Life is a Banquet

7x7

I got tagged! 

7 Things I Want to Do without Dying of Embarrassment

1. Ask someone for their contact info
2. Make an important phone call 
3.  Jump into a pool
4. Enter a crowded room
5. Wear a low-cut anything
6. Talk about certain things at the doctor's office
7. Talk to famous/important people 

7 Things I Cannot Do in the Summer

1. Knit a sweater
2.  Visit the midwest/south 
3.  Wear pajamas 
4. Go out without a lot of deodorant.
5. Give up ice cream
6. Drink tap water
7. Eat stew and soup 

7 Things I Can Do which are Meaningless Unless you are still in Junior High

1. Write in a variety of bubbly handwritings. 
2. Blow bubbles and snap my gum.
3. Fold orgami notes
4. Write great theme papers
5. Paint faces
6. Make a great "babysitter's box"
7. Make straw pipets

7 Things Which Attracted Me to My House

1. The kitchen--newish and rather large
2. All the 1940's details
3. The dog run
4. The large finished basement
5. The cute landscaping (which we have totally ruined)
6. It was in our price range
7. The windows

7 Things I Say Most Often When I am Crying

1. Why am I crying? 
2. I hurt.
3. I can't do this. 
4. I just want to be normal.
5. I feel awful. 
6. I don't want to lose X
7. i suck. 

7 Children's Books I am Adding to My Own Collection

1. Babysitter's Club books: None yet, but Baggage inspired me to go back to my roots
2. The Gordon Korman series. Classics and his latest work. 
3. Dr. Seuss
4. Harry Potter series--have them all
5. Little Golden Book classics
6. Classic Pooh/Beatrix Potter
7. Artimus Fowl 


7 Children's Movies I Can Watch for the Bazillionth Time Without Wanting to Rip My Eyes from Their Sockets

1. Beauty and the Beast
2. Toy Story 
3. Home Alone
4. Cinderella
5. Monsters, Inc
6. Charlie Brown
7. Harry Potter

I suppose I'm supposed to tag someone now--Gina,  Stephanie,  TSC Girl, and Blogging Through This anyone else want to?  Leave a comment if you put it up! 

What I really meant to say. . .

Kim.Kim has an amazing post up which links to another amazing post about "Dear Birth Mother Letters".  The whole Dear Birth Mother letter is why I ruled domestic adoption out a long time ago.  I was totally skeeved out by every "Dear Birth Mother" letter I read and the sick taste most domestic adoption websites left in my mouth sent me clamoring for other options where I wouldn't have to join the circus of letters and posturing.  Recently though, my research into the politics of adoption, open adoption, and adoptive-child rearing, has lead me to reconsider domestic.  A little.  Just a cracked door. 

Then, I read this post, which says exactly what I have felt for several years.  These two first moms give "Dear Birth Mother" letters a thorough debunking, but also give me hope.   Hope that not all "Dear Birth Mother" letters have to be these coercive dog and pony shows that smack of entitlement and elitism.  I never felt comfortable with domestic adoption because for all our good points, Freak and I are flawed, average people--I struggle with depression, Freak has his issues, we have a smallish house, crazy pets, crazy families. Many "Dear Birth mother" letters feel like a competition, a competition I simply have no desire to compete in. 

But, Kim.Kim gives me hope, that maybe, I can get the courage to write the letter that has been tossing around my head since I first saw a Dear Birth Mother letter.  What I really want to say to ANY birth mother--be it international, domestic, or whatever, is this:

"We are not better parents than you.  We are not any more 'deserving' or 'fit' than you.  We do not presume to declare that we have more to offer a child than you do.  If it is at all possible for you to parent, then we want nothing more than for you to be able to get the resources you need to be able to do that.  Your choice is your choice, and we want you to have all the facts to make a decision free from coercion and guilt.  If, after considering all your options, you feel that adoption is the best option for your child, then we would love to be considered.  Your child needs you in his or her life, and we want to come up with an open adoption plan that meets your needs and your child's needs. We view adoption as a lifetime commitment to have you in our lives as family---like any family there needs to be boundaries and limits, but we would work these out as a team committed to keeping that relationship. We'd love the chance to discuss our parenting philosophies, approach to open adoption, and lifestyle further with you."

I'm not sure we'll ever crack the door open wider to domestic adoption, but if we do, I welcome any constructive feedback on the above--I'm still learning so much about adoption and I'm sure I bungled the words/meaning up in some ways.  "Dear Birth Mother" letters have a lot in common with personal ads--the temptation to lie or present some idealized version of yourself is really great, but my approach to writing personal ads (for myself and others :)) always was to show the real person, warts and all.  Because, really, what you are looking for is a good fit--a person whose flaws are compatible with your flaws, and a relationship you can work with and grow in.  In an ideal world, adoption would be about creating relationships, creating families of choice and circumstance.   

Return of the Bargain Queen

The bargain queen has been in hibernation lately, as we try to get the grocery budget under four figures, and as I funnel all additional resources towards yarn and knitting related obsessions.

But, Saturday, Freak and I hit the road.  It was a pretty good day.  I'd like to say it was magical and idyllic, but I'm still struggling and the day was like a kiddie roller-coaster at the fair rather than the loop-de-loop at Six Flags which was a hug improvement.  So, the bargain queen accepted that she was not at 100%, and she and her king headed off for the Rose and Ram LYS in Independence, Oregon (all stores mentioned are in historic downtown in Independence).  Highlights include: Bookstore, Elk's Sale, and Cheap linens, all below the fold for fellow bargain queens. 

How to be be friends with someone suffering from Depression

For the "What I want you to know" carnival:  I want you to know how to be friends with a person suffering from depression. 

Sometime ago, I read a couple of different posts—“how to be friends with an infertile.”  “How to be friends with a birthmother, etc”  I looked for but I have not been able to find one on how to be friends with someone dealing with depression.  I wrote this because this is what I would like my IRL and online friends to know about what I am going through.  I don’t pretend to speak for all people with depression, but I have tried to account for a wide range of experiences--not all of my examples are my own personal experience.  I would appreciate any linkage you could give this particular post because I would like to help as many people as possible.   

The "I am Getting Help" Mantra

So, if after reading the last post, you came away thinking I needed help, you were in good company.  And, I am nothing if not obedient.  So, I am getting help.  I am starting back with the wonderful counselor who helped me two years ago, and I am working with my doctors to find out what is causing the horrid mood swings.  Let this be a PSA that the first step towards getting help is the hardest.  Once it was done, and the calls were made, I felt so much better.  Medical professionals were telling me that I should not have to suffer like this, and I felt validated instead of plum crazy. 

I have not made up my mind what if anything I will do on the meds front.  I have yet to have the neurological test that Dr. Godlike wants, and Dr. Realist threw a monkey wrench in that theory on Friday, but I am slowly opening my mind up to the possibility of antidepressants or mood stabilizers.  The pros are right: I should not have to suffer like this.  So, I'm going into counseling and meeting with the new Dr at that clinic with an open mind.  My focus right now is on getting better. 

I'd like to say that I made the calls, and the sky opened up, and the birdies chirped and suddenly my world was no longer ending, but that wasn't the case.  What is the case, is that my productivity is gradually inching up again through a two part mantra: "I have a real problem" and "I am getting help.  I am getting help."  This may be my most Stuart Smalley-ist post ever, but this little mantra is keeping me going right now.  Knowing that help is out there, and that I WILL get better has given me a push to get a few things done in the last couple of days.  Things I can be proud of.  There is still a lot of work to be done, and I am wary of this being another upswing with a downside still to come, but I feel hopeful.  I am not alone, I am not crazy, and I am getting help.  This is enough for today.   

Faking it

Somedays, I feel like I am doing a damn good job faking normalcy.  Baggage had a post yesterday that totally resonated with me.  You would think, from all I am doing, that things are going great: I've been gung ho with adoption, commenting at length on blogs, coming up with new things for my students, and knitting like a mad woman.  The truth though, is that it has been a long time since I have been so scared of myself.

I don't trust my symptoms anymore: the strange neurological possibility is lurking over me like a blinking warning light "oh, don't believe that! Oh don't be so quick to write it off as blood sugar or PCOS."  But, it is more.  The mood swings are killing me.  I feel broken and fragile when I can't trust myself for more than hour--this hour is good, the next who knows?   

Every morning is a struggle.  I am tempted to stay on the bus and return home.  I feel fragile and on the verge of tears, then it stablizes, then it gets worse again later.  I am back to napping a lot as a way of coping with the fatigue and physical pain.  My quality of work has dropped markedly, and my writing is once again nil.  The house is a complete disaster area.  The pets are suffering. 

But, I put on my happy face.  I keep trying to find something that will make it okay, that will take away the urge to go back to bed and stay there for a year.  I feel like I am two people.  The okay-me who agrees to do too much, who acts like everything is okay, and the not-okay-me who can't fullfill any of these obligations and constantly fails to meet the expectations of okay-me.  The days when not-okay me drives the boat are rough, but not as rough when okay-me takes over and I have to deal with not-okay me later.  (This is an illustration---I don't really have multiple personalities). 

There is a part of me that wonders how I can possibly think about adding MORE--a kid, more work, when I keep cutting back, and doing what I am doing is a struggle.  The bigger part of me has to believe that things will get better.  That this depression, like the others, will eventually recede to a dull roar.  That I will eventually be able to write and get more done.  When I give up that veneer of normalcy, I fall to pieces and I'm not sure I can find them again.  I get really proud when I push through and I make it through a day I thought I couldn't.  When I give up this facade, like last night, it feels more genuine, but it also feels like I am mere steps away from the vast ocean of crazy that awaits beyond.   

The obvious answer would be to go on medication again--but thing is, I have had these awful episodes both on and off medication.  I was talking to Freak last night and we were remembering how cyclical this seems to be, these "flares" of symptoms.  I have had them off meds, on effexor, on cymbalta, on wellbutrin, and now on more supplements than a major league pitcher.  The other thing is, is it HARD to do what you know you need to do for yourself when you are trying so hard just to keep it together.  It is hard to make appointments, to exercise, to eat like you should when the depression beast keeps winning.  That is part of the symptoms of depression, but it is not one that people talk about very often--people who haven't fought the beast know all the right things to suggest, but DOING them is really, really hard and nigh impossible some days.  Depression is the breakdown of all your self-coping strategies and it makes me angry that I'm not able to keep doing what worked before, what might work now.  This a vicious cycle.   

I want to share this because I know that there are others out there who struggle with depression and chronic illness, and I want to put it out there.  I have to believe that I am not the only person to be so affected by this, to have life derailed multiple times.  I know that I am not the first writer, lawyer, teacher, potential adoptive parent to struggle with these things.  I have to believe that not every week will be this bad.  I won't always have these cycles.  There has to be something that can help.  I have to believe that.   

I wish it were easier . . . .

A commenter over at Dawn's remarked on how "I know for me if I am holding my daughter from China in my arms and contemplating *still* about the moral and ethical issues and my place within it surrounding the social construct of how these children came to be in my arms, I wasn’t ready to adopt."  She admits that she is the type of person to make a decision and never look back.  My god, how I envy this type of person. 

Freak is this way too.  He simply doesn't understand all the jumping around I do.  I spend hours, HOURS on the internet researching each option for us, researching agencies, types of adoptions, issues, and this me *knowing* without a doubt this is what I want to do.  For Freak, x= we are taking classes in September for foster-adopt, we lack immediate funds for IA, wife wants kids now, =end of story. 

For me it looks something more like:

x= Foster adopt ((classes + straightforward process + inexpensive)/(legal risk - no toddlers - substantial health problems - abuse issues))

> = < 

International adoption (Colombia (low fees + young children + healthy/cost of travel -unsafe country- fees still high) OR Guatemala (very young children, home soon/ high fees, risk of birth mother coercion, risk of program closing) OR Haiti (low fees + many kids + no travel/ many ethnic/cultural issues to consider - unpredictable program) OR Mexico (we love program + young children + healthy + doable travel/ risky program, variable to high fees, risk of coercion) OR  X, Y, Z other countries. 

----->  More research. More reading on trans-racial adoption.  More adoption blogs.  More reading.  Redo equations.  Budget stays the same.  Hair is pulled out.  I flip and I flop.  I moan.  I engage in what Dawn's commenter would call "mental anguish."  Mental anguish tastes a lot like chocolate.  For Freak, each option is black and white.  Countries which the US state department does not advise travel in are immediately off the list.  If we don't have the money in the bank account, that is off the list too.  If we have decided that will parent in X way, then we simply shall until it is impractical to do so.  For him, each option is approached in a very practical way. 

I envy him this.  I really do.  For me, if I feel pulled towards something, if my heart says that this is the way, then I try to line all the practical up.  My decision making process is fluid.  I said last night that "I'll see how I feel after the first class."  Freak simply didn't get this---to him, I said I wanted to do this, so what was the issue.  The issue is all I have learned in the meantime. 

But, I wouldn't want to give that knowledge back.   I relish these hard questions.  This is probably why I am the writer and he is the programmer.  I will be considering these issues on an existential level from here on out.  Freak will be my reality check, the practical day-to-day parent while I wrestle with each choice.   I actively seek out more choices just to gum up his well ordered program. Bring on the choices.   

Either/Or

Dawn had a series of posts today that really got me thinking about Freak and my dual approaches to project Kid.  Almost two years ago, I sternly lectured my ovaries about their future.   Over the last year, those early worries have come to fruition.  I have heard words like "premature menopause" thrown around and my hormone levels have been subject to more male scrutiny than other part of my anatomy ever has been.  A few month ago, I had a talk with Dr. Godlike, after a particularly disappointing series of visits with my Endro.  Dr. Godlike basically told me to give up this idea that there would be an ideal time to begin TTC, and that I needed to accept that b/c was likely giving me a false sense of control.

This might not be true for everyone, but for me it really was, and this was a wake up call that I needed to hear.  As long as we kept using b/c, I could pretend that the PCOS wasn't real, that I controlled when and if we got pregnant.  We stopped using protection several months ago, and as Dr. Godlike predicted, nothing changed. The hard truth I had to face was that no matter what else I have going on medically (such as strange neurological disorders :)), I have rather severe PCOS, and most likely, undiagnosed endometriosis as well. 

The various doctors all agree that at 27, I am a decent candidate for any number of treatments, drugs, IVF, etc.  But, Freak and I long agreed that this was not the path for us.  There will be no RE's in our future. I have a mild curiosity about sperm counts, and HSG readings, and the lab results that might result, but I am content to file this in "things better left untouched".  I admit to being a slave each month to the pregnancy test, but this is almost a necessity with cycles as wonky as mine, and medications that might need to be adjusted should the impossible happen. 

I have spent over two years researching adoption, dreaming about adoption, and we have agreed since meeting that  adoption was something we both wanted to do.  As all the health drama came down, I have always felt at peace knowing that adoption was my choice regardless of my fertility status.  In ideal world, I would get to experience both.  In an ideal world, I could do an international adoption, a u.s. foster care adoption, have a baby, and later do a sibling adoption.  Long before Angelina stole it, my dream has always been to have a united nations family. 

Dawn's post though, makes me wonder.  Is a good adoptive mom one who no longer wants to experience a pregnancy?  Would it be best to only have adopted children? To have an absolute diagnosis of incurable infertility before beginning this process? Is it wrong to leave the possibility of a happy accident open? Is it wrong to be a little hopeful prior to each month's Aunt Flo showdown?

Perhaps I would feel differently if we were pursuing domestic infant adoption, but we are pursuing foster adoption at this time, with the idea that International may be an option at some point in the future when money is not so tight.  To me, it feels natural to say that we are going to adoption classes in September, homestudy and application over the next few months, and a very long wait after that AND we are continuing to fly without a net so to speak.  If I get pregnant, I will continue to want to adopt, and I will grieve the delayed adoption a little bit.  If we adopt, if we never have a biological child, I will probably grieve that a bit too. This seems natural to me, but I am really interested in what other people think, what they would do in this situation.  What would YOU do if you were Wavybrains?   

Dear Doggie . . . .

My dearest, darling doggie,

As we approach your 2nd adoption anniversary, and you turned two sometime this summer, I know you are feeling a bit like yesterday's news.  I am such a bad doggie Mama these days, and I know it.  I'm not sure where all the Frisbee's went, or when our last actual walk was.  I'm thinking we last visited the dog park before the earth started broiling a month ago.   

I know this is taking it's toll on you.  The days when I am gone 16 hours from home must leave you dreadfully bored, even if Daddy is there part of the day.  I know this is why you have become Bad Barking Menace and Kangaroo Doggie (popping up and down on the 6 foot fence, desperate to see neighbors, cats, and stray leaves). I know this is why Clanna is threatening to sic the dog whisper on us.

But, look how GOOD you are.  The last major chewing episode (knock on wood) was long forgotten. You can now be trusted with run of most of the house.  You need time-outs very infrequently.  You are, however, INSANE.  Insane doggie, desperate for attention---the UPS man, me on the phone, a visitor at the door.  You test your limits, barking and carrying on, only to go outside and go even MORE insane in the yard, chasing shadows. 

I read an article the other day about how mom's depression can affect kids.  I know this is true for us too.  My slump over the last month and a half has really affected you.  For this, I am so, so sorry. You deserve a lot better.  I want to be that owner for you again, taking you swimming and to your favorite places, taking you for outings together, and appreciating your wonderful doggie self.   

I know, KNOW, that things will get better when it is cooler, when I am less busy, when my head straightens out.  I am so sorry that you have to wait.  I know waiting is your LEAST favorite doggy activity. 

But, I want you to know that the best part of my day is when Daddy brings you to pick me up and I see you galloping towards me.  I know that everyone who sees our reunion is a little jealous.  My heart wants to explode with love in that instant as you do the full body wag and show me your puppy girl self.  I LIVE for that moment.   

You bring so much to my life, and I want you to know that I am going to try harder to bring more to yours!

Love,

Mama   

Sick, more so than normal

So, I have some marital advice:  Just because you CAN send your husband to the store for anything does not mean you SHOULD send him to the store. 

Case in point:  Monday, I came home and collapsed, slept like four hours, woke up sweaty and pukey.  Tuesday: Home sick with the pukey and the sweaty, and Freak asks me if he can get me anything from the store.  This is ordinarily a dangerous, ice-cream laden question.  The mere thought of ice cream sent me running towards the porcelain god.  So, I asked, nay BEGGED for an EPT or something of that ilk.

Freak: "I think that can wait.  Maybe the weekend."
Wavybrains: "Must. Know. Now."
Freak: "What aisle are (whispering) "your things in"? 

So he brings me home the cheapest brand of test known to man.   I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that this store brand cheapy has had false negatives in 9 month pregnant women.  Anyway, no big suprise here when it was negative.   

Freak: "Why do I get you these things when you turn so ugly right after?"
Wavybrains:  "I'm not ugly. (Flapping arms and smashing box).  Really.  Not even mad." 
Freak: "SIGH." 
Wavybrains:  "In fact, I'm relieved.  Relieved that I have the flu.  Can you imagine 9 months of THIS?  No, not ugly at all." 
Freak: "Uh.  Huh.  Right."

Today, however,  flu was evil for the morning, much better this afternoon and still no Aunt Flo.   I,  being  the POS expert, am questioning Freak's dubious choice of brands here. But, for once, I really do think it was the flu.   Next month though, I do the shopping.