dare not speak of it. It's so scary our brains refuse to dwell on it. We awake from nightmares about this monster, unable to recall what caused such full-blown terror. It is what makes us afraid of the dark. It is what makes us afraid of silence. We fear what's under the bed because we know this monster could certainly thrive in that environment. This monster is known only as CRANKY BABY!
We live in fear of CRANKY BABY. Everything we do, every day, is aimed at avoiding an encounter with CRANKY BABY. Why do I skip lunch? So I can feed Carson and prevent him from transforming into CRANKY BABY. Why do I plan field trips? So Carson doesn't get bored and turn into CRANKY BABY. Why do I get up before dawn on Sunday mornings? Because that's when Carson wakes up begins plotting when to become CRANKY BABY.
And when CRANKY BABY appears, what do we do? We beg, we plead, we cry, we bribe, we avoid. But you can't ignore CRANKY BABY. You can't lock CRANKY BABY in a room and hope it goes away. Why? Ah. This is at the heart of what makes CRANKY BABY so terrifying. Avoidance and ignoring only fuels CRANKY BABY. The more you pretend CRANKY BABY isn't around, the more CRANKY BABY displays its power. CRANKY BABY has an endless supply of energy, and needs no motivation. It takes no prisoners and can strike at any moment. At home during dinner. Out shopping. At Grandma's house. At Disneyland. And its appearance is a virtual guarantee anywhere near bedtime.
But we have a weapon againt the terror that is CRANKY BABY. We have one way to combat the fear, the demands, the insistence of this terrible creature. That weapon is something in the home of every family that harbors a latent CRANKY BABY waiting to emerge. It's a commonplace object that is our only raft in the endless sea of fear that surrounds CRANKY BABY. This relief, this savior, this sword is known as THE BOTTLE. When fear of CRANKY BABY reaches its peak, our only recourse is THE BOTTLE. Wielding THE BOTTLE sends CRANKY BABY running for the hills, and only then can peace be restored.
And the peasants rejoice.
Monsters are fascinating to me. Wolfman, Dracula, Frankenstein, whatever that thing was that lived under my bed when I was a kid. Each one scarier than the next. However, I have recently discovered a monster scarier than any other I have ever encountered (and I've been to Knott's Scary Farm many times). This monster strikes fear in the heart of everyone it encounters. Angels certainly fear to tread in its presence. And yet, there has never been a single movie made or book written about this monster (at least that I know of). Perhaps it's because it's so fearsome we dare not speak of it. It's so scary our brains refuse to dwell on it. We awake from nightmares about this monster, unable to recall what caused such full-blown terror. It is what makes us afraid of the dark. It is what makes us afraid of silence. We fear what's under the bed because we know this monster could certainly thrive in that environment. This monster is known only as CRANKY BABY!
We live in fear of CRANKY BABY. Everything we do, every day, is aimed at avoiding an encounter with CRANKY BABY. Why do I skip lunch? So I can feed Carson and prevent him from transforming into CRANKY BABY. Why do I plan field trips? So Carson doesn't get bored and turn into CRANKY BABY. Why do I get up before dawn on Sunday mornings? Because that's when Carson wakes up begins plotting when to become CRANKY BABY.
And when CRANKY BABY appears, what do we do? We beg, we plead, we cry, we bribe, we avoid. But you can't ignore CRANKY BABY. You can't lock CRANKY BABY in a room and hope it goes away. Why? Ah. This is at the heart of what makes CRANKY BABY so terrifying. Avoidance and ignoring only fuels CRANKY BABY. The more you pretend CRANKY BABY isn't around, the more CRANKY BABY displays its power. CRANKY BABY has an endless supply of energy, and needs no motivation. It takes no prisoners and can strike at any moment. At home during dinner. Out shopping. At Grandma's house. At Disneyland. And its appearance is a virtual guarantee anywhere near bedtime.
But we have a weapon againt the terror that is CRANKY BABY. We have one way to combat the fear, the demands, the insistence of this terrible creature. That weapon is something in the home of every family that harbors a latent CRANKY BABY waiting to emerge. It's a commonplace object that is our only raft in the endless sea of fear that surrounds CRANKY BABY. This relief, this savior, this sword is known as THE BOTTLE. When fear of CRANKY BABY reaches its peak, our only recourse is THE BOTTLE. Wielding THE BOTTLE sends CRANKY BABY running for the hills, and only then can peace be restored.
And the peasants rejoice.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Leave My Parking Space Alone!
My local chain grocery store reserves 3 parking spaces near the front door for adults with children. It's fabulous when I take my son with me because it's right near where the shopping carts are, and I don't have to cross the parking lot to get to the door. Every now and then, I drive up and all those spaces are occupied. No big deal, really. Glad the store is doing well because I want to keep shopping there. However, sometimes I glance into those cars in those easy-access, convenient parking spaces reserved for adults with children, and there's not a car seat to be seen. And that just makes me want to key those cars that are parked there.
Now, before anyone freaks out, I have never vandilized a car for a reason as ridiculous as being in a parking space I wanted. In fact, I've never vandilized a car, period. I understand that the store reserves those parking spaces as a courtesy, much like some businesses reserve spaces for pregnant women so they don't have to walk so far. It's not a law, and people without children can't be ticketed for parking in those spots like they could in handicapped parking. In fact, there's reason the store has to reserve those spots at all. But they choose to as a customer service option. And I greatly appreciate it.
So the next time you see parking for adults with children, don't roll your eyes because parents somehow feel entitled to better parking. We don't. And we're not. But when someone takes the time to do something to make our lives a little bit easier, it goes a long way. And when someone without kids takes those parking spaces, it just shows how selfish and disrespectful they are of both the parents who could park there but now can't, and the store where they're shopping that's trying to have good customer service but can't because certain patrons choose to take advantage.
People with children aren't special or entitled. But we really appreciate the little things.
On the Utility of Clausterphobia
On the Utility of Clausterphobia
People who know me will not find the following statement surprising: I love bunnies. I've owned bunnies for almost 10 years now. The first one was something of an accident. My husband was deployed, and I felt like I needed something to focus my energy on. I decided a pet was just the thing, and I had never had a rabbit before. This was before I worked in the vertinary field or was familiar with rescues and I figured the only way to get one was the pet shop. So I picked up my first bunny at a pet shop. At the same time, I purchased "Rabbits for Dummies" by Audrey Pavia. It's an excellent book that I highly recommend to anyone owning or looking to work with rabbits any way. This was how I learned about the idea of house rabbits: bunnies who live in the house with the people as opposed to the yard where they get forgotten or eaten by coyotes.
Turns out, bunnies have fun little personalities and are loads of fun to keep in the house. They like to sit on your lap and snuggle. They like to sleep on the carpet. They like to hang out with people and play with toys. Some of them will even retrieve. Up until very recently, our bunnies have had their own room in our house.
About a year ago, my husband proposed the idea of moving our bunnies outside so that we could have a guest room. As an advocate for house rabbits, I was conflicted. I wasn't opposed to the idea of rabbits living outside. In fact, I was certain there was a way it could be done. However, having them outside brings up many issues that need to be addressed in the name of health and safety: predators, insects, burrowing, heat, cold, rain, attention, stress. All things that need to be resolved if bunnies are going to live and thrive outside. I told him I would be willing to do it if we could find ways to deal with all these problems.
So we began a quest to find a safe way to have our bunnies outside and still part of the family. We found a custom-built chicken coop that we had to have important from England that looked like it would do as a starting point. It's about 4 feet by 2 feet and has a nesting box where we put hay and the litter box. It has a built-in play yard (not very big, but they frequently have free run of the whole back yard when the weather is nice, more on that in a minute), and a roof. We put it in the shade of a tree in a corner of our yard that gets almost no direct sunlight. My husband dug down about 3 feet all the way around the perimeter and burried rocks and cement edges to curb burrowing. Once every few months, we spray the whole thing down with citronella oil to keep the bugs away (we have a serious fly problem where we live, and there are numerous nasty diseases that bunnies can get from mosquitoes). The floor on the main level is dirt which we cover with bark mulch as needed, and the upper level has a wood-and-metal floor that we cover with a towel on one side, and a tray that forms the litter box on the other. Every few days the upper level gets stripped and cleaned with vinegar and high-power water spray. When the days are hot, the bunnies get ice packs. But these are no ordinary ice packs. They are 2-liter bottles of frozen water we keep on hand in our chest freezer. The bunnies get one bottle during the day, and if the evening is still warm enough to need one, we swap the daytime bottle for a fresh, frozen one. And voila! Cool in the summer, warm in the winter, dry in the rain, protected from predators and insects, bunny proof. If the weather's nice (not too hot, not too cold), we let them have free run of the back yard to eat as much grass as they want. This means we have to make sure and keep the grass free of mushrooms, and make sure all the plants we plant are non-toxic.
Sound like a lot of work? It is! But we've been surprised how happy our bunnies are with this arrangement. We still see them every day (we have to feed them, don't we?) which gives us a chance to check them over and make sure they're healthy. They eat a good diet thanks to the weather-proof containers we found for hay and pellets. Sure we have to clean more often than we did when they were inside, but that's part of keeping them healthy. And yes, we have to make more of an effort to spend time with them, but what family member isn't worth a little bit of extra effort? There's also a lot of maintenance involved in their new custom home: hinges get loose, wood has to be water-sealed, screening has to be replaced, mulch, mulch, and more mulch. And we have to keep an eye out for crafty bunnies who find ways to dig under the barrier we placed. So every once in a while we head to the garden store for more river rocks. It's all worth it to keep our bunnies safe and happy.
I used to believe the only acceptable place to keep a rabbit was in the house, and there are many rescues and other organizations that feel the same way. My own experience has led me to change my view to include outdoor habitats as long as they're done well. There's a right way and a wrong way to keep rabbits outside, and doing it right is complicated and labor-intesive, but it CAN be done.
So to the rabbit rescue who outright refused to adopt to us because we keep our rabbits outside: that's okay. We found a bunny buddy at the animal shelter, and we'll still buy our hay and pellets from you. And to the volunteer who gave us a condescending lecture about myxomatosis: I'm an RVT. I have 8 years of experience with small and exotic animals and I worked for 2 and 1/2 years under one of the best rabbit doctors out there. Your policy is, quite frankly, insulting to me. To suggest that I can't possibly take acceptable care of my bunnies while they live outside is belittling.
All of this is to say that we recently acquired another bunny. Our older bunny died, leaving his girlfriend behind. Now that we have them outside, it was very important to us to find a new boyfriend for her because we could tell she was clearly lonely. So a few days ago, we headed to the animal shelter and met a black and white mini rex the shelter had named Mickey. He's very sweet, but very shy and nervous. In talking to the shelter staff, we found out he was surrendered by his previous owners just the day before. So we think his nervousness may very well be temporary. He's had a lot of upheaval in his little life in the past few days: his family moved, he got sent to the shelter, and then brought back to our house where his new girlfriend promtly tried to kill him.
A special note about bunny fights: they fight dirty. There are no ground rules, and no gentlemen's agreements. They bite, pull hair, and go for the genitals. They growl, chase, circle, and kick. And the fur flies! And it all happens so fast that breaking it up can be difficult.
We brought our female bunny with us to the shelter so she could meet prospective boyfriends. We figured we'd go with the one she didn't try to kill on sight. She's a little pushy and she likes to get her way. The reason her last relationship worked so well was because her boyfriend let her push him around and stayed out of her way. They met up, and sat next to each other in my husband's lap. Looked like we had a winner.
There are many approaches to teaching a pair of bunnies to get along. We have had the best luck with what I call the Car Ride Method. Throw both bunnies in a carrier and take them on a long car ride. The car ride is stressful and bunnies' natural tendency is to look for another bunny to snuggle up to when they get nervous. So you create an environment where the other bunny's presence is soothing and positive. Then when you get home, they view each other as good as opposed to threatening. After we take them on a car ride, we set them up in a pen (in the house for this part). We put them both in the litter box together, side by side, and sit with them for an hour or two, making sure they stay next to each other and no one bites anyone else. Eventually one or the other will being grooming the other bunny. This is a very good sign. Bunnies, much like primates, use grooming as a social activity. They will groom each other as they lie next to each other and rest during the day. Once we've gone a reasonable amount of time without any fur flying, we start making the pen smaller and smaller, forcing the bunnies to be in closer proximity to each other. When the pen is as small as it will go, we leave the bunnies together in that tight space for a few days, monitoring them closely. They can't get away from each other, and being is such a small space forces them to buddy up again, just like in the car.
Then we move them into their permanent environment (in this case, their custom house in the yard), and watch them. It's very important to wait on this step until you're fairly confident the bunnies have worked out who's the dominant one, and the submissive one has figured out what to do: run away, bite back, groom, ignore, whatever works for them. Because we can't monitor them as closely when they're outside as we can when they're inside, we wanted to be sure we wouldn't get up one morning to find an injured bunny in the cage.
And the good news is, it worked! They're still sorting themselves out a little bit, but they're both eating and drinking and seem to be tolerating each other very well. Hooray for orchestrated stress!
Turns out, bunnies have fun little personalities and are loads of fun to keep in the house. They like to sit on your lap and snuggle. They like to sleep on the carpet. They like to hang out with people and play with toys. Some of them will even retrieve. Up until very recently, our bunnies have had their own room in our house.
About a year ago, my husband proposed the idea of moving our bunnies outside so that we could have a guest room. As an advocate for house rabbits, I was conflicted. I wasn't opposed to the idea of rabbits living outside. In fact, I was certain there was a way it could be done. However, having them outside brings up many issues that need to be addressed in the name of health and safety: predators, insects, burrowing, heat, cold, rain, attention, stress. All things that need to be resolved if bunnies are going to live and thrive outside. I told him I would be willing to do it if we could find ways to deal with all these problems.
So we began a quest to find a safe way to have our bunnies outside and still part of the family. We found a custom-built chicken coop that we had to have important from England that looked like it would do as a starting point. It's about 4 feet by 2 feet and has a nesting box where we put hay and the litter box. It has a built-in play yard (not very big, but they frequently have free run of the whole back yard when the weather is nice, more on that in a minute), and a roof. We put it in the shade of a tree in a corner of our yard that gets almost no direct sunlight. My husband dug down about 3 feet all the way around the perimeter and burried rocks and cement edges to curb burrowing. Once every few months, we spray the whole thing down with citronella oil to keep the bugs away (we have a serious fly problem where we live, and there are numerous nasty diseases that bunnies can get from mosquitoes). The floor on the main level is dirt which we cover with bark mulch as needed, and the upper level has a wood-and-metal floor that we cover with a towel on one side, and a tray that forms the litter box on the other. Every few days the upper level gets stripped and cleaned with vinegar and high-power water spray. When the days are hot, the bunnies get ice packs. But these are no ordinary ice packs. They are 2-liter bottles of frozen water we keep on hand in our chest freezer. The bunnies get one bottle during the day, and if the evening is still warm enough to need one, we swap the daytime bottle for a fresh, frozen one. And voila! Cool in the summer, warm in the winter, dry in the rain, protected from predators and insects, bunny proof. If the weather's nice (not too hot, not too cold), we let them have free run of the back yard to eat as much grass as they want. This means we have to make sure and keep the grass free of mushrooms, and make sure all the plants we plant are non-toxic.
Sound like a lot of work? It is! But we've been surprised how happy our bunnies are with this arrangement. We still see them every day (we have to feed them, don't we?) which gives us a chance to check them over and make sure they're healthy. They eat a good diet thanks to the weather-proof containers we found for hay and pellets. Sure we have to clean more often than we did when they were inside, but that's part of keeping them healthy. And yes, we have to make more of an effort to spend time with them, but what family member isn't worth a little bit of extra effort? There's also a lot of maintenance involved in their new custom home: hinges get loose, wood has to be water-sealed, screening has to be replaced, mulch, mulch, and more mulch. And we have to keep an eye out for crafty bunnies who find ways to dig under the barrier we placed. So every once in a while we head to the garden store for more river rocks. It's all worth it to keep our bunnies safe and happy.
I used to believe the only acceptable place to keep a rabbit was in the house, and there are many rescues and other organizations that feel the same way. My own experience has led me to change my view to include outdoor habitats as long as they're done well. There's a right way and a wrong way to keep rabbits outside, and doing it right is complicated and labor-intesive, but it CAN be done.
So to the rabbit rescue who outright refused to adopt to us because we keep our rabbits outside: that's okay. We found a bunny buddy at the animal shelter, and we'll still buy our hay and pellets from you. And to the volunteer who gave us a condescending lecture about myxomatosis: I'm an RVT. I have 8 years of experience with small and exotic animals and I worked for 2 and 1/2 years under one of the best rabbit doctors out there. Your policy is, quite frankly, insulting to me. To suggest that I can't possibly take acceptable care of my bunnies while they live outside is belittling.
All of this is to say that we recently acquired another bunny. Our older bunny died, leaving his girlfriend behind. Now that we have them outside, it was very important to us to find a new boyfriend for her because we could tell she was clearly lonely. So a few days ago, we headed to the animal shelter and met a black and white mini rex the shelter had named Mickey. He's very sweet, but very shy and nervous. In talking to the shelter staff, we found out he was surrendered by his previous owners just the day before. So we think his nervousness may very well be temporary. He's had a lot of upheaval in his little life in the past few days: his family moved, he got sent to the shelter, and then brought back to our house where his new girlfriend promtly tried to kill him.
A special note about bunny fights: they fight dirty. There are no ground rules, and no gentlemen's agreements. They bite, pull hair, and go for the genitals. They growl, chase, circle, and kick. And the fur flies! And it all happens so fast that breaking it up can be difficult.
We brought our female bunny with us to the shelter so she could meet prospective boyfriends. We figured we'd go with the one she didn't try to kill on sight. She's a little pushy and she likes to get her way. The reason her last relationship worked so well was because her boyfriend let her push him around and stayed out of her way. They met up, and sat next to each other in my husband's lap. Looked like we had a winner.
There are many approaches to teaching a pair of bunnies to get along. We have had the best luck with what I call the Car Ride Method. Throw both bunnies in a carrier and take them on a long car ride. The car ride is stressful and bunnies' natural tendency is to look for another bunny to snuggle up to when they get nervous. So you create an environment where the other bunny's presence is soothing and positive. Then when you get home, they view each other as good as opposed to threatening. After we take them on a car ride, we set them up in a pen (in the house for this part). We put them both in the litter box together, side by side, and sit with them for an hour or two, making sure they stay next to each other and no one bites anyone else. Eventually one or the other will being grooming the other bunny. This is a very good sign. Bunnies, much like primates, use grooming as a social activity. They will groom each other as they lie next to each other and rest during the day. Once we've gone a reasonable amount of time without any fur flying, we start making the pen smaller and smaller, forcing the bunnies to be in closer proximity to each other. When the pen is as small as it will go, we leave the bunnies together in that tight space for a few days, monitoring them closely. They can't get away from each other, and being is such a small space forces them to buddy up again, just like in the car.
Then we move them into their permanent environment (in this case, their custom house in the yard), and watch them. It's very important to wait on this step until you're fairly confident the bunnies have worked out who's the dominant one, and the submissive one has figured out what to do: run away, bite back, groom, ignore, whatever works for them. Because we can't monitor them as closely when they're outside as we can when they're inside, we wanted to be sure we wouldn't get up one morning to find an injured bunny in the cage.
And the good news is, it worked! They're still sorting themselves out a little bit, but they're both eating and drinking and seem to be tolerating each other very well. Hooray for orchestrated stress!
Friday, August 5, 2011
Fielding Adoption Questions and Spreading Some Love
I thought for a long time about whether to mention this topic here because I didn't want to sound ranting (too late!) or whining, both of which are uninteresting to read. However, I have come to the conclusion that my motivation for talking about such things is not to rant, complain, whine, or otherwise throw an adult-sized tantrum. My motivation is actually to educate anyone out there who may read this about adoption as a topic, and about how to talk to anyone you may meet who either an adoptive parent or child. With that in mind, I'm going to bring up some topics that are both insensitive and inappropriate to bring up to adoptive parents or their children. Many people who say these things mean well. They don't realize their questions or comments are inappropriate or even hurtful. And that is why I'm writing this: to give you an edge over these people and keep you from making their mistakes.
First of all, there are several kinds of adoption, but the three common are private, international, and agency. All of these types have varying degrees of openness, a topic I'll get to in a second.
Private adoption is one facilitated by a lawyer or agency that specializes in helping birthparents and adoptive parents find each other. This is the kind of adoption romanticized by such television shows as "An Adoption Story" and "A Baby Story". They are what has become the public opinion of adoption where a birthmother is making an adoption plan for her child before he or she is born, chooses an adoptive family, and turns the baby over after birth, often in the hospital.
International adoption, as the name suggests, is when an adoptive family from the U.S. chooses to adopt a child from another country. This frequently takes longer, and each country has different rules about who can adopt, how the process will go, and what is required. These children frequently come from orphanages in the country of origin, so adoptive families don't usually meet the birth family.
Agency adoption is sometimes referred to as fost-adopt, or social services adoption. The children come from what is commonly referred to as "the system", meaning they have been removed from their birth families for their own safety. The agency (usually Child Protective Services or some similar governing body) has made the decision that it is in the child's best interest to be placed in a home for adoption rather than return to his or her family of origin.
All types of adoption vary in the level of openness, that is, relationship between the adoptive family and the birth family. Some adoptive families have never met their children's birth families, some have met once or twice, some exchange regular information and pictures, and some have extended family-type relationships. Each case is different, and each family has to decide which is the best option for them.
My husband and I are in the process of an agency adoption, so the insight I can give comes from that perspective. It's the process I'm most familiar with, and the only one I have experience with, so it's the only one I'm comfortable speculating on. The following annoying topics are annoying regardless of the type of adoption chosen, but as to WHY they're annoying, that can vary from case to case, person to person. Again, all insights are from my own experience and may or may not be the same for everyone you meet. Take it as a guideline, and understand that some things may just need to be re-worded, not left out entirely from the conversation.
1. Who are his "real" parents?
My husband and I are his real parents. He lives with us, we feed him, change him, spend time with him, take him to the doctor, put him to bed at night and get him up in the morning. We wonder whether he's teething or getting enough nutrients. We make sure he gains enough weight. We give him his medication. If you are wondering about his biological parents, the words you're looking for are "birthmother", "birthfather", or even "birth family".
2. Aren't you wonderful to adopt this child?
Hate to break it to you, but we're not adopting to get more jewels on our crowns in Heaven, or even to do something nice for our community. We're doing it because we want children. We're not saints, and we're not perfect, we just want to be parents.
3. How could his "real" mother give away an adorable baby?
Once again, I am his real mother, my husband is his real father. And truth be told, she didn't give him away. The County took him. She's actually been as much a thorn in our sides as she can be with all the things she's done to try and stop the adoption from happening. Now, why did she make the choices she made that caused the County to decide to take him? I really have no idea. You'd have to ask her that.
4. Do you know anything about his background?
He doesn't have a background, he's 8 months old. His background WILL be that he grew up in a warm, loving, mostly functional home. His birthmother's background? Well, yes, we know a little bit about that. As much as she was willing to fess up to the County social worker who talked to her after she gave birth. Is it all true? Who knows?
5. What will you do if he searches for his "real" mother?
Again with the "real" mother! See question 1 on that. And incidentally, he has every right to search for his birthmother. I'll help him. I'm not threatened by her, and she shouldn't be by me. If my son wants to know where he came from, he can. I want him to.
6. It's almost like having one of your own, right?
Uhm... it's exactly like having one of my own, because he IS my own. My son. Not a loan, not a guardianship, not a temporary solution. He's mine for life, whether he likes it or not.
7. Why was he given up for adoption?
He wasn't given up. And the reasons are really none of your business. That information is not public record, and is actually quite personal. I'm happy to share his history with people I know well, but it's not your right to ask simply because you know he's adopted. I don't ask about the night your child was conceived, and you would be slightly taken aback if I did.
8. How much did you pay for your baby?
Some adoption process are associated with fees. Everyone would like them to be free, but the reality is things cost money: lawyers, social workers, background checks, physicals, sometimes travel. None of this money is money paid for a baby. You're paying for a process, not a child. All that being said, because our adoption is through our County, we didn't pay anything. In fact, they pay us until the adoption is finalized because until then our son is actually a foster child.
9. Now that you've adopted, you'll probably get pregnant, right?
This one burns me more than any other. Only 5% of adoptive families get pregnant after they adopt. And that's only when no reason has been found for their initial infertility, if there was any. Long story, but I am not able to get pregnant. Period. It doesn't matter how much I pray, believe, or relax. I won't get pregnant. Sorry to be such a disappointment to you.
10. Are you going to tell him he's adopted?
Why wouldn't we? Being adopted isn't shameful, any more than being born is. It's how he joined our family. There have been numerous studies that show that kids who know they're adopted grow up much happier, healthier, and more confident than kids that find out later. On a more practical note: can you imagine keeping something like that a secret forever? Even I can't keep track of that many stories. And if we weren't going to tell him, why would we tell you?
First of all, there are several kinds of adoption, but the three common are private, international, and agency. All of these types have varying degrees of openness, a topic I'll get to in a second.
Private adoption is one facilitated by a lawyer or agency that specializes in helping birthparents and adoptive parents find each other. This is the kind of adoption romanticized by such television shows as "An Adoption Story" and "A Baby Story". They are what has become the public opinion of adoption where a birthmother is making an adoption plan for her child before he or she is born, chooses an adoptive family, and turns the baby over after birth, often in the hospital.
International adoption, as the name suggests, is when an adoptive family from the U.S. chooses to adopt a child from another country. This frequently takes longer, and each country has different rules about who can adopt, how the process will go, and what is required. These children frequently come from orphanages in the country of origin, so adoptive families don't usually meet the birth family.
Agency adoption is sometimes referred to as fost-adopt, or social services adoption. The children come from what is commonly referred to as "the system", meaning they have been removed from their birth families for their own safety. The agency (usually Child Protective Services or some similar governing body) has made the decision that it is in the child's best interest to be placed in a home for adoption rather than return to his or her family of origin.
All types of adoption vary in the level of openness, that is, relationship between the adoptive family and the birth family. Some adoptive families have never met their children's birth families, some have met once or twice, some exchange regular information and pictures, and some have extended family-type relationships. Each case is different, and each family has to decide which is the best option for them.
My husband and I are in the process of an agency adoption, so the insight I can give comes from that perspective. It's the process I'm most familiar with, and the only one I have experience with, so it's the only one I'm comfortable speculating on. The following annoying topics are annoying regardless of the type of adoption chosen, but as to WHY they're annoying, that can vary from case to case, person to person. Again, all insights are from my own experience and may or may not be the same for everyone you meet. Take it as a guideline, and understand that some things may just need to be re-worded, not left out entirely from the conversation.
1. Who are his "real" parents?
My husband and I are his real parents. He lives with us, we feed him, change him, spend time with him, take him to the doctor, put him to bed at night and get him up in the morning. We wonder whether he's teething or getting enough nutrients. We make sure he gains enough weight. We give him his medication. If you are wondering about his biological parents, the words you're looking for are "birthmother", "birthfather", or even "birth family".
2. Aren't you wonderful to adopt this child?
Hate to break it to you, but we're not adopting to get more jewels on our crowns in Heaven, or even to do something nice for our community. We're doing it because we want children. We're not saints, and we're not perfect, we just want to be parents.
3. How could his "real" mother give away an adorable baby?
Once again, I am his real mother, my husband is his real father. And truth be told, she didn't give him away. The County took him. She's actually been as much a thorn in our sides as she can be with all the things she's done to try and stop the adoption from happening. Now, why did she make the choices she made that caused the County to decide to take him? I really have no idea. You'd have to ask her that.
4. Do you know anything about his background?
He doesn't have a background, he's 8 months old. His background WILL be that he grew up in a warm, loving, mostly functional home. His birthmother's background? Well, yes, we know a little bit about that. As much as she was willing to fess up to the County social worker who talked to her after she gave birth. Is it all true? Who knows?
5. What will you do if he searches for his "real" mother?
Again with the "real" mother! See question 1 on that. And incidentally, he has every right to search for his birthmother. I'll help him. I'm not threatened by her, and she shouldn't be by me. If my son wants to know where he came from, he can. I want him to.
6. It's almost like having one of your own, right?
Uhm... it's exactly like having one of my own, because he IS my own. My son. Not a loan, not a guardianship, not a temporary solution. He's mine for life, whether he likes it or not.
7. Why was he given up for adoption?
He wasn't given up. And the reasons are really none of your business. That information is not public record, and is actually quite personal. I'm happy to share his history with people I know well, but it's not your right to ask simply because you know he's adopted. I don't ask about the night your child was conceived, and you would be slightly taken aback if I did.
8. How much did you pay for your baby?
Some adoption process are associated with fees. Everyone would like them to be free, but the reality is things cost money: lawyers, social workers, background checks, physicals, sometimes travel. None of this money is money paid for a baby. You're paying for a process, not a child. All that being said, because our adoption is through our County, we didn't pay anything. In fact, they pay us until the adoption is finalized because until then our son is actually a foster child.
9. Now that you've adopted, you'll probably get pregnant, right?
This one burns me more than any other. Only 5% of adoptive families get pregnant after they adopt. And that's only when no reason has been found for their initial infertility, if there was any. Long story, but I am not able to get pregnant. Period. It doesn't matter how much I pray, believe, or relax. I won't get pregnant. Sorry to be such a disappointment to you.
10. Are you going to tell him he's adopted?
Why wouldn't we? Being adopted isn't shameful, any more than being born is. It's how he joined our family. There have been numerous studies that show that kids who know they're adopted grow up much happier, healthier, and more confident than kids that find out later. On a more practical note: can you imagine keeping something like that a secret forever? Even I can't keep track of that many stories. And if we weren't going to tell him, why would we tell you?
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