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.