The big G

Big G little g, what begins with G? Not only goats with goo goo goggles, but GIARDIA.

Hopefully this explains the 7-8 poopy diapers a day around here! Little dude has giardia. He tested negative back in December, but positive this month. I sure hope the antibiotics work the first time and we see some changes in the volume of poop around here. To say that much poop is crappy - is an understatement! The jury is still out as to whether he brought it back from Africa and just tested negative or picked it up eating out of Jackson's bowl. (This is not a behavior I intentionally allow, by the way...)

I had giardia this fall after our trip to Ethiopia and it took me 3 months to get rid of it. While the 10-pound weight loss was great, the jumping up and running out of meetings and pulling into random gas stations and fast-food joints every few hours was not. Incidentally, for me, the 2 rounds of antibiotics didn't even phase the buggers. I finally found relief working with a holistic doc who hooked me up with super Artemisinin (the active constituent of the herb sweet wormwood) to kill it off. Worked like a charm.

Good news - it hasn't kept the pork chop from gaining weight, that's for sure...

Airplanes, tractors, meltdowns and quite a debut.

I'm writing from the air somewhere above mid-America en route from Atlanta to Denver. We went to Jackson, Mississippi this week for a visit with family and Samuel's official debut into society in the South. The flights to Jackson were awesome. While prepared for the worst, the little dude surprised us and slept the entire way to Atlanta, then hung on for the 1-hour flight on to Jackson and played in our laps. A meltdown started to ensue as we were waiting to de-plane in Jackson, but a sweet and very observant mama a row back intervened just in time. Thank you, parents of the world, for your help at the most difficult times! I promise to pass it on. 

The second day in Jackson brought with it a very grumpy Samuel. We did get out for walks and that helped. His big thing right is any kind of motor vehicle, for which he chirps in his high voice: "tractor" with glee, while wildly and very seriously trying to make sure we see whatever plane, car, truck or tractor in view. Even in our books and flash cards he points out trucks and cars with much drama, while nearly ignoring things like kittens or fruit.

Terry's parents friends had an absolutely wonderful party for Sam, and everyone got to meet - or at least see the new grandson. There were probably 50-60 people who stopped by in the 2-hours. The little dude did really well for about 90 minutes. And mama and daddy were worn out chasing Sam around a beautifully decorated, non-baby proofed house with a few one-step transitions from room to room. IE - steps for Sam's favorite hobby - mini-cliff diving without a parachute. Between avoiding the crashes, soothing him after the crashes, keeping him occupied and away from the steps (not successful at all) I didn't get to visit with too many people, unfortunately.

But again - just as the meltdowns started, a few amazing mamas stepped in at just the right minute with distracting books, snacks or to take a quick stroll outside. Again. Thank you, you amazing people who have done what we are trying to do and offer such simple wisdom and support it turns my heart upside-down! 

There was one really funny bit - although I think Sam and I were the only ones who noticed it. When Sam started to fuss one of the wonderful mothers gave him a book (he loves books) that has buttons you can press and it says colors associated with pictures of things that color. So, Sam and I sat in a chair - and read the book. It became a bit of a receiving line - people streamed by to get a look at him since he was semi-still. And, all of these wonderful people happened to be white. Samuel being Samuel was very much taken with the talking book. And, especially, for some reason, with the "black" button. So while streams of wonderfully nice and lovely and white people pinched his cheek, Sam was pushing the button: "black!", "black!", "black!", "black!" over, and over. I was laughing so hard on the inside I could barely contain myself. And THAT, people, is my son.

I had to leave today to get back to some work stuff. Terry is staying another few days with his family who are becoming enchanted with Samuel despite the 18-month old fussiness we've recently developed. At the airport this morning, Samuel screamed when I closed the door - and reached for me. I'm hugging Terry goodbye, and see Sam through the window screaming and crying. OMG. I felt awful. Absolutely fricking awful. I know, parents have to leave their kids sometimes. But I'm the mommy - and I feel, after his first year of so much transition, I shouldn't leave. I'm sorry pork chop! The guilt. The guilt

Happy Mama!

I guess this makes total sense, but I hadn't thought of it until just now. Samuel is learning to feel in all kinds of ways. In addition to showing his opinion when he's frustrated, he is also starting to show love. And it just makes mama melt! He will come up and grab my legs, he likes to be carried a lot (mostly to see what's happening up high, I think) and he lays his head down on my chest while I'm holding him sometimes. It makes sense that if he trusts us enough to show us he's pissed off, he can trust us enough to show us he loves us.

Samuel - we're so proud of you, baby boy! You're so brave and so strong. So funny and full of life. And we love you more each day. Thank you for learning to trust us as we take this journey together.

Mama + Samuel + Jackson on Easter

Just doing one of our favorite things together - reading!

Bubbles are fun, daddy!

Peek a boo!

The Arch

No, not this one:

Or this one:

I'm talking about "THE ARCH". The one where the little brown toddler throws his head back, arches his back, screams his opinion. Yup. The arch has arrived in the Stone household. We knew it would come. And here it is. The first sightings were in the past week when we took away things said toddler was throwing. Yesterday was the most spectacular viewing yet when we took away the "car" and firetruck" flashcards to bring the little pork-chop to the table for dinner. Arched back, arms flailing, tears, screaming, and the eventual head on the floor. Guess he really likes those cards. The incidents have only lasted a few seconds, and the subject's attention can be quickly diverted. But we know that the arch will be with us for a while, and will be come more, uh, persistent in nature. The kid has opinions and he's more and more willing to share. (Again, my husband and parents remind me often that this is my biological child. Pffffffft.) I'm overwhelmed with the multitudes of parenting advice on how, exactly, to deal with the arch.

Samuel continues to be doing great - he's still a mimic, always "talking" with about 10 words now and double as  many "Sam words". He still loves books, following us around, going to the playground and throwing things. He's currently progressing with peek-a-boo and now covers his mouth instead of his ears (getting closer!). He greats all passersby with "hiiiiiiiii!!!" and a big smile. He's learned to say "boo" since he loves being scared. We sneak up on him when he's not expecting it and say "boo!". His eyes go wide, he falls on his butt and dissolves into giggles. Sometimes, after we put him down at night, there will be silence on the monitor, then... "boo!" He's really into "this little piggy", which often becomes a diversionary tactic (see THE ARCH, above). This little piggy went to the market:

Spring has sprung, and we're spending lots of time outside. It unusually warm and dry - so we have lots of exploring to do. Just as road rash from one tumble on the cement heals, another crash happens, usually when he insists on stepping off the curb on his own. He's a happy, active and funny little guy. Our Samuel: loves to learn, loves to smile and laugh, loves to explore - and very proud when he's learned something new, like: "this is my head":

Mama, well, I'm another story. I had my first business trip this past week, and I am still recovering from being away from Sam. I have such guilt, and while we always knew I'd be the primary breadwinner, I'm struggling with how little time I have with the pork-chop. I had a bit of a breakdown when we went on (our second since he's been home) date last night - so much so that we almost turned around. But my sweet husband had so thoughtfully planned a fun night out. And our wonderful friends Tracy and Dana, his aunts, were excited to be with Samuel. So we went. But we decided that being out of town, then having a date night in one week out is just too much for mommy. So after we got home, it was a double-header, and I took him out of the crib twice for mommy time - him sleeping on my chest - wondering the whole time - do you know I'm holding you? Do you know I'm your mommy? Do you know everything is ok?

I've decided, also, that we need to tighten the reigns back a bit on other people holding him. We had planned on being super diligent the first year of him being home in terms of who holds him, as all of our books and adoption friends have advised- to help build connection to us as mommy and daddy. Since he's so social we've relaxed a bit. But while it's good that he's so happily social, I need him to continue to learn that I'm mommy.  So, I've pulled the sling back out for more carrying time, and we're spending lots of time with him in my lap reading and playing "piggies" and learning our flashcards. While he's not a cuddly guy, he loves those things in my lap, and tolerates the sling (mostly because he's into everyone's business, and he has a better view from my hip than from the floor...)

So on we go. Building a family. I have to remind myself that attachment is a long process, and that the dishes and floor can wait. After all, despite how amazing he's doing, he's not yet been home for 6 months.That's less than half the time he lived in an orphanage. We have much work to do to let him know we're here to stay. I guess it's like anything else, adjust, move forward,  maybe even take a step back. Adjust. And so on.

This pup.

Many times in the last year or two I've sat down to write about my love affair with this pup. But each time, before I get very far, tears blur my eyes so I can't see the screen. He is simply the most unconditionally loving and gentle soul I've ever experienced.

Jackson has been my best friend for almost 10 years. I inherited him when I met Terry. At first - we didn't click. But over the years he's become my hiking buddy, my couch buddy, my confidant and my love.

It's hard to see your pup age. He has trouble getting up. His muzzle is more and more white. I know that the addition of Sam has been hard on him most of all, and it breaks my heart to have made such a profoundly hard change to his life in his late years. He wags less, he goes away to find a quiet place more. I'm sorry, fluffernutter.

So: to my pup for the time we have left: I promise to love on you every day, punkin pie. I promise to take you swimming when it's too hot to hike, and take you hiking when it's not, puppernuter squash. I promise to scratch your chin they way I know you love it, furry. I promise to pay attention to all that you've tried to teach me (and I've mostly avoided), Flurry McFluffersston. I love you, pup. Thank you for everything you bring to our lives.

I will close this post with a note from a fellow dog lover, my good friend Ross, who recently wrote me a note when I was feeling sad about Jackson aging. (Please read with a British accent):

He's a grand old man, and getting grey around the muzzle as he helps the next generation grow up grounded and balanced. That's the badge of honour for a dog, and he wears it well. It's natural, it's doesn't feel good, but it's how life is. His life has built up to helping Sam come through. Don't believe in heaven or hell, but I do believe in a big dog park in the sky. If it ain't there, I don't want to go.

March 22, 2011

One year ago today, we got the call.

On March 22, 2011 at just before 2pm, I was in my office at work, giving a yearly performance review to one of my team members, Lisa. My cell phone rang and I glanced down at it - feeling guilty because I know it must annoy Lisa that I'm such a chronic multi-tasker...especially during a review. I saw the area code was "503". Within 1/2 second the following went through my mind: "Hmm, that's the area code of the adoption agency." Hmmm. "Maybe it's a customer from Oregon, and not the agency?" Hmmmm! "Do I answer?" Hmmmmmm? "Good Lord, Anne - it's Lisa's review for crying out loud, Anne - focus! Just ignore the call, it has only been 2 and a half months since our paperwork was submitted. We'll be lucky if we get a referral by July." HMMMMMMMMMMM. "But wait - I really think it's the agency!! - I have to answer!"

(Background - we had worked out the "communication plan" prior to the call - keep in mind - this was back when referrals were coming much faster than they are today. The agency had a policy that they'd only call my cell phone if it was THE CALL. They didn't want to get parents all excited every time their cell phone rang with the agency's number. So the plan was that the agency would call mommy on my cell phone for "the call" when we got a match, and we'd conference Terry in.)

Back to the call, my phone has rung 3 times, I must make a decision! I said: "Lisa - I'm sorry - but I think this is the area code for the adoption agency. I have to answer this." She nodded.

Now. You have to know Lisa - she is a wonderful and caring person - and foremost an amazing mom. AND - she worked for me when we started the Nepal process, and was physically with me when I got the news that Nepal had shut down. She was already a part of our adoption story, and about to become more so...

(AND HERE'S THE GOOD PART!!)

So I answered. And I heard in a singsong voice: "Hi Anne, this is Tammi! We need to get Terry on the phone!". My jaw dropped. My body froze. I knew that instant that this was THE CALL. I looked at Lisa. I remember her face: hopeful. I teared up, and barely uttered "Are you telling me we have a referral?" (And I tear up writing this.) "Yes, she said, I am." (OMG. Emotions raced through me that I can't explain, but I remember vividly.) She continued: "I'm going to go on the other line and call Terry."

The following things all happened within 3 minutes: I started crying. Lisa started crying. Of course the agency disconnected me. I told Lisa - who was nearly as emotional and in shock as I was - that I needed a minute. Lisa left. I put my head down on the desk for a minute and cried. I picked up my cell and called Terry. No answer, of course. I called him again. No answer. I called a third time and he answered with a bit of concern in his voice: "Is everything ok?" I blurted out: "We got a referral!" I was sobbing and he couldn't understand. "What?" He said? "We got a referral", I tried to repeat - but I couldn't talk. I tried one more time: "Call Tammi, and call me back. We got a referral". His response "What??!! Oh my God. Really? Well what did she say..." Me: "TERRY CALL TAMMI AND CALL ME BACK!!!" I hang up on him for the first time in our relationship.

I crawled up on to my desk to be closer to my window since I don't have good cell reception in my office. FINALLY my phone rang - it was Tami. Terry was on the line. She said: "Well, what do you want to know?" "EVERYTHING!" I responded. So she told us that we were matched with a little boy, 5 & 1/2 months. And his name is Samuel. She told us pictures are on the way. OMG pictures - we get to see him, NOW? My hand was shaking as tears streamed down my face and I clicked on her email. And there he was. The most beautiful, tiny little guy. His eyes were, and still are, piercing - alert, aware and saying "I'm here, world. I'm here, Mama! Where are you?"

The rest of the conversation is mush to me now. I just stared at the baby boy on my screen. I remember, as Terry asked details, saying "I have to go!" and hanging up. (I laugh at this now. That is so me. Immediate action, I had to go prepare for this baby.)

I went to Lisa's office. I told her we had a referral. I didn't tell her that he was a he, or anything else, but I said that I had to go. She hugged me, we both cried more. I don't cry at the office as a rule - and in a miracle I saw no one else during this time. And I will always chuckle that Lisa knew about our baby before Terry by a few minutes. She'll forever have a place in our story.

I went to my car and called Terry back. He told me the additional information about where Samuel was from, etc. We agreed we'd call our families that day, but would wait to tell anyone else and wouldn't update my blog for a while. We called families.

I remember so clearly. I remember bursting with joy. I remember needing to get to Terry as soon as possible. I remember needing to make lists, organize and prepare. And I remember looking at Samuel's pictures every few minutes and reading the paperwork over and over. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life - that call.

Yee-haw!

Giddy-up cowboy! With the beautiful weather over the last few days, we've had some great time hiking and going to the playground up the trail from our house. It's so nice to be outside!

Samwell (how we pronounce his name - the Ethiopian way) is continuing to thrive. He's such a walker now! Our baby has become a toddler seemingly overnight. It's amazing how when he started to walk, not only his world, but his little body just stretched out. He seems taller/longer. He's a good sleeper, we're lucky and we know it will probably change. At night, I pull him out of his crib for cuddle time while he's sleeping. I lay with him on my chest for :30 minutes or so. He sleeps right through it, but somehow I hope he knows his mama's holding him, and that it's making up for lost time... it's my favorite part of the day. He's too busy to cuddle much during the day, so this is "our time".

Samwell's new-found walking and freedom has resulted in road rash on his forehead, and more than one busted lip. Despite the blood - he's such a super-happy and super-busy little guy. Besides walking, his other favorite past-time is throwing things. Mostly blocks and food. So, we're working on this... it's ok to throw a ball for the dog, and throw soft things. It is not ok to throw sweet potatoes at the wall or blocks at your dog. The learning continues. On both sides.

Meanwhile, mommy is adjusting to being back at work full-time, which has gone well, I just miss the little dude. I'm about to start traveling for business again - so I'm a little worried about that... And daddy's business is doing well - more than expected new projects coming in, so we're having to re-think having Sam in daycare or with a nanny more than we'd planned for his first year home. Samwell is a total extrovert, so that might not be such a bad thing. We're thinking of having him with the nanny - who also takes care of 2 other little ones, for 4 days a week, (only 5 hours a day), instead of our original plan of 2 days a week. The good thing is that Terry is right next-door in his office, so he's not far away and checks in on Samwell a few times a day. But oh my...the guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

I guess that's what it's all about. Adjusting and altering course as we go. And letting go of the guilt.