Less So

Okay, more. Ruth has suggested that we visit late in February. In the last email I wrote to her, I kept having the impulse to write “You know what? Let’s close the adoption.” I didn’t, of course, and I don’t mostly want that, but when I got her email, I didn’t quite know what to do. So I took it to Mr. Book. “Of course, we should definitely go up there, it will have been two and a half months since we’ve seen him,” said he. So that’s I guess what we’re going to do. Not sure why I’m so ambivalent right now. We’ve been missing things: he’s walking now; he’s They also want us to visit during Passover, which could be a bit complicated—I think I’ll try to explain that I’ve got a lot of Catholic duties during the same time frame and see whether we can work something out.

I have also found the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe. No foolin’: I have tried many, and this is simply the best.

Ruth outlined three future visits: February, April, and then she asked whether we would want to go to Nora’s family’s island in May or June. (Yes, they own an island. That whole income disparity thing really makes itself felt at times—while Ruth and Nora aren’t rich by any means, they are comfortable.) Honestly? No, that sounds awful to me; trapped, surrounded by their family, with no way out short of faking a medical emergency. But I think Mr. Book would enjoy seeing the island, and I think that Nora is excited about the idea. She doesn’t often seem interested in us or the relationship, so I’m hesitant to reject an overture from her. And, heck, I don’t really feel like I can refuse any visit without a really rock solid reason (i.e., better than “I don’t want to”).

Happy ____, Cricket

Three or four times last year, I wrote Cricket a letter—my dad travelled a lot when I was small, and the postcards he sent from around the world mean a lot to adult me, so I thought that making sure that he had a written record of the fact that we care and have been around might be a good thing. The problem is that it is super awkward to write to a baby: I had some better moments, like talking about the hawks we saw while driving up the coast, and some less good moments—like telling Cricket about our inability to find a decent Mexican restaurant in town. I don’t want to quit writing, but I have found myself dreading it a bit.

Mr. Book’s mom sends him cards for every holiday, and while I was looking at the Christmas card on our fridge, I realized that I should steal her idea: we’ll send Cricket holiday cards, write as much inside as will reasonably fit, and avoid the need to fill whole pages with small talk for a baby. Maybe it’s a cop-out, but I feel relieved. I ordered some cards that I really like—minor mental derail when I realized that Ruth and Nora probably won’t like them at all (just an issue of taste; they aren’t in any way offensive), but I decided to go ahead—and we’ll start the year off with a Valentine sent in a couple of weeks.

I’ve decided to wait two months after Ruth’s stated intention to schedule a visit—February 8—and then ask about whether they have a visit time in mind. I don’t really want to have a visit right now, to be honest, but I almost never do; I want visits to go on, I just don’t look forward to or really enjoy the actual visits. But if we’re going to make regular visits a normal thing, we should probably go ahead and put another one on the calendar. I don’t really know how big an impact my request to discuss serious stuff has had on Ruth and Nora. I don’t know whether it is making them reconsider visits, or whether it was a minor irritation that hasn’t really stayed with them. I think that asking is a pretty bad idea, but I do wish that I knew. In the absence of that knowledge, I guess my job is just to act normal and be cheerful.


I’m going to try out this adoption-free Friday thing, see how I like it.

The first time I ever saw pho, it was in Columbia, Missouri; my boyfriend liked to go to a strip mall downtown and order it, then sit and watch the news while he ate. I joined him a few times, but not to eat—I’d already been vegetarian for a pretty long time. But minus the undercooked meat, I have to say that it looked good to me. I never saw vegan pho until Ruth and Nora came to meet me in California; they arranged for us to go to a vegan world restaurant, and they had vegan pho, and I was delighted. The only downside to that restaurant was that they appeared to be run by a cult, ran “Supreme Master TV,” and had fortune cookies that contained lessons from the Supreme Master. I’ve been to vegan places in the Emerald City for pho: same deal, Supreme Master-owned and -operated. Finally, when Mr. Book and I moved to Stumptown, we found a vegan Vietnamese restaurant attached to a Buddhist monastery. We have escaped the influence of the Supreme Master!

Well, on Wednesday Mr. Book and I went back to the excellent vegan Vietnamese place only to find that they were playing the Supreme Master television channel. “They’ve found us!” Mr. Book hissed to me. I’m hoping that it was just a coincidence—that the monks were just drawn to the Supreme Master’s message of veganism and methane reduction—but I would rather not be supporting a cult. =/ I guess we’ll wait and see whether they progress to selling Supreme Master books and paraphernalia.

Also this week, Mr. Book and I finished watching The Prisoner, a very interesting and ancient television series; I’m trying to figure out what we should get from Netflix next. I welcome any recommendations. As for today, my sweetie has the day off, so we’ll go to the co-op and then goof off in town. Now that I think I’ve really mastered sourdough bread, I’m going to try my hand at whole wheat: time for new flour!


First things first: I am not pregnant. Woo! I wondered whether my feelings would be mixed, but nope: I’m just glad. And I’m sure I’ll be glad to be pregnant whenever that happens, but I’m delighted to put it off.

I’m probably going to keep thinking about the future pregnancy, and planning for it–I’ve decided to go ahead and start taking prenatal vitamins, for example, since there is some recommendation that you do that six months ahead and I figure it can’t hurt. I’m also going to have a cup of coffee immediately, and then a drink tonight. I mostly only have coffee or alcohol in the first half of my monthly cycle, just in case; that is maybe not the most balanced approach, but I did end up drinking a bit with Cricket because I just had no idea, and while he is practically perfect in every way it seems best to avoid the chance of FAS. Not like I’m a big drinker, anyway.

On Dawn‘s recommendation I’ve finally ordered Taking Charge of Your Fertility, which is something I’ve been meaning to pick up for awhile. Any number of women have told me that it contains a lot of information they wish they’d learned in health class, and since I am woefully ignorant of what goes on down yonder–time to educate myself!


I’m taking the day off, a bit; still waiting on the monthly visitor, and just going to go be anxious today. Back tomorrow.


Therapy yesterday was largely the therapist telling me that if I am pregnant, that’ll be great, and then us talking about my social anxiety. =/ Last night, I talked to Mr. Book about that plan for the future pregnancy and how to handle it in the context of the adoption. It’s still a work in progress, of course, but I’d very much like feedback from any adoptive parents whose children’s birthparents have gone on to have other children.

When I think about Ruth and Nora having anything to do with a pregnancy of mine—even just knowing about it—I feel this incredibly anxiety. Some of that is reasonable, but most of it isn’t; it’s just that the last time I was pregnant, it ended with them taking the baby away. Absent any wrongdoing on their part, that’s pretty traumatic, and I worry that when the future pregnancy resembles the last one, I will worry about losing the baby. I told Mr. Book that I think I have two hard conditions in my head, and the rest we’ll have to work out: I don’t want to tell them until I’m four months along or it’s painfully obvious; and they can’t give us anything. No hand-me-downs, no shower gift—even typing it out, I start to grit my teeth. I’m not sure exactly why that sets me off, but it does—in a huge way. I suspect part of it might come from reading, time after time on adoption forums, adoptive parents explaining that their kids’ birthmother is pregnant again, hoping aloud that they’ll be able to adopt this child also, and then deciding to just send flowers and cross their fingers. This just horrifies me; if Ruth and Nora hope that they’ll be able to adopt futurekid, I pray to God that they never, ever so much as hint at it around me or Mr. Book. I don’t mean to say that any gift would be a hint that they are better providers and should get the baby, but…. Well, I’m not sure what. I’ll have to think about that some more. I also don’t want them to touch the baby ever, but that’s a whole separate issue, and something I suspect I’ll have to compromise on.

Mr. Book doesn’t have any anxiety about involving Ruth and Nora in the future pregnancy. He says he’d be happy to tell them right away, would welcome gifts because Lord knows we can use the help, and would cheerfully let them hold the baby. He also says that if the idea of them sending a gift makes me panicky, that’s a good enough reason to not receive them. I’ve let him know that  I might also ask him to handle more of the adoption communication during the later part of the pregnancy and the early stages of having a baby, and he’s willing, but I’m sort of skeptical of the idea that it’ll actually turn out that way. Ah, well.