More This and That

DH was listening to the idiot Octomom 911 tape when listening to Howard Stern last week. I haven’t heard it yet, but DH said that is was maddening to listen to because she was completely off her rocker. Screeching and wailing, freaking out, but the worst was when the idiot said that she was going to kill herself… in front of the other children! The 911 operator had enough presence of mind to tell her not to say that in front of her kids. What a freaking nutcase. Those poor children!

 

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Why do people ignore their dogs? Barkbarkbark in this neighborhood for hours on end, all over the place. WTF? And I don’t get mad at the dogs—not their fault—but their stupid owners’ fault. Stupid people.

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I hiked for nearly an hour in Pima Canyon on Thursday morning, about elevenish. I was astonished that so many people were there. More importantly, I don’t believe that the South Mountain trails are really too kid-friendly. Lots of jagged rocks poking through the surface after all the rains this winter, a constant incline, no shade, etc etc. Are parents really so stupid these days?

 

No, wait, don’t answer that.

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I got my hockey pants in the mail today. I have to return them. They just won’t work; my ass is just too fat and they’re made for men who put the waistband of their pants below their beer (or Warcraft) bellies. Not surprised.

 

Today, I went to the hockey shop (Behind the Mask) near my house and a really nice guy helped me size a helmet and adjusted it for me, and even gave me the proper size of face cage. I also bought gloves. I’m about ready to go.

 

While we were chatting and he was adjusting my helmet, I asked him if the new facility in Queen Creek has been good for them. He said yes, actually, it has. There’s been more movement, more demand, more interest in this area. I later told him that for me it was a wash – I’m dead between the two facilities (see previous discussions of) and CSC has the baby leagues I need for now.

 

I said that it should be looking up – I see more and more kids and adults blading around, more than I’ve seen for years. Sports associated with inline skates invariably follow.

 

My clinic starts Tuesday. I’m excited but apprehensive. Am I ready? No. Am I anywhere near the shape I need to be in for this? Hell no. Doing it anyway.

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Earlier this month, The Young Victoria premiered in London. In this movie, the real life Queen Victoria’s great-great-great-great granddaughter (hmmm wait *mutters* Victoria, Edward, (g) George, (g-g) George, (gg-g) Elizabeth, (ggg-g)Andrew, (gggg-g) Beatrice… OK, good), Princess Beatrice–colloquially “of York”, properly “of Great Britain and Northern Ireland”–had a cameo as a lady in waiting. Princess Beatrice has the bug eyes of the Hanoverians and actually very strongly resembles a portrait of Queen Victoria done when she was in her twenties. Anyway, there was good reason for this royal kid to be there.

 

Here are Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie flanking their mother at the premiere:

 

 

 

(Photo: Entertainment Press/Splash News)

 

These girls are the granddaughters of the Queen of the United Kingdom, nieces to the recently-awarded Best Dressed Man (Prince Charles), and have access to the finest stylists and clothes in the world.

 

So WHY IN THE HELL ARE THEY DRESSED LIKE CRAP???

 

This isn’t the first time, and for criminy sakes you would think they’d learn. These young ladies are twenty and eighteen, supposedly somewhat sophisticated, and old enough to know that you don’t wear crappy off the rack items (or things that look like them) that fit poorly and/or make you look decades older than you are. Eugenie’s too young to wear something that makes her tits look like they’re already migrating south like a sixty year old, and Beatrice looks ghastly in that shapeless piece of crap. Their mother has learned to dress well, and their Wales and Phillips cousins dress beautifully. So why the horrible choices? Damn.

 

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 Check out my recent entries at Meant to Be, my sister blog. Things are moving along.

Getting Ready to Jump Into the Deep End

For the past several weeks, I’ve been loath to bug DH about finishing up the adoption paperwork. He’s now a head honcho and trying to unravel the mess of things to do in his new job. Now that things have settled down, we sat down and went through all the paperwork and got all the 178650 pages that needed to be signed. Now all I have to do is copy things and send the packet off.

I left a message with the social worker attached to the adoption agency we’re working with, telling her that I had a question of definition on one thing, and that on Tuesday I’d be dropping the packet in the mail. When I hung up, I couldn’t help but smile.

At dinner, I couldn’t withhold my glee. Now and again I’d grin and quickly clap my hands in suppressed excitement. Finally, things have settled down enough to actually DO IT.  Elated and hopeful, I’m scrutinizing the paperwork to make sure we didn’t miss anything. I’ll make copies tomorrow and YEAH BABY! WE’RE ON OUR WAY!!

YEEHAAA!

*SPLOOSH!*

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The hot topic of these two weeks has been that trainwreck who has 14 kids via IVF so that she’d “have someone to love me.” On welfare and food stamps, dependent on her parents, she’s had plastic surgery and is banking on the media frenzy to finance her piss poor choices in life.  And you know what she’s going to do if (when?) she gets money? More plastic surgery and more IVF, and therefore the increase in both her Angelina Complex and more litters of children. She’s apparently quite proficient at doctor shopping. She also appears to be adept at fraud.

She doesn’t care for the six she already had, the grandfather has to go back “to the Iraq” (ha) to finance the care, and the grandmother is tapped emotionally and physically.

What pisses people off from all walks of life the most is the fact that the taxpayers are paying for this completely screwed up chick and her children.

I’m elated that the gravy train hasn’t reached her! She needs serious mental help (a chronic liar with security and other issues), and her children need to be placed with families–yes, plural–who can actually care for them.

I really don’t want to type her name; she disgusts me. Octomom’s nicknames include Octard and Octopussy, and there are other rude nicknames floating around out there. I don’t think there’s a word strong enough in the English language to fully reflect the negative backlash in this situation.

I don’t think there’s a single person out there dealing with infertility and loss whose nerves aren’t humming with indignation and rage. I certainly don’t have the money for one, let alone how many she’s had (allegedly financed through a workplace injury settlement, but since she’s incapable of keeping her stories straight, who knows), so between her and her unethical doctor I know I want to fire them both out to outer space.

 

There is only one party I feel truly sorry for, and that party is those poor children, every single one. Not only are the older ones’ formative years completely screwed up, the octuplets will always be a curiosity and the recipient of all sorts of opinions, good and bad. I hope CPS gets involved, pronto.

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So a new week is here. Tomorrow is a half-day, a compromise with the boss. I’m going to go for a nice long walk and enjoy this wonderful weather. The system is finally moving in from California and the temps have dropped to levels appropriate for February. We’re supposed to get rain and up north they’re supposed to get more snow. It’s looking like it will be a great week!

Adoption Questionnaire + Commentary

Cruising through various blogs and sites about adoption, I ran across this questionnaire. I think some of the questions are a little off the wall–probably because they’re just badly written–but I played with it and am answering it here with some commentary.

Why do you want to adopt?

Because there was never a time when children weren’t a part of the dream, because I have always wanted children, to be a mother, because I never dreamed I would be unable to have my own.

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the highest, how badly do you want to adopt?

Between a 9 and 10, without being kooky or obsessive about it.

Who is the driver of wanting this adoption? Will this cause conflict?

1. • Me (definitely)
   • Me (a little bit more than my spouse)
   • My spouse/partner (definitely)
   • My spouse/partner (a little bit more)
   • Both want to adopt about the same

Will this driver/driven dynamic cause conflict in your relationship?

It shouldn’t. Actually, DH was the one who brought it up first, but his timing stunk: he was suggesting it too soon after the ectopic, and I was still too raw and unhealed and terrified. It took me quite a long time to come back from the dark side of that particular moon, and now we’re in tandem on the topic.

What age child would you prefer to adopt?

1.  
   • Newborn (under six months)
   • Infant (newborn to 2)
   • Preschooler (3 to 5)
   • Primary school (6 to 10)
   • Middle school (11 to 14)
   • High school (15 to 18)

How firm are you on the age selected above?

DH leans toward an older child, I lean towards the younger. Both of us agree that age four would be tops for the first child, so that we get a year to prepare the child for school.

Which of the following disabilities would you be willing to consider in an adoptive child? (Select all that you would consider)

• Drug exposed (occasional)
• Deafness
• Mild or medically correctable condition
• No drugs or alcohol considered
• Non-correctable (cerebral palsy, retardation etc.)
• Alcohol exposed (occasional)
• Alcohol exposed (frequent)
• Smoking exposed
• Emotional/mental disorders in family
• Emotional/mental disorders in child
• Premature birth
• Multiple birth
• Club foot
• Cleft pallet or lip
• Downs Syndrome
• Epilepsy in child
• Epilepsy in family
• Blindness
• Diabetes in child
• Diabetes in family
• Conceived through rape
• Conceived through incest
• Nothing known about father
• Nothing known about mother
• Sibling group

(I can only answer for myself at this moment… I need to send this to DH for consideration and discussion)

Which of the following racial heritages would you be willing to consider in an adoptive child? (Select all that apply)

• Any Child
  
• Arab/Middle Eastern
  
• Asian
  
• African American
  
• Caucasian
  
• Caucasian/Asian
  
• Caucasian/African American
  
• European
  
• Caucasian/Hispanic
  
• Caucasian/Native American
  
• Eastern European/Slavic/Russian
  
• Hispanic or South/Central American
  
• Mediterranean
  
• Middle Eastern
  
• Multi-Racial
  
• Native American (American Indian)
  
• Pacific Islander

This is one of those icky questions that no matter how you answer it, you’re labeled a racist by some people. To me, the two answers covers the gamut. Another one where God will lead us.

Which gender would you prefer in your child?

• Girl
• Boy
• Either

DH was set on a boy back at the beginning; he’s probably changed his mind by now. I couldn’t care less what gender.

Would you consider twins?

• Yes
• No

Do you feel you are stable in your relationship as a couple without having children?

Yes, absolutely.

Which friends and family members would you want to tell about your adoption plans? Which would be supportive and which would not?

I’ve already discussed this with my dad, who was initially sad and resistant (he supported medical intervention), but came around. I have also told a couple of close friends. I have not told my siblings. DH has mentioned it offhandedly to his folks, but I don’t believe that they have actually discussed it. I don’t think he’s told any friends, but I’m not sure of it–it’s not really a guy thing to discuss.

What level of openness are you willing to consider with birthparents?

• Completely open adoption
• Open adoption with reasonable boundaries
• Exchanging letters and photos only
• Completely confidential adoption

Yes, I am that insecure. Full stop.

 Would you be willing to comply with specific birth family requests regarding child rearing (such as religious instruction, name or schooling)?

• Yes
• No

 Where would you be willing to go to adopt? (Select all that apply)

• Only in our state
• Neighboring states
• Anywhere in US
• International

Both DH and I agree that we’re going domestic. See my other posts for rationale.

How much time will you take off work during and after the adoption?

I would say it depends on the situation. Because he has an upper-level management job, he’ll be able to take off some time, but not a lot. Personally, I’ll take off what I have to. See the related question further down.

How much money would you be willing to spend on an adoption?

I will tell you what I won’t do: destroy our finances. DH and I are being pretty smart about it, and have already started a little fund for it.

How much economic hardship would that cause?

Hopefully minimal; see previous question.

When and how do you feel children should be told they’re adopted?

• As early as possible / preschool
• Mid- to late-childhood
• As adults
• Only when they ask
• Only when they find out
• Never
• Not sure

I’m not going to make a big deal about telling the child; I am reading about adoptive parents being nutty about this issue. It’s something that will not be hidden, but neither will I tell the kid before it can talk. The time will present itself. I’m not worried about it.

Would you support/assist your child if he/she wanted to find, contact or have a relationship with his/her birthparents?

• Yes
• No
• Don’t know

I’m comfortable with that; the child(ren) will have my blessing. There are adoptive parents threatened by the thought of the adult child looking up their birthparents; while it’s scary, I’m not threatened by it. As far as I’m concerned, an adopted child has a right to try, and if the parents are receptive to a relationship, then the child’s life (and probably ours) will be all the richer.  If the birthparents don’t want the contact, then the child has at least tried, and has a partial answer, at least.

Many adoptive parents have ‘dry runs’ before they actually adopt. How would you handle an adoption that matched with you but did not end up placing?

It’s hard to project something I’ve never gone through before. Heartbreak, anger, frustration and so on would give way to acceptance and the hope that the next match is the one.

 Will you or your spouse change your workload outside the home after the adoption?

1.  
   • Yes, I will stay at home with the child
   • Yes, my spouse will stay at home with the child
   • I will reduce my work load to part time
   • My spouse will reduce his/her work load to part time
   • Will remain the same
   • Already stay-at-home

Ah, here’s the second part to that question above. This is up in the air.  Depending on the circumstances, I’ll either reduce my work hours or stay home for an extended period of time.

What do you feel you could contribute to a child?

What does one say that doesn’t sound trite or old? A stable, loving home; parents who are still crazy about each other after ten years together; adoring grandparents; extended family on both sides; a happy circle of friends. Parents who believe in a great education, believe in freedom for the to be anything he or she wants (we have everything from artists to lawyers to contractors to military to firefighters and so on from both sides), and believe that a child needs a solid foundation in their home life for success. DH and I want nothing less than the best we can offer a child.

What aspects of childrearing are so important to you that you would find it difficult to compromise (such as discipline, religion, schooling, stay-at-home parenting, etc.)?

This is one of the weird questions that I feel is not well-worded. Taking the question in the spirit I think it’s intended, let me just say that DH and I are very much on the same page. We agree on religion, discipline, education, manners, etc. I don’t know that there’s much to compromise on.

Are you ready to love an adopted child as much as one you gave birth to biologically?

• Yes
  
• No
  
• I think so
  
• I don’t know

To me, this is a DERRRRRRRRRRRRRR question. If someone is starting the adoption process, then at some point they have presumably asked this question of themselves. For me, it’s a no-brainer.

Would you prefer to continue with infertility treatment before seriously pursuing adoption? If so, why?

This is an irrelevant question in our case. I made the decision to not pursue treatment. It’s not just the money; it’s also the emotional and physical hardship that has no guarantees. God knows there are enough children who need homes.

Deep down do you feel like you are being forced to adopt if you want to have children, adoption as a means to build a family is “second best,” or that adoption is your “last resort” if you want to be able to have children?
(If you answered yes to any of these points, there is a very good chance that you have some significant unresolved issues relating to infertility that you might find beneficial to address and resolve prior to adopting.)

Wow, what a loaded and rude question. Necessary, I suppose.

The answer is no… hell no.

What is the ideal adoption situation for you?

Another loaded question, though I don’t think that there’s a wrong answer. “Ideal” would be hopefully decently prepared with minimal SNAFUs. It can be a stressful thing, with lots of potential for stress and I’m aware of that.

Ideally, how many children would you like?

Two minimum, three at the most. Let’s cross that bridge when we get there.

How long are you willing to wait to adopt?

1. • Up to six months
     
   • Six months to 1 year
     
   • 1 year to 2 years
     
   • 2 to 3 years
     
   • However long it takes

 To me, this is another bad question. One’s going to put a timeline on a forever thing? Let’s just say I have put it in God’s hands. One has to recertify every few years anyway. We’ll be sending in the application to the agency after this holiday and go from there.

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I’ve been looking for DH’s birth certificate for months now, and I hate it when things I can’t find turn out to be in front of my face. It was in a blue envelope in the steel box. I knew it was around, because we needed it for the marriage license six and a half years ago, and he got his passport not that long ago, so it was here. Good. Cross that off the list.

I’m nervous and excited.

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I wish every one of my lurkers (I know you’re out there, the counter tells me so) a happy, healthy and joyous 2009.

What A Day Already

It’s 9:15 and I’m still steaming from when I came in the office door 45 minutes ago. I walked in this morning to find my desk completely rearranged. You want insta-ballistic? Rearrange my desk after I’ve been gone. And I was only gone one day. ONE DAY.

I’m at school on Wednesdays. Boss, I think, has File Clerk sitting at my desk when I’m not here. File Clerk drives me insane anyway; she made me lose my temper for the first time in forever last week. I don’t know if Boss got in a snit, or she got strangely anal, but the files on my desk were moved to the cubbyhole in the shelves behind my desk, papers were put in places I’d never look, certain mail date-stamped that shouuld never have been stamped, and all my required clutter (stapler, tape, etc) were nowhere near where I left them on Tuesday afternoon when I went to night school. For the first time in two weeks, File Clerk didn’t leave the stamp pad out, but the rearrangement really pissed me off.

(found out it was Boss that did it. DON’T DO THAT!!! I don’t do it to your desk!)

So that’s how my day started.

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There’s only one good thing that came out of my Warcraft account being hacked a week and a half ago: I’m back in touch with some old pals. One who slipped through the cracks is “Carl,” who about fainted when he saw me online earlier this week. “Where have you been?”

I haven’t played for fourteen months until last week. I’m already bored again. When Blizzard completes their “investigation” (ha, ha), then it’s uninstall and suspend time again. It’s a nice place to send your brain, but I really don’t have time for this these days.

But getting back in touch with Carl has been a godsend: his eldest was adopted, and he was excited when I told him that DH and I are looking into adoption.

We had a very nice conversation last night–not only did he tell me of his travails with his soon to be ex, but he gave me all sorts of practical advice when it comes to the initial phase of adoption; I forwarded his email to DH. While he stirred up some concerns, he belayed concerns in other areas, so that I’m going into tonight’s appointment in a much more informed frame of mind than previously. I feel better armed for the discussion.

Growly and pissy, that’s me today: from my little world being rearranged, to being worked up about tonight and working through DH’s reactionary stonewalling about adoption. I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t want to, but the practical turn of his mind dwells on the financial. Like I told Carl last night, there are people who have done more with less than what we have, so I’m not as wrapped up in the things he is.

 

Send good thoughts and prayers our way.

I Know He Means Well…

I’m on the phone with a process server and another line rings. It’s my dad. He’s been thinking about what I had said about my issues with getting pregnant, and he wants to know how much testing costs, because he wants to know what he can do to help money-wise.

God bless Dad. I know what he’s thinking; he wants me to have my own child. Believe me, I’d rather have my own. However, it’s been a long row to hoe these last several years, and the decision to look into adoption was not an easy one, as it comes with a non-negotiable helping of surrendering one’s dreams.

Trust me–if my body wasn’t working against me (and now age), I’d be happy to pop out four kids in a row. No doubts about it. If my body hadn’t gone against me, I would have had my first kid within the year after we were married. How do you argue with that bitch, Cruel Fate?

Because his call was bad timing (rejected writs are never fun–can’t wait to tell Boss about it. UGH), I told Dad that we’d have a discussion over lunch one of these days, and I’ll give him facts and figures. I then turned around and made an appointment with Dr E, the hero of four years ago.

I never did tell him the other day that we have an appointment with the adoption agency this Thursday. I wasn’t in the frame of mind to discuss that matter at that moment.

Back to work. More later.

Confession Session 3, Part 1: The Barren Place

DH and I had a wonderful conversation about a heartbreaking decision on the night of July 18, 2008.

 

We went to Mucho Gusto to get out of the usual rut at what we call Cannery Row (the strip of restaurants near our house). Tired of the same ol’ same ol’, it was nice to go there. They do serve all organic food, and tonight they were on their game. The chicken enchiladas were to die for. My margarita left a bit to be desired, but it’s okay. It served its purpose.

 

We were talking about this and that, and a subject that had broken my heart came up. After four years and nothing doing, I’m finally comfortable with the idea of adoption.

 

Now, for a little background:

 

I am the barren daughter of what is congenially called a “fertile myrtle.” Dad would barely look at Mom and she got pregnant. She was twenty for her firstborn, my eldest brother, in 1957. She had a miscarriage in 1958, No. 2 brother was born in 1959, No. 1 sister in 1960, No.2 sister in 1961, No.3 sister in 1962 (she lived only two days) and #3 brother in 1964. Mom, physically and psychologically worn out with the constant childbearing, and with both sets of parents dying, and other family members) after No. 3 Brother was born, went on hiatus. Eight years were to pass before I was born, and then No. 4 Brother two years and nine months and ten days after me. Mom would have had a dozen kids  in a heartbeat, but a) her psyche and body said ‘forget you’ and b) the doctor said “no more” after little brother was born—she was 37, almost 38 then.

 

Funny, in this modern era, women (like me!) work so hard to not get pregnant in our teens and twenties, but when the time comes to settle down with Mr. Right when we’re 30ish, it’s a race with time to get pregnant. Many of us are losing; me, for example. And, if you look around the web, there are a million blogs and websites that deal with infertility. Some blogs are years old, still running, and the ladies are tenaciously hanging onto that quest. Some blogs have happily moved on to that joyful club of parenthood. There are some, though, that have either frozen in time or been deleted because the end result of the quest was too heartbreaking for them to continue, and they have to deal with broken dreams for the rest of their lives.

 

The methodologies differ. Some just needed a medicinal push. Some need extensive, invasive, expensive assistance. Some adopted locally, others adopted internationally. And, honestly, there are some who are content to admit that it’s fate, God’s will, karma, whatever cosmic force they believe in, that they do not have a child or children. There are also some who gained the dream at devastating costs: destroying finances, emotional stability, even marriages. I’ve run across all kinds since that day I learned that my life could be at stake if the ectopic wasn’t dealt with appropriately, and I’ve learned a little from all of them.

 

My personal favorite blog in this realm is smart and snarky Julie at A Little Pregnant; I’ve been lurking on her blog before Charlie was born. I stumbled across her blog in that phase of terror in dealing with an ectopic pregnancy–and as you cruise the comments on her blog, that happens a lot.

 

You name it, she’s dealt with it, including an ectopic. Her first successful pregnancy almost killed her and her son Charlie; her second pregnancy, resulting in another beautiful son who she named Ben, has been blissfully uneventful—I’m pretty sure she was happy to deal with gestational diabetes to be able to have as normal a pregnancy as one can ask for.

 

Every time I’m on Julie’s site, I click the link to So Close on the left hand side, and I read about Miss Tertia’s trials and tribulations in trying to achieve parenthood. She, too, went through heartbreaking tragedy—in her initial ’successful’ pregnancy, she lost one twin in utero, and lost the other from complications of prematurity. Her determination was rewarded by a later twin pregnancy,  and now she has two year old twins, a boy and a girl.

 

As much as I love Julie and Tertia, in my eyes they’re the exception in the general quest for parenthood. They were able to afford the multiple IUIs and expensive clinics and the other methods and byways of assisted reproduction to get them where they are; Julie even admitted as much when she was considering a second child, and went through the egg donor route with great success. I’ve cheered for Julie and Tertia over the last four years even as my own heart cramped in envy. Julie and Tertia have beautiful children that they sacrificed quite a lot for, and they have hearts bigger than Alaska in sharing their stories. God bless them, and bless every blogger in the infertile club.

 

But I am not so lucky thus far. Here is my story.