I’m participating in the latest Adoption Carnival.
So the way our adoption went was this; I told Ruth, Nora, and the agency that after the birth, I wanted a day alone with Cricket and Mr. Book. Then we’d sign over custody, then TPR—but first I wanted a day. The agency tried to talk me out of it, but I was firm, and so after I’d given birth, we drove away from the birthing center and went to a hotel. I had hoped not to sleep at all, so that I wouldn’t miss any of my time with Cricket, but I’d been in labor for three days and did end up dozing off for a few hours. Ruth and Nora were in the same hotel, just in case we decided that we didn’t want to stay sequestered with the little elf. It was both a magical time and incredibly sad—nothing extraordinary happened, but we parented. My mother came to see us, bringing Indian food, and held her first grandchild. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her so happy. I breastfed and changed diapers; Mr. Book held Cricket and talked to him about the Kinks. And we took pictures.
I had packed two disposable cameras in my birth bag and a few baby outfits; we changed his clothes a couple of times and took as many pictures as we could. I look the worst I ever have, naturally, but the photos are incredibly precious to me. I didn’t want to give copies to Ruth and Nora—I wanted to have something of Cricket that was just ours—and then I realized that I was being immature, and we gave them copies. I don’t know whether those pictures are important to them, but it was important to us to give them.
I’ll post a couple of my favorites in a separate, protected post—email me if you want the password.
In the next couple of years, I am planning to have a baby and Ruth and Nora are planning to adopt again. I’m thinking about this in part, I think, because I’ve recently restarted birth control. Over the summer we had two brief pregnancy scares—broken condoms, a positive test—and that was complicated for me because while we can’t afford a baby, I do of course want a child. After the relinquishment, I got hit with the desire to have another real’ bad. I thought that a new baby, one I could keep, was a fantastic idea; I’m lucky that I didn’t actually try to get pregnant, because that would have been exactly as dumb as it sounds. At the same time, being on birth control means no accidents—I’m not going to get pregnant. That’s a good thing—we need more time and money to get ready—but I’m also a bit wistful about it.
Of course, right now it is really, really clear that we can’t have a baby; the check that I was expecting today did not arrive, I’m planning my sister’s bridal shower and hoping as hard as I can that I have the money to pay for it—adding diapers to our budget would be a real strain. Ah, well. My baby mopiness is not exciting.
Now, the child development textbook that I’m copyediting—that is exciting. 😛
That keychain I alluded to in an earlier post came—my keys now share a ring with a picture of newborn Cricket. I’m glad that I went for it. I can’t remember whether I’ve mentioned it here, but I’ve been planning since before he was born to get a tattoo for him: a mouse, since I called him “the mouse” until he was born. I was going to do it for my birthday, but then started having more adoption upset, and decided to wait until I was in a more peaceful place. I’m hoping it can be my Christmas present to myself. I’ve got several mouse pictures that I like, I know where I want it (inside ankle-y area on left leg)… I’m getting closer to having it. But I definitely want to have had it for as long as Cricket can remember.
I am surprised that even a blog with essentially no audience, like mine, still gets spam.
You would not believe what a time I had trying to find a real buttercream recipe. Real buttercream, for those of you who aren’t crazed bakers, does not involve powdered sugar; it begins with egg yolks, and only gets crazier from there. But the pumpkin sandwich cookies turned out great–the cookies are cakey and not too sweet, a perfect complement to cinnamon buttercream. I went to the farmer’s market this morning and got cranberry beans and heirloom tomatoes and honeycrisp apples and cider and some corn; I love corn, and it looked so good. I will use it to make corn chowder, which Mr. Book has never had. Then a little old lady at the bus stop gave me a head of lettuce–they were $1.50 each or 3 for $3, so she had an extra head. =) The cranberry beans and one of the tomatoes are getting stewed; the rest of the tomatoes will be made into salsa. Mr. Book and I, wherever we’ve gone, have had a divey Mexican restaurant as our special place, but we haven’t been able to find one here–one of our earliest tries led us to joint that puts ketchup on the nachos. =o I’ve heard a rumor that there just isn’t any good Mexican in this state, so I’ve given up and started just making it at home. Mine is very California Mexican: salsa fresca, lots of fresh veggies, some jack cheese.
When I relinquished, I really wanted to get a piece of birthmom jewelery; it took on a weird importance in my head. I don’t think I was being mercenary–the PAPs weren’t paying me rent or giving me food money or anything nutty like that–but I read about adoptive moms giving those necklaces to birth moms (usually with bmom’s birthstone and baby’s birthstone) and I thought about how much I would like to have and wear one of those. I never mentioned it to the PAPs, although I think I did, once, to the future Mr. Book. Anyway, I didn’t get one. Ruth and Nora gave us a home ornament to match one that they have, which is definitely not to my tastes but so thoughtful that I really do need to just buy a nail and put it up (certainly before they come!!). But now I look at online catalogues of that jewelry sadly, and I still want to get one, but it seems too complicated and weird to get it myself (not to mention a bit expensive–I don’t need gold or anything, but money is p. tight here), and equally weird to get it as a gift from Mr. Book. So I’m not sure what I’d like to do instead–maybe a photo keychain from Shutterfly? I know just the picture I’d use, too. I’ll post it in a separate entry with password protection because of creepazoids, but I’ll give it to you if you ask.