We're the Lucky Ones

It's over. The wait is over. I have a son. He's mine just as if I'd birthed him from my own body. In the eyes of the law, he has the same rights and privileges (whatever those may be) just the same as any future children of ours, be they biological or not. Our adoption is official and final as of today. He is my son. I am his mom. The finalization hearing took place this morning, and now the four year process to start our family, and the five month process to finalize our adoption our both complete. With one signature on a piece of paper, it was over. Hallelujah.

It was a shockingly brief hearing this morning. I knew it would be. Everyone said it was incredibly anticlimactic. Our lawyer sent us documentation that the room had been reserved for a whopping ten minutes. We only had to answer seven questions, six of which were answered with a "yes." It was over so quickly, I barely had a chance to be emotional. The judge was an older gentleman and obviously ready to be on with his day. As I was planning my answer to "why are you petitioning the courts to finalize your adoption?" and the tears were starting to form, he signed the document and said, "well let's get this finalized for you." I sucked my answer back in and just held my sleeping baby. Yes sir, just sign that piece of paper. That's all I need. And just like that, in the eyes of the law, we're a family. It's what we've known and felt in our hearts for months. I can't explain exactly why it mattered for it to be "official." It's not like a thought of myself as his guardian, but there's something about someone recognizing us as a legitimate family, just the same as any other that brings tears to my eyes. It is good to be a family (officially).

When I think about this little boy, tears swim in my eyes. I love him so much I can hardly breathe. He's changing me, shaping me, molding me into a different person. He's refining my heart. Infertility chiseled big ugly sections of my heart free; Garrison is polishing it. He's softening my heart, showing me a new kind of love, stretching my faith, bringing clarity to my understanding of the Father's love. I've only known this little boy for 138 days, but they have been life altering of epic proportions. My heart is changing because of my love for Garrison. My dreams for my family, my perspective on infertility, my purpose in life…he's changing it all.

I know the comments are coming regarding our adoption. People will say, "Garrison is so lucky to have you." And I know what they mean when they say that. Everyone means well. They think Sam and I can give or offer more (financially, spiritually, emotionally, physically) than Garrison's birth family. He's lucky to have us rather than what could have been... that's what people mean when they say these types of things. I'm sure I've said similar things in the past to others. I'm not here to comment on the circumstances surrounding Garrison's birth or placement into our family. That's his story to learn first and tell if he so chooses. But I am here to say this, it's not him, but us that are the lucky ones. Sam and I, we're the lucky ones.

I don't understand the way God works. Why infertility had to be a part of my very young family. Why Garrison's birth family had the difficulties and circumstances that they did. I can't explain why one couple gets pregnant and another doesn't…all of these are questions that I just don't have answers to. I can't explain why Sam and I lived through the years of pain that we did, nor why Garrison has already experienced the greatest loss. But I can tell you this, I can't imagine my life without him. He is without a doubt the greatest thing that has ever happened to us. I can also tell you this: it didn't have to end this way. We could still be waiting. Trying IVF. Hoping for a lucky cycle. Waiting for a match. Picking up the pieces from a failed adoption. Instead we're lying in bed with our sleeping son knowing that we are so fortunate to have him. And not just any son, but this son. Our son. So yes, Garrison is fortunate. Things could have gone differently. We're thankful his birth family loved him and chose life and a future for him. But I can guarantee that Garrison will change far more about Sam and I than we will ever change about him. It's not him, but us, Sam and I, that are the lucky ones.

Welcome to the family, Garrison Greavu, forever our firstborn. We're so thankful for you and can't imagine one day of life without you in it. We love you to the moon and back (and back again).

Fussy Butt

Sunday was rough. One of those days where my ears actually hurt and I craved silence (and a nice margarita). As I sat there debating what decibel range I was actually experiencing, it hit me: it's been a while since we've had one of those days. Praise the Lord.

You see, Garrison is what you might call a fussy baby. He comes by his nickname honestly. I typically describe him as "sensitive" because it sounds less like I'm complaining. Garrison was such a sweet little thing in the hospital. He rarely cried during those few days I was with him in the NICU. He basically slept in two or two and a half hour stretches. His only time awake was to eat. He'd often fall asleep eating. My biggest worry in the NICU (besides why is that blasted alarm going off again) was how to get 40 mL into his little mouth. And then we were discharged and everything changed. I had no idea what a change in environment and additional stimulation could do to a baby. We were discharged around 6 o'clock that Thursday evening. By 9 o'clock, I had a different baby. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

By midnight that night I'd already called the NICU because I was sure something terrible was wrong. He had to be dying to scream like that. They assured me that this was "normal" for adjusting to the outside world. It's like being born all over again, this time into the real world. They encouraged me that things would settle in a few days, just as soon as he could acclimate. But they didn't. I entered into some of the longest weeks.

I didn't really share much about that time with anyone. I was too afraid to share what I was experiencing for fear of sounding ungrateful for the gift I'd been given (and that I'd asked for for so long). I was also afraid I'd be judged as a terrible parent. I was the first to admit that I was out of my league, treading water, rather than swimming with power strokes, but I was terrified that others would look at this red-faced, screaming infant and wonder what kind of unfit mother was I that I couldn't even quiet my baby. There were times when I was actually afraid to go in public with him for fear that somehow, someway, it would get back to the courts and they'd take him away. It was that bad.

I felt those things, but the good news is that I don't feel those things anymore, or at least much less frequently. So I wanted to share this for the mother who is currently neck deep and not sure if she's going to reach the shore. Or for those who will experience similar things with their miracles that are coming one day. Think of this as a fist bump, a "solidarity, sister," and a hug. I've been there. It gets better.

As I mentioned, the first night we arrived in the hotel with Garrison was a rude awakening to what the next few months of life would be like. He was inconsolable. I'd blame it on being an utter novice with no clue what to do, except that my mom couldn't console him either. We left the hospital with a different formula (hey hospitals, can we maybe start that process while at the hospital? A slow transition?!?!?) and by the second feed he was gassy and refusing the bottle while at the same time desperate to eat. We kept the hotel room very dark as the NICU was semi-lit to dark most of the day. I did everything I could think of to eliminate stimulation, but nothing seemed to work. He went from a  baby that was lying quitely in a bassinet undisturbed most of the day, to a baby that would scream (we're talking fire alarm level) if I even thought about putting him down. But holding him often only quieted the crying to a desperate shrieking.

What I prayed was just acclimation to a new room and a new formula became the pattern of my days. Garrison cried more than he slept. Many parents experience "the witching hour," that late afternoon to early evening time when babies can become extremely fussy. Garrison's "witching hour" usually began about 9 or 10 in the morning and lasted until 10 to 12 at night. Many of the various parenting books discuss how important a sleep/wake cycle is, but I was honestly desperate for him to sleep during the day, just so he'd stop screaming. He only slept in my arms, and even then, it was restless. If I put him down for a nap, he'd be awake and screaming at full volume within ten minutes.

I mentioned that I read The Happiest Baby on the Block. I was so thankful for the book in many ways. It validated some of the things that I was experiencing and feeling. It also taught me soothing techniques and ways to combine them that we desperately clung to. But I also felt like crap while reading it because here was this book, all but promising a happy baby, and mine seemed like the saddest baby on the block. I frantically read Happiest Baby hoping that somewhere there was a key to unlock the happy baby from inside this very unhappy baby before me. My problem was that the author's testimonials always said how quickly the 5 Ss (Shhhing, Swaddling, Sucking, Side/Stomach, Swinging) worked, but for us, they did not instantly release the natural calming reflex that these parents experienced. Hours of shhing on top of white noise (or the vaccum or the tub faucet) and swinging and sucking while being tightly swaddled like a burrito sometimes did absolutely nothing. Most of the time it eventually worked, but I'd bet Garrison can go toe to toe for the longest hold out before giving into the 5 Ss' soothing ways.

I'm pretty sure I will remember until my dying day the day that Garrison cried from 12:30 until 10:00. It was almost completely nonstop. He screamed through his bottles. He even cried and moaned while sleeping. No fever, no rash, no vomit, no diarrhea... nothing that could explain his behavior. That day was torture. But unfortunately, it wasn't all that different from a lot of other days. Weeks 2-8 were pretty bad in all honesty. I felt like the absolute worst mother. A complete and total failure. I questioned my ability to parent. I wondered if he hated me. I worried that this was doing irreparable damage to our ability to bond. I had hundreds of thoughts pour through my head each day about infertility. It was hard to silence the voices that said infertility had been God's way of preventing me from becoming a mother because I was obviously terrible.

When others told me of their successes with some technique, it only made me feel worse. So your baby is sleeping 8 hours by 8 weeks, well cool, I'm trying to get mine to stop crying for 8 consecutive minutes. And the absolute worst was to be around someone I had confided a bit about my fussy baby. Inevitably he'd be peacefully sleeping at that particular time and I'd hear what a happy, sweet, good baby he was. Those comments made me feel even more terrible. He obviously only hated me. It was me and not him.

I know many people probably read this and think, "oh well, you didn't try X." We tried five different bottles (landed on Dr. Brown's), seven different nipples (ended up with Dr. B's preemie), five different swaddles/swaddle blankets (he specifically liked Halo, in fleece), six different pacifiers (landed on the Soothie). We tried gripe water, gas drops, Happi Tummi, clockwise belly rubs, and bicycle kicks. We tried prescription gas medication and eventually received a prescription for reflux. But here's the thing, even with Dr. Brown's promises of less gas, reflux, and colic, prescription medications for gas and reflux, and all of the 5Ss at our disposal, Garrison (and mommy) still cried. If I could get Garrison to eat without screaming I considered it a win. If I could quiet him in 15 minutes or less, I considered that a victory. Those weeks were hard.

I was finally coming to see the writing on the wall. These infant days were just not going to be fun. I could enjoy my snuggles when he was sound asleep, but I'd spend his waking minutes trying to calm him and soothe whatever was bothering him. And then slowly, ever so slowly things began to change. Around 8 weeks, he began to naturally fall back into his rhythm from his days in the NICU. He began to eat every three hours again, and I became more aware and intentional about a scheduled feeding and nap in between each feeding. Around 10 weeks (right when maternity leave ended) was the first time I thought things might be getting better. By 12 weeks, I was sure, he was definitely less fussy, it wasn't just a string of good days. Things were actually getting better. By 14 weeks, things were so much different. He still fussed far more than other babies, but we could play together. There were minutes I'd describe him as happy, and they might even outweigh the minutes I'd say he was sad/angry/frustrated.

Every week things have gotten a bit better. He'll be twenty weeks tomorrow, and the difference the last 6-8 weeks have made is astounding. He's still not what I'd call a happy baby. You can look at him the wrong way and set off a good, long bout of crying. Like I said, he's sensitive. A lot of things bother Garrison, and when something is bothering him, he lets you know. I've resolved myself to this fact. Garrison will probably never be an easy baby. Or like my friend Jennie says, some babies are just "spirited." They're either very happy or very unhappy - there is no in between. That's him. But I think the good news might be that what he loves, he will love fiercely, and I think despite our rough start, he just might love his mama. 

I know that a fussy baby would be a dream come true for a lot of you. Believe me, even in the thick of it, I didn't (and don't) take my miracle for granted. I'm not complaining. I just wanted to be honest about what I experienced. When other moms opened up to me and shared similar experiences I felt so much comfort and gratitude. So like I said, if that's you, if you're in the thick of it, if you're question whether you were meant to be a mother, it does get better. Hang in there.

Nursery Reveal (finally)

Finally, finally, FI-NAL-LY the nursery is done. We've been waiting for-ever for the crib to come in. This has been the most painstaking process, but thankfully I love the finished result, and it came out very close to my original plan. A little back story. Back in November, we started to get the feeling that our adopted son or daughter might come to us with less time on the clock, so to speak, than we originally thought. When we first started the adoption process we thought that we'd be matched with a situation with 8-12 weeks of the pregnancy left, but what we were seeing was often so much less than that. Often 3 weeks or less (if only we'd known what we'd actually get). I knew that I didn't want to throw a room together in a couple of weeks... not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that I've dreamed about my nursery since I was a very little girl. I remember watching Father of the Bride Part 2 and looking at the unbelievable room that Frank designs and thinking, THAT-that will be my room. I knew what I wanted would take more time, so I was forced to decide. I either needed to be willing to be happy with a room I could put together on the fly, or I needed to be okay with starting a room for a baby that was only a hope and a prayer at that point.

We started very slowly. In December, my mom and I just went out to casually look at furniture and see what was available, what I might like, ect. Well, that trip really motivated me. I'm not sure why I thought you could walk in and walk out with your crib, dresser, and rocker, but that proved to not be the case. Sam and I decided that we'd slowly begin to work on the room. We knew in light of our goal to work on the nursery before the match, that we would not know the gender. Thankfully, neutrals would be my go to choice for a nursery. In light of our infertility journey, and as I thought about the space and using it prior to the match, I really wanted a calm, tranquil space, one that I could sit in and dream, pray, and wait. In January, I stumbled across a great deal on some Pottery Barn Kids bedding that I thought could work for a boy of a girl (and that I really loved). We also got a GREAT deal on a rocker from Pottery Barn Kids. And slowly the idea for the room began to take shape. We started to clear out the room that would turn into the nursery. I began to plan a little more and created a Pinterest board of things that I liked. Eventually, I whittled that down to create "the plan."

The first purchase for the room was this quilt. The colors
and design of the room were inspired by this.

I'd love to give you a tour of the little space we've created for Garrison (and let's be real here, it's mostly for me). Won't you come in?

This is the view when you walk in the door. Maybe a bit cramped with the
rocking chair,  but we're making it work. The crib and dresser are by
Dolce Babi. The traditional crib is brand new (which is why it took FOUR
months to receive) and I LOVE it. 

Same thing, just giving you an idea of layout… the dresser is directly
across from the window. The stencil on the wall is inspired by
the pattern on the quilt and sheets.

A close up of the quilt-- the inspiration behind the stenciled wall.

Photos are from Garrison's newborn session by Jessica Tanner.

We actually left the room the same color (Sherwin Williams Worldly Gray)
we originally painted when we moved in… miraculously it worked
out better than I was expecting. We added the board and batten because
A- I love it and B- it helps make the gray furniture pop.

We added the two shelves on either side of the dresser to give some
space to place a few personal touches. The shelf on the left has a photo
from Garrison's newborn shoot in a frame from my great aunt. The gold
animals are from my shower and the print is the words to "Oceans" by
Hillsong given to me by a sweet friend.

The shelf on the right has a letter G wrapped in gray yarn (because Pinterest
said to), another golden animal (I need one more), a photo box of all of
the prints from Garrison's newborn shoot, a ceramic baby shoe with his birth
stats, and the frame of his monthly stats. I'll replace the monthly stats with
a family photo as soon as I get one printed.

The rocker is from Pottery Barn Kids. It's admittedly less about functionality
and more about how much I freaking love that rocker. My dear, sweet friend
Jennie made the blanket on the rocker for Garrison. It's one of my favorite
things! The curtains are also Pottery Barn Kids. It's the world's smallest window
for the biggest, thickest, heaviest, curtains, but again, I really love them.
Oh, and cat is a bonus feature. She blends quite well, don't ya think?

Two hand-lettered prints hang on either side of the
window. These are both from the etsy shop: PENscriptink.
This one is Psalm 61:2.

The second print is part of the hymn, "It is Well with My Soul."
Rachel from PENscriptink did these prints custom for me
and I painted plain white mats to get some extra gold.

To the right of the window is a little blanket ladder
Sam made for some of our favorite blankets.

On either side of the closet I hung a set of prints of baby animals.
This beautiful artwork is from the etsy shop: studioQ 

I chose the penguin because my incredibly talented friend
 Kristin is an interior designer and she LOVES penguins and she
let me pester her for weeks with questions about the room.

The peacock was a custom order from studioQ to tie
in with the quilt from Pottery Barn Kids. 

We knew we'd need more storage and more logical 

use of the closet space.  Sam made this from IKEA

shelving. All of the storage containers are from Target. 

A close up of Garrison's "library." The "A" and "Z" bookends are one of
the only crafts I made for the room, though it feels like the
room was one giant craft project.

In the corner you can see the puzzle from our fundraiser…
it's not hung properly yet, but you get the idea.

Probably Garrison's least favorite room choice-- I removed the ceiling fan
and had Sam install this light fixture. I'm pretty sure Garrison would have
preferred the ceiling fan…you live and learn. However, I like it,
and Sam installed a dimmer so it's great for bedtime.

So that's pretty much it. It was definitely a labor of love, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who loved any of the labor. Sam will probably never again let me say, "I have an idea." I'm so thankful that he put up with all of my ideas and worked so hard on all the projects. From installing crown to board and batten and from closet shelving to light fixtures, it was a lot of work, but I love the finished product. Garrison might just keep this room until he's 18.

Disclaimer- I put the giant stuffed elephant, quilt, and bumpers on just for the purpose of photographing the room. They are all carefully packed away again. No one need feel compelled to warn me about bumpers or suffocation or anything. : )

Mach Four

Time is flying by. I blink and days are gone. Whole weeks just slip by. Life is just busier now. And not in ways that would typically define a busy life. Our schedule is mostly clear. We're not out and about all over the city. In fact our little town has a big festival this weekend downtown and just about everybody goes to some part of the festivities. It's definitely the place to be, but it's not on our agenda. Our days aren't filled with meetings or events or parties, but the days go by faster than ever before. In a lot of ways, it feels like I got the call just a week or two ago. And yet, in other ways, it feels like Garrison has always been here. He's just part of our day now...  the very best parts. Somehow, enough days have passed and he is FOUR months old. This one seems like a really big deal to me. Thee months still seemed small, and insignificant in terms of time passing, but four months? Holy moly, I feel like I better start planning his first birthday or I'll blink and forget to mail invitations.

Name: still Garrison. : ) And we're REALLY close to making that official. More details to come.

"Hey ma, if I sit here real nice, can we stop this all ready?"

Nicknames: Gosh, I really thought I'd land on one nickname, and let it carry us through, but that has not been the case. He gets called Whiny Butt a good bit. Stinky Butt every now and again. Chunk-a-lunk... which is hilarious because he's anything but chunky for his age, but he is developing a few rolls, dimples, and dints, which are obviously precious.

Cutest baby ever

Stats: 11 lbs 14.8 oz and 22.5 inches. Some of you have already heard from me between yesterday's appointment and today. I am admittedly starting to worry a little bit. At first, I really thought he was going to catch up in no time. I wasn't worried in the least. From 3 lbs 14 oz to 7 lbs 3 oz in just a little over a month seemed really great to me, but things have kind of slowed down. Especially in the length department. Only a half inch of growth this last month. That's umm, kind of sad. I think I was mostly upset about the length... that curve is definitely starting to flatten out. 17" to 19" to 21" to 22" to 22.5" I think I was also just kind of surprised by the numbers. Most of our clothes are from Carters. Their size chart says up to 24 inches and 12.5 pounds. We're struggling to snap onesies these days and they body suits aren't tight but it's not like his feet are in the knee bend either. I was guessing he was at least 23 inches and over 12 pounds. I think the culprit here is the cloth diapers. Cloth diapers, especially pocket styles, take up far more room than a thin little disposable. I knew that, but didn't realize that it was making that big of a difference. We'll probably have to move up to the next size before we actually hit the mark because of cloth diapers.

"Don't let this tush fool ya!"

I talked to my pediatrician about it, and she feels good about his growth. It admittedly makes me nervous. Am I stunting his growth forever? Will he always be a smaller, skinny kid who never gets picked in gym just because we can't pack on the pounds right now? But I'm trying to let it go. He's eating as much as he wants. I don't ever hold back ounces from him. If he wants more, he gets it. I asked about fortifying his formula to a higher calorie content (like 24), but the pediatrician wants to stick with 22. I'm laying it down and saying I'll worry again in two months.

Monthly height and weight chart

Eating: He still eats about every three hours, but has increased to 4-4.5 ounces during the day. His morning and night feeds are iffier. Some days he'll eat well, and some days he won't. I think the projectile vomiting episode has me a little scared to coax him to eat more. Once he spits it out three or four times, I call it and try again in 5-10 minutes. If he still doesn't want it, I call it. He's dropped to six bottles in a day (from eight) so the increase in ounces has kept us right around the same total caloric intake. Hopefully, he'll take a bit more here soon and we'll see some improved growth (and sleep).

"I get this mom."

Sleeping: Garrison definitely doesn't appreciate sleep as much as Sam and I do. We L-O-V-E to sleep. It can take me a while to fall asleep, and I'm a light sleeper (whereas Sam crashes in six seconds and sleeps through earthquakes), but I really love a good nap or an excellent night of sleep. It's definitely "the thing" that I miss from my pre-Garrison days. It's a small sacrifice, but I admittedly do miss the ability to take some Sleep PM and know I'll wake up 8-10 hours later.

Garrison blessed us with two nights in which he actually slept through the night. And by that I mean he slept from his dream feed at 9:30 or 10:00 until 6:30 the next morning. I unfortunately didn't sleep through the night myself on either occasion and both nights woke up hysterical knowing he was dead. Once I chilled out, I was pretty pleased with my little guy. Here I was about to purchase all the sleep training books in the world and he was going to figure it out all by himself. Yeah, umm, no. If anything, those nights have just made it more frustrating because now I know that he can sleep through the night, he just doesn't. For the last three weeks he's been waking up 4-10 times a night. He soothes quickly with the paci, a little shushing, and or light pressure on his tummy, but it lasts approximately thirty minutes before you have to do it all over again. He never really cries, so we haven't been feeding him (unless he actually wakes up crying and won't soothe with a paci, at which point I assume he actually is hungry and in need of calories). If we let him fuss, he does just that, he fusses, and fusses, and fusses and gets himself more and more and more worked up. He rolls and squirms and and wiggles until he gets his Halo all messed up and then he really DOES wake up and cry. In an attempt to prevent that, I've been doing the jump and run thing as soon as I hear him fuss for sixty seconds or more, but I know I'm feeding the frenzy and probably creating unbreakable habits. Sigh.

"Who's tired? Not me, ma."

Our pediatrician is recommending the Ferber method and dropping the swaddle ASAP. Like literally, she told me to just not swaddle him again. We're umm, not going there quite yet. My goal is to transition him to his room and slowly begin the swaddle transition after he's been in his room for a week. At this point I'm trying to decide between transitioning with the Halo (one arm out, then both arms out, then sleep sack) or transitioning with the Zipadee. I swore I wouldn't buy a ton of baby crap, but it appears that the fastest way to get me to purchase baby paraphernalia is to promise me good sleep. I'm also starting a night time routine this weekend. I was hoping to have a really simple night because between bottles and cloth diapers our evenings are already full, but I think for consistency I'm going with a bath every night, followed by lotion/massage, followed by a bottle, and then a book, and then bed. I'm hoping the book will give enough time for his bottle to settle and his reflux meds to kick in so that I can lay him down "drowsy but awake." Little Butt definitely needs to learn the art of putting himself to sleep, but with reflux, that has been really hard.

morning stretches

Likes: Garrison really like music. He likes when I sing ridiculous made-up songs, so I do that a LOT to keep him happy. He also likes baby toys that play music. It's been pretty fun to watch him fall in love with sounds. Out of desperation I turned on a Baby Einstein video on my phone one day when we were stuck in Atlanta traffic. I didn't let him see the screen, but just the sounds of bees buzzing and ridiculous sock puppets beeping and squealing at one another instantly shut him up. Such a fun thing to watch. I admittedly use that a good bit now that I know it works, especially when I'm getting ready in the morning.

Jammin' to some morning tunes

He's also a BIG fan of laughing. I thought he smiles were the best thing ever, but then he laughed and I almost died. His laugh is the cutest thing in the whole wide world. In case you missed his sweet little laugh, I'm posting the video here. It's that good. It deserves a double dose of social media exposure.

Dislikes: I still feel like I don't really know what Garrison dislikes. One day it's laying on his back, the next it's sitting in the bumbo. One day it'll be pacifiers, the next baths. He's a confusing little dude. Most of the time, I just carry on. He fusses, we shush.

"I can't even remember why I'm crying!"

Undecided about: He's suddenly very undecided about riding in the car. This is heartbreaking. I thought I was used to the sound a baby screaming, but oh. my. gosh. Garrison has cried for over an hour straight while we've been traveling on more than one occasion. It's AWFUL. Some days he's fine, but others are just so bad. I used to pretty much bank on a nap in the car, but not any more. Now I have to schedule it to be nap time so he's really sleepy, or get him to sleep, shove him in the car and run for it.

"You're not gonna buckle me in again, are ya?"

Looking forward to: Oh my gosh, I'm like pee in my pants excited... his crib is FINALLY here. We ordered that bad boy on February 14th. I got the call on June 22nd that it was finally, finally in. I can't wait. It's the last piece I've been waiting on for his room to be finished, but it's a pretty key piece. I'm SO excited to go to Atlanta to pick it up this weekend. I'm also looking forward to moving Garrison into his room, while quietly shaking in my boots with fear over how insanely craptastic sleep may get.

Sweet, sweet baby

I'm also really looking forward to the future suddenly. I don't know why, but in the last week or so, it's just hit me. He's ours. Like forever ours. We'll finalize soon. His name will change. He's our son. Suddenly it isn't just about day to day living but I'm dreaming about the future again. I don't know if I can contain my joy over Christmas this year. We may start singing Christmas carols in July. I already bought him his first Christmas present and I cannot WAIT to see his little face on Christmas morning. There's so many other things too. I'm not wishing away the baby days for anything, but I'm so excited for all the growing he has to do. It's amazing to think that there's this whole, big, beautiful life being written just for him. I'm so honored that I get to see the story unfold.

The Sisterhood of Motherhood

Before Garrison came into my life, it felt like there was this members only club, one that nearly EVERYONE got to be a part of, but ironically I could not join. I felt like an outsider forever looking in, pressing my nose up to the glass on the comings and goings of the mom club. Now I'm actually a member of this sisterhood; I'm on the other side of the glass; I can see the inner workings of this group, and I can say this: moms are kind of intense.

I'm sure you've all seen that Similac commercial... the one that had moms boo-hooing for weeks and sharing is across social media. If not, you can see it here.



The commercial first went viral when I was not a mom, when I was still an outsider looking in at this Sisterhood of Motherhood. I remember thinking two things (while not crying in the least): 1- moms can't really be THAT bad because the commercial portrays them as slightly psychotic women with one track minds (i.e. I only care about breastfeeding. Or I only care about baby-wearing), and 2 - I hope it doesn't take a runaway baby stroller to make moms help one another. 

Now first of all, I have to point out that for the last three years of my life, I've lived in this kind of female utopia, at least within the blog world. I know that women are women, whether moms or not, but the infertility community has just been SO supportive of me over the last few years. I know some have experienced hurtful, spiteful comments from fellow infertiles, but I've never experienced it, and very rarely seen it with my own eyes. Rather, what I have seen is a community that is FOR each other, even when we don't necessarily agree. Not everyone agreed with my decision to do IVF, but my sisters still supported me. They loved me for me, and the means by which I tried to start a family were secondary. The same was true of adoption... adoption can be a scary, taboo type of word in the infertility community, and I doubt everyone thought it was the right choice for me to make, but I never heard a word otherwise. I was supported from beginning to end. Apparently this was paradise... in the real world, women often have fangs. 

I also have to add that I was REALLY sheltered from the mom world. Part of that was intentional on my part, as I didn't want to read mommy blogs or parenting books while I was waiting and hoping, and part of it was because I had relatively few really close friends here locally that were moms. So when I was thrown into the deep end, and earned the title of  "mom" in six seconds, I seriously had NO CLUE what was going on. CIO, Ferber, Attachment Parenting, BabyWise... It all meant NOTHING to me. Seriously. I mean I'd heard of "Ferber" sure, but it rhymed with Gerber, and no one hates that, so I had no idea that there was any more to say on the issue. My first (and still only) parenting book was loaned to me the morning I left for Florida. Erika ever so generously packed a diaper bag filled with tons of things I never would have thought to take to Florida. What she gave me was literally all I had at the time. In the bag was her favorite book that helped her with getting her daughter to sleep. I had no idea that this book aligned with a particular parenting strategy, no clue that it was in opposition to other parenting theories. I didn't choose the book because I strongly felt pro one direction or another. Rather, what I heard was my friend, who was a great mom and had already been through a similar process telling me "this book will help the baby (and me) sleep." Well sign me up! That was it... seriously. So you can imagine my dismay when the very act of reading a book stirred up other women (complete strangers) enough to comment. I didn't realize that by reading one book instead of another that I was setting up camp with one group of moms (and apparently giving the finger to others).

My first experience with this came while I was at the hotel in Jacksonville out reading by the pool. It had been a looonnngg day of Garrison hysterically crying for no discernible reason and I was desperately in need of a break. My mom offered to watch him so I could take a breather. I went and sat out by the pool with Erika's copy of The Happiest Baby on the Block, finally finding time to find out what makes a happy baby, because I was obviously FAILING. My baby was the farthest thing from happy. It wasn't ten minutes later when the comments started, "Ooo, you don't want that book; your baby will be so spoiled." And then "I did Babywise (to which I'm thinking what the junk is "babywise?" I'm trying to make him happy... I've got plenty of time to make him wise.) and my baby slept through the night at 8 weeks." It became clear with a little research later that the author of these two books The Happiest Baby on the Block and Babywise are pretty much in direct opposition to one another and that divides women into two camps. There are other books obviously; some are more similar to one, and others are more of their own thing. But all in all, the line gets drawn (on this issue) based on how you respond to and interact with your baby. Camp A FIRMLY believes that you must run (don't walk) as soon as your baby cries and soothe them back into a womb like state because your baby wasn't mean to handle the outside world yet. Your life is drastically altered and basically revolves around baby, BUT these behaviors will help your baby transition into the world and feel safe, protected, and loved. Sounds pretty great to me. Group B takes a very different stance and says that as the parent you handle the schedule and the way your baby interacts and meets the world. They say that by creating a schedule and a cycle of eat/play/sleep, you will help your baby adjust to this new world of days and nights and new stimulation. This group believes that predictability will help your baby feel secure. Also sounds pretty great. Honestly, I see good things about both groups, and don't feel strongly connected to either. But regardless, it's ridiculous to think that someone's choice in reading material lets you know what kind of parent she will be.

There have been several other instances in which I was basically attacked by complete strangers for my parenting choices. My favorite is always the formula deal. I've expressed my interest in and appreciation for breastfeeding before, so while I do understand some of the the thoughts behind these comments, it's just CRAZY that women think they have the right to comment and judge how I feed my baby. "Did you know breast is best, honey? she asks while I try to soothe a hysterical baby in the middle of the aisle in Target by shaking up a pre-measured bottle of formula. I want to say "Well, you see my breast is not best. It's empty. I adopted him. Thanks for bringing up a sore spot as I stand here in front of a wall of confusing formulas trying desperately to ascertain what the hell is different about each one and which will be best for my gassy, grumpy, sensitive little dude"... just ughhhh. I've even had women try to enlighten me about inducing lactation. Seriously? He was like ten weeks old at the time. We're not starting the absurdly hard and long process to induce lactation with NO guarantees that it'll work and NO guarantees that two plus months from now, he'll even understand the concept of breastfeeding. The idea that milk comes out of boobs would be news to him, let me tell you.

Those are instances directed at me, but I've seen so many instances were moms jumped on other moms for their parenting choices. I joined a Facebook group that I knew NOTHING about except that a local friend recommended it. When I was sent the guidelines by the group leader, I remember thinking that she was a little intense, but nothing particularly stuck out in terms of the type of group I was entering. Now when I go back and read it, it's so clear, but to novice me in the first week of parenting it just sounded like a group of moms in my city. What I didn't know is that when you move into one camp, you find friends, companionship, and help in navigating through parenthood... that's the really great part of a group like this. The less desirable thing that comes with planting your flag in one camp or another (at least in my opinion) is that you find a lot of women talking about how "the others" are misguided at best, and bad parents at worst. Really!?!?!

The group I joined believes in "gentle parenting" and apparently that means things like gentle discipline, extended breastfeeding, baby wearing, co-sleeping, and low intervention birth. The truth of the matter is that this is probably not the right group for me. I do believe in gentle discipline, but extended breastfeeding to me would mean a year and I get the feeling that's not what we're talking about here (not to mention, I'm not breastfeeding at all. See above). I do think baby wearing is nice, but use my stroller just as much. I don't want to co-sleep at all. I've never wanted to, but now that I have a squirmy, hot, grunty baby, co-sleeping sounds like hell. And low intervention births? Yeah, when I was a teenager watching a thousand episodes of A Baby Story, a warm bath, bouncy ball, soft music, and massage looked glorious, but the me who has lived through four years of infertility? Yeah, she'd be going with the absolute safest means necessary with every doctor on call or present in the room. Let's just go ahead and have an entire hospital staff on call and waiting just outside the birthing suite in a state of the art hospital with a Level Four NICU team standing by. That's how we'll roll if we ever birth a baby. So admittedly, I don't really agree with everything (or even half) or what's being said in the group, but it's been enlightening (and disheartening) to see the conversations that take place in this private group.

In one situation, a mom, who to me sounded like a first time mom, struggling with a fussy baby, and desperate for sleep, posted asking if anyone had experience with Babywise. I doubt she knew the flood gates that she would open with those few words, but she was all but crucified. It got so heated that the leader had to cut the comments off (which then pissed more people off). The behavior of grown women was so absurd all because a fellow mom asked a simple question. I felt absolutely awful for this mom. I'm sure she just didn't understand that to this group "Babywise" is the exact opposite of "gentle parenting" as many of the women in the group align the practice of cry it out with child abuse. In my opinion, that's a gross over simplification and generalization. I know a lot of moms who have used the teachings in Babywise and all of them are rock stars. Not one of them is abusive. None of them allowed their babies to become dehydrated for the sake of keeping a schedule. They all have happy, healthy children. Calling these friends abusive parents without even knowing them simply because they chose to allow their four month old baby to fuss in his crib for half an hour would be like calling baby wearing moms abusive for risking their child's muscle and bone development by wearing them too much.

Similac made a cute, satirical commercial about a real serious issue to me. Moms are drawing lines left and right and claiming with extreme passion and authority that THIS is the way to parent. The issues are wide and deep and ever so divisive. Everything from traditional weaning vs baby led weaning (or never weaning) to cloth diapering vs disposable diapering. And holy moly, don't, for the love of God, mention stay at home moms vs working moms. Just about every parenting decision appears to be reason enough to go to war if you find someone who does things differently than you. It's frustrating. As a woman, and now a mom, I want us to be better than this.

Truth be told, if I could parent any way I wanted to and everything I tired worked (ha), I'd wear my baby for ease and comfort, but I'd still have and use a stroller because OMG my back and have mercy- boob sweat. I'd breastfeed my baby for nutrition, but also for the lack of a billion bottles to clean. I'd work part time, maybe 3-4 hours a day, enough to allow me to feel productive and have adult interaction while allowing my baby to socialize, and also giving me the freedom to spend more time with my baby (and get more done at home). I'd hold and snuggle my baby for hours everyday, because the snuggly baby doesn't last nearly long enough. I'd have a loose schedule, one that allowed for variation and freedom to go and do, while still helping me predict the day and keep order. I'd have my baby sleep in his own room in his crib, as co-sleeping scares the dickens out of me, and room sharing means tons of baby junk all over my room, and crappy, disjointed sleep for me. I'd let my baby have a paci because self soothing is important to me. I'd cloth diaper because yay Mother Earth and yay my wallet, but I'd also hire someone to clean my house every few weeks because laundry is a full time job. I'm not one type of mother. I feel free to pick and choose the things that I enjoy and that help me be a better mom. 

In general, I think moms are doing the best that they can. Parenting is hard in every stage of life. I have three thoughts on why moms react and behave antagonistically towards one another. First, I think many moms are looking for validation. They want to feel good about the choices they make. When someone chooses differently than they do, they can feel defensive, but really they are just feeling unsure of themselves. I'm guilty of this one. I don't typically respond at all, but I've caught myself numerous times feeling defensive of why I've made choice X and not Y. My second hypothesis is that moms over-zealously want to share what worked for them. They want it to come across as helpful advice, but we all know that "helpful" advice, be that on parenting or infertility is rarely helpful. A good rule of thumb is if the person didn't specifically ask for advice, they are probably not seeking yours. And lastly, some moms are unfortunately just jerks. They are mean, spiteful, and use harsh words towards other moms out of a sense of power and authority. Let's be real. Moms are people first, and in every people groups, there are jerks. Moms are no exception. But in general, I think moms are trying their best; they just fail to appropriately love on one another, especially if that "other" has made different choices.

I for one am claiming now that I will not engage in the "mom wars." If you want to wear your baby twenty hours a day, cool... that's between you, your pediatrician, and your physical therapist. If you want to breastfeed in public until your kid is four, that's fine... I'll probably avoid you during snack time, but in between, we can hang out. If you want to feed your baby formula rather than breastmilk, go forth... many a baby has been fed by far weirder and worse things than a can of formula. Let's call these things what they are: parenting choices. It's not abuse. If we want to talk about abuse, all you need to do is turn on the news and you'll find plenty of real cases of child abuse to get fired up about. Let's decide to use our voices as females, mothers or not, for good. To bring awareness to things that we're passionate about, to help others in need, and to build one another up. There's enough out in the world trying to tear us down. We don't need to do that to one another. Let's agree to help a mom out before the baby stroller rolls away.

Dreams Really Do Come True

In a lot of ways, my life feels like a dream. Who is this beautiful blue-eyed boy that I get to snuggle with each day? Literally, in the blink of an eye, my life changed forever. I don't think my mind has completely caught up with my reality. My life has suddenly become a dream come true, and I constantly find myself thinking "this can't be my life." I used to think that same thing, but in terms of infertility and our journey, as in "this can't be real... crappy eggs at 25 years old?!?" Now, I think the same thing, but in amazement that my life is so freaking beautiful, it hurts my eyes. (And if that wasn't unbelievable enough, I can't believe it now takes me a week to finish a post... this tiny little thing got started on Monday, annnnd it's Friday Saturday Sunday now.)

This past weekend was a dream come true as well. My sweet, sweet friend Suzanne came to visit all the way from Indianapolis!

Suzanne and I first started emailing each other over two years ago, and well, y'all know my feelings on how amazing she is. I had already been thinking that I needed to get up the guts to fly (I'm terrified to fly) to Indianapolis after she gets home with the boys when I got a text from her about super cheap flights to Atlanta. Suzanne has flown into Atlanta multiple times but always as a connecting flight, not as a destination... you would have thought with alllll the traveling that she does, it would have happened within the last two years, but no. So we made it happen.

It was a wonderful, wonderful weekend. And one that has a surprisingly happy and optimistic feel for two girls that were in REALLY different places this time last year. While it would have been lovely to drink margaritas and talk all night about how miserable infertility is, it was particularly special to talk with my sweet friend about BABIES. And the best part is that there were no weird feelings of wanting to be happy for her while squashing down the tinges of jealousy. Life is just dang good for both of us right now, and after coming through everything that we have, it was nice to celebrate what has already come to pass and plan and hope for the days ahead.

Her trip was very brief... just one night and then back home to her husband, but it was a sweet, sweet visit. I can't wait for Suzanne's babIES to arrive so that she can fully experience the joy that is in my heart. It's really, really beautiful to cross these bridges and start our families in the same year. So thankful for the history that brought us here, but SO excited about the future for our families.

I May Never

Motherhood is life altering... that's obvious. It's not about you anymore, or you and your spouse, there's this other person now. And in the infant days that person relies on you for everything. It's amazing and beautiful and I wouldn't change it for the world, but I'm coming to see that there are quite a few things I may never do again (sort of kind of only half kidding). I'm not complaining at all, it's just kind of funny how you can wake up one morning and realize that its been months since you did something you used to semi-regularly to often.

First up, read a book. Certainly not a hardback. That requires two hands and I have two hands available to me almost never. Even driving, I'm going one handed most of the time, as I have perfected the art of holding the paci in his mouth as we travel down the road. I may dislocate my shoulder, but my ride is mostly quiet. But reading... are you kidding me?!? If I did have the time to read, I should be reading parenting books. Four months will be here in the blink of an eye and I need a plan for sleep! We've had hit or miss days where I think, "oh my gosh it's happening" only to be followed by the worst night of sleep ever. We need help in this department. I know it, and I know I should be researching it, but see above. Not to mention all of the other stages that I'm ridiculously unprepared for. But the truth is, if I scrounged up enough time to read and I had both hands available, my thoughts would be "SLEEP!!!! Oh God, have mercy let me sleep!" rather than "hmm, I wonder what's new on the bestseller list." My only real hope to read would be during the middle of the night feedings when I'm typically scouring Facebook on my phone for anything that might have changed in the last three hours. Seriously, help a mama out people, post something interesting at 2am! I could use this time to read a kindle book on my phone if I was desperate, but really, I'm only desperate to go back to sleep!

Along the same line, I may never read the Bible, have quiet time, etc. ever again. I'm not in anyway saying that I was perfect before Garrison. My prayer life has been crappy for a number of years, and I haven't been good at journaling or keeping a notebook in over a decade. But I was occasionally reading a new book or devotional and at least attempting to read the Bible for a few minutes each morning. 90% of the time, that was something super small and quick like She Reads Truth or 1,000 Gifts Devotional, but still, it was something. Now, I just can't imagine ever getting back in the swing of things and feeling relaxed and undistributed enough for it to mean anything. I don't want to do it just to check a box, I want the time to matter. However, She Reads Truth just launched a new series today on Women in the Word. I'm going to give it my best shot, acknowledge that "quiet time" might happen at 3am in a semi-coherent state of oblivion, and give myself lots of grace.

And lastly, we may never have sex again. The whole "once you adopt you'll get pregnant" thing... yeah, about that. Who are these people who are so relaxed and stress free after adopting that they have ample time to roll around in the sheets all day? In my opinion, having a baby (whether through birth or adoption) is about the best birth control there is. Anyone else? Am I alone in this? If on the off chance there was a period of time in which neither of us were rocking, soothing, feeding a baby and there was nothing to do like wash bottles, or fold clothes, or make dinner, or remember that we have two pets, I can almost guarantee one of us (or both) would rather be sleeping than having sex. The infertility blog world has suddenly become awash in ladies that find themselves mysteriously pregnant after years of infertility after bringing home their first child. I am am now far more baffled by this than I was before Garrison. I'm not sure which is the greater miracle... the pregnancy in light of infertility, or the fact that they found time to have intercourse. Unless you tell me that you all got pregnant on the VERY FIRST TIME you had sex again after bringing your little one home, I am just so confused. You had sex enough to get pregnant with a three month old (or six month old, or nine month old) in the house?!?! I stand here truly amazed at your wifely and motherly skills of keeping it all together without abandoning your spouse in the mean time. Amazing. Kudos to you girls (whether you got pregnant from it or not!). High five and fist bump and standing ovation from me.

So yeah, life looks pretty different the last few months. I think I have permanent dark circles under my eyes from my little rebellious sleeper, and I should probably take out stock now in Boing concealer. However, in my opinion (you'd have to ask my husband if he agrees on that last one) these are the SMALLEST sacrifices EVER to get to wake up to the greatest gift I've ever received. If I never have time for myself again for the rest of my days (which I'm sure will not actually happen), it will be worth it just to be mama to this beautiful baby.