Chapter Six – The Joy of Motherhood
Before I knew it, I was young mother of two healthy, wonderful children. I was only twenty when Joshua was born. It was only two days less than a year later when Alexandra was born. I really didn't know what I was doing. But, I loved being a mom. If you had asked me then, I would have told that I wanted to just keep having babies until I couldn't anymore. I was very much in love with my babies and with being a mom.
When Josh's birth was nearing, I had asked Mom to be there through the labor and when he was born. She was very nervous about that. My mom had confessed in the weeks leading up to Josh's birth that she was both excited and anxious about meeting her grandchild as she had never cared for or even held a brand new baby before. My brother was six weeks old when Mom and Dad brought him home, and I was five months. My mom felt ill-equipped, but I assured her that she would be fine. As things would have it, Josh was born by cesarean and Mom and Dad were on their bi-annual hunting trip when the time came. They made daily trips from their campsite back down to the highway to use a phone and check in with us. They came home when he was born. They got to come meet him the next day. It was very moving to see my mom hold Josh. Tears streamed down her cheek as she kissed him over and over. Dad just smiled from ear to ear the entire time he held the baby.
In the weeks that followed Josh's birth, my mom and dad came to visit as often as their schedule and I would allow. Mom felt so bad that she wasn't able to offer advise or insight as I struggled with breast feeding. However, she was such a proud Grandma, and enjoyed learning right along with me.
Grandma and Grandpa continued to spend as much time as possible with Josh during his first year. Then, came Lexi. Also born by cesarean, my parents were again thrilled to experience a newborn grandchild. When it was time to come home from the hospital, my mom came and picked us up. Mom had recently had surgery herself and was not yet 100%, but would not pass up the opportunity to stay with me for a week or so while I adjust to having two babies and recover from surgery. As exhausted as I was, and as foggy as my memory is during those first few days home, I do remember that I was loving sharing the experience with my mom. I think we bonded on a whole new level.
Through those early years of being a mother, I would occasionally consider my birth mother. I wondered if they had let her hold me or even see me. I imagined how hard it must have been to do what she did. I think that most women who make the choice to give up a baby for adoption must feel like someone just ripped a part of their heart right out. Even under the most horrific conditions of an unplanned pregnancy, there is an undeniable bond between a mother and the child that stirs in her womb. I cannot even fathom the amount of emotional pain one must go through to make the choice to give up a child. Nor do I want to.
I am just thankful that my birth mother put herself second and me first. The painful sacrifice she made is the reason I am who I am. She gave me life, twice. Not just by giving birth to me, but also by loving me enough to give me a better life. And nothing has given me more gratitude for her choice than becoming a mother myself, and watching my parents be the loving grandparents that they are.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Story of a Girl, Chapter 5
Chapter Five - Chosen
There is something that happens when you are expecting a baby. You start to imagine your child and their future. You get to thinking about all the possibilities for this new life you are carrying. Naturally, looking into the future often leads directly into considering the past. I was no exception to this. I suddenly found myself with a lot of questions about my birth mother and her family history. It was a little disconcerting as a first time expectant mother, when I was hit with a barrage of questions about my families medical history at the doctors office. Were there hereditary diseases or conditions? How about pregnancies? Was there a history of problematic pregnancies or births? I didn't know. I didn't even know if I was born early or late; or big or small. These are questions my parents couldn't answer for me. They had not been informed of any medical history. We had to assume that no news was good news.
Then my mom remembered that when they adopted me, they were told that there was a 50/50 chance I could have some form of mental retardation, due to some minor complications during birth, and they probably wouldn't be able to tell for sure until I was around two years old. My parents chose to take that chance and adopted me anyway.
I felt a renewed sense of respect and awe for my parents. Would I have made that choice if I were in their shoes? I considered the baby I was carrying and knew that nothing would stop me from choosing him. But with adoption, you could say, “No, I'll wait for the next available child.”
My parents explained that they had felt that I was their child. As soon as they received the call about me, they knew I was meant for them. They had been waiting for a long time for me, and nothing would keep them from choosing me.
Read the whole story
.
There is something that happens when you are expecting a baby. You start to imagine your child and their future. You get to thinking about all the possibilities for this new life you are carrying. Naturally, looking into the future often leads directly into considering the past. I was no exception to this. I suddenly found myself with a lot of questions about my birth mother and her family history. It was a little disconcerting as a first time expectant mother, when I was hit with a barrage of questions about my families medical history at the doctors office. Were there hereditary diseases or conditions? How about pregnancies? Was there a history of problematic pregnancies or births? I didn't know. I didn't even know if I was born early or late; or big or small. These are questions my parents couldn't answer for me. They had not been informed of any medical history. We had to assume that no news was good news.
Then my mom remembered that when they adopted me, they were told that there was a 50/50 chance I could have some form of mental retardation, due to some minor complications during birth, and they probably wouldn't be able to tell for sure until I was around two years old. My parents chose to take that chance and adopted me anyway.
I felt a renewed sense of respect and awe for my parents. Would I have made that choice if I were in their shoes? I considered the baby I was carrying and knew that nothing would stop me from choosing him. But with adoption, you could say, “No, I'll wait for the next available child.”
My parents explained that they had felt that I was their child. As soon as they received the call about me, they knew I was meant for them. They had been waiting for a long time for me, and nothing would keep them from choosing me.
Read the whole story
.
Friday, April 15, 2011
EC: Rite-Aid and Food Pavillion 4-15-11
My first time out extreme-couponing (from here on out known as EC).
First Rite-Aid:
My out of pocket was $32.98 so this time my coupon savings, $11.55, was only about 30%, but not bad I think considering that I saved $9.00 alone on one item by stacking coupons. I also earned a $1.00 +Up reward.
Food Pavillion:
My out-of-pocket: $12.83, savings of $11.22, for 46.65% savings. Go me.
Not a bad start I think
First Rite-Aid:
My out of pocket was $32.98 so this time my coupon savings, $11.55, was only about 30%, but not bad I think considering that I saved $9.00 alone on one item by stacking coupons. I also earned a $1.00 +Up reward.
Food Pavillion:
My out-of-pocket: $12.83, savings of $11.22, for 46.65% savings. Go me.
Not a bad start I think
Story of a Girl, Chapter 4
Chapter Four - Traveling the Road Paved With Good Intentions
By the time I graduated high school, I had come to the conclusion that I did not want to have children of my own. Oh, I liked kids. In fact, I wanted to gear my career towards working with children somehow. But, I had convinced myself that it was never going to be in the cards for me to be a mother. This was mostly because I believed that no man would ever want to marry me. I had, by the ripe old age of seventeen, convinced myself that I would be alone forever. You have to love the insecurity, and tendency towards drama of a teenage girl.
Imagine my surprise when I found myself married only two short weeks before my nineteenth birthday. About a month after we were married, we went on our “honeymoon”. I don't remember how much time we took, but we had decided to travel to Vancouver Island. There were some places my husband, Cam, wanted to visit before we made our down to Victoria for a couple days.
It just so happens that I was born in a small town on Vancouver Island. So, seeming as how we were in the area, I asked if we could visit that town. I wanted to see the hospital where I was born. And it wasn't so much that I wanted to go there to see if I could find my birth mother. I just wanted to see where I was born.
All my life, everyone else seemed to know so much about the day they were born. For example, everyone else seemed to know what time they were born, how much they weighed, how long they were, and how long their mothers were in labor. All I knew was the name of a hospital, the date of my birth and that I was extremely jaundice and spent some time in intensive care. I was jealous of people who knew the whole story about their birth. This is the only hang-up I had over being adopted. I felt a little ripped off that the social worker who handled my adoption didn't give my parents a moment by moment account of my birth. I wonder if my mom felt that way too. I will have to ask her some time.
As Cam and I drove up to the hospital, he asked if I wanted to go in. I was a little surprised. I really just wanted to drive by, but seeming as how we are here, maybe it would be neat to see the nursery where I spent the first couple months of my life. As we wondered the hall through the maternity wing, Cam stopped a nurse and asked about speaking to someone about birth records. I remember thinking, “What is he doing? Why is he doing this?” But it was all a little surreal to me. I was feeling a little disconnected and confused. I followed along behind as the nurse lead down to an office corridor and introduced us to someone in records. I can't really remember the details of the conversation that followed, except that Cam asked a lot of questions and we were told that under the circumstances of my adoption, my records would be sealed and the only way to access them would be to apply to some government agency, and see if my birth mother also applied. Only when both parties have submitted application can those records be opened.
Still in a fog, I was feeling a little resentful that my husband was pushing me. He actually wanted to go find out right then and there to find out where we could go to submit this application. I, however, did not want to do that. I just wanted to be a new wife on her honeymoon. Seeming as how I am one to avoid confrontation at almost all cost, I quietly made excuses as to why we should just forget about it for now and continue on our way. I stared out the window and tried not to let Cam see the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. He would surely interpret them as disappointment in regards to what we were told at the hospital. I didn't want to have to tell them that they were tears of disappointment, but not because of what we were told, rather for the fact that he even asked. However, I stuffed the bad feelings down and decided to put it behind us. After all, he meant well. Right?
Read the whole story
.
By the time I graduated high school, I had come to the conclusion that I did not want to have children of my own. Oh, I liked kids. In fact, I wanted to gear my career towards working with children somehow. But, I had convinced myself that it was never going to be in the cards for me to be a mother. This was mostly because I believed that no man would ever want to marry me. I had, by the ripe old age of seventeen, convinced myself that I would be alone forever. You have to love the insecurity, and tendency towards drama of a teenage girl.
Imagine my surprise when I found myself married only two short weeks before my nineteenth birthday. About a month after we were married, we went on our “honeymoon”. I don't remember how much time we took, but we had decided to travel to Vancouver Island. There were some places my husband, Cam, wanted to visit before we made our down to Victoria for a couple days.
It just so happens that I was born in a small town on Vancouver Island. So, seeming as how we were in the area, I asked if we could visit that town. I wanted to see the hospital where I was born. And it wasn't so much that I wanted to go there to see if I could find my birth mother. I just wanted to see where I was born.
All my life, everyone else seemed to know so much about the day they were born. For example, everyone else seemed to know what time they were born, how much they weighed, how long they were, and how long their mothers were in labor. All I knew was the name of a hospital, the date of my birth and that I was extremely jaundice and spent some time in intensive care. I was jealous of people who knew the whole story about their birth. This is the only hang-up I had over being adopted. I felt a little ripped off that the social worker who handled my adoption didn't give my parents a moment by moment account of my birth. I wonder if my mom felt that way too. I will have to ask her some time.
As Cam and I drove up to the hospital, he asked if I wanted to go in. I was a little surprised. I really just wanted to drive by, but seeming as how we are here, maybe it would be neat to see the nursery where I spent the first couple months of my life. As we wondered the hall through the maternity wing, Cam stopped a nurse and asked about speaking to someone about birth records. I remember thinking, “What is he doing? Why is he doing this?” But it was all a little surreal to me. I was feeling a little disconnected and confused. I followed along behind as the nurse lead down to an office corridor and introduced us to someone in records. I can't really remember the details of the conversation that followed, except that Cam asked a lot of questions and we were told that under the circumstances of my adoption, my records would be sealed and the only way to access them would be to apply to some government agency, and see if my birth mother also applied. Only when both parties have submitted application can those records be opened.
Still in a fog, I was feeling a little resentful that my husband was pushing me. He actually wanted to go find out right then and there to find out where we could go to submit this application. I, however, did not want to do that. I just wanted to be a new wife on her honeymoon. Seeming as how I am one to avoid confrontation at almost all cost, I quietly made excuses as to why we should just forget about it for now and continue on our way. I stared out the window and tried not to let Cam see the tears that were rolling down my cheeks. He would surely interpret them as disappointment in regards to what we were told at the hospital. I didn't want to have to tell them that they were tears of disappointment, but not because of what we were told, rather for the fact that he even asked. However, I stuffed the bad feelings down and decided to put it behind us. After all, he meant well. Right?
Read the whole story
.
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