“Can I please just poo in peace?” And other things you say to toddlers.

  Isaac has entered the toddler phase of his life. He is active, constantly moving, ever curious, and into everything. Doors and drawers have been locked down, sockets covered, and breakable items moved away from the edge of shelves. I find that I am constantly talking to him - explaining things, labeling objects, and providing a running commentary on my actions. Although said in all seriousness, sometimes I catch myself and realize the hilarity in what I’m saying. Here are a few of the things I’ve noticed:

  I often start many phrases with, “Isaac, we don’t eat/bite/lick...” This phrase can be finished with any number of items – the floor, the dog dish, the toilet, cords, rocks, dirt, shoes, dog food, mommy. I was at our pediatrician’s office the other day and Isaac started licking the scale. She told me not to worry about it as she cleans it once a day. I told her that “I’ve given up on germs”. I felt validated when she said that although we don’t know a lot about autoimmune diseases, there is a very low incidence in Africa and a high prevalence in North America. There is some thought that our hygiene practices here are contributing to the higher prevalence of these diseases. So, I’ve learned to choose my battles and that Isaac is just strengthening his immune system. I draw my line at the toilet though. Yuck.

I find it helpful to have the soother in when Isaac is outside. Helps cut down on the rock and dirt eating.

In my running commentary, I refer to myself in third person as “Mama” or “Mommy”. I had a friend over the other day who noticed that she had called herself Mama when talking with Isaac and then quickly corrected herself. We both laughed and recognized that this appears to be an instinctual thing that moms of young children do. Sometimes it’s hard to turn that off even when you’re speaking with children other than your own.

  “Can I please just poo in peace?” – Yes, this actually came out of my mouth. Isaac has some separation anxiety and does not like to be left alone. During the day, this means that I never shut the door, even when on the toilet. The idea of privacy now feels like a foreign concept to me.

  “I know you don’t like getting your diapers changed, but it’s a way of life right now”. Isaac hates being on his back and being stationary which means that diaper changes are difficult to say the least. There’s a lot of arching and loud complaints. I try to reason with him, but  surprisingly it doesn’t work (please, note the sarcasm).

  “Food goes in our mouth, not on the floor”. This is often followed by, “Isaac, Gibson doesn’t like broccoli”. Isaac has found that one of the best games is to throw food on the ground at mealtime and feed our dog, Gibson. Isaac screams with excitement and joy during this “game”. It’s hard to keep a straight face and not reward the behaviour. Unfortunately, Gibson is one of those rare dogs that is actually a picky eater so most of the food goes uneaten. Apparently, it’s also hilarious to watch mama clean up the food on her hands and knees. Not sure who’s training who here.

Mealtime is a messy affair.

  “Careful”. Markus and I often laugh at the fact that Isaac appears to barrel through life with little regard to his own safety. He seems to have no fear and often goes into situations head first even if this is down a flight of stairs. I’m not sure if my warnings to be careful are making any difference, but I feel like I should say something as I restrain my child yet again from diving head first off the couch.

  “What are you thinking?” I often wonder this aloud as Isaac goes off on a long string of babbling. Sometimes it seems as though he is trying to explain something to me. I only wish I knew what it was.

  I am often struck by how lucky I am to have such a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky child. As I text Markus with yet another funny anecdote of Isaac’s day, I can’t help but feel thankful for these happy times. Even if by the end of the day, I am ready to have some adult conversation and not worry about what the next thing is that Isaac might decide he would like to taste.

Mothers' Days

One of the things I have had to come to terms with and am still working through is that I will not be the only mother in my child’s life. As someone who struggles at times with jealousy and insecurities, this has been a difficult pill to swallow. Although our adoption is closed due to the circumstances of our intercountry adoption, I know that there is a family out there that is connected to my son. We will most likely never meet them, but I know they are out there and as my son grows up, he will understand that as well.

  As Mother’s Day approached, I started to think about what traditions we could start in our family to celebrate my son’s birth mother. Birth Mother’s Day was started in 1990 by a group of Seattle birth mothers and is held on the day before Mother’s Day. As with most of my questions, my first stop was Google. I typed in “ways to celebrate birth mothers”.  What I thought was an innocent question that would bring up lots of Pinterest worthy photos and ideas, was obviously not that innocent. I was faced with sites that talked about “adoption propaganda” and blogs from birth mothers detailing their anger at having their role as a mother regulated to a separate day. There was talk of being degraded to simply a “uterus vessel”. It made me think about what I hoped to achieve with this celebration. Basically, I wanted our celebration to be a chance for my son and any future children we have through adoption to be able to honor their birth mother, or natural mother as some woman preferred to be called (although, I question the term “natural” – what does that make me? Unnatural?). To allow for a time to talk about his feelings about his birth mother whether it be love, loss, grief, confusion, anger, or questions. I realized that the word celebration may not be the most sensitive as one of the things that you learn during your adoption courses and reading is that adoption is created from a place of grief. Joy as well of course, but grief cannot be ignored. How my son experiences this grief or loss will change as he grows and develops.
  So as with many questions, sometimes Google opens a can of worms, and unfortunately, sometimes it’s the angrier voices that get heard. Our adoption agency puts on a yearly picnic on Birth Mother’s Day. I find it hard to imagine that they would persist in this tradition if birth mothers felt strongly against it. Thus, I’m going to try to ignore the angry voices out there and make this day a special and positive day for my family. Markus had a great idea – planting a tree each year to commemorate the day and honor Isaac’s birth family. Even though our adoption is closed and we have no information on Isaac’s birth mother, I strongly feel that this doesn’t mean we can’t be as open as possible with our feelings. The idea of the tree seems fitting. As it grows the roots support it's growth and also the land around it. Although the roots are mostly hidden, we know they are there. Without them, the tree could not flourish, just as without Isaac's roots or his birth mom, he wouldn't be with us today, flourishing.

Our first tree commemorating Isaac's birth mom. Isaac "helped" with the planting.

My dad and Markus

Together as a family

  My first Mother’s Day was incredibly special. I have my husband, son, and family to thank for making it such a lovely day. 

Out for a morning walk in the forest with my awesome Mom.

Brunch with the family.

Joining the Mom Club

  For the longest time, access into the Mom Club seemed highly exclusive and almost impossible. It frustrated me to no end to read in trash magazines about shows like Teen Mom, with young, immature girls gaining access to the “club”, and feeling like here I was completely set for a baby – loving partner, house, baby appropriate car, good job with maternity leave – and yet there was no baby on the horizon. My life seemed set and yet there was this gaping hole that refused to be filled. It wasn’t something you could easily talk about with others. I dreaded running into friends I hadn’t seen in awhile and being asked the seemingly innocent question, “So, what have you been up to?” Somehow, the response, “Oh you know, just trying to create a new life and failing miserably”, just didn’t seem like an appropriate answer. So I stuck with the safe answers, work, holidays, etc., when all my mind was focused on was getting pregnant. There was also no escaping the other dreaded question – “So, when are you guys having kids?” It always felt like a sledgehammer to the gut when someone innocently asked this actually very personal question. Once that ring is on your finger and the years start passing by, the questions start. Even people that I would consider barely acquaintances at work somehow felt that it was their right to know where my life was headed. To be fair, I know I’ve done the same thing in the past. It’s culturally appropriate to assume that first you get married and then soon we should be hearing the pitter-patter of little feet and therefore, fair game to bring up in small talk at work. Somehow, responding, “Do you have a couple hours?” just doesn’t work in passing conversation. Knowing what it feels like to be on the other side of this question when it’s the last thing you want to talk about, I now only ask if someone’s pregnant if it’s blatantly obvious – like she’s about to give birth in a couple months. You also don’t want to run the risk of asking a woman if she’s pregnant when it’s just weight gain. Also happened to me and also felt like a sledgehammer in the gut and also not okay to respond, “Would really like to be, but no, this is just depression weight gain”.

  So after our failed attempts at IVF, Markus and I started looking at adoption. It had always been in the back of my mind as a wonderful option, but somehow we started down the IVF path and it was difficult to stop once we started. After another failed attempt, I was devastated at feeling like I may never have that experience of holding my baby for the first time. Then I started looking at people’s adoption stories on youtube and I realized that Markus and I could have that experience, it might just look a bit different. Fast forward a year and finally Isaac came into our lives. Suddenly life felt complete. I had joined the Mom Club and I couldn’t be happier.

  Joining the Mom Club is like getting a new job with a crazy steep learning curve. Here are some of my learnings and experiences from the past eight months with Isaac:

                                                                                                      

I’ve found out that when babies start on pureed food, pureed butternut squash looks very similar going in as it does going out. As does bananas and papayas – yuck!

I’ve soothed my baby to sleep in a malarial zone hoping that my bare arms and legs would mean that I was the sacrificial lamb. Usually, I’m the best bug repellent for all those around me as mosquitoes seem to love my blood, so I was fairly confident that Isaac would be okay. One of the sleep books I read suggested training your child to have a “lovely”, a soft, cuddly item that comforts them as they fall asleep. Isaac had his bunny and I had my AfterBite gel. I kept it beside my pillow so I could apply it to the bites under the safety of my mosquito net before I drifted off to sleep. I’m very thankful that those $5 a pop Malarone pills did the trick.

I’ve changed multiple blowouts, once during a power outage, and wondered many a time how such a small person can produce so much poo.

I’ve experienced the joys of watching my child develop new skills and funny habits. There was the surprised look phase which moved onto a pouty face phase (I knew I should be taking him seriously, but honestly it was just pretty funny and cute). There was the “let’s make raspberries when drinking a bottle” phase which I’m happy to say is over as it was a very wet and messy affair. There was the crawl around with a Wubanub hanging out of his mouth phase (see photo below for explanation), which again made me laugh. He’s now in a stage where whenever he sees our dog, Gibson, he either makes little barking sounds or pants like a dog. Very cute! These phases are so fleeting that I try to enjoy them as much as I can when they are happening. The good thing is that he always seems to move onto something else that’s just as cute and funny. 

The surprised face

Isaac with his Wubanub - an elephant attached to a soother, what a great idea!

I’ve felt the clench of my heart as Isaac snuggles up to me and know that I’m so lucky to be able to have this time with my little man. 

I’ve come to develop new measures of success in a day. Whereas before it was number of patients seen, performance reviews done, reports written, and projects completed, now it’s baby happy and well-rested, mama happy and well-rested (I’m glad to finally be able to say that Isaac sleeps through the night), nutritious food ready for Isaac, and time spent outdoors.

I’ve experienced the guilt and worry that apparently correlates strongly with motherhood.

I’ve come to understand intimately why someone would write the book, “Go the F_ _k to Sleep”. For a good laugh, listen to Samuel L Jackson’s reading of the book on youtube.

I’ve learned that motherhood brings with it extreme emotions – love, happiness, bliss, but also frustration (see previous point for example).

I’ve come to realize that for the foreseeable future, my purse/bag will no longer be my own. Somehow, I can always find any number of teething toys, but when I really need to find my keys, they are either nowhere to be found or at the very bottom of my bag.

I’ve discovered that there is a black hole where all soothers disappear to. I’ve also felt the beginnings of panic when I can’t find a soother before bedtime. I realize that this may be a sign of addiction, but I’m choosing to ignore it right now.

The above experiences are like badges of honor that I proudly wear. Some I’ll be happy to put behind me as Isaac gets older (diaper changes), for sure. But others I’m sure I’ll miss as Isaac’s independence grows. Despite the challenges, I’m so happy to finally be a member of the Mom Club. I hope that I will remember though what it felt like to be on the outside of this club.

  I’ve also quickly learned that just like the sandbox at the playground there are bullies in this club. There are moms whose subtle comments, while seemingly supportive, are meant to cut you down and build them up. Those who make motherhood and childrearing a competition – how far will you go to be a “super mom”? Working in healthcare with a predominately female staff has prepared me well for these subtle attacks. I have always wondered why as women we are our greatest enemies at times. Fortunately, I know lots of members of the mom club who are wonderful people. Who will honestly tell you not only the joys, but the challenges that they have experienced so you know you’re not alone. Those who when you are at your weakest, will admit that they too have been there and help you realize that this too shall pass.

  So, while my competitive spirit always wants to push to the extreme, I’m going to admit here, in writing, that I’m not going for the title “super mom”. I’ll leave that to the Martha Stewarts of the world. I’ve decided that I’m going to aim for the title “good mom”. So that might mean that Isaac won’t have the best, homemade Halloween costume and that there won’t always be the smell of freshly baked cookies in the house, but it will mean that I will love him and support him while also trying to take care of myself. Although secretly, I do hope that one day in the future I get to open a gift from Isaac on Mothers’ Day and inside the wrapping I find one of those tacky mugs that says “World’s Best Mom”. I’ve decided that the only opinion that I’m really going to worry about when it comes to how I’m being a mom is the one that matters most – Isaac’s.