I’m guessing this post will be very, very long. I am breaking the adoption story up into more than two parts because this time will span nearly a year and that’s a lot of information to cover. I need to set the stage a bit for this section, because for me, after she came home was when the real emotions set in. If you read back through our blog at the time, there really isn’t much mention at all of any of this stuff. I censored my entire life at that time and only put the good/easy parts on the blog. I’m glad I captured those memories because I can see that I really did have those positive feelings as well. This adoption story is also intended to talk about how hard it all was – something I haven’t really ever done on the blog or even with anyone in real life besides my husband.
I had a difficult healing from birth due to the severity of the tearing. I had a second procedure done at 6 weeks post-partum to fix the problem, but that required another almost 10 weeks of healing time. Add on top of that breastfeeding, which which was a level of pain worse than labor contractions that lasted until almost 5 weeks post partum. I had plenty of milk, which was awesome, but Cooper was hungry all.the.time (he gained over 5 lbs and nearly 5 inches in 2 months, and had doubled his birth weight and grown nearly 7 inches by 4 months old). He ate every 2 hours for about 45 min each session, around the clock. This means I would only get a little over an hour reprieve from nursing.
He also reverse cycled when I went back to work because he preferred breast to bottle and would eat as a little as possible while I was away. This meant he ate ALL night long from the moment I walked in the door at 4:30 pm. I would go to bed with him at 8 just to get a few additional hours because the only time he stayed asleep for longer than 2 hours was from about 8-midnight. Needless to say I was completely sleep deprived and it was only about the time that Charlotte came home that I was finally starting to feel more bonded to Cooper and more sure of myself. Baby blues hit me hard.
Chris and I had moved from our home of 5 years, only 6 weeks after Cooper was born because the landlord sold the house we were living in. We received a 4 week notice, which meant Cooper was only 2 weeks old when we learned we had to find a new home. We moved from a 1400 sqft, 3 bed/2 bath house + 2.5 car garage and yard, to a 900 sqft 2 bed/2bath apartment with a kid and a dog. One week after we moved I was offered a promotion. Two weeks after we moved we got word that Charlotte would be coming home in 1-2 months.
Chris and I lived in California when we first had our children and had no family or close friends nearby. We had some great friends, but not nearly the incredible support network that we have in Colorado. I would describe the California support network only 1 deep and the Colorado support network 5 deep if that helps put it in perspective.
Contact with my sister – mid-July 2008
My sister sent me a letter from jail. Her letter was dated June 11, 2008. She sent a second letter dated June 29, 2008. I didn’t receive either letter until after our home study was completed in mid-July because of the delay from jail as well as our change of address. In her first letter, she expressed immense gratitude to Chris and I for taking Anabella. She learned that we had stepped in when she attended the pre-termination hearing on June 11, 2008. She also said she was so relieved that family was taking the baby, rather than Anabella being adopted. She thanked us for giving her something to look forward to and get better for when she got out in 2 years. She said she was feeling like she would lose her head because she thought she was going to lose Anabella. Her second letter was letting me know that she would be in limbo for a few weeks while she was moved from jail to prison.
I felt so sad for her, but I was also so surprised – surprised that she was thanking me, and surprised that she didn’t understand the situation. I sent a letter back to her, just before going back to work, where I explained to her that I thought she was confused because Chris and I were planning to adopt and that we would keeping the baby forever. I also let her know that we would be changing the baby’s name to Charlotte. I reminded her that social services had moved to termination of parental rights, and that’s what the pre-termination hearing was for in June. I encouraged her to reach out to her lawyer and to also continue writing me.
Going Back to Work July 30, 2008
After 4 months of maternity leave, I returned to work. Before taking maternity leave I had been a drilling engineer and I was worried about having to take operations calls at all hours on top of sleep deprivation. I was very excited to change jobs and start a new role as an engineering supervisor—my first job as a manager. At age 28, and female, this was nearly unheard of in my industry, where the average age is ~50 and it’s probably 75-80% male dominated. I also chose to continue breastfeeding, which meant pumping at work (every 2-3 hours to keep up with Cooper). My first couple days back were just overwhelming learning how to get up for work and out the door, without forgetting anything, and then figuring out when/where to pump, all while being productive in my sleep deprived state.
I reached a level of exhaustion I didn’t know was possible after only 2 days with the new routine, and it didn’t help that I was very anxious in leaving Cooper for the first time. I was thankful that my first week back started on Wednesday and was also my Friday off (worked a 9/80 schedule).
Coming home – August 1, 2008
Chris and I had asked several times to be able to go out and pick up Charlotte in Colorado. We had the time and resources, plus we are from Colorado so it made an easy trip home. The social worker told us that it would just be easier for everyone, especially the foster mother, if the social worker brought the baby to us in California. Not really understanding that we could stand our ground, we agreed to the social worker bringing Charlotte to us.
We waited very anxiously for most of the day. We knew she would get to us around 4 pm. At 4:30 pm or so, the social worker called my phone. I was so nervous to meet my niece-soon-to-be-daughter for the first time. Chris encouraged me to be the only one to go downstairs and meet the social worker at the car. I didn’t take a camera and or a camcorder with me. I strangely felt very private about the moment. I was worried that I wouldn’t have the ‘right’ reaction.
I remember walking closer and closer to the car. It was a time warp/slow motion sort of feeling. I remember shaking hands and introducing myself to the social worker, who then opened up the car door. And there she was. So little, so small, so innocent. Her big, brown eyes looking at me. I got her infant seat out of the car and set her on the asphalt. I knelt down and said, “Hi baby girl. Welcome home,” as I gently touched her hand. She was just taking it all in and didn’t make a single sound or have a single facial expression.
I carried her up to the apartment, with the social worker following behind. We walked in and Chris asked if he could help get anything else. The social worker said no, that the suitcase had all of Anabelle’s belongings. After I set the baby down on the floor in her infant carrier, Scout came over to smell her and lick her. She seemed so excited to have another little baby around. Chris immediately unstrapped her and said “Hi there, Charlotte! You are just so cute!! Let’s get you out of here.” He picked her up and held her, just like she had always been with us. She was sort of amazed with him and looked at him in wonder.
Cooper was getting squirmy on the floor, so I picked him up and turned to the social worker. She handed me a schedule that the foster mother had sent and I asked her when the baby had eaten last. She said she had given her a bottle on the plane because she was crying, but that was a few hours ago. I asked her what time she had gotten the baby from the foster home and she told me 8 am. I was sort of confused that a baby of 7.5 months could need only one 8 oz bottle of formula in 9 hours. After she told me that, the social worker rushed to the door and said, “Well, I will leave you guys to it. You have my number. I will stop in tomorrow morning before I leave.” And then she abruptly left.
I think I’ve had longer visits after buying an appliance, than I did after receiving a new child. I expected something more, something bigger, more fanfare, just more. Especially after Cooper’s arrival being so recent in our memory. I turned to Chris and said, “Well I guess we have a daughter now.” He said, “Yes, we do. What do we do now?”
We introduced her to her new brother. It was the first time we realized Cooper was BIG. He was 3.5 months here and she was 7.5 months.
And Scout said hi too.
Chris and I turned to each other, and I said, “I don’t like the way she smells. I want to wash all her things so she smells like us.” I know this may seem like a strange comment, but by her not smelling like us it was the first start of me realizing that she wasn’t really mine. At least not yet. He kind of laughed, and said, “Okay, but I think we should feed her first. I can’t believe the social worker only gave her one bottle since 8 o’clock this morning!”
We looked at the schedule and it said she needed baby food with baby cereal, and a bottle for dinner time. We rummaged through the suitcase and pulled out the food and bottles. I said, “How much baby food? And what do we do with the cereal, mix it in or make it separate? Do we feed her another 8 oz bottle? I haven’t gotten that far in the What to Expect the First Year!” He said, “I don’t know! Um, let me call Mikael I guess. Maile is eating baby food now.”
So he calls Mikael. Hearing only one side, it went something like this:
“So we have the new baby and we need to feed her. The schedule says she needs baby food with baby cereal and a bottle. But what do we do?” “Okay so we can mix the baby food and cereal together, or we can make the cereal separate? Which one is better?” “Then how do we make the baby cereal? Water, formula or breastmilk? Which one do you guys use? How much cereal to how much liquid?” “Should we make her an 8 oz bottle? Do we give it to her before or after she eats the baby food? Do we still burp her?”
We were so clueless as what to do with a nearly 8 month old. It was the first time I realized that my parenting experience meant absolutely nothing. I hadn’t reached this stage yet. It was a novelty to feed her real food. All of the firsts would now be with the new baby. Cooper was supposed to be my first baby. I got choked up thinking about what I had just given up.
I did a lot of staring at her that day and thinking, why don’t I feel anything for her? I know she’s my niece, but I’m supposed to love her like I love Cooper, and I don’t. Not even close. I don’t think I even held her much that first day. I was really, really bothered by her smell. In fact we gave her a bath that night, even though I wasn’t sure she needed a bath. I gave her the bath and I realized that caring for her, keeping her safe, and touching her skin helped me feel a little less like a complete stranger with her.
Chris put her to bed, while I managed Cooper for the evening (his hungriest time + my lowest milk supply = hours of non-stop feeding). Chris spent about 15 minutes rocking her and bouncing her, while she squirmed and wiggled. He finally laid her down and she rolled over and zonked out. Chris was amazed because we were spending at least an hour of rocking/bouncing/white noise craziness with Cooper getting him drowsy. We finally could see the light at the end of the tunnel, that life would not always be so hard with a baby!
The social worker stopped by the next morning. She was wearing a bikini with a swimsuit cover up and stood by the door for the entire 5 minute visit. She handed me a letter from the foster mother and said, ‘Everything looks like it’s going well. I’m going to head to the beach before I catch my plane. You will get a new social worker. Good luck!” And then she was gone. And I was left with a baby.
The letter from the foster mother was really more just contact information. I didn’t know anything until after I first emailed her that night. The foster mother read our blog after I sent my first email, and then she sent a long email outlining everything I wrote in Part 1. I sent an email back to her filling her in on my side of things and that’s when we both realized that social services had inadequately communicated with both of us. I cried every day for the following week for the pain that this whole situation had caused everyone. All because we wanted the best for the same baby.
First few weeks home – August 2008
I went back to work full force the Monday after Charlotte came home. I had 3 days home with her after having nearly 4 months with Cooper. California does grant time off for an adopted or foster child, but you can only have one FMLA event per 12 months. I had used up all my time with Cooper, so this meant I had to wait a year to take my other 6 weeks paid time off with Charlotte. I was so, so thankful that Chris was a stay-at-home dad.
The next couple weeks passed uneventfully, except for being a huge adjustment for Chris. He had to suddenly learn to do everything for the two kids by himself, as well as get the dog out for a walk everyday. I felt overwhelmed and tired and always felt like I had to pick between the two of them when I got home. We celebrated our 5 year wedding anniversary a little over a week after Charlotte came home, by taking both babies out to our favorite restaurant.
We started giving Charlotte breastmilk from the second day she came home. We started slow, with 25%/75% breast milk to formula mix, just in case it upset her tummy. After a few weeks we increased the amount of breast milk to almost 100%. Since Cooper reverse cycled and I had started pumping extra before she came home, I was able to meet the demand for both babies. Early on, I never attempted to put her to the breast because I was scared of her teeth. She did finally latch for the first time closer to 1.5-2 yrs, but she always loved her bottles and then sippy cup. (And for those who don’t know, I did extended nursing so Cooper wasn’t weaned until nearly 3. Starting nursing Charlotte at age 2 wasn’t strange at all.)
We took the kids out several times in those first few weeks and we were constantly asked if they were twins. We hadn’t learned how to answer. We sort of stumbled the first few times and said no, but then people asked about their age difference. And suddenly we were trying to explain that her mom was my sister and they were cousins, but she lives with us now. We were so flustered. We had one comment after saying no they weren’t twins, to the effect of “Ah, different mothers,” with a knowing look at Chris. Another woman said, ‘How did you manage that? I’ve seen some interesting things on Discovery Health Channel.’ It was all so awkward, so we started telling everyone they were twins.
We used her new name a lot and she of course never responded to it, but she just did not look like an Anabella or Anabelle to us. We had considered keeping her original name, but we felt strongly that we should get to name our children. There was also the safety factor, given the situation of my sister and that she had her name and social security number all over several documents at social services.
She really had a blank look on her face for a couple of weeks and it was very eerie. Looking back, I know it’s because she was adjusting to suddenly living with strangers and not even being called the same name. I expected her to smile, and she just looked very stoic. And then she finally did smile and it was beautiful!
And somehow during floor time Cooper and Charlotte always ended up close to each other. We were very surprised to learn that she wouldn’t be in the same spot we put her in after we walked away for a few minutes. It was quite an adjustment to suddenly have a mobile baby!
I remember the first time I actually felt something for her. Up until this point, I was going through the motions feeling mostly numb and overwhelmed. I was choosing to take care of her not because I loved her, but because I chose to have her as my daughter. We went swimming about 3 weeks after she came home.
The skin to skin is what made those first feelings show up. I remember looking at her in the pool and thinking, you are my daughter. I love you because you are my niece, but I can choose to love you as my daughter, too. I’m scared and I don’t know how to do this, but I made this choice. Eventually I will really feel like you are really my daughter and I am really your mommy.
That picture of me and Charlotte is akin to this one of me and Cooper:
Contact with my sister – late August 2008/early September 2008
Not even a week after going swimming, I received another letter from my sister dated August 19, 2008. She had not received the letter and pictures I sent in late July, until August 9, 2008, and did not have any money to buy stamps to send letters. She was so terribly angry with me and the situation. I could hear her yelling through the words on the page. She completely disagreed with me adopting and keeping Charlotte. She was angry that her mistakes were going to make her pay the ultimate price, and she felt helpless to do anything about it.
I felt conflicted – she is my sister and I will always love her. I was so heartbroken for her to have lost her daughter. I wanted this situation to bring us closer. I wanted to keep an open adoption for Charlotte. I didn’t know how to start thinking of Charlotte as my daughter and also console my sister for losing her child. I didn’t know how to love this innocent baby like my daughter when Charlotte was a spitting image of my sister, whom I was so angry with for hurting my niece-soon-to-be-daughter.
I wrote another letter and sent more pictures right after receiving my sister’s letter. I also deposited money into her account so that she could buy paper and stamps. She received my letter on August 27th and sent a new letter to me dated August 30, 2008. I received it early September. She was incredibly thankful for the pictures and money and said they were helpful because she felt forgotten. She gave me some great medical information about Charlotte based on her own medical history and the history of her older two children (who were living with their paternal grandmother at the time). She explained that she was so angry with herself, and then she did the best thing in the world for me – she told me her life story. She explained how she reached her rock bottom – losing Charlotte. My heart hurt so much for my sister, and I felt guilty that I couldn’t have done more for her. That I didn’t ask for her to come live with us (she bounced between her biological father, our mother, and a couple aunts and uncles) so that I could help protect her like my youngest siblings. I felt like I had failed at being a big sister to her.
She wrote the kindest thing: “Now I know that it is best for my daughter to be with you. I know you are doing what’s best.” And then she wrote the most heartbreaking thing: “And that’s what really upsets me the most because the best place is supposed to be with me, and it’s not. It’s hard for me to accept.”
Adoption, no matter what kind (international, foster care, private, kinship) is never an easy choice. Not for any part of the triad. There is so much loss. So much heartbreak.
I wrote a blog post on August 27 titled ‘Hardest Year of My Life’. I remember writing it and I remember censoring myself. It was the first time I was truly scared that I wouldn’t be capable of doing this whole motherhood thing. I had bitten off so much. Too much, I think. I do not ever recommend having every part of your life change all at one time: job, house, marriage, one child, another child, relationships with family and friends.
I truly believe this may be one of the most difficult years of my life. I've never had to deal with so much change at one time and it is truly testing my sense of self. Most everyone who knows me, knows that I am a very confident person. I believe I can do anything I set my mind to, I know who I am, and it's tough to shake that foundation. These last few months have done just that.
Having a baby is the most wonderful and most terrifying experience I've had in my life so far. From the detached feelings I had right after birth, the baby blues, my distorted body image, and to the elation I feel when Cooper laughs, smiles, and is overcome with joy to see me has touched me deep into my core.
Moving from the only home I have had in California was tough, but being cramped into a small apartment is even tougher. I can't imagine how oversized a house will feel when we move back home.
Going back to work at a new job where I don't know what I'm doing is incredibly overwhelming. Combine that with missing my family for the 10 hours I am away from them is simply heartbreaking.
The change in my relationship with my husband is something completely unexpected. I love him more now than I ever have but at the same time I miss him and us so much. I don't think I ever appreciated how much 'us' time we had before kids. It is tough to keep the husband/wife relationship solid when so much of our time is spent focused on being parents. We both are learning how to balance both roles.
And then there is the adoption. I simply had no idea. I don't know if I was ready for two kids just yet, but it doesn't really matter. The truth is that adoption is so very different than giving birth, yet the end result is so very much the same. The feelings of detachment and baby blues are the same, and so is the overwhelming joy and happiness of seeing my children together or holding her in my arms while she caresses my cheek. It is the best thing in the whole world!
So, will I survive? Yes. Will it be hard? I probably have no idea how hard. Will I need help? Probably more than I would like to admit. Is it worth it? A resounding yes. My throat aches with the joy I feel. My life is perfect just the way it is. <--- That last sentence right there was simply not true at the time. I told myself that because it was the only way I could wake up every day and deal with the choices I had made. The choices that threw me into a whirlwind of change. One I couldn’t see how I would really come out of. I was just completely terrified.
I was falling faster than I was climbing my way out. And I saw it as a failure to need help or ask for help.
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