Pampers and Paklava

What if I’d never adopted? Three ways being a mom changed my life

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What if I’d never adopted? This is a question I’ve asked myself on more than one occasion, usually after a really tough day with my kid or when I hear my kid-free friends are embarking on some exotic vacation. First I feel envious, then I feel conflicted. I chose this path, right? Not only chose but struggled mightily even when the forces seemed against us. I chose to become a mom when I was well past the age most people become parents, old even by standards in the world of adoption where people opt for single parenthood or decide to adopt after experiencing years of infertility. I was, and I am, at the age when most people want to travel the world, immerse themselves in new hobbies, and hang out more with friends without the “inconvenience” of a child. Hiking in the Himalayan Mountains? Sipping Sauvignon blanc at a bistro in Paris? A quiet weekend at home with my husband? Sounds pretty fantastic until I consider tossing my five-year-old into the mix.

Baby

What was I thinking does indeed cross my mind when someone asks: “Have you done the math?” which I’ve been asked on more than one occasion, like somehow it never dawned on me that I’m 10-20 years older than most of the mamas with kids my daughter’s age. In hindsight, I confess many of the scenarios I envisioned will not be possible, at least until our daughter is older and maybe never (though I try to banish the thought) because of some of her personal hurdles. Taking a cruise down the Rhone River with a kid who gets antsy five minutes into a car ride may not be the best idea. Biking through Burgundy? Well, first she has to learn to ride and then what to do with her while we’re putting down a few glasses of Pinot?

Yes, I know lots of families travel all over the world with kids in tow, pursue new hobbies while their toddler sleeps and squeeze in the occasional date night. But part of being an older parent means most of our relatives who might watch our child while we go off on a romantic weekend are gone. School schedules preclude lengthy excursions and it might not be long before hobbies compete with homework.

This said, I frequently take stock of things I’ve done (and do!), places I’ve gone, and people who are my close friends and realize most of it came about because we chose to become parents.

  • Travel: We made six trips to Armenia with lengthy stopovers in Paris, Amsterdam, and London. How many people go to Armenia, right? Not to mention those travels were the reason I started Pampers and Pakhlava in the first place–thank you Wanderlust and Lipstick! And we still travel, albeit to less far-flug locales and many times with less-than-favorable results (Go the F**k to Sleep! Sorry Mom.)
  • Friends: Many of my friendships in Seattle and beyond exist because—and only because—I decided to become a mom. Had I not walked down the path to motherhood, I never would have sought out the moms group in my neighborhood. I started going to the monthly Mom’s Night Out a couple years before I officially obtained the mom title. Although the founding group has long since disbanded, there are a few of us who still relish that night each month when we head out to Central Cinema, order adult beverages and eat too much popcorn. A number of my friendships are with other adoptive moms. We’ve bonded over stories of our journeys and some of the unique challenges our kids face.  I have friends who hoped to adopt and then didn’t, mom-friends in general and close friends who are not moms and never will be. But most of the moms I know, I know because I became one.
  • Hobbies: I’ve always loved taking pictures. Along with gardening, birds and being out in nature, photography is one of the hobbies that sustains me. But I would not be one of the Mamas with Cameras if I wasn’t a mama myself. I have learned so much from these women. They challenged me to try a 365 Project, answer my many random questions, and are an ever-constant source of inspiration. Just like Mom’s Night Out, I was a regular at their monthly meet-ups before we adopted our daughter. I remember how hard it was, at the end of each meeting, when moms would pass around photos of their kids at a time when being a mom was just a glint in my eye.

Would my life be equally rich had I not become a parent? I’m absolutely sure it would be, different of course, but I know there would be outlets for my passions, close friends and activities I love. I would travel, though it’s unlikely Armenia would have been on my itinerary. But I definitely would not be the person I am now, which is why—for better or worse—I’m grateful this is the direction I chose when I came to the fork in the road.

dolls

It’s all about the journey,

Beth

Our 3rd Family Day!

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On March 19,we stood before a judge in Gyumri to ask if one 11-month-old baby girl could join our family. The selfie we took in our hotel room, all gussied up right before court, gives you a good idea of how we were feeling. We look a tad anxious don’t we?

Our family of two before Armenian court

If you’ve never been in our spot, try to imagine being in front of an authority figure, who doesn’t speak your language–in fact almost no one in the court speaks your language–and you are asking permission to do one of the most important things you’ll ever do in your life. Daunting, isn’t it?

I know I was nervous and Big Papa had some seriously sweaty palms as we held hands and waited to be ushered into the courtroom. Inside there was a judge, a representative from Little Bird’s home province, a representative from our adoption agency (who sat on the sidelines), and our translator.

We had a prepared statement describing why we wanted to adopt this particular Armenian child, and how we planned to care for her. Our agency’s representative had also forewarned us the judge or the representative from our daughter-to-be’s province could also ask us questions off the cuff. Gulp. After we took our oaths, my brave husband stood and presented our case before the judge.

Three [nerve-wracking] days later, on March 22, we went back to the courtroom to get the news. We found out the judge was sick that day. Oh no, we worried, how many more days would we need to wait before we heard her decision? A few minutes later, our representative returned and told us the judge had already signed our paperwork and acted favorably on our request.

“Congratulations,” he said to us. “You’re parents.”

I started crying.

“Why are you crying? The answer was yes.”

It’s hard to explain all the feelings swirling inside me at that moment. Here we were–finally. The culmination, legally anyway, of more than three years spent the throes of the adoption process–the “crazy train,” as Big Papa often refers to it. Five trips to Armenia, referrals found and lost, mountains of paperwork.

This is a picture of us shortly after we left the courthouse–legally parents. We certainly look more relieved than we did three days ago!

Our first photo as parents

After a celebratory lunch and a walk through Gyumri’s open-air market, we returned to the orphanage to share the good news with Baby Bird. Here we are, our first photo as a legal family. She doesn’t look all that pleased. Not that I blame her. Who are these people? Why are they hugging me so tightly? Did they bring any snacks?

In Gyumri and a legal family

Take the road less traveled, Beth

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Our family turns 2!

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March 22, 2012

Gyumri, Armenia

Mother Armenia Gyumri

Snow and ice covered the ground and temperatures hovered near zero. We spent the morning trying to distract our minds from the wait, the wait to find out if the judge would grant us permission to adopt one tiny 11-month-old baby girl.

Our driver took us to see Mother Armenia. Fitting considering the circumstances.  We climbed the stairs and stood in her shadow. All of Gyumri lay spread out in the distance. We were, literally and figuratively, standing on the precipice of parenthood.

It felt surreal then and it feels surreal now when I remember that day, and everything that led up to that day. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Years of waiting.

Then we got the news. Tears of joy? Yes, absolutely. But also relief, bone-deep relief that we were–finally–parents. And some sadness too, that my father (who passed away, literally two months to the day and hour we became parents) would never know how everything came together, would never meet his granddaughter nor see us as a family.

I also thought about how this decision would impact our daughter–our daughter–sometimes I still marvel at those words. Too young to understand that we were about to become a family, these two people who spent a few weeks playing with her.  Strangers, really, who were committing to a lifetime of nurturing and guiding her…as best we could.

Family

Here we are, two years later. Older, grayer (though leaner and more fit!), maybe a tad wiser, more lines from the stress and frustration that comes with parenthood. How do we handle this? What do we do about that? Navigating things we never dreamed of when we thought about what it would be like to bring a child into our lives.

And here she is. Baby Bird is no longer a baby, but a toddler, growing bigger, stumbling and learning, thriving. Bringing laughter and discovery into our home in ways we never imagined.

The three of us 2014March 22, 2014

Happy Birthday to us–Our family turns 2!

Take the road less traveled, Beth

Half her life

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orphanage We recently crossed a very important milestone. Baby Bird has spent half her life with us: ten months as a member of our family following ten months living in an orphanage.

I’ve heard that adoptive parents should expect to see the biggest jumps in growth when a child has been with their family longer than they lived in an orphanage. In a literal sense this is true for our daughter. When we brought her home ten months ago, her height and weight fell in the 10th percentile as compared with babies in the U.S. Today she is in the 60th percentile.

There is no doubt Baby Bird is growing by jumps, leaps and bounds. Her hair, once a downy transparent fringe is now lush and curly. Cooing and baby babble have been replaced by an impressive vocabulary and three-word sentences. Yesterday I saw her perform a somersault on her own. She knows the difference between her belly and her nose, a snake and a zebra, and a fork and a spoon (though she still doesn’t use either very often).

But the biggest and most meaningful jumps are those that the casual onlooker would never see, and that most people—who have not adopted children, especially children who have spent time either in an orphanage or foster care—might never understand.  For the past few weeks, Baby Bird has begun to tuck herself tightly between my legs when we first enter the daycare at the gym. Many mothers of a 21-month-old might not notice this or wish their child would be less “clingy,” whereas I relish these moments because they tell me Baby Bird is bonding to me.

A week ago she nestled her head into the crook of my neck and let her body sink into mine while I held her and danced the waltz in a movement class we take together. This simple gesture brought me to tears because it meant she felt safe and comfortable in my arms, that she trusted me, and maybe even loved me.

Ten months later, she is less likely to climb into a stranger’s lap, take someone’s hand at a park and walk off, or scream when Big Papa leaves the room. Most of the time, I am now the only woman she calls “Mama.”

That is why hardly a day goes by when I don’t think about what her life would have been like if she continued to live in the orphanage for another month, five months, two years or more.  No matter how good the conditions were (and Baby Bird was very fortunate to have her own crib and be in a clean environment with access to medical care), and no matter how loving those nannies were (and most were caregivers who truly “cared”); an orphanage is not a home and nannies are not a family.

Ten months ago our daughter had neither. Today she has both.