Chookooloonks

Why adoption?

So, as we wait for our birthmother to give birth, I thought I'd answer the question that everyone's wondering, but some of you are afraid to ask: why adoption?

Well, for starters, the following are NOT the reasons we're adopting (and yes, people have actually said these to us at one point or another):

1. "Well, you're obviously adopting because you're afraid of losing your figure." -- Are you kidding me? I'm 36 years old, for heaven's sake. My figure started sliding down the back of my legs a decade ago.

2. "Well, Karen, I totally get why you're adopting. I mean, you have a great career, why ruin it?" -- Okay, this is just insane. If I were so focused on my career to the exclusion of everything else, I'd probably not have kids at all, whether by adoption or otherwise. Besides, I work for a company that, in its infinite wisdom, chooses NOT to give paid maternity or paternity leave to adoptive parents. So it would actually be EASIER, job-wise, if we chose the more traditional route of having children, rather than adoption.

3. "Oh, Karen, I'm so sorry. Obviously, you're adopting because you're unable to have children." -- Again, wrong answer. I have no idea whether or not I can have children -- we haven't tried. Marcus and I picked adoption as our first choice to grow our family. It is entirely possible, if we decide to have more kids, that we'll go the more usual route the second time around.

4. "Oh, Karen, I'm so sorry. Obviously, you're adopting because Marcus is unable to have children." -- See answer to #3, above.

5. "Wow, Karen -- it's nice that you can ignore the fact that as a wife, it's your duty to bear Marcus' children, and adopt anyway." -- I won't even dignify this one with a response. Except to say that last I checked, I'm pretty sure it's still the year 2004.

Okay, so why did we adopt? Well, because we love kids. And Marcus and I each have adopted members of our families, so we always thought adoption was a really cool way to grow our own family. And, well ... that's about it. Pretty simple, really.

Top Ten Things to Do While Waiting for Your Birthmother to Give Birth

10. Shop online. Do you have any idea how many cyber-baby-stores there are on the internet? I do. There are 3,438,238. I've used them all.

9. Answer e-mails asking: "Is the baby here yet?"

8. Wash online purchases in Dreft. What is Dreft, you ask? Well, it's the clothes detergent that has been around for 40 years, entirely due to its amazing marketing campaign which states that if you don't wash your child's clothing in Dreft prior to her wearing the clothes, she will break out in boiling sores and seeping pustules. Luckily, Dreft smells wonderful, so you don't mind. You know that lovely baby smell? It's not the baby. It's Dreft.

7. Answer phone messages asking: "Is the baby here yet?"

6. Build up baby-advice book library. They're so helpful. Apparently, we're supposed to (a) never let the baby cry, but always pick her up, (b) never pick the baby up, but let her cry, (c) don't feed the baby cereal before 5 months, (d) feed the baby cereal before 5 months, (e) etc., etc., etc.

I want my money back.

5. Catch up on sleep. Actually, this is what people tell you to do. Like somehow, by having 10 hours of sleep per night before the baby arrives means that you can stay awake non-stop for days on end listening to a colicky baby after she comes home. I'm a well-educated woman. I don't buy this.

4. Answer people who pop into your office asking: "Is the baby here yet?"

3. Argue whether or not a baby wipe warmer is TRULY necessary.

2. Answer total strangers who pass you in the street who ask: "Is the baby here yet?"

And the number 1 thing to do while waiting for your birthmother to give birth:

1. Pray that the birthmother doesn't change her mind.

...during...

So this is our (future) daughter (assuming all goes well at the birth and at placement) at her 7-1/2 month ultrasound. In this picture, she appears to be reclining on her back, with her head turned toward her left side, facing the viewer. In theory, you should be able to make out her right cheek, her right eye and perhaps her lips. I'm hoping the lighter spot in the middle of her face is her hand -- 'cause if that's her nose, it looks like she's been in a fight.

Hey, you shoulda seen the other guy.

Anyway, I have this picture in a frame on my bedside table, and I often stare at it trying to imagine what she'll look like on the outside. It's very strange to see this little yet-to-be-born life, and know that she's my (almost) daughter -- she doesn't quite feel real yet. What will she be like? Will she be funny, like her birthmother? Will she have beautiful hair? Great big eyes? Will she be smart? Artistic? Moody? Cheerful? Will she be shy? Confident? Outspoken?

I spoke with her birthmother today -- she's been scheduled to be induced in exactly one week.

Guess I'll find out about her soon enough.

Before...

... we were (are) "Marcus & Karen." "Karen & Marcus." Just the two of us. Just a couple of newlyweds, kinda doin' our own thing, not responsible for anything except our own personal hygiene. We go out to eat whenever we want, take trips whenever we want, we lie in bed all day if that's what we want to do. Our marriage is great, our jobs are great ... life is great.

Then, a few months ago, I had a bright idea.

"Marcus," I said, "I have a bright idea. You know how perfect everything is? Why don't we shake it up a bit? We need a baby. Whaddya think?"

And the silly man agreed.

So tonight, as I write this, my phone is three feet away. I'm glued to the phone, you see, because we're on the verge of adopting. The birthmother who chose us to parent the little girl currently gestating away in her womb is about to go into labour any minute now. We've already had one false alarm a week ago, when we raced to the hospital to meet her, only to be told to go home, it's not time. She has contractions on a daily basis.

And now we're petrified.

Luckily, we have good friends. Friends who give advice like:

"You're life is SO going to change. Enjoy each other now, because this could be the last time you get to do so."

and:

"Do you guys have ANY idea what you're getting yourselves into?"

and:

"You don't need much sleep, do you?"

and my personal favourite:

"It's going to be a nightmare." (This from an 11-year-old boy. I would love to know what this kid knows that we don't.)

So, here we sit and wait with bated breath, wondering why we chose these people to be our friends in the first place, and even worse, contemplating the possibility that they may be right. Still, common sense says that if parenting were so horrible of an experience, there wouldn't be 6.4 billion people on the planet, right?

Right??