A Moment of Pleasure, A Milestone for Me

VeeGee and I have a lot of fun, but mostly it's when we talk in the car (on the way to the doc/therapy/surgery/etc.) or in my half-attention while I'm working. K is the roll on the floor guy. I feel like so much of my life with her is planning and researching stuff for her health care (financial and diagnosis-wise), not quite as much is just play.

Some of that is just me. I have a hard time letting go of all the hooha and just sitting down to play. Some is her. She would really rather watch tv than anything in the world most of the time, and so trying to get her to play is awful.

Anyway, yesterday we baked bread together. It was really so lovely. She's getting where she's interested in and willing to follow directions (still won't eat the final product, but that's okay). I know that seems so small, and so many of you are much better at this part of mothering than I am. But, for me, it was just wonderful to feel pleasure in doing it instead of obligation. Does that make sense? It makes me really excited for the summer! She's doing Extended School Year, but that's only until noon, so we'll have more time to play. And I'm actually looking forward to it. Which is a milestone for me!!!!!

My Thesis Introduction

I’ve been thinking a lot about transitions, about how one thing follows another, about what comes next. And it seems to me that they’re never neat, never tidy, never what I expect them to be. Sometimes the fulcrum on which life pivots is long and slow, a gradual movement from one stage to another. But other times change is balanced on a moment, a tiny, sharp, jarring moment.

I started many of the essays in this thesis before I became a mother, something so unexpected, so utterly catastrophic, that it made everything before seem so small, so insignificant, so self-centered. I suppose that’s what parenthood does to most people. The problem is that my concerns have changed, and as such, so has my writing.

I kept thinking that I could retrace my steps through my work in order to make it make sense in the light of my current life. In some cases I think I’ve done that. In others, I’m not sure.

Because my life is messy and because my conception of myself is also messy, it stands to reason that a memoir of my life is going to be messy. In this collection, I’m wrestling with who I am and how I got here. There are some answers, and there are new questions. In the end, I hope, it’s a good story.

***This has since been totally revised!

Tree Climbin'

The other day, or rather evening, after I dropped my bookbag and computer on the den floor and rushed to VeeGee's room to join K in singing her goodnight, K ruined my night. He recounted his afternoon playing Super Dad and topped it off by showing me a lovely little picture he'd taken of VeeGee - in a tree.

"I was picking up leaves and messing around in the front yard and then, all of a sudden, I turn around, and she's climbed up in the tree! Here, look! Doesn't she look cute? See how proud she is?! She said, 'Hey, Daddy, look me!' and she was in the tree. I'm so proud; aren't you proud?"

Yeah. I'm proud.

See, I'm used to missing things these days. K and VeeGee play games and do art and inspect backflow prevention devices together two or three days a week. And VeeGee and Me? Well, sometimes she sits close to me while I work, with the background sounds of SpongeBob and Diego.

I'm almost finished with this danged thesis, and so, I tell myself, I'll soon have time to roll around on the floor with my little girl, to go to the park in the middle of the afternoon and learn how to hook rugs or something. But, I wonder, will I spend all this presumed "extra" time that way? I really don't know.

I watch K and VeeGee interact and I often wonder if he's got some kind of inside-track to/for her entertainment that I just don't have, or, maybe (and this is the kicker) want. I'm really good at making decisions about her medical care (and that's been a full-time job much of my mother-career), and I'm great at dressing her really cute on a very reasonable budget. I manage her poop cycle with relative success, and I make sure that her teacher never mentions anything that might suggest that VeeGee came "out of my tummy." I research every single hiccup and understand the rare permutations of every potential and real anomaly of her body.

I'm not whining. I'm just wondering. So many of my fellow mom-friends seem to be filled with such delight in their children. And, I do feel delight; I really do. It's just not what I thought it would be, I suppose.

It's Come to This

I really have been writing. Just not here. I'm going to finish this G-D thesis THIS G-D semester if it kills me. And, in between my memoiry angst, I'm writing some stuff for Memphis Parent Magazine. So, in lieu of an actual post today, I thought (inspired by Elizabeth Alley) that I'd make a list of the things that I would have written about had I been writing here.

1. VeeGee started school in August. Her pre-k teacher is awesome (and strict!). I can't believe she's there every day. Crrrazy.
2. I've, as of today, lost 40 pounds (since April). And yet, I don't look very different when I look in the mirror.
3. I went to my second bachelorette party with the same group of girls at the first, about ten years ago. It was fun, but the strippers were icky. I heard tell they put on "crotch cologne."
4. VeeGee has spent the night out twice, once at the great grandparents, and once at the grandparents. She didn't miss us at all.
5. She is still not eating, but she's talking up a storm.
6. We're going through, perhaps, the very worst financial crisis of our marriage. And yet, we're relatively happy. I don't know whether it's denial or just a deep-seated reliance on each other. Probably both.
7. I am feeling really really sad and worried and afraid that I'll never land a job.
8. I'm afraid that our financial situation is going to force us to stay here when we should be moving on.
9. I am both sad and happy to hear that VeeGee is most likely not going to be allowed to stay in the special needs program.
and, 10. I've seen a hummingbird almost every day that I've sat at my desk writing. They're extraordinary. In the future, I will call this the Summer of Hummingbirds.

The Birthday Party - Part III

So, we had the birthday party. Turns out VeeGee has a lot more friends than I had realized. We had about 40 adults and 25 kids on Saturday. AND bmom and bmom's dad (grandaddy) and K's grandparents.

It was AWKWARD. They had never called us at all to see if it would be a good time or anything. I just sent them an invite to the party and left it at that. I needed it to be MY initiation (insofar as I could in this situation). I received one e-mail since then from bmom asking what size VeeGee is now because she wanted to bring her a gift (she acknowledged that I had said "no gifts" but said her friends wanted to send something - they didn't). Other than that, nothing.

So at the party, which was uproarious!, bmom and grandaddy followed VeeGee around like a pair of shadows, for about three hours. And when they weren't following her, they were in her room touching and photographing every single inch of her things (ick!). VeeGee wouldn't speak to them, or really even acknowledge them. BUT that's not strange for her. She's just really not much on people trying to touch her (won't hug my mother, for instance, whom she sees on a very regular basis, I think because my mother wants so badly for her to hug, certainly not because she doesn't like her). They stayed until the bitter end of the party (well, as long as they could since they were riding with K's grandparents).

Sunday was VeeGee's actual birthday. K had told his grandparents (baby brokers that they are) that we were just going to spend the day the three of us, and that we wouldn't be doing any entertaining or visiting. Of course, before they left the party, they asked about what we were doing on Sunday - again. K told them the same thing. So they said, how about Monday. In fact, K's grandfather suggested that I just bring VeeGee out to their house (30 minutes away from our house) and drop her off for the day (something I do occasionally when I'm working on a deadline). Um. Hell. No. Not gonna happen - ever.

Okay, so fast forward to yesterday evening. I reminded K that we needed to call them all to let them sing to VeeGee and to firm up whatever plans there were going to be for today. Come to find out that a dinner party at their house had been planned for five o'clock this afternoon (with no consultation from us). Well, first off, K doesn't get home these days until, sometimes, seven or so. And, second, VeeGee goes to bed at around seven (or as soon as daddy gets a bit of visiting time). So, obviously we couldn't do that. Their idea was, then, for ME to come out with VeeGee by myself. Nope.

We told them (had decided beforehand, actually) that they could come for dinner this evening to visit for a little while. At this point K was pretty angry about the way they were all trying to manipulate us, and he said that they could come from six to seven. Period. After he got off of the phone I told him I thought that was a bit harsh, but he's adamant. So there ya go.

Today he called his uncle to make sure that they knew that they were invited as well and was told that everyone is talking about how little VeeGee seemed to be interested in bmom and grandaddy. As if that's our fault. As if we're doing that.

Ugh.

So they're coming to hulk over VeeGee this evening while she tries to evade them. I feel really bad for her, but I also don't want to say that they can't try to talk to her or whatever. With fewer people around it might be better.

I'm just feeling so out of control, so head-in-a-vice. I can't effing win. Once again it's made clear that these people believe that they should have unregulated access to VeeGee, to our family's time. It's also clear that they do not understand that bmom's position has shifted. She's not VeeGee's mommy. She does have an unseverable relationship - one that I won't deny either of them - but it's simply NOT whatever it is she (et al) seems to think it is.

I'm NOT the babysitter people, not the nanny, not the wetnurse, not the interloper here. I'M VEEGEE'S MOMMY.

I'm almost done (so sorry for the length here). I'm agonizing over whether or not I should invite bmom along to the park in the morning for about an hour before VeeGee's speech therapy session. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe I'll gouge my eyes out, though.

Complete?

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I was recently asked if I finally felt complete since adopting VeeGee. I don't think that children can ever be the thing that makes one's life complete. They're wonderful, really wonderful, but to put that sort of expectation on a child is really unfair, in my opinion. I never planned to adopt - I couldn't have children, and that was that. I sort of moved on. And then. . . . VeeGee!

I don't really know how anyone can say that adoption not the same as giving birth because either they haven't adopted, and have no clue what it feels like to do that, or, they're not (in my humble opinion) very good parents of the child they've adopted.

I mean, clearly, it's NOT the same. But the end result is very much the same in terms of my relationship to VeeGee, I'm no less a mom because I didn't give birth to her and I don't feel any differently about her, I think, than, say, my sister feels about her children. And, oddly, there is an intense mommy-daughter connection that is present, and growing. People even tell me that she looks like me (hahahahahaha) - people that don't know she's adopted. And I, daily, hear my voice come out of her mouth, see my mannerisms played out on her body. It's pretty incredible.

But, adoption is NOT a cure for infertility. Those issues haven't gone away for me. I still feel sad about my inability to give birth (and for whatever reason, my big thing is the loss of the opportunity to breastfeed). It took me a long time before I realized how effing rude it is for people to continue to hound someone about becoming a parent. It's basically asking if you're having sex, if your body works right, if you're a selfish bitch, if you're "too ambitious," if you know that you're weird. Rude.

I don't know why people believe they're entitled to this type of information. People mostly mean well, but I really think that there's some sort of culturally expectation that women should be ready to discuss their biology with everyone. Further . . . I don't think that being a mom is what makes me a woman at all. I'm not NOT a woman because I cannot have a child biologically. And I wouldn't NOT be a woman if I chose to remain childless.

I'm still pissed about the unfairness of it all. AND I REALLY REALLY REALLY HATE IT when people talk to me about "God's Will" in this situation. I think it's very very smug. I finally started telling people that I loved NOT having kids. Sometimes I'd tell them that if I ever had a kid, they'd better start calling me Mary Mother of God. Usually shut them up.

But I'm a mom - no doubt about it. And my heart is full.

Reluctant Poster

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I've been reluctant to post since we got in here because it's been such a roller coaster and I kind of go from feeling whiny to giddy within hours. I really thought we were going home today, had my bags packed and everything. And then the doctor tells me it's going to be at the earliest Thursday before we'll go. I'm so sad, and at the same time kind of relieved. I had been worrying that she wasn't doing so great, but I am sometimes a glass half full kind of person (as much as I try not to be), and so I had pretty much decided that I was blowing things out of proportion.

As of tonight, I'm really glad we're here. She's developed a fever higher than she's ever run and she's been incredibly lethargic all day long. When she's been awake, she's mostly been laying down, and when she's sat up at all it's only been for a short time, like half an hour. I'm trying really hard not to start freaking out. I hear from so many moms whose kids have gone through these things. It's just part of the process. But it's really a challenge to balance my intellectual understanding of that process against the fever listlessness of my little girl. I hate seeing her this way. So cliche, I know.

In the midst of all this I have friends whose kids are going through things far more life threatening, or at least more definitely and imminently life threatening. And they're so generous with their support of VeeGee and me. Truly amazing.

Being in this room, which, fortunately is pretty opulent by hospital standards, is incredibly surreal. I mean, I've heard that it's hot outside, that rain is coming, and yet I haven't been out there. That's so very strange to me.

And these people, the nurses and other staff, come and go and have stuff going on outside of this place that's everything, my world, right now. I guess that seems rather trite to be thinking about, but all of these nurses, or most anyway, are these young cute vivacious girls, mostly, probably more than a decade younger than me. K and I were talking about how weird that is, that these girls are caring for our daughter are about the age we were when we first started dating. And god bless america, I wouldn't have trusted either one of us with a kid's life, like really her life!, for a million dollars. 'Course in our collective hubris (which was amusingly and embarrassingly HUGE) we probably would take umbrage at any suggestion that we were ill fitted to do anything.

And on that lovely reflective note . . . good night.

T-Minus 44 Hours

In forty eight hours, VeeGee will likely be in the recovery room waking up from surgery. I had to take her to the doctor this morning because she's been hoarse the past two days and I was worried that there could be the beginnings of an infection that would knock her out of being able to have this surgery. And we've waited so long for this, agonizing about whether or not it is the right decision for her, agonizing about how the recovery is going to be different this time, since she's so much older and more mobile than she's been in previous surgeries. I'm dreading the time in the hospital primarily because I'm worried about how we'll keep her still enough to get better. She's so wonderfully active now.

The surgery, which is going to be a combination of two different surgeries, a pharyngeal flap and a velopharyngeal sphincteroplasty, is supposed to help her be able to have more productive speech by regulating the flow of air. I've read many accounts of how wonderful this surgery is and what incredible gains children have made after having it. And then I've heard the opposite. It's really hard to know how to choose these things. I mean, darnit, I'm not a doctor, Captain, I'm a writer!

Basically, our approach has been to hit at the problem from every angle available to us: oral motor, regular speech, occupational (feeding) therapy (which we also think has helped her speech), nutritional therapy (fish oil!!!!!), and surgery. I'm sure that at some point we'll have to start picking and choosing, or that we could get to a point of diminishing returns. But we're not there yet, and she's really thriving and her speech improvements pretty much stun everyone every time they see her (not just therapists), even from week to week.

I think that we special needs moms, like other moms, but more so, are kind of like general contractors. We have to kind of know what's going on in a global sense and then find people to execute different parts of the "project" as appropriate to each one's particular expertise. That's one of the problems (and advantages) with medical specialization (which is relatively new). Each doctor has his/her own little special interest, their own little (frequently very narrow) territory, largely to the exclusion of other possibilities. This puts us in a position of having to make decisions that sometimes pit specialists against each other. I just have to hope that it becomes an iron sharpening iron situation and that the one who can make the best, most accessible argument, is the right one.

Who knows what our path would have looked like if VeeGee had been living with us since birth. It's so hard to know those things, and it's almost too painful to think about them. There's a big part of me that looks at other children with the same disability profiles and feels sad. Could I have helped VeeGee be able to breast feed? Did she HAVE to have the trach and feeding tube? I really don't know. My gut actually tells me that both the cleft and the severity of the retracted jaw did, in fact, make those things necessary (though I think I would have certainly worked harder than her birthmom did to facilitate bfing because of the oral motor benefits that I'm sure, at the minimum, it provides).

I guess I say that to say that there are SO MANY ways to go about a treatment plan. And that, even if we make "wrong" decisions, like the ones that we had to pick up after, a kid can still thrive in the end. In most ways, you'd never know that VeeGee was/is as far behind as she was/is (until you lift her shirt and see that danged button). I know it's easy, and hard not to, agonize over every single decision. But I'm having to kind of give myself a break and let instincts do some of the work. Do I trust her surgeon? Yes. I trust him mostly because he's willing to sit down with me and treat me like an intelligent person. I don't know. Is that a good enough reason to go forward with this surgery? I hope it is. I trust it is. That's the best I can do.

Sharing Mommyhood

I didn't exactly come to adoption expecting anything at all (it was an emergency kinship placement, of three weeks "gestation"), but my feelings about my place and my daughter's birthmother's place in her life have changed, and are changing, over time.

I was very angry at first and unwilling to share any bit of mommyhood. I totally think that that is normal. But, as I've grown into the role of mommy, I've begun to understand that my feelings about her birthmother are kind of unimportant insofar as what she actually is to my daughter. She is my daughter's first mother. That's a love it or leave it kind of issue - can't change it. And it used to just feel beyond crappy to not have that place reserved for myself. But, I now have an understanding that this is just a part of adoption that exists, whether that adoption is closed or open, domestic or international. The adopted child will always carry a piece of his/her birthmother with him/her and vice versa.

Now, does that make it a bad thing? No. It is what it is. My reality is that I have a daughter who LOVES me, adores me and whom I adore. I am Mommy. A real mommy. All the other stuff really just has started to fade. There may (probably will) be times when it will surface painfully again, but I'm trying to lay a foundation for myself and for VeeGee, and even with her birthmom, where we are comfortable talking about it and dealing with it.

The heart is an amazing thing. I'm findin an ability to be accepting of more openness than I'd ever dreamed possible. For me, this has been nothing short of a miracle, and I'm truly in awe of how being a mother has changed the way I see things.

On Being an Adoptive Mom

Notes to Potential Moms:

As time passes I find that I feel more and more confident in the permanence of my role as VeeGee's mother. And I find that I am more comfortable with her birthmother's permanent role, though that is an evolving relationships to be sure. But I can't tell you that it's easy looking into the future and believing that there will most likely be hurdles that just can't happen, for better or for worse, when the adoption is closed or international.

The thing is, I don't think that international, domestic, closed or open really changes the feelings that you as a mother are going to feel about your position in the "mother continuum" and the fragility of the bonds that hold you to your child. That is simply one of the aspects of adoption that makes me truly believe that counseling must be a component of the process. If you're worried about this as you're confronted with the possibility of an domestic-open adoption, I think that can be a good signal for you that you might have some of those sorts of feelings regardless of the nature of your adoption. And it's a good thing to be thinking about. Certainly, it's not a thing that would/should/could derail your plans, just another issue that you now have advance notice of.

Eliminating the NO option in feeding

VeeGee's feeding therapy is just going NOWHERE, not one inch closer to anything actually going in her mouth. So, I decided a couple of days ago, "no more fun and games." What I mean is that the feeding therapy that we've done is very play based (which, of course, suits my parenting inclinations quite nicely), but it's not working. At. All.

For the past three days I've been "forcing" her to eat three bites of pureed food (apple/banana). It goes like this: "Look, you've got some food to eat! I'd like for you to eat three bites, and then you can go watch Dora. Do you want to put it in your mouth, or do you want mommy to help you?" "NO!!!" (covers mouth with hands, turns away, pushes bowl away). I ask a few times, then say, "Okay, mommy will help you." Usually I've been able to get her to kind of open her mouth for me to put it in, and when I say kind of, I mean, I actually really have to sneak it in. She's swallowed about three or four times, the rest, she's just spit it out.

This morning, though, she, on the third bite, actually opened her mouth on her own. Her eyes were squinting and she was shuddering, but it was open. And she swallowed. I was so excited.

So here's the worry part: I do not want to create an issue where she is afraid of food, or that she feels forced or whatever. But the fact of the matter is that she is going to have to learn this at some point, right? I mean, I can't just let her keep ignoring all of the "gentle" "therapeutic" ways of cajoling her. I actually really think she's too ornery for that.

Blank Screen Blues

Yep, got em.


It just drives me crazy.



So, I'm not teaching this semester and it's kind of weird. I'm glad in one sense - especially since it looks like the fascists have taken over the FYComp curriculum! - but I really am going to miss it. I just didn't get my shit together in time to commit to teaching and by the time I decided I did, in fact, want to, it was too late. Not to mention the fact that I royally pissed off the very nice woman who coordinates the comp teachers. I feel bad about it.

But, on the other hand, I'm looking forward to a semester that's pretty open in terms of actual commitment. I mean, THE Commitment (aka thesis) is still there, looming over me and my "Blank Screen Blues" like a drooling, snotting, gargoyle (Oh yes, the thesis is a lovely thing!); but maybe I can tame him (oh yes, it's a HIM).

Not only that, but I'll get to spend lots more time with VeeGee. That's a good thing, of course, but you'd think we could just hang out and watch Sesame Street together and learn our ABCs. In fact, I spend most of the time that I spend with VeeGee in the car headed to this therapy or that therapy, swinging and swatting at her knees so that she won't fall asleep in the car, but will wait for a "real" nap because if she falls asleep in the car (as every desperate mother knows), the "real" nap never happens. That sucks.

Sweetness

I had to share a sweet little moment from our day yesterday.

VeeGee is extremely averse to having her teeth brushed. We only do it every three days or so because it's such an awful ordeal. So yesterday evening was the time to do it. I had her in position and "did the deed" with the usual wailing and kicking, red-faced fury, etc., etc. After it was over, VeeGee crawled up on my chest and laid there while I rubbed her back. I sat there thinking how incredibly resilient kids, and especially these kids who go through SO much shit on a daily basis just to live, are. I felt then, as I often do, overwhelmed by her generosity of spirit and her tenaciousness.

So a bit later we were out watering our flowers on the patio when I got my foot caught under a planter and hurt it (can't really describe the way it got hurt, just that it hurt like a something-or-other). I was saying, "Oh my foot hurts, ow ow ow, etc." and VeeGee came over and got down on her hands and knees and kissed my foot - two or three times. I immediately began to weep. It was such and incredibly tender and sweet act for her - so natural and yet so extraordinary.

It may be a small thing, a silly thing, but WOW, it really sent me .

GD+SN=?????????

I think a lot about how special needs parenting forces us to give up so many of my "crunchy" ideals. And I'm wondering, now, if gentle discipline is one of those things we have to give up.

VeeGee has GERD and has thrown up pretty much constantly since she was born until she had a nissen fundo in January. Thankfully that ended the vomiting. And, for the first time, we can see inside of her mouth without her completely clenching her teeth. I know it might seem ridiculous, but we've just never been able to fight her hard enough to be able to see inside her mouth without her throwing up. But now we can.

Anyhow, we've discovered that her teeth are almost black - likely from the acid and the "neglect" and the massive amounts of antibiotics. SO, we've decided to start brushing them. And you'd think we were torturing her.

I'm used to torturing her, to her screaming in pain or agony or fury. I HAVE to do horrible things like give her breathing treatments, change her trach (until last month), clean/rotate her mickey button, oh, and change her diaper. I have to hold her down, probably hurting her, when nurses change her IVs, take her blood pressure, her temperature, her ears.

And now I'm wondering just what she understands. How much am I supposed to hold her accountable (I don't even know if that's the right word) for her occasional hitting, throwing and other 'misbehaviors' - mostly mild, really? Her therapists complain about compliance, and I just don't know how much more I can push her.

How do you establish boundaries, 'rules' or whatever when you're not completely sure that your little one understands? How do you cope with people who think you spoil your child because they aren't always 'following instructions' or whatever?

You Know You're The Parent of a Kiddo With Special Needs

when . . .

You're just so thrilled to see poop at all that you don't mind cleaning it up!

Or you've quit worrying about telling people what her trach does and started just telling them it's a necklace. . . . And you don't hesitate grabbing somebody else's kid who decides they'd like to take that necklace.

Or you answer that stranger's pitying, "Oh is she okay?" question with, "Yep, just fine, and you?"

Or you've quit worrying about the vomit streaks on your clothing "as long as it doesn't smell too bad."

Working it Out

I've been thinking about my previous post, and, instead of changing it, because I think it's important for me to chronicle this journey as I'm experiencing, I'll just add an addendum. What I meant was that we were not actively seeking to adopt any child before the advent of A to our lives. We feel so blessed, though, with the opportunity to give her a shot at life. She was NEVER going to be allowed to go back to her BM because the court was going to make sure that that would not happen. What we did for her and for her child was to ACTUALLY MAINTAIN AND PRESERVE their relationship. I think it is a gift.

I AM her mama now. Legally and practically. The other person is always, always welcome to be with her daughter when it's appropriate (she is not allowed, by the court, to be alone with her). And she will ALWAYS be her "first mama" - in fact, I don't care if dd calls her mama also. My heart is very open to this girl (my sister-in-law). I have known and loved her since she was a baby. That can't and won't stop just because of these circumstances.

I know that I have issues to work out for myself. All mothers have their lives changed by becoming mothers. I just had ZERO, literally zero, preparation for this particular change to my life. A requires an even higher level of care because of her medical issues - many of which have been gravely exacerbated by her BM's neglect. I'm still learning how to cope, and it would be a comfort if A and her birth family - MY family - would acknowledge me. Sorry if that seems selfish. Perhaps it is.

I know that A loves me. I know that I have improved her life. I know that I am her mama.

Correcting A Therapist - Ick!

Yesterday I had to ask my A's PT (physical therapist) to change the way she spoke about dd's posture and legs. She tells dd to "sit pretty" to correct (necessarily correct) her legs. It had been gnawing at me for a couple of weeks because I don't want dd to be told that what she does **naturally** is **not** pretty. I know the PT doesn't mean it in a negative way, but I so think that, especially as she's developing her own language skills, the language that is used to and about her is so critical. I don't mind people saying that she's pretty, it's not that I have a problem with that. Does this make sense?

So anyway, I asked the therapist to not use pretty as a litmus test. She was really sweet about it, but she did look at me strange.

I'm actually pretty proud of myself!

She Won't Call Me Mama

Even though it's only been three and a half months, I'm getting a feeling that there is something beyond her low-verbal state that is making dd not call me mama. My 19 year old sister-in-law is her birth mother and we only have A she was taken into foster care. What I mean is that we were not pursuing adoption. However, we are so utterly delighted and so in love with our little girl.

Anyway, A hasn't seen her BM in the entire time we've had her, and she only saw her three times while she was in foster care (2 months). And yet, I know, just know, that A's thinking about this person who neglected her to the point of life-endangerment. It started with the the fact that A (who uses some sign language) uses the sign for mama to refer to my husband. And, though she will/can say mama as a sort of babble, she refuses to point at me when asked "where's mama?"

This is all so complicated because her calling me mommy has been an emotional issue for my husband's family (dd's blood family). They want to maintain the idea that A's BM is still her mama.

A loves me. She expresses that often. I just want her to love me as her mama. I'm really sad.

Sorry for the rant.