Monday, February 28, 2011

Carson is Home, and Other Noteworthy Thoughts

Around November of last year, we pulled ourselves together and asked our social worker to put our names back on the adoption waiting list, much to the surprise of some of our friends and family. With our previous experience, we weren't sure we would be willing to go back to the County. However, we were cautiously encouraged by the many people we encountered (including our own social worker who has been doing this quite a while and has only had 2 failed adoptions, ours included) who said it "never happens", and decided we were willing to give the County one more shot. And since we hadn't won the lottery, or as yet found $30,000 under a rock, it was really our only option.

About a month ago we were matched with a 2-month-old little boy. He's the 10th child of his birthmother, and the 2nd of his birthfather. All the other kids have been adopted. He was 6-7 weeks premature. No one really knows for sure how many because there was no prenatal care. He has some very normal preemie health issues that are resolving themselves quickly. He was having problems with the suck-swallow-breathe sequence it takes to eat, and he was diagnosed with Reactive Airway Disease. "What's that?" you say. Well, we don't really know, and the doctor looked at me like I had three heads when I told her someone had given him the label. But it caused his first doctor to prescribe a nebulizer at first every 4 hours, then every 6, then every 8, and now just every 12. He also had some issues with apnea. For the uninitiated, that means he would stop breathing from time to time. This meant he was on a monitor that would go off if he stopped breathing. When we first met him, it was going off once a week. Since he's been in our house, it hasn't gone off at all. The leads were irritating his skin, so at his last visit the doctor said he only needed to wear it when he sleeps. She also referred him to a pulmonologist (read: lung doctor) to see if he still needs the nebulizer. It looks like we'll be able to shed the machinery in the very near future.

He's not having any trouble eating anymore, and he eats a high-calorie formula to help him gain weight (he's still on the small side). We expect him to catch up with his peers in weight by his first birthday if things keep going the way they are.

And last week he started sleeping through the night (yay!) 8-9 hours at a time at night, and he seems to have settled into 2 distinct nap times during the day. We still feed him on demand and he hasn't quite settled into a pattern for that, but he's got some weight to make up for so we don't mind.

As far as legality goes, we're just waiting around for the process to happen. The County has heard nothing from either birthparent since he was taken into care, so we just have to go through the motions and wait. State law says we can't finalize the adoption until he's been in our house for at least 6 months anyway, so we'd be waiting it out under any circumstance.

Having him home has brought to my attention some things that I have always known but have recently affected me a little more personally.

One is that some people (some of them my very good friends) are childless by choice. I have no problem with this decision. I respect, and even admire, the ability to recognize that parenting is something they're not interested in for whatever reason. I taught preschool for 6 years, and I can testify to the fact that not everyone is cut out for parenting. It's not some kind of character flaw or personality disorder. It's just something that not everyone is good at. Sort of how I could never be an accountant. My clients would all sue me for getting their taxes wrong. Just not something I'm good at. Understanding you're not made for parenting is just as important as understanding that you are. And I admire anyone who chooses not to have children out of a sense of obligation or because it's expected of you. It's a sign of maturity and knowing yourself well. Both very good things.

However, some of these people (not the ones who are my very good friends) have taken this choice a dangerous step further and have decided that NO ONE should have children. Or that if they do, they should never take them anywhere public. Set aside for the moment the insanity of being locked in your home with a small child all day, every day. Really? Children should never be anywhere that adults are? How would they learn the self-control necessary in adult-type situations? How would they learn to sit nicely in a restaurant (even if they don't want to)? How would they learn when to touch and when not to? How would they learn to wait their turn?

It's fine for you to choose not to have children. Good for you for understanding it's not your thing. But I'd say that if your goal is to never be AROUND children, you'd better start ordering in a lot. Taking children out into the community is an important life lesson, as well as a necessity in some cases. Sometimes you have to run to the store now, and you can't wait until hubby gets home to babysit for you. Sometimes you're a single mom who doesn't have anyone to babysit, hubby or not. And you know what? No one is going to pay a sitter for the 2 hours it takes to go to the dentist or the vet. Kids are everywhere, so deal with it. People are not going to stop having children because you have some strange idea that taking kids in public is somehow inappropriate.

The second thing I've newly noticed is how desperate everyone is for our kids to look like us. Really? Is that what matters? Reality is there's very little chance our kids will look anything like us. And why does it matter? This is about a family, not DNA. Carson has a place on our family tree because we chose him for it, not because he got stuck with our genes (which aren't that great, may I say). I'm not connected to my son because I gave birth to him. It's because I chose to be connected. He's not attached to me because I gave him life. It's because I meet his needs and make him feel secure.

Not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone, but still very much my own. Don't forget for a single minute, you grew not under my heart, but in it.