World Adoption Day!

Today is the first ever World Adoption Day. It's pretty cool that we have a day to celebrate and bring awareness to adoption. Everyday I'm reminded of the amazing gift that Isaac is to our family and that without adoption we wouldn't be the family we are today. A recent UNICEF report states that there are approximately 143-210 million orphans worldwide. These numbers are staggering and incomprehensible. While we didn't set out to adopt a child when we thought of starting our family, I am so thankful that there were ethical processes in place that allowed us to finally meet the baby that was meant to be ours. The name Isaac means laughter and that is what he has brought to our lives. When I think back to the dark years of struggling with infertility, of the uncertainty and unknown, the days of despair, meeting Isaac was like hitting a switch in our lives. We were filled with joy, love, and of course, lots and lots of laughter. However you build your family is a beautiful, wonderful thing. Adoption is how we built ours and I will be forever grateful that this option was available to us. I hope that bringing awareness to adoption will provide hope to couples struggling with infertility. To look at adoption, not as a last resort, but as an amazing opportunity to achieve the family that you've been dreaming about. That's why we're celebrating adoption today and why we were happy to draw the little smiley faces on our hands for our family photo. Check out http://www.worldadoptionday.org/ for more information.

Issac had a smiley face on his hand as well, but he kept wanting to lick it. I think he was just confused by the whole thing.

And if I needed one more reason to feel so thankful today, yesterday I hosted a baby shower. Yup, you heard it, actually hosted a baby shower. Baby showers for someone struggling with infertility can be one of the most gut wrenching experiences. I used to hate going to them, although, of course, you're not supposed to say that. Seeing my pregnant friends used to bring such mixed emotions. Of course, I was happy for her, but at the same time, I would be filled with such feelings of jealousy, anger, frustration, and despair. It would be hard to keep the smile pasted on my face and I would leave feeling exhausted, drained, and depressed. I used to feel like a horrible friend. Since having Isaac in my life, those feelings have disappeared. Sure it would have been nice to experience pregnancy, but this no longer consumes me like it used to. Now, I can be fully happy for my friends as I was this Saturday for my dear friend, Wendy. It was awesome to see how our group has expanded to include seven little ones and one more on the way. With 15 adults and 7 kiddies, our house was packed, but you really can't go wrong with being squished together with such a great group of people. Here are some pics from our party. I particularly loved the kitchen table with three lobster chairs attached to it and five kiddies sharing a meal together. It was cuteness overload. Hope you all had a wonderful weekend.

Kid table :)

Blue cupcakes for a baby boy

I love these guys, especially my guys in plaid.

That Moment

It's that moment when you realize that nothing will be the same ever again. You were hoping that it could be avoided for just a bit longer. You live in a state of denial that it's not happening, but know inside that it's really only a matter of time. And then the moment happens. That moment when you realize that nothing is safe. That moment when your child finally figures out how to climb up onto every chair in the house and uses said chairs as a means to climb up onto even higher pieces of furniture, like tables, or to access breakable items that you previously thought were out of reach. You go through the stages of loss - denial ("I'm sure you won't be able to reach that bottle of wine."), anger ("No Isaac! We don't climb on the table."), bargaining ("Mommy needs you to stay on the ground now so we can play a really fun game."), depression ("WWHHHHYY!@#&*!!"), and finally acceptance (I'm not sure if it's acceptance or just submission at this point). Yup, life will never be the same. I think the answer is to hang more shelving, really high shelving, and possibly move to a more Japanese way of life and sit on mats and pillows instead of chairs.

Look Mama, I moved the table and now I can get so much closer to all the items on the mantle. Isn't that great?

How times have changed

  Last night, Markus and I had a evening out. We were celebrating my sister's and future brother-in-law's engagement with their wedding party. Let's just say that the wine was flowing and this morning I was feeling a little less than stellar. Pre-Isaac, days like this would have involved a greasy breakfast and chilling on the couch for a good part of the day. How times have changed. Today, we were off to the pumpkin patch. I just felt like I couldn't miss his first pumpkin patch experience, even with the pounding head ache and still queasy stomach. I have to say it was well worth it. Isaac was mesmerized by the production this farm in Richmond puts on. There was a band with dancing vegetables, a train, hay rides, animals, and of course, all the pumpkins. We had a blast picking out our pumpkins. And when we got home, we all enjoyed a nice, long nap. :)

On the hay ride. Isaac had this wide eyed, mesmerized look for the whole ride. There was just so much to see!

Isaac and I with my Nan and Mom, and of course, our pumpkins.

Helping Daddy carry the pumpkin.

This is the one!

My little pumpkin.

 

Semantics

   The longer Isaac is with us, the less often I think of adoption. In Zambia, I was constantly reminded of our adoption – paperwork wasn’t finalized, we stood out visually and lacked anonymity. When we returned home, there were lots of celebrations welcoming us back and showering Isaac with gifts and many people wanting to hear our adoption story. But since returning to work, the fact that Isaac was adopted isn’t at the forefront of my mind anymore. We’re just living our lives as a family and right now life feels pretty busy. It’s not that I don’t think about it. I still read adoption blogs regularly and have reminders of Zambia occasionally. However, when I talk about Isaac now it’s less about attachment, paperwork, and immigration and more about development and all the crazy things that toddlers do. We feel like a family, just one that got their start in a less than typical way.

  Sometimes though, I’ll hear things about adoption that bring out insecurities in me or frustrate me. Statements that unfairly bring into question the permanence of my family. Suddenly Isaac’s adoption is brought to the forefront of my mind. The other day it was a simple ad on the radio. The Peak was doing a contest called Peak It Forward where listeners could enter by explaining a nice thing that they would like to do for another person or organization and possibly win money towards this gift. One listener had asked for money for a plane ticket to the Philippines for his girlfriend as in his words, she was adopted and has always wanted to meet her “real” parents. That statement gutted me. The idea that this woman’s adoptive parents or me as Isaac’s adoptive mom are less real. Now, I’m sure that’s not what he meant and the idea he had for his girlfriend was great. However, this is when semantics becomes important. What this guy should have said was that his girlfriend had always wanted to meet her birth parents. This isn’t the first time that I’ve heard the use of “real parents” to describe “birth parents”. I’m slowly building my thicker skin, but still find this difficult to hear. Isaac is my son. Yes, he came to us by adoption, but his connection to me and Markus is no different than a biological child to his or her parents.
  Aside from the obvious speech-language pathology connection, semantics comes up a lot for me at work in how we describe patients and people with disabilities. Instead of referring to someone as aphasic (having a language impairment from a stroke), we now describe that person as having aphasia. Instead of saying for example, Mary is aphasic, we now say Mary has aphasia. Mary is obviously more than her aphasia and therefore the language we use to describe her language impairment is important. The use of language in this way describes what Mary has as opposed to what she is.
  In the adoption world, language is also very important. The use of adoptive and birth as descriptors helps to honor the relationship and contributions from both sets of parents in a child’s life. I find it interesting though that the language hasn’t changed to become more person centered. I feel that I’m Isaac’s mom without the need to add any descriptors or qualifiers to that statement. I don’t feel like I need to say I’m his adoptive mom.  Just like mothers with biological children don’t feel the need to say that they are their children’s birth moms. Yes, our family was created that way, but I like to think of that as an event in our life rather than an ongoing description of our family. In one of the courses we took before adopting, the instructor explained how if the need arises, she explains that her son and daughter “were” adopted rather than “are” adopted. Saying it in the past tense establishes that this was an event in her son and daughter’s lives rather than an ongoing description to them as people. Again, they are more than just their adoption, just as Isaac is.
  Language is powerful. It has the power to build someone up or tear them down. It can create connections or cause divides. Sometimes, it’s not just semantics.

Highlights from Ucluelet and Quadra

We had a great time on our trip to Ucluelet and Quadra Island. Here are some of the highlights:

Watching the storms. When they say the waves are rated as extreme, they mean business.

Walking the Wild Pacific Trail with Isaac. He had so much fun.

Crab feast.

Playing on the beach with Isaac. I thought this was hilarious when he decided to lie down in the water. And why not? Running through the waves is tiring.

Exploring the beach near our friend, Ray's house on Quadra Island. The light was amazing that evening.

I'm always amazed at how lucky we are to live near such beautiful landscapes.

The boat ride to the Kegler's cabin. Such a nice weekend with our lovely friends. Isaac was so excited to be on the barge.

We expected rain and instead we got a starry night. Perfect for a campfire.

Carrying on the Family Tradition

   A longstanding family joke is the bad luck we have when traveling. My parents are particularly prone to this bad luck curse. One notable instance was the time they were supposed to travel to Scotland and arrived at the airport only to discover that my father’s passport had expired. As this was not long after 9/11, renewing passports was a more lengthy process which meant the whole trip had to be cancelled. The kicker was that my mother had previously reminded him to check the expiry date on his passport; something which still gets brought up from time to time. Then there was the time when my parents traveled to Tofino. They remembered to bring their dogs, the dog beds, the dog food, the leashes, all the accoutrements needed to travel with dogs. What they failed to bring was their own luggage. This was not the only time they forgot their luggage. They also drove to the airport for another trip and forgot their luggage at home. Fortunately, my father believes on arriving at the airport with more than enough time to check in and sister was able to make a speedy trip with the forgotten bags. Speaking of my sister, she has also not escaped this curse. In her case, it was nothing to do with forgotten bags or expired paperwork, her entire backpack was stolen when she was backpacking around Australia at the age of eighteen. She was traveling alone, just graduated from highschool when this happened. I can only imagine how scary that must have been for her. Nothing that occurred was her fault. She had been directed by the bus station staff to leave her backpack in a pile of other luggage. When she got off the bus in Blue Mountain, her bag was nowhere to be found. Not her fault and certainly bad luck. Actually this may have been the start of this whole bad luck curse.
  Now, I’ve counted myself pretty lucky. Aside from an unscrupulous hotel in Cancun, my traveling has been fairly smooth sailing. It was really only a matter of time though. Markus, Isaac, and I are supposed to be in Connecticut this week visiting our dear friends, Gill, Atila, and Olivia. We had a two night stay planned for New York. Gill, without prompting I might add, suggested she look after Isaac while we stayed in New York. Two baby free nights in NYC! We also planned to stay the weekend in a beach house in a town called Mystic. I had dreams of sand dunes and scraggly grass, picnics on the beach, and children building sandcastles. Well, we arrived at the airport on Saturday bright and early, 6am to be exact, ready for our adventure. Getting to the airport at 6am meant getting up at 4am. 4am people! We made it through the check-in line up and presented our tickets and passports to the clerk, only to find out that in addition to Isaac’s permanent residency card, we would also need a Visa for him to enter the US. Now, I thought that I had done my homework on this. I had checked the Canadian Immigration and Citizenship website and looked under the section, Traveling with a Permanent Residency Card. The website helpfully indicates that to return to Canada all you need is your PR card. What would have also been helpful would have been if that section had also had a simple one line warning: Make sure to check the requirements of the country you are traveling to as a PR card may not be sufficient to enter that country. As a Canadian, I have the benefit of being from a country that is welcomed to most other places in the world without additional visas being required. Unfortunately, Zambians do not share this luxury and thus Isaac with his Zambian passport and Canadian PR card required a Visa to enter the US. This is not the first time I have felt incredibly stupid after trying to navigate the CIC website. Despite having a Masters of Science, I find the CIC website to be very confusing and challenging to find the information that you need. It’s almost like they purposely make it this way, like they don’t want people immigrating to Canada.... hmmm... that couldn’t be the case, right?

  So the long and short of it was that we made a disappointing trek back home, called our friends and tearfully explained that we wouldn’t be able to see them, and then later in the day booked accommodation in Uculelet. Markus and I both wanted to make the most of our time off and realized that staying at home would only be depressing. So, here we are making the most of our vacation and embracing the rain that has now come (finally) to the West Coast.
  Really, it was only a matter of time before I carried on the family tradition. Let’s hope that’s the end of the bad luck for at least this trip. 

On Wickaninnish Beach. Both our boots were full of water by the end.

This morning on the Wild Pacific Trail.

Kelp graveyard

My woodland baby. He walked and ran for 1km on our hike this morning. It's only a matter of time before we won't be able to keep up with him.

Gotcha!

I find it amazing to be able to say that one year ago today, Markus and I were given the greatest gift of our lives when we met our son for the first time. In the adoption community, many people refer to this as your "gotcha day". While I'm not completely sure about the name, I love the idea of celebrating this day and remembering that this was the day your family was created. Thinking back on that day, I remember the nerves, excitement, and adrenaline as we drove up to the orphanage with our social workers. Having barely slept in three days, I think I was running on fumes. But the moment Isaac was placed in my arms, all that faded away. All I could feel was love, joy, wonder, and amazement at this beautiful baby boy in my arms. To feel his soft skin and smell his amazing baby smell. To be able to kiss each of his chubby fingers and hold his tiny (but actually quite large) hands in mine. It was just an incredible moment and I don't think I can truly do it justice in writing. I find it hard to describe the bond that formed that day. This was my son and I knew in that moment that I would do anything for him and love him until the end of my days.
  Fast forward a year and I find it hard to believe how far we have come. Markus and I have taken on this crazy challenge called parenting. I'm not sure there are many situations in life that have quite the same learning curve as becoming parents, but we adjusted and tried our best which is all you can really do. Isaac is now an active, curious, loving, mischievous, and busy 17 month old. One of the first descriptions we read about Isaac in his proposal was that he was "energetic". We had a hard time understanding what that meant for a five month old, but the description fit him perfectly. He has such a exuberance for life and the "energetic" description still holds true today. He is constant motion. I love this about him, but also sometimes wish he would just hold still a bit more like for example when I'm trying to put on his shoes. Everyday Markus and I always have something to chuckle about because Isaac is always doing something new and usually funny. I find those moments when I look into my husband's eyes and we look at our son together in joy, awe, or amusement some of the best times in my day. It's a knowing look. We don't have to put anything to words, but during those times, I know that we both feel so lucky to have Isaac in our lives. So here's to many more gotcha days to come.

One of the funny moments

I just can't get enough of this little guy. Such a handsome little man.

One of his rare moments of stillness.

Should I be worried?

The great thing about the internet is that when you have a question, you can often find someone else who has already been in a similar quandary. Even when your question seems obscure or very strange, chances are someone else has already been there before you. So, tonight at dinner when Isaac gagged himself to the point of vomiting up his just eaten lasagna, I went to my trusty google search for some answers. And, low and behold there was already a chat underway on the Baby Center with this exact problem. Turns out it's very common for toddlers to gag themselves to the point of vomiting. Who knew? Just another behaviour to add to the already long list of questionable things Isaac has already done. Apparently some toddlers do this to get out of naps and bedtimes as they have to be taken out of their cribs if their blankets are covered with vomit. Smart. Isaac has only been gagging himself at meal time. I think he finds it funny. To Markus and myself it's just plain disturbing. I'm not sure what goes on at day care, but I really hope the kids aren't sharing secrets. The last thing I want is for Isaac to discover the vomiting to avoid nap time tactic. As with most things, from what I've read, this is just a phase that will pass. I can only wonder what the next one will bring.
 

Good Hair

Recently I watched Chris Rock’s documentary, Good Hair. It was an interesting exploration of African American hair culture with of course a bit of humor added in. At the start, Chris Rock reveals his motivation for making the documentary stemmed from his daughter telling him that she wished she had “good hair”. He decided to look into what that actually meant.

  As someone who’s never considered herself to have “good hair” some of the viewpoints expressed by the black women really resonated with me. Also as we look towards a second adoption in the future with the wonderful possibility of having a black girl enter our family, understanding the culture around black hair becomes extremely important. What comes across in both the documentary and in main stream culture is a woman’s desire to have princess hair. You know, the long, flowing thick straight or slightly wavy hair of Disney princesses Ariel, Belle, or Cinderella.

 I have thin, bone straight hair. There is no natural wave and if left to its own devices, my hair will just hang straight and limp. I need to wash it once a day otherwise it looks wet it’s so greasy. So, yeah, I have never thought that I have “good hair”. Taking a walk down memory lane, I have tried countless numbers of hair styles in an attempt to achieve the elusive “good hair”. There was the perm phase which just ended up in somewhat curly, frizzy hair. Then there was the invention of the crimper. This was an awesome 80s invention that allowed you to have totally fake looking tight waves. Crimped hair went nicely with a side pony tail and wave of the bangs. In high school, I tried the Gwyneth Paltrow hairstyle from the Sliding Doors movie. This was a short hair style similar to the horrible John and Kate Plus 8 hairstyle that Kate Gosselin rocked at the start of the show. I think this hairstyle actually suited me somewhat until I got a trim and a new hairstylist shaved the back of my head. I guess you have to be specific when you specify that you want the back short. I meant short, not shaved. I think I actually got a discount on that one after crying in the salon chair.  There was also the Jennifer Aniston circa Friends layered look which unfortunately looked somewhat mullet like on me. I now know that a lot of layers just done work that well with my hair. When you start cutting off layers, you aren’t really left with much underneath. In my 20s and now into my 30s, I’ve come to an acceptance with my hair. I’ve had it short and longer. It looks okay. I don’t think I’ll ever think it looks amazing, except for the hair style I had for my wedding day, but unfortunately, I don’t have my own private hair stylist at the ready every morning when I get up. But, I guess that’s what happens as you get older, you come to accept who you are and embrace it (this might still be a bit of a work in progress for me).

  So back to the documentary, I found it interesting to learn about some of the different ways black women style their hair. There is the relaxer which is what appears to be a nasty chemical that straightens and relaxes hair. Chris Rock spoke with a professor of chemistry who demonstrated the ability of sodium hydroxide, the key ingredient in hair relaxers, to dissolve an aluminum can in a few hours. He interviewed women and children as young as three or four who use this on their hair. Now, it’s easy for me to criticise the use of such a strong chemical on your body, but with everything that I’ve tried with my hair, if there had been a magical chemical that would have thickened my hair, I’m sure I would have tried it. Chris Rock also looked into the weave industry. Hair, mostly from temples in India where women are shaving their head for religious purposes, is attached to natural hair to create a completely new hair style. Extensions are popular with white woman as well, but possibly not to the same extent. I was amazed at the cost. A good weave is going to put you back $1000-1500! I spoke with my hairstylist about this. She’s white and said that she had extensions at one point. As she put it, she had Victoria Secret model hair. This made me wonder how many of those models and actresses whose hair I’ve admired actually have completely natural hair. I’m sure there are a lot of extensions or weaves going on out there for both white and black women. We’re all in search of that perfect princess looking hair.
  Possibly the most interesting part of the documentary for me was when Chris Rock interviewed several highschool seniors who would be graduating shortly. They all had different types of hair styles. A few wore braids, some had their hair relaxed, and one girl had a natural Afro. Chris Rock was interested to know what the girls thought about their prospects for getting a job with the different hair styles that they had. All the girls, except for the one with natural hair, said that there was no way you would get hired if you had an Afro. One girl mentioned that having an Afro just didn’t go well with a business suit. Thinking about the possibility of having a girl in the future, I wondered where these feelings about hair come from. Who’s telling these girls that they won’t be able to get a job if they wear their hair in a natural style. And why as women are we worrying so much about what our hair looks like with regard to our job prospects – I doubt guys are putting the same thought into their hair styles, but that’s a question for another day. Personally, as someone who has always been envious of women with curly, voluminous hair, I thought the natural hair style looked great and was one of my favorites. I spoke with my two friends who are originally from Zambia. These two sisters wear their hair differently. One has long braids and the other has short, relaxed hair. Both styles look awesome. I asked them about what they thought about having an Afro. Both agreed that you wouldn’t get hired with hair like that. One of my friends said that she sometimes lets her hair free from the braids, but that it’s very weather dependent. This made a lot of sense to me. My white friends with curly hair have echoed this as well.
  As a white woman raising a black son and possibly a little girl one day, I’ve heard from other blogs that there can be a lot of attention on how you are styling your child’s black hair. There have been comments made on the internet about whether a white woman would actually be able to properly style a black girl’s hair and understand the importance of styling it correctly. This sentiment I take issue with. First of all, I believe I have the ability to learn what I need to in order to care for my child and if I need help, I’ll ask for it. I wonder where these strong feelings about the “correct” way of styling hair come from. I wonder why it’s considered wrong in some circles for a black girl’s hair to be styled naturally. I was shocked to read that there’s actually a petition out there about Beyonce and Jay Z’s daughter, Blue Ivy, requesting that her parents comb her hair. There was similar outrage to Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt’s daughter, Zahara, about her hair which was apparently left au naturel. Why would anyone care how these two girls have their hair styled and care enough to take the time to create a petition or put their name on it? I have to wonder what little girls think when they hear comments like that, that someone’s hair looks bad or wrong. I wonder does it make them feel like their hair as it is grown naturally on their heads isn’t good enough? Is it this sort of sentiment that is perpetuating the idea of good versus bad hair?
  After watching this documentary, I felt like I had a somewhat better understanding on the ways in which black hair can be styled, knowing that not all black hair is the same. However, I still have questions about where the negative feelings about hair come from. As someone who has struggled with similar feelings, possibly not to the same extent as other women, I wondered, how do we raise our daughters (and sons) to love themselves regardless of their shape, size, hair, or colour of their skin? How can we teach them that they’re all princesses (or princes) regardless of what Disney tells them a princess looks like?

  In the end of the documentary, Chris Rock is clearly struggling with what to tell his daughters about their hair. Brilliantly, he says, “So what do I tell my girls? That what’s on their head isn’t as important as what’s in their head”. I couldn’t agree more.

Getting perms with my best childhood friend, Kim. Ah, I can still smell the ammonia.