tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48244438654328028632024-03-05T18:35:00.202-06:00She Smiles At The FutureBethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-26954730288965612222012-10-19T01:09:00.004-05:002012-10-19T01:09:49.920-05:00See ya<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm finally being real with myself and admitting that I just don't have time to blog. And when I do have time I don't have the brain power. So, this me saying farewell! Thanks for following.</div>
Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-45584732765586710482012-08-01T00:15:00.000-05:002012-08-01T00:15:46.303-05:001 Year Ago<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhiyka47sfcnwmk2t2vRrFdRDVo9MJcjfoLy4iFXD00fbAtYgfS-Cntt41rWOeRsHb_kG7GcoXezY8K2Hk4k7UqkMlVvqP9zVlxk3lA48vTVVH9aDDWr6U4O5gzb5TV7SZlrm8zw4yWQ/s1600/First-Birthday-Party-Ideas-For-Baby-Girls-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijhiyka47sfcnwmk2t2vRrFdRDVo9MJcjfoLy4iFXD00fbAtYgfS-Cntt41rWOeRsHb_kG7GcoXezY8K2Hk4k7UqkMlVvqP9zVlxk3lA48vTVVH9aDDWr6U4O5gzb5TV7SZlrm8zw4yWQ/s320/First-Birthday-Party-Ideas-For-Baby-Girls-1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
Yesterday (the 30th) BabyZ turned 1. I couldn't help but think of her. I pray for her all the time. That she would be well taken care of and that the Lord would be with her through out her life. I've also been thinking about how quickly life can change. A year ago we were hulled up in a hospital room feeling very confused and defeated. When we returned home without BabyZ I did not want to continue with adoption. The process had been lost on me. A few days later we decided that we would continue, but to be honest I didn't think we would make it much longer. We had seen one of the many dark sides of adoption. If someone had told me that almost exactly two months later I would be bringing home a different little girl, MY little girl - I wouldn't have believed it possible. I think I felt like adoption was against me. That I would never reach the other side. Little more than a month after BabyZ was born - we rushed to another hospital to meet yet another little girl. A very sick little girl. Again we understood that adoption is not as beautiful as they say. The miracle that she is, Isabella Grayce is still fighting for her life but also filling the hearts of her adoptive family. Her adoptive mommy is gracious enough to let me stay updated on her via facebook. When we had to leave her in that hospital NICU I doubted that she would make it through the night. Her doctors have said that she won't make it to her first birthday. But, the Lord continues to breath life into her and she continues to bless the hearts of many. I pray for her all the time as well, even though I don't feel worthy to do so. Our brief experiences with those two girls were, in a way, preparation for Olive. When we first brought her home I thanked God daily for her health and I still know that I will never take it for granted. Not knowing Olive's birthmom has been difficult but I think I'm starting to accept that the way it happened was best and that I can make sure Olive knows about her even if I don't have contact with her. A year later, I look back on all of it and I wouldn't have it any other way. I know our three years of waiting was something that we needed to go through. We had to wait for Olive to be born. As we approach her first birthday in October I can barely remember what life was like without her. What a difference a year can make. You never know what a year might bring.</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-17270579528379627862012-06-27T22:42:00.000-05:002012-06-27T22:42:51.152-05:00Confession #3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcjfdv4sEc1mIisPLYWxftw8_9OZIcg2nTcZE6J6nLGn_jIL_sa4PWfTF7TSg0Z08QLlqUujIFKeB2BK6_7PDTAvOZJAAGRRScOk_8D7yKgA6n75poPcEywvYMFH8A0uB_E1hIYfy_mzY/s1600/mother-child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcjfdv4sEc1mIisPLYWxftw8_9OZIcg2nTcZE6J6nLGn_jIL_sa4PWfTF7TSg0Z08QLlqUujIFKeB2BK6_7PDTAvOZJAAGRRScOk_8D7yKgA6n75poPcEywvYMFH8A0uB_E1hIYfy_mzY/s320/mother-child.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
Well, if I didn't set myself up for some major judgment passing with the previous two posts - I am now. But, I have promised myself that I would blog about it in hopes that I could help someone else.</div>
<div align="center">
Olive and I had trouble bonding. I have only ever shared that with one other person, a fellow adoptive mom. I'm sure that my hubby picked up on it, but we didn't have a talk about it or anything. Within the first day of caring for Olive I knew that she was the child that God had in mind for us. I recognized her as mine. I also had a very real sense of Olive not knowing who I was. In the hospital, whenever I would first come into her view and pick her up I would say, "Yeah, it's me again". She had so many different people caring for her. The nurses and doctors, plus my hubby and mom. She would have this look in her eyes like, "Ok, who are you again?". I felt like she surly must have been searching the parade of faces for that mommy who she saw in her first minutes of life. I couldn't be her. I didn't have the voice that Olive had grown to associate with love and warmth during her 9 months inside MamaT's womb. I didn't smell like her. The beating of my heart didn't follow the same rythm as hers. I could not calm my baby. I figured that was a pretty basic ability in motherhood, but I reminded myself constantly that Olive did not know that I was her mother now. Now, your probably thinking at this point that all of that stuff was in my head. That Olive being a baby just needed me to feed her, burp her, etc. and she had no real attachment issues on her end. I suppose that could be true. But, I don't believe it is. I believe that even as an infant she had to work on bonding with me as much as I did with her. I'm sure my feelings made it difficult for both of us. For one thing, I had no idea what I was doing. I had cared for many a baby before, but there is something seriously terrifying about having your own. I have never had such a feeling of being so out of my element. Another issue was feeling alone with her. Hubby and I were having a difficult time adjusting and therefore adding more stress to the mix. Also, I was feeling guilt over taking someone's baby from them. I worried about MamaT's loss and pain. Then there was money. Coming up with the finalization costs. And having our agency as sort of a third parent. "N" was in our home every single month until finalization. I had to clear everything I did with Olive with them first. They had to know about every single detail of our caring for her and I had to make sure they were satisfied. There were so many reasons why just getting to know my daughter was made difficult. I was exhausted, sad, and smelly (you really do forget to shower). I didn't see a professional, but I imagine I had a little bit of those post adoption blues (yes, there is such a thing - in fact 1 in 8 adoptive moms experiance this to some degree). Being a new mom is such a huge adjustment that you can't prepare for. You can read books, go to classes, etc. but there is nothing like it. Since everyone expects you to be nothing but overjoyed (and you are in part) that adds to the conflict inside. Adoptive moms don't have people knocking down their doors to help. Didn't give birth so theres no physical impairments. A new mom is a new mom. She needs help no matter how she got that way. <br />
Olive was probably between two and three months when one evening I came into the room and she smiled at me. It was the first time that she had smiled as a reaction to seeing me. That one small momment reassured me that we would be ok. She recognized me as someone who she loved. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-82506678101934399542012-06-08T18:19:00.000-05:002012-06-08T18:19:35.550-05:00Confession #2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTd0yWLPCMepECDyHFSkOyn4JjfA-zWLUd5ex2RmHeILKVvNgwHTzjBJTwNaq0TxPIycMqblJtzMwKGDQ2YEsEo-4qbG-nY2nwQBF3H09B5Is-An43R-MTVUaKv2_JqjKYbksS7Qa9_-8/s1600/vintage+housewife.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTd0yWLPCMepECDyHFSkOyn4JjfA-zWLUd5ex2RmHeILKVvNgwHTzjBJTwNaq0TxPIycMqblJtzMwKGDQ2YEsEo-4qbG-nY2nwQBF3H09B5Is-An43R-MTVUaKv2_JqjKYbksS7Qa9_-8/s320/vintage+housewife.jpg" width="285" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
Holly Homemaker...</div>
<div align="center">
is dead. </div>
<div align="center">
She died a very sudden but agonizing death.</div>
<div align="center">
For a long time I was very particular about the kind of house I kept. Obsessive is probably the right word. I just didn't feel comfortable in my home unless it was clean, organized, and just so. With the introduction of the medication I lovingly call "my happy pills" the obsessive cleaning slacked off a bit but I still considered my home acceptable by most standards. I was satisfied. 8 months ago it all stopped. All cleaning, organizing, and just soing stopped. Died really. Vanished as if it never existed. It's amazing how quickly a previously decent home turns into a pile of crap. The combination of sudden huge amounts of baby paraphernalia, coupled with sleep deprivation and a giant change in priorities contributed to her demise. Now, dishes are only done when there isn't a clean dish or fork in the house. Enter: the toxic wave of dishes that constantly reside in and near what used to be the kitchen sink. The floor is only recently being swept semi regularly due to the mobilization of Olive (who is now crawling). The child will, and does, but anything into her mouth. My bathroom is deplorable. I long since gave up on laundry. The hubby attempts to tackle it every weekend, but with only hal-a** results. All of this (and much more) lead me to confession #2 - My house is messy and I'm not going to clean it. </div>
<div align="center">
There finally I said. It's nice to be real with myself. When people come over, and they do way more often now that they know there is a cute baby inside, I apologize profusely. "I'm so sorry for the mess", "Please excuse the house", "Yes, you may use the bathroom but only at your own risk" etc. But, the truth is the mess isn't going anywhere. Until Olive no longer needs as much of my attention.... it is what it is. </div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-50060734568624241052012-05-24T22:00:00.001-05:002012-05-24T22:00:52.318-05:00Confession #1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnkazIBDdMxqfVbKGVaM7TqGKIZwcrU4y4M_nBWrmNmW4j1LJYXxIio7P1bcYrCzrVv1VZX_wfMFsBktTY6AkXMdVA10zQ0GfbT5fn0Nx2gUZPnygE1KIuxyT_NkerPXYctosSykwj5s/s1600/dangers-of-co-sleeping-1024x910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnkazIBDdMxqfVbKGVaM7TqGKIZwcrU4y4M_nBWrmNmW4j1LJYXxIio7P1bcYrCzrVv1VZX_wfMFsBktTY6AkXMdVA10zQ0GfbT5fn0Nx2gUZPnygE1KIuxyT_NkerPXYctosSykwj5s/s320/dangers-of-co-sleeping-1024x910.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
It's been an eventful 7 months. As are all "first year" experiences. I've delayed blogging about most of my parenting adventures due to fear that it might somehow impact our adoption finalization. But, now that it's all legal and everything I think it's time that I get back to writing about the things that are actually going on in my daily life. I knew exactly where I wanted to start. <br />
I am a co-sleeping mom. Now, I'm proud to say it.... but a few months ago I thought it was the same as admitting to being a failure. Before I go any further I should say that I am not at this moment practicing co-sleeping for reasons that I will get to in a minute. <br />
Before Olive came I thought that co-sleeping was borderline endangerment. At the very least I thought that it was a relationship killer, at the most I thought it was a baby killer. I should mention here that if not done safely, co-sleeping is potentially dangerous. I'll link to safe co-sleeping practices at the end. Anyway, I was never going to be a co-sleeping mom. Those things that I resolved never to do, are hilarious to me now. Let me set the scene. We bring Olive home. I've been dying to hold my baby for so long. She is cute and I can't put her down. Literally. At first it is a joy to hold her, even all night. But, eventually the lack of sleep becomes unbearable. After weeks of holding Olive all night (with short sleeping breaks thanks to the hubby or my mother) I decided that it was time for her to sleep on her own. [insert hysterical laughing with more than a hint of lunacy] Of course she wasn't going to do this. I had thus far trained her to sleep only when being held. By this time Olive was a month old and had never spent one second in her crib. If she was put down, it was in her swing, bouncy seat, or onto her boppy. But at night she was held. We started the colic dance for a child without colic. Both my hubby and mother could sleep sitting up holding her. I could not. My fear of dropping her was too much for relaxation. My patients for this, and my mental state, were declining. So, one night after desperate attempts at getting Olive to sleep somewhere on her own so that I could lay down ending in failure - I layed her on her boppy in my bed and layed down next to her. "I'll just rest a few minutes and try to sleep sitting up again" And thats when our co-sleeping began. I fell asleep, and so did Olive, and slept until morning. Which meant about 4 hours uninterrupted sleep. Something I hadn't had for weeks. At least, not on my own. As annoying as it was to me, I realized that I would do whatever it took to get some sleep. Olive needed a rested mommy, not a right one. When you're in the thick of it you really need to do whatever you need to do. Forget about the experts. Forget about what others might think. This situation didn't last long because she soon outgrew her boppy. In the middle of her second and third month is when we started using the co-sleeper nest. It left me wishing I had started with it. It was like a miracle. Olive was right there next to me, but perfectly safe for her young age, and I could sleep. The nest lasted until the middle of her fourth month, when she outgrew it as well. She's a long little girl. So, there was nothing for it but full on co-sleeping. The first week of having her right next to me, no barriers, was different. She and I woke each other up a lot. But, soon I got used it and then eventually realized that I was enjoying it. I knew she was. She would roll onto her side and snuggle up to me and smile in her sleep. I'll blog about bonding in a few days, but I will say that this was by far the best move I made to deepen our bonding experience. It gave me such peace, knowing that I could feel her breathing next to me and I could be at rest all at the same time. I loved waking up to her smiling face every morning. I realized that I didn't sleep so sound that I forgot that she was there, but was sleeping well enough to feel rested. My hubby enjoyed it on the weekends too. He in fact still does it. In her fifth month, Olive started rolling. Mostly during the day, but a little at night too. I wasn't concerned with her rolling onto her stomach at night. Her head was plenty strong enough that she could lift it and turn her face from side to side. However, by her sixth month I did begin to worry about her rolling out of bed. For awhile it was enough to put a pillow on the other side of her to keep her in. But, entering her seventh month that was no longer safe enough. We have a very tall bed and hard floors. Olive is so active at night, that not even bumping her crib up next to ours (with on side removed) was the solution. Her crib is in our room just inches away from the bed. So, I decided for her safety it was time to get some use out of her crib. She has surprisingly done pretty well. I am close enough to just reach over and touch her through the bars. I can still turn on her musical sea horse without totally waking up. In fact I would say it was harder on myself than her to begin with. I got used to co-sleeping. If my hubby continues to be gone during the week for his job, I have every intention of bringing back into bed with me once she learns about gravity and can get in and out of the bed on her own. Honestly, the thought of her being in a whole other room at night when it is just the two of us really scares me. It just makes more sense to me that we should be close. Anyway, the reason my hubby can still get away with it is that her body still fits within his arm. So he can keep her reigned in. Some things that we did to make co-sleeping safe were:<br />
- no sheets or heavy blankets<br />
- she doesn't sleep on a pillow<br />
- we never co-sleep all three of us in a bed<br />
- we didn't co-sleep while we were taking cold medicine<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/sleep-problems/co-sleeping-yes-no-sometimes">http://www.askdrsears.com/topics/sleep-problems/co-sleeping-yes-no-sometimes</a></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-45714959985333319692012-05-22T22:22:00.000-05:002012-05-22T22:22:58.687-05:00Adoption Day!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Our Adoption Day! May 15, 2012 @ 11:00 a.m.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBn_5RQKI5EwWVqL9iJchGJ4kR9AsilFXTr-5xpM-k0u6YELRhl6kOqT-wxoWzCIKw1wq2anjXW4PQlPrdrmgBoqOX6OVrWRPGbjDApRwTob62DTRJwQsambsKEtw0IjK6ntOxk3H1olI/s1600/Olivia+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBn_5RQKI5EwWVqL9iJchGJ4kR9AsilFXTr-5xpM-k0u6YELRhl6kOqT-wxoWzCIKw1wq2anjXW4PQlPrdrmgBoqOX6OVrWRPGbjDApRwTob62DTRJwQsambsKEtw0IjK6ntOxk3H1olI/s320/Olivia+004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Us with the judge.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS_s_5AQ2aKTE_JlzIXM22ByZNXBNRxHHhmQIaoTKGV9bD65jdtWneI9Fx-9-teX_PwDlChm25jyp0wUiUCbbrxvnhued5Fy5g2PVnLPOg6t_yEAWIm7372rHC8lE3dd_LUwLiW3EXAQ/s1600/Olivia+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS_s_5AQ2aKTE_JlzIXM22ByZNXBNRxHHhmQIaoTKGV9bD65jdtWneI9Fx-9-teX_PwDlChm25jyp0wUiUCbbrxvnhued5Fy5g2PVnLPOg6t_yEAWIm7372rHC8lE3dd_LUwLiW3EXAQ/s320/Olivia+006.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Olive was fascinated by the microphone on the court table. She's holding the fuzzy end in her hand.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKtvb_KYqsPBy7LLvXkVAt68tEd0IAbexks5RooK4oHjekmtYxa4E_FXbcIEfhQMKDrJ6KjUlfgoEfXA79Xsgw3VP8-B9R6qunvupRLXsLlaEVSc-FPHBhYLjntNwMPiAie2c3LNV8UrA/s1600/Olivia+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKtvb_KYqsPBy7LLvXkVAt68tEd0IAbexks5RooK4oHjekmtYxa4E_FXbcIEfhQMKDrJ6KjUlfgoEfXA79Xsgw3VP8-B9R6qunvupRLXsLlaEVSc-FPHBhYLjntNwMPiAie2c3LNV8UrA/s320/Olivia+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We were so thrilled. And no, Olive did not smile in any of the pictures.</div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-40345674839782134862012-05-15T00:14:00.000-05:002012-05-15T00:14:47.202-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I couldn't think of a title or even a picture to go with my post. I've got too much going on in my brain. Saturday was BirthMother's Day. We don't have contact with Olive's birthmom. I think about her all the time. Most people tell me how it's a blessing that we don't have to be bothered with her. How we don't have to worry about sharing Olive with her. The thing is, I do. In my heart I know that she is someone to Olive that I can never be. God chose her dna to create Olive, not mine. God chose her womb to carry Olive, not mine. For all the mothering that I do with Olive, those special things can't be pushed aside. I wonder about her pain. Does she still cry at night when her family is fast asleep? Did Christmas or Mother's Day nearly push her over the edge? Does her final image of Olive haunt her dreams? I know that's how I would feel. This year was my first Mother's Day as a mother. I woke up knowing that it wasn't going to make me feel anymore motherish than I already do. The end of the day left me wondering what exactly the holiday was for. I guess I figured once I was a mother that I would suddenly understand how Mother's Day is supposed to feel. That was not the case. I felt sympathy for those that I care about that are still waiting to be moms. I felt sympathy for Olive's birthmom. At no point did I feel some sort of magical mommy dust fall over me. I did receive a beautiful card & gift from my hubby and Olive. I really did appreciate them. Perhaps I will understand better next year. Tomorrow we go to court for Olive's finalization. I'm going to be glad to finally have it all behind us. We won't have to worry about visits or if the agency approves of just about everything we do with her. We can just be a family. Maybe we can finally be a family. It's been difficult to let go of my grand expectations of the "happy little family" fantasy. Seriously, there is no such thing. But maybe we can begin to feel comfortable enough to be whatever it is God intends for us. </div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-23026906017535099582012-05-10T00:09:00.000-05:002012-05-10T00:09:09.717-05:006 Month Pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-J3qTgmiV78l3Onw9wtGCUH7SVUZpNggiOilLs0Hop4bG1eyWhji5VbF-pnIwoliVgRq3Gr_PUUPteSa2GEaDhXTnv9n5kNLnQbvhQC9y5Y2SGPeTkxzs6lwkBxrOryHfhXLOeCldV2o/s1600/E4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-J3qTgmiV78l3Onw9wtGCUH7SVUZpNggiOilLs0Hop4bG1eyWhji5VbF-pnIwoliVgRq3Gr_PUUPteSa2GEaDhXTnv9n5kNLnQbvhQC9y5Y2SGPeTkxzs6lwkBxrOryHfhXLOeCldV2o/s320/E4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-18871426270121598832012-05-04T23:25:00.000-05:002012-05-04T23:25:22.352-05:00Nearing The End Of The Road<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguulI8j8-8srv8qo4BqLCyf2koDh6Lc-30NSPY-beGNswv8J-pGFuI2_b-idaIOfIQewrMs7mjqpk1pj7iX0mrAw1anG7fNMHVsOudzf2BXqbvX-nI2OBH2ouVzt1-TSMWRutyvQ0AEz0/s1600/boat-access-creswell-road-end-on-the-bay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguulI8j8-8srv8qo4BqLCyf2koDh6Lc-30NSPY-beGNswv8J-pGFuI2_b-idaIOfIQewrMs7mjqpk1pj7iX0mrAw1anG7fNMHVsOudzf2BXqbvX-nI2OBH2ouVzt1-TSMWRutyvQ0AEz0/s320/boat-access-creswell-road-end-on-the-bay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
Today we had our final post placement visit. In just 11 days (on May 15th) we will legally finalize our adoption in court. We are nearing the end of the road. It's been a long time coming. I know I've been really bad about blogging. Olive keeps me very busy, but now that she is sleeping more at night I've had the time. However, every time I begin a post I can't seem to get it out. I feel somewhat censored for one thing. This is an open blog. One that our agency could read. I would like to blog about my experiences of new motherhood and it's challenges, but I'm afraid it would affect our case somehow. Also, I tend to wait until I'm on the other side of an experience before I'm able to express what it was like. No, I don't plan on waiting to blog once Olive is 18 and moved out. But, I feel like there is so much that I'm still trying to work through. I miss writing so I'm hoping to feel more open after finalization. </div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-90272662763265335572012-03-31T00:34:00.000-05:002012-03-31T00:34:03.986-05:00For Your Baby Fix<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXQr5C0yDtINxCIWCvfpNNBOJDFkfIO4Aoi69s-iuQbdYGLDipjX9MO1zjGPUr_BjwXHjcU52auEjjrl_Oql79rF_crpqGUzq1ss-bEFwILo8XWd3FQif9j0mx5okYR7QVAZtsj8fi74/s1600/Olivia+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXQr5C0yDtINxCIWCvfpNNBOJDFkfIO4Aoi69s-iuQbdYGLDipjX9MO1zjGPUr_BjwXHjcU52auEjjrl_Oql79rF_crpqGUzq1ss-bEFwILo8XWd3FQif9j0mx5okYR7QVAZtsj8fi74/s320/Olivia+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNX-pIPAnh2wIR-1soeexQLu4aSfhNq3ZAeXoqdubgw386Hu4GFkt2zjCfjLuosNbDWKw1oTztshHhOf450bMzooOD7PIJ4bZ1ErU8VmjOZjWndi9nQW5mNbMM11ElWKCPYBOOl71Fm28/s1600/Olivia+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNX-pIPAnh2wIR-1soeexQLu4aSfhNq3ZAeXoqdubgw386Hu4GFkt2zjCfjLuosNbDWKw1oTztshHhOf450bMzooOD7PIJ4bZ1ErU8VmjOZjWndi9nQW5mNbMM11ElWKCPYBOOl71Fm28/s320/Olivia+012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAf8uU19k0RB-qvZRrmDIq9BjUAh5guFSHwwNBcEWwafG3zaEesA-l4S8eI5beB9JOkvuAQq_8bsexX0bmMvd-Vtc-UgSMMKSI5HYi28YwlsbHmgehFCVQUd7FxckvhMI8sxyfTtW7KXQ/s1600/Olivia+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAf8uU19k0RB-qvZRrmDIq9BjUAh5guFSHwwNBcEWwafG3zaEesA-l4S8eI5beB9JOkvuAQq_8bsexX0bmMvd-Vtc-UgSMMKSI5HYi28YwlsbHmgehFCVQUd7FxckvhMI8sxyfTtW7KXQ/s320/Olivia+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Yep, that's the beautiful face that I get to wake up to every day. I have no idea what I did to deserve her, but it must have been something pretty awesome!</div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-88881568110966433482012-03-13T00:21:00.000-05:002012-03-13T00:21:47.930-05:00Olive at 5 Months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfRuexTMr_otRdeToxrXWxVe66XWZgv4ucp_rujBkk5lEClMnhPthiTv_GJkD1WoQpStZvyH0k4-QI59IkdIUd6fj1jrrNemuOSHXf4sjHcGG1qAwwwW4TrN-o5sI_SZKoC4Qf1UqjSE/s1600/Olivia+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfRuexTMr_otRdeToxrXWxVe66XWZgv4ucp_rujBkk5lEClMnhPthiTv_GJkD1WoQpStZvyH0k4-QI59IkdIUd6fj1jrrNemuOSHXf4sjHcGG1qAwwwW4TrN-o5sI_SZKoC4Qf1UqjSE/s320/Olivia+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center">
She is almost always on her tummy now since she is rolling over.</div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkRZghsM6fWEtquoAHPY-Ed4a_gC8DTpZFAayNwINr0-0McLhauANL4iW2VpbQXNVdELZU1tOmEOhh1S7zLU_n_vwyaB7opaT-_ad9RU7HuHgJqisZx60Mv0CmDljlAUxJIOZJCCao8w/s1600/Olivia+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkRZghsM6fWEtquoAHPY-Ed4a_gC8DTpZFAayNwINr0-0McLhauANL4iW2VpbQXNVdELZU1tOmEOhh1S7zLU_n_vwyaB7opaT-_ad9RU7HuHgJqisZx60Mv0CmDljlAUxJIOZJCCao8w/s320/Olivia+006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center">
She was not in the mood to smile for the camera that morning.</div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-igrZCpWxa3UmMVQ_xo8LKYTan2VU9lYj6ZJzyQC00p0Rq8EtdTdD9JcrEuWrNwcuyLLVOrijcslWHp8KOh_H78l1oBMmm0c9mOhxz3oc3od6lH3DSkZh-Iz1uH76rtocICoFCRpDXg/s1600/Olivia+034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-igrZCpWxa3UmMVQ_xo8LKYTan2VU9lYj6ZJzyQC00p0Rq8EtdTdD9JcrEuWrNwcuyLLVOrijcslWHp8KOh_H78l1oBMmm0c9mOhxz3oc3od6lH3DSkZh-Iz1uH76rtocICoFCRpDXg/s320/Olivia+034.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center">
We got her ears pierced today. She cried pretty good but not for very long.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigjzdUvSkrf87Jvra-rH2TtJ9Ny3M5l_7yPtvylemo-kho-CLSN833iCws4TrhHI-cmneMUwj_dch2WTmoFQHYIje6lMLiDwmrhzCUD9EPsV05xO8uY-92u_76FMJVUe7ISKIat6X8tI/s1600/Olivia+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgigjzdUvSkrf87Jvra-rH2TtJ9Ny3M5l_7yPtvylemo-kho-CLSN833iCws4TrhHI-cmneMUwj_dch2WTmoFQHYIje6lMLiDwmrhzCUD9EPsV05xO8uY-92u_76FMJVUe7ISKIat6X8tI/s320/Olivia+035.JPG" width="243" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
And in this one you can see her tooth. </div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-45465656266143279352012-03-05T23:20:00.001-06:002012-03-05T23:20:18.276-06:005 Months Old<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Olive is 5 months old today. I still feel like a new mom though. I'm not sure when that excuse wears off. She is doing some pretty cool stuff these days. She is rolling over, pivoting in a circle on her belly, and scooting herself with her feet and knees. We tried oatmeal cereal last month and it went okay. Tonight we tried sweet potatoes. Her very first baby food. She loved it! She probably ate a little more than a tablespoon. She is taking 5 oz of formula. She has about 4 bottles a day and two in the evening to get ready for bed. Bedtime is still a chore most of the time. Although, it's easier when Hubby isn't here. He just creates an energy in the house I guess that keeps Olive hyped. Tonight I had her asleep and down by 8:00 p.m. It's nearly 11:00 and she hasn't peeped at all. She will probably wake up at midnight for her night time bottle, or I might get lucky and she will wait until 2:00 or 3:00. But, we can't seem to cut out that one nighttime feeding. I don't really mind it though. As far as getting her to sleep, I've learned it's best just to take her to the bedroom, give her that final bottle, watch t.v. and relax, and wait for her to pass out on her own. Basically, she hates being put to sleep. So I let it sneak up on her. Some nights she will still be going strong at 11:00 and beyond. But recently she has been falling asleep earlier and easier. Hopefully the bedtime battles are soon totally behind us. At least on week days anyway. Which creates more free time for mommy. More free time makes me much more pleasant. The first few months I felt like I had give her everything I had. Then, in her third month when I was hoping to take some of myself back she was already addicted to on-demand mommy. I can't tell you how much I just wanted a few minutes to myself. I know it's morbid to want a child so much and then when I have one I want to be alone. That's the catch when a childless woman gets a child. While she was being so miserably childless, she was getting used to it. I envy those woman who's husbands are so involved with the kids. My hubby is very good with our daughter, and he loves her very much. But, he has to be away for his job. So, I don't have that person who will be coming home in a few hours to give me a break and pick up the slack. When you know that help is days away it can become very overwhelming. I rely too much on my parents to make up for it, but I get to the point after a few days where I don't know what else to do. I know they love Olive and myself, but it makes me feel weak. I've never really cared about being strong before. Hubby was strong for me. But, now Olive depends on me to take care of everything. I've been thrown into independence against my will. Last week the pilot light on our furnace went out. I didn't know how to re lite it. I realized just how lost I was when it comes to stuff like that. When Hubby got home he showed me how to lite it and fix several other things around the house. I really have no desire to be in this place at this point in my life. But as usual this place has found me. I'm about to see what I'm made of. <br />
Pictures of Olive coming soon.</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-75475505041692798352012-02-25T01:08:00.000-06:002012-03-03T01:34:33.148-06:00Possible Failed Adoption Ahead<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7nDPFCrZtrbSaK0XP0tiHOQbnekHhXHC6Dt6GBbQyK8qDDZGrgek4yoDl47rm_MErOUlSlIkhH3Ovi4jueVow6pj0rt_PUsphsSGSwshoMY6TsNKmeZqNhGFsoY0Sobs6HCSiBEFk90o/s1600/caution-sign.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7nDPFCrZtrbSaK0XP0tiHOQbnekHhXHC6Dt6GBbQyK8qDDZGrgek4yoDl47rm_MErOUlSlIkhH3Ovi4jueVow6pj0rt_PUsphsSGSwshoMY6TsNKmeZqNhGFsoY0Sobs6HCSiBEFk90o/s320/caution-sign.bmp" width="320" /></a></div>
Let me start this post by saying that I can't predict if an adoption match is going to end in a failed attempt. Nor am I saying that a "failed" adoption (I really prefer adoption loss) is always some one's fault. It's not. Sometimes the birthmom changes her mind and she has every right to do that. It's very sad for the adoptive couple but we're talking about a baby here. Cute and lovable. Who wouldn't want to keep that. Now that I'm a mom I understand a little better how hard it must have been for Olive's birthmom to say goodbye. It must be the worst pain. <br />
I did want to post about possible signs that an adoption match might be a scam. I've gathered these through my own personal experience and the experience of other APs (adoptive parents) whom I know of. <br />
<ol>
<li><strong>Asking for money: </strong>I think the biggest red flag is if the birthmom/parents ask for money. In many situations were you are working with an agency or lawyers they have rules about the exchange of money between birthparents and APs. For one thing, It's against the law to buy a baby. Sometimes an agreement is worked out where the APs pay for medical expenses or some living expenses. I don't happen to agree with that at all, but I know it happens. What I'm talking about is when you get hit up for money right off the bat. For example; you are contacted by a birthmom and she says she is interested in placing with you but <strong><u>only</u> </strong>if you send her some money for this or that. It sounds fishy reading it here, but when you are so wanting to be parents you are blinded by that desire. In our failed adoption K was working our agency. She got help with living expenses, transportation, child care (both expenses and daycare), and medical expenses. We had no idea that all this was going on during our match. We know that our agency helps birthmoms, but was unaware of how much she was using them. </li>
<li><strong>Little white lies: </strong>things that you realize don't add up about birthmom's story or just anything. Someone who is a pathological lier uses them freely like breathing. In our match, K told us many lies. As I've said before I have no doubt that the whole thing was fake from the beginning. One lie that I caught her in was way in the beginning. She had told us that she was a certain age, however when I looked her up on facebook her profile had a birthday that said she was older. Of course it bothered me at first, but then I thought, "It isn't important to our situation so why should I care". If what you are being told doesn't make sense - question it until you get answerer's. K went back and forth with us about her due date and how far along she was. It seemed to change daily. Then she was having contractions or a c-section and then she wasn't. We were up and down all the time. Which brings me to my third point.</li>
<li><strong>Drama Queen: </strong>If the birthmom seems to love attention and makes big scenes then she might be in it simply for the spotlight. It was really hard for me to admit that someone could be this insensitive, but that is what K did with us. </li>
<li><strong>Not Struggling: </strong>If a birthmom is really trying to decide what is best for her baby by placing with you, then she should be really struggling emotionally. If she isn't then there is something wrong. It's one thing to like you as her couple or family, but letting someone else raise her child should be extremely difficult to deal with. K never once seemed conflicted. The whole time she was as cool as a cucumber. At the time that seemed like a good thing. That she was confident in us. Really she just didn't have anything to worry about. It's that simple.</li>
<li><strong>Intuition: </strong>Listen to your intuition. God put it there on purpose. If something seems off and you don't even have a name for it - proceed with caution.</li>
</ol>
When your in the middle of a match it is a very happy time. I really enjoyed most of it. It was, I would think, a lot like being pregnant. You are looking at life through rose colored glasses. So, it is very hard to see if there is something wrong. If you're like me, there is some denial as well. I really thought that I had bonded with K. I went to her dr appointment with her. We emailed. We visited at the agency. I was sure that we were all in for an amazing open adoption experience. I was so wrong.<br />
I'm not posting this to scare anyone or upset anyone. I just thought that I had wished someone had warned me. <br />
<strong><u>Edited To Include</u></strong><br />
An online friend of mine had some great things to add to this list. Mrs. Stephanie Galetti is a new adoptive mom of a handsome little boy named Chance, a wife, and an attorney. <br />
<strong><em>Stephanie:</em></strong><br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><span style="font-size: x-large;">"</span>I would add: </span><br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">1. If they are on FB and the only "friends" they have are other hopeful adoptive couples (she's likely <strong>attention craving</strong> and seeking from several AP's) or newly formed accounts (likely all made by her);</span><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">2. If they are sending or posting <strong>ultrasound pics</strong> - look closely at the name, date, and location of the pic. If there are none with this info, they may just be off the Internet, or they may be hiding something (it's okay to block their name if on FB, but you can do that easily without blocking or cutting off ALL the info on the us. I recently saw one where it was dated 1999...try again, hon! Haha <br /> Similarly, if they post pictures and the date in the lower right side is there- that's probably old - those are from FILM cameras- virtually no one uses those now.. And if the date is blurred out, bingo! Or obviously doctored, bingo!<br /> 3. Anything that appears <strong>Photoshopped </strong>probably is... You have to ask yourself WHY they would photoshop something unless they are hiding it or lying.<br /> 4. If they don't want to talk on the phone and only want to talk via email, FB, or text... I wouldn't get concerned immediately. These are the days of the <strong>texting generation</strong>. That's how young girls (and guys) communicate. It's easier for them. BUT, if after many weeks or a couple of months of this, they are still not either willing to meet you in person or on the phone, some caution should be taken. I'll note, though... We talk with our BM via text 99% of the time; we did before our son was born and continue to today. It's just the easiest and most comfortable way for her....<br /> 5. Meeting: you should insist on meeting in person and getting <strong>proof of pregnancy</strong>- this might include a doctors report or a FULL undoctored ultrasound showing name, clinic (google it to make sure it is where she says she lives), and date. Make sure the EDD (estimated due date) lines up with what she has told you. LMP (last menstrual period) is helpful for that same reason. Do NOT base your belief that she is really pregnant on pics of a big belly - ESPECIALLY ones that don't show her face! --- I've come to learn that even young girls can have a surprisingly flabby belly which, when "puffed out" can be made to look like a pregnant belly... Get POP! Also, keep an eye on belly pics - do her 12 weeks along (shouldn't really be showing) and 28 weeks along (should be pretty large and obviously pregnant) look about the same? Trust your gut on this one. Compare pics on the Internet of that many weeks along...<br /> 6. If they refuse to have <strong>contact </strong>with your attorney or agency, start wondering... In most states, SOMEONE is going to have to take surrenders... If they don't want to deal with that someone, maybe they don't intend to give the baby up..<br /> 7. Keep in mind that there are, indeed, women and young girls out there who do this for attention only, not to get money or anything of value. They are <strong>emotional scammers</strong>. No one knows exactly why they do it, but there are a lot of them out there. So, just because she doesn't ask for money or something of value, doesn't mean it isn't a scam. </span><br />
<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">8. <strong>Trust your instincts above all else and always proceed with caution</strong>.<span style="font-size: x-large;">"</span></span></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-73743465659568462342012-02-21T22:41:00.001-06:002012-02-21T22:41:41.400-06:00More Than One?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: center;">
I know it seems crazy that I would be struggling with this now. I've got my baby. Shouldn't I be satisfied. The truth is that we aren't getting any younger, another child will most likely take yet another three years (making me 33 or 34 for #2, and oh gosh hubby would be rounding 40). Some days I think, "No Way!" like the day of my last post. But, then there are moments when I think, "Well... maybe". I guess I'm afraid to rule out bringing home another child. I would like Olive to have a sibling to grow up with. I really enjoyed having a little brother. But, for us, it's just not as simple as deciding to have unprotected s*e*x. What are my options? Well, there's adopting again. Ugh. The thought of going through all that again just makes my head hurt. Just before Olive came, someone very close to me offered to surrogate for us. However, we would want to adopt frozen embryos and have them implanted in her. There's something I don't know much about. And there's always trying to do treatments. Although I have the least hope in that of all my options. Before thinking to hard on any of that, I have to decide if I want another baby. How does one decide this? The only thing I can come up with is a pros & cons list.</div>
<u><strong>Pros</strong></u><br />
<ul>
<li>Olive would have a sibling. Built in best friend and playmate.</li>
<li>Hubby would have his chance for a son. </li>
<li>Everybody loves a baby.</li>
<li>Children are a blessing.</li>
</ul>
<strong><u>Cons</u></strong><br />
<ul>
<li>My hubby travels for his job. Half the time I feel like a single mom with Olive. It's very difficult. Two children on my own with limited help (my parents who work full time and a friend that comes twice a week) would be soooooo hard.</li>
<li>Money.... nough said.</li>
<li>Time - 0 time divided between two children = one exhausted mommy</li>
<li>Getting my hopes set on something that may not happen. Really that's the worst con of all. </li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: center;">
How do you know if one is enough or if more is merrier?</div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-42283878734796526442012-02-16T22:08:00.001-06:002012-02-16T22:08:14.815-06:00One Is Enough<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAlnZKE0R1CD-broY1aakYQrmTiLUTGMFo0ckTy18WOhK2ShI5QAqbMesRf9z0U6Xw0kbWSDCptOr3VlCpRdnGZ_8dQ0DjU3gJpeFbWIgx6yAXOjfVlBtBFVz2toYBcQpt7Ojnu7dMNU/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAlnZKE0R1CD-broY1aakYQrmTiLUTGMFo0ckTy18WOhK2ShI5QAqbMesRf9z0U6Xw0kbWSDCptOr3VlCpRdnGZ_8dQ0DjU3gJpeFbWIgx6yAXOjfVlBtBFVz2toYBcQpt7Ojnu7dMNU/s320/1.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
I don't understand why anyone would want to do this more than once. Before you have or get your first child you don't know better. You think it'll be sunshine and smiles the whole time. But, now that I know that it is very nearly too hard- I have no desire to repeat this again. One is enough for me. I'm done. Right now, after almost two hours of fighting with our daughter to get her to sleep I'm guessing my hubby would totally agree. </div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-33848728272705101002012-02-01T23:26:00.001-06:002012-02-01T23:26:40.962-06:00How's it going?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYJUwpb2viZd-p_gQuGvVcM3YoMZyCRopZReMei6W14czOMonXuhSZaQbbztREfLo281zL9PPhbfBYzoYvYTsbW4s0jFZqEWXdbK7yyT-IWZ0Z0vrMxuOp9KaiXmk37i33pqeK1cihSo/s1600/Olivia+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYJUwpb2viZd-p_gQuGvVcM3YoMZyCRopZReMei6W14czOMonXuhSZaQbbztREfLo281zL9PPhbfBYzoYvYTsbW4s0jFZqEWXdbK7yyT-IWZ0Z0vrMxuOp9KaiXmk37i33pqeK1cihSo/s320/Olivia+004.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
Everyone is always asking me how it's going. If I'm adjusting. How does it feel? Well, it depends on the day. I can say that I fall in love with my daughter more and more every day. When she started smiling at me as a response - it was like a whole new life for me began. She is growing really fast. So, we nap a lot. Plus she doesn't sleep through the night. Not anymore. She was between her first and second month because she slept on her boppy. But, she quickly out grew it and then stopped the sleeping all night. However, she is doing better recently. As you can see I am able to blog again. She still wakes up for a bottle at least once a night (and by that I mean between the hours of usually 11:00-7:00). More often though she is waking up at 5:00 or 6:00 (hours of the morning that I scarsly knew exsisted before) and not allowing me to put her down for the night until midnight. Or sometimes even later. I've learned to praise the Lord for 3 straight hours of sleep. More than that is a straight out miracle. I recently read in the book (the what to expect the first year book) that some children just require less sleep. Oh Lord... This mommy, if allowed, could sleep for twelve hours. Of course God would give me a child that could take it or leave it altogether. What a sense of humor He has. Olive is going to be 4 mos on Feb. 5 We have a big week ahead of us next week. We have to get her next round of shots (oh how I dread it), a WIC appointment, and 4 month well baby check up. For me, getting Olive out is such a chore. So, it's going to be some week. We've gotten into somewhat of a routine. I have a friend coming twice a week for three hours a time so that I can do house work, run errands, or just plan take a peaceful shower and a nap. She has been a Godsend to me. Over all I would say that we are getting along okay. Having hubby gone all week is honestly very hard. On both of us. Aside from praying that a good close-to-home job presents itself, there isn't anything that can be done. So, we soldier on. </div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-38579603681567732322011-12-27T19:52:00.003-06:002011-12-27T19:52:58.674-06:00As Requested<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMU19BdTNKUuff_HT6HxfvtfOlXZJb3MF7JpIbjHVWxC1x_MASOZM_E4VU59FRFt9DVeNRFlsez4wtz1OJQ9sYlwCuLTpy4P4cS3ohtirQea1TG203yfto652aH4VtBHbLxn3MoefiqQ/s1600/Olivia+Ann+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMU19BdTNKUuff_HT6HxfvtfOlXZJb3MF7JpIbjHVWxC1x_MASOZM_E4VU59FRFt9DVeNRFlsez4wtz1OJQ9sYlwCuLTpy4P4cS3ohtirQea1TG203yfto652aH4VtBHbLxn3MoefiqQ/s320/Olivia+Ann+018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLE7672GJV72O9vXeFetj4G34S3yWf9AaMp_hYKdaouFY8ZHvlg4EWohH8sqaltgyeFH9wcX1uFAXE8Gv-WsoweP7clk25XVDMc3NBq0wUu27kI6UpqXVADqviL0TnX8znDsfC5KSAsE/s1600/Olivia+Ann+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLE7672GJV72O9vXeFetj4G34S3yWf9AaMp_hYKdaouFY8ZHvlg4EWohH8sqaltgyeFH9wcX1uFAXE8Gv-WsoweP7clk25XVDMc3NBq0wUu27kI6UpqXVADqviL0TnX8znDsfC5KSAsE/s320/Olivia+Ann+010.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZsFd3VbI2r_ISMmU5hOc-_6ITdPmebWhoEwDxCmpwvNjGIW0igPZAhVuoU9Z7JjNoa9gbRv8PTDlgQACirBu6JTGkZuy1toBdFeIETZAV5fhfceja-Il-apovc64Cqk-nBy-33BMf1j8/s1600/Olivia+Ann+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZsFd3VbI2r_ISMmU5hOc-_6ITdPmebWhoEwDxCmpwvNjGIW0igPZAhVuoU9Z7JjNoa9gbRv8PTDlgQACirBu6JTGkZuy1toBdFeIETZAV5fhfceja-Il-apovc64Cqk-nBy-33BMf1j8/s320/Olivia+Ann+031.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTc5mqA3Cz_QGbh5_FP9o1mAiUHmHSooVNkN1QoYidLdXsIMVUQH-WVj6rEp1pSbCqVPHAMjwvnmE2JYWeb7gLtWDFyeuUmq0PlSM-kbkoDZi9Fyl_WZBDcdMk6OB34LuktnzQKloUR3M/s1600/Olivia+Ann+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTc5mqA3Cz_QGbh5_FP9o1mAiUHmHSooVNkN1QoYidLdXsIMVUQH-WVj6rEp1pSbCqVPHAMjwvnmE2JYWeb7gLtWDFyeuUmq0PlSM-kbkoDZi9Fyl_WZBDcdMk6OB34LuktnzQKloUR3M/s320/Olivia+Ann+023.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br /></div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-75686466969967499062011-12-24T21:52:00.001-06:002011-12-24T22:10:27.501-06:00Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-QK8dN5FmaDq-omTzj_pqZ0uc0uFpp0yr7A7HPDxxtN0WpMUOv9pQqaDQ5zWGYTuYAoFjBQGVrM9O0m6XWR77_b3D9H4rjovNtg_N9EtKWv4scczaUV5S4ivBWmtuHUVePg82enVJFY/s1600/hourglass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt-QK8dN5FmaDq-omTzj_pqZ0uc0uFpp0yr7A7HPDxxtN0WpMUOv9pQqaDQ5zWGYTuYAoFjBQGVrM9O0m6XWR77_b3D9H4rjovNtg_N9EtKWv4scczaUV5S4ivBWmtuHUVePg82enVJFY/s320/hourglass.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
They always say it. Time flies. Especially when it comes to your children. I guess I would say that it is true. Most days I feel like I'm just trying to get through to the next. And then the next. Everyone says that I should enjoy every moment of Olive's babyhood while it lasts. But it is hard to do that when you are living so in the present. <br />
Olive is 10 weeks old now. Everyday she is learning and changing. Just when I think I have her figured out, I don't. Just when I think we are settling into some routine, we aren't. She was sleeping pretty much through the night, and then she wasn't (isn't). She is holding her head up really well. She has had a strong neck from the beginning. She is even sitting up (with some assistance) for a few seconds to a minute before laying back against one of us. She is putting both hands up to her mouth. She is very alert. Turning her head from side to side with ease. She smiles on purpose. Once she laughed out loud. Last night she very deliberately reached up and pulled her pacifier out of her mouth and then held onto it for several minutes. For Christmas we got her an excersauser and she loves it. <br />
Speaking of Christmas; for the past several holiday seasons I have been sort of scroogy. Christmas is hard for an infertile woman waiting to be a mother. This year..... well it has been different. I haven't really been more joyful but I suppose less sour. The fact is that Olive is too young to enjoy the holiday and I have a heavy heart for all those that are still waiting for their miracle. So, I am still holding my breath and wishing that it were over already. <br />
For the New Year I plan to make a few resolutions, which is unusual for me. <br />
<ol>
<li>Take more time to blog.... some how.</li>
<li>Take more time to enjoy my new family of three. </li>
<li>Commit to spending more time in my marriage. </li>
<li>Give the Lord the portion of time that He requires of me everyday.</li>
<li>Learn to manage my time.</li>
</ol>
Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-69270926837721593882011-11-05T21:14:00.000-05:002011-11-05T21:17:33.016-05:001 Month Old<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Olive is a month old today. Time has just flown by. Having a baby in the house has been a sizable adjustment. I have to say that I think it is even harder on couples who have 1. experienced infertility and been a family of two for any considerable amount of time & 2. have very little to no notice of baby's arrival. Our world changed in 3 days. Everything is different including the way we (hubby and I) relate to each other. Honestly, it has been really hard and even at sometimes terrible - but we are getting settled. I may write in more detail about my experience with this later. For right now I just want to keep things positive around here. </div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Olive is growing quickly. She is already 10 lbs! Overall she is a really good baby. She usually only cries when she really needs something. She has thrush, a herniated belly button, and neonatal teeth but other than that she is healthy. We are so blessed. My motto has been "My goal everyday is to keep her alive". I say it with a light hearted laugh, but most of the time a part of me half way means it. I am not at all confident in my mothering skills. It amazes me how life becomes very basic and primal with a newborn. Every little thing is an event, so all extra tasks; the ones that are not absolutely necessary go out the window. When she poops and burps there is a celebration. I've been staying with my mother during the week since hubby travels for his job. She and I have bonded on a whole new level. I'm so glad to get to experience this with her and I'm forever thankful for her help! I have no idea how some women do this totally on their own. </div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We had our first post placement visit on Oct. 17th. It went fine. We have been in contact with our lawyer to get things rolling. MamaT still hasn't had any contact with the agency. I think about her all the time. I wish I could be sharing these things with her.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1YYOpOGh922Xt1d819lMFzQgIOLV-6WO1GxGq2iTzmV8jIm5EMXmtuYwLST-kWRAZIdRLhfsQRShJpAQR54gZ7agMSN9mF4aztXSvf7EbT4zDcp079tKUX9IGNpbMN-IZgFu4AbUYrD4/s1600/olivia+hh+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1YYOpOGh922Xt1d819lMFzQgIOLV-6WO1GxGq2iTzmV8jIm5EMXmtuYwLST-kWRAZIdRLhfsQRShJpAQR54gZ7agMSN9mF4aztXSvf7EbT4zDcp079tKUX9IGNpbMN-IZgFu4AbUYrD4/s320/olivia+hh+4.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Happy 1 month birthday Olive!</div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/?action=view&current=Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-19625902820939058992011-10-12T22:36:00.002-05:002011-11-05T21:15:00.076-05:00At Long Last<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I hope you'll forgive me for keeping you suspense. After all I'm pretty busy now. </div>
<br />
<br />
At this moment miss Olive is resting against Nana's (my mom) chest. She has been so spoiled this week. Wow, she is a week old already. That just doesn't seem possible. A week ago today...<br />
<br />
Around 11:00 a.m. on Wednesday the 5th I heard N's ringtone sound off from my phone. I remember thinking, "What could she want?". We had been on a break, so I didn't expect to be hearing from her much until the new year. She said that there had been a baby girl born this morning. I was sort of annoyed that she was calling. Why is she telling me this stuff when we didn't want to be shown right now. She said that all they knew right now was the baby was a girl, she was african american, and the birthmom wanted a family that didn't have children. Which is why she called. Since there are only a few families that are open to african american babies and have no children, she wanted to give the birthmom as many profiles as she could. I told her that I would talk to hubby and call her back. I figured he would say no. We were still healing from BabyZ and Ella Grace. To my surprise he didn't. He said to tell N that we would like more information. So, I did. Around 2:00 p.m. N called again and said that baby was healthy. Birthmom did not report any substance abuse or medical/mental problems. I called hubby back and all of the sudden we were back in the game again. I let N know that we did want to be shown. Very shortly after she called and said that we had been picked. She said that R (who was handling the case) had already shown us (forgetting about our break) and that Mama T (what I will be calling Olive's birthmom) picked us. It was unbelievable! We were chosen again. But, my hubby was in Iowa! He travels for his job. At first I thought, well I will just have to go and do this on my own. Thankfully, my mom agreed to go with me to see her. On Thursday the 6th (also my 30th birthday) we meet N & R at the hospital @ 10:15 a.m. They got us a small room (which ended up being our room to stay) and brought her to us. I had to ask if they had brought us the right baby. Her skin was so light. She looked Caucasian. The nurse assured me that she was the right one. She said that she may get darker, or she may not. In fact, she already has darkened slightly. I just stood there. I was scared to death to hold her. I looked over at my mom and I knew that if I didn't she was going too. After some awkwardness picking her up I held her. She was beautiful. So, so beautiful. I felt content. Not at all the way that I felt the first time I held BabyZ or Ella Grace. R told us that Mama T had signed herself out of the hospital the night before. R said that she had spent some time with Olive, but that she seemed sure about adoption. Mama T did not want any contact, just pictures at the agency. I'm hoping that will change. It has always been my goal to have at least a semi open adoption. My mom and I cared for Olive in the hospital that night. At least for a while anyway before I utilized the convenience of the nursery down the hall. Hubby finally arrived on Friday morning. The daddy in him was already showing again. Olive was perfect. She ate like a horse. She had regular wet and dirty diapers. She burped easily and slept well. After seeing such a sick baby in Ella Grace, it was a relief. It is a blessing that I won't take for granted. My mom got a hotel so that hubby and I could spend some time with her. Surrenders were scheduled to be signed Saturday morning. Caring for Olive bonded me to her during those 2 days. The fact that Mama T could change her mind really didn't exist for me. I didn't need her to sign to make Olive mine, she already was. R came into our room around 10:30 a.m. and said she was ours. Seconds later the tiny room was filled with people asking questions, giving us info, and shuffling papers. It was funny because a nurse still had to wheel me out in a wheel chair even though I hadn't given birth. Then we were on our way home. We made a few stops so that we could share her with our families. Our first night, my hubby got up with her and let me rest. Being in the hospital had been exhausting. We went to church on Sunday and showed her off. She has had several visitors. Now I am staying with my parents because hubby had to go back to work today. I don't think that everything has totally set in with me yet. But, I'm adjusting. It's been a long road to get to Olive. A long, hard road. She was so worth everything. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/?action=view&current=Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-62040394350156678832011-10-08T21:28:00.001-05:002011-11-05T21:15:16.784-05:00Introducing.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQAe7B01Uwymg2I8xLcv9v4hcsVcNWxHZE30AXZDhlQfXwWfQoWllTKvlgV-tE0ukTRwP8p-EujNFQBvP7w69e_2fNYv8oKgpiBhbMC4nEi5gqAUwNBS3NN05aKEVeFnMTgEYgJCs5cw/s1600/Olivia+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQAe7B01Uwymg2I8xLcv9v4hcsVcNWxHZE30AXZDhlQfXwWfQoWllTKvlgV-tE0ukTRwP8p-EujNFQBvP7w69e_2fNYv8oKgpiBhbMC4nEi5gqAUwNBS3NN05aKEVeFnMTgEYgJCs5cw/s320/Olivia+016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Our daughter!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Olive (that's what
I'm calling her in blogland)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
born 10-5-11 @
5:22a.m.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
weight: 6lbs
10oz</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
length: 19
inches</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
placed in our
hearts 10-8-11 @ 10:30a.m.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
and she has the
longest fingers I've ever seen on a baby - really she does.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I will post the
whole story soon, but for now just enjoy the picture and the glory of it all!
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
She was absolutely
worth the wait!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/?action=view&current=Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>
Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-58360771417605738622011-10-03T20:53:00.001-05:002011-10-03T20:56:18.492-05:00BabyZ at 2 months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7czShHR-lOsbtVnL6VlCuijQeQaJzWLRRyMOcAE5MfQFuVCaBoB7GB-E9Dw58V2QYn-Q1yRUZZuGIojtHx03nIRCKxlFxxCuYc54BzRJtA66w_FrbLDzzaah16bfj-bBEo9pcu3nNCo/s1600/zz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7czShHR-lOsbtVnL6VlCuijQeQaJzWLRRyMOcAE5MfQFuVCaBoB7GB-E9Dw58V2QYn-Q1yRUZZuGIojtHx03nIRCKxlFxxCuYc54BzRJtA66w_FrbLDzzaah16bfj-bBEo9pcu3nNCo/s320/zz.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I wish the picture was better but I'm sure she took it with her phone. I've
been stalking K on facebook, almost daily. We aren't "friends" but I am able to
see some things. She posted this picture recently. It's the only picture she
has posted of BabyZ. I find that sort of odd that she wouldn't be showing off
scads of pictures of her new little girl. But, anyway.... she is growing more
beautiful all of the time. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/?action=view&current=Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>
Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-82906449668855382852011-09-19T16:11:00.002-05:002011-09-19T16:11:47.968-05:00Photo Contest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaIvUZMAGfmbB0carcX9KGlazrMSFy0WAXy3x8uMQnekwG7-HEXkGNhy7TjZQyIFgfebwFwqPR_RXPvgIIjQqvE8L3ijlDCzw76TZEDcf2NL85FxEcxKJMmKIsagHu7bkeenLffPhUGiI/s1600/2010+Halloween+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaIvUZMAGfmbB0carcX9KGlazrMSFy0WAXy3x8uMQnekwG7-HEXkGNhy7TjZQyIFgfebwFwqPR_RXPvgIIjQqvE8L3ijlDCzw76TZEDcf2NL85FxEcxKJMmKIsagHu7bkeenLffPhUGiI/s320/2010+Halloween+018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I entered the above photo in the Photobucket Pet Costume Contest. Click<a href="http://photobucket.com/ibeatyou?entry=1846950"> here</a> to vote for us!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/?action=view&current=Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>
Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-47364346100403613702011-09-11T15:54:00.001-05:002011-09-11T15:54:58.150-05:00Dilation and Curettage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PW7NvtBg4nT4_KhYXYa9HIaiqfKPQBkg6-6avmSnYg1iH9MBpYOA5VcBA8isxDPW_vLrfvMJf-2IqYleAoqK-w0UqlMYx2NJrD1Iwm-_nrtJCvk4IFQMDTKG-pwtfen5YiamBsEEJIY/s1600/d-and-c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2PW7NvtBg4nT4_KhYXYa9HIaiqfKPQBkg6-6avmSnYg1iH9MBpYOA5VcBA8isxDPW_vLrfvMJf-2IqYleAoqK-w0UqlMYx2NJrD1Iwm-_nrtJCvk4IFQMDTKG-pwtfen5YiamBsEEJIY/s320/d-and-c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I had my D&C on Thursday morning. Despite everything that was going on, everyone encouraged me to get it over with. My mom and I got up really early. I had to be at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. and it takes around 45 minutes to get there. The procedure was scheduled for 7:30, but I didn't yet have any of my pre-surgery stuff done yet. It was a good thing we were really early, because when we got there the office didn't really have any record of me. Finally, the woman tracked down some paperwork and created some new. While she was working she shared her life story with me. I tend to have that affect on people. Especially women. So, there I sat awaiting surgery at 6 something in the morning and this middle aged woman was telling me all about her divorce. I'll just say that she is a very bitter divorcee right now. I told her I would be praying for her and hugged her. On our way up in the elevator my mom told me that it was the social worker gene in me. She's been in social work for many years. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We waited in the waiting area for just a few minutes before they called me back. The first thing awaiting me was the scales. The very last thing that I wanted to see that morning. It wasn't pretty folks. Then a nurse (she stayed with me until the operating room) showed me to my pre-op room. I peed in a cup. Seriously, I despise peeing in a cup. It's a trapeze act. It never fails that I will pee all over everything. The cup, my hand, the toilet, etc. Then I took everything off and put on my gown, booties, and hat. The nurse told me to make myself comfortable on the gurney. And people started filing through. A foreign man, he had a European accent, took several vials of blood from my right arm. I was so impressed that he was able to get the stick on the first try. I warned him that my veins are deep and they roll. Those blood people always take that as a personal challenge. I figure it's good for them though. About the same time my nurse started working on my left side. She needed to get an I.V. started. I told her that in the past I had them in the back of my hands. It hurts, but it's fast and it's a sure fire way to get a vain on me. She made quick work of it also. These people were good! Then came the anesthesiologists. I told them that I had a really bad experience the last time I was under and they figured out their plan of action right there in front of me. I thought that was really cool. A few other medical people came in and introduced themselves since they would be assisting. Finally, my doctor arrived. Just before she got there they had given me my first relaxer. So, I was a little woozy. They gave me more before my ride. Everything got fuzzy but I didn't mind. I remember hearing the things going on in the hallway as they wheeled me off. I opened my eyes when they got me into the operating room. I scooted from the gurney to the table when they told me too. The table was hard and narrow. I didn't know what to do with my arms. It was like they read my mind. Someone pulled out arm rests on each side. I was like, "Oh, how convenient". A lady put a mask over my face. I am very claustrophobic when it comes to things over my face. But, the medication was doing it's job and I didn't seem to care. Then I realized that those arm rests weren't really for my comfort. They intended to strap me down. I had the thought,"If they strap me down I'm going to freak out". I'm not usually real big on loss of control. But, I didn't. Dang that stuff was good! A woman was speaking softly to me. Telling me that everything was going well. "Let's go to a happy place", she said. "How about some place tropical". I meant to answer her that it sounded good to me, but I didn't get a chance. I was out. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
When I woke up, there was a lot of stuff going on around me. There were people laying on gurneys on each side of me. It was like a recovery line up. I must have tried to take a deep breath. I don't think that I woke up coughing. But, I spent probably next 10 minutes doing so. There was a rattle in my throat and I couldn't get it out. A nurse was standing near me and I told her I needed to spit. She handed me some tissues. I spit and was horrified to see blood. Blood coming from the mouth = PANIC! I started spitting up as much as I could while crying at the same time. I couldn't breath. I said that I wanted my mom several times. People just kept walking passed me and looking at me. I felt like I wasn't getting any help. I was the only one concerned about the fact that I was obviously hemorrhaging. I knew my mom would demand action if she knew how I was being ignored. But, they told me that she wasn't allowed back there. I continued to cough and sputter. At the foot of my appeared one of the anesthesiologists. A woman. The same woman that had been talking to me before I passed out. She explained to me that during intubation they scratched my throat. Thanks to the show E.R. I knew what intubation was. She said that the blood was normal and not to be scared. I told her I couldn't breath and she said they were working on that. Just then someone put another mask over my face. They were giving me a breathing treatment. I questioned the woman at the end of my bed. I had seen enough of those done at daycare to know what was going on. She said that my oxygen was a little low. She asked me about asthma. I mentioned it to her before, but I only have it with allergies. Well, not anymore. She said that my tubes were constricting. My panic attack had only made things worse. After the treatment they had me suck on an inhaler and then put those breathing tube things in my nose. Normally I wouldn't like those either, but I was just happy for the assistance. Finally I was stable enough to get a room. Oh, wait I forgot about how badly I had to pee. I told everybody that came near me that I had to pee so bad. I'm really surprised that I didn't wet the bed. Just outside of my room, two nurses worked to get me standing upright so I could visit the bathroom. I shuffled in and just barely got sat down. Man, oh man, did it hurt though. I guess after being catheterized urinating can sometimes be painful at first. If I could have hit the ceiling I would have. I had a few more of those after too. It was like passing razor blades. I spent some time in my little room. My mom joined me and the nurse watching my oxygen. I coughed more. My throat was on fire and I couldn't take a deep breath. They ordered a chest x-ray for me just to make sure I didn't aspirate any of the blood into my lungs. That was interesting. The nurse wasn't very good at driving a gurney. Then it took three people to hold all of my devices (and me) for the x-ray. It turned out fine though. When I got back to my room, my dad and husband had arrived. Apparently I had spent so much time in the various recovery stages that they had time to get there. Finally I had been stable enough long enough that I could go home. It was around 12:30 p.m. by the time we left. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The procedure had gone fine. My doctor said that no matter how hard she tried to keep my cervix dilated, it would clamp down on her. I think it's funny that I'm uptight even when I'm totally out. She said that I have the smallest pelvic area she ever saw. No duh. She sent some of the tissue off to be tested, but she didn't think that I had cancer or anything. I've done really well the past few days. I haven't really had any cramping. I'm still bleeding a little, but hopefully it will stop very soon. My biggest complaint has been my throat. But, it's nothing that banana Popsicles can't fix. Over all, it wasn't the worst experience ever and I hope that it was worth it. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/?action=view&current=Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
</div>
Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4824443865432802863.post-22813061890631782522011-09-05T13:01:00.000-05:002011-09-05T13:01:52.442-05:00Our New Baby Match<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj29DsPwqJTAlz1hW0FZjzJSezWmLKxj18QIgLkXCb7HpaLV-PQBKQXH6x_NUQJ3FgXqqutmuAXdKF5kMd6eiJAIzfydzUSuJz2ngIvXuk7MkmBXY2z9KqBiI-qD9f7iyErp1ihdmATUWo/s1600/a.jpg" /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://desirecometh.blogspot.com/">Desire Cometh</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I'm actually going to post adoption stuff on my adoption blog. Amazing huh. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Visit it to read about our new baby match.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/?action=view&current=Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b320/zoebeth/Pooh-Piglet-Pumpkin-1.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>
Bethaniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909743765477772019noreply@blogger.com0