Papercuts, pickle juice, presentless poem

Wrapping presents in my walk in closet
Hearing creeks from each invisible footstep
I realize there is nothing for him under the tree
Nor will there be any for me.....

You see... We race this race of waking up, feeding faces
Catching buses, checking underwear, taking date nights to costco
Counting heads, counting minutes to bed time some nights
Counting stars above our gorgeous house, counting snores at 9pm... Him
Because mommy can't do the morning shift....insomnia is inherent in motherhood

Two..... The cardiologist appointments I have missed
Three.... The times my heart stopped according to my last visit
Four whole months ago.....but Meanwhile
Five children call me mommy.....so time is not mine alone.

"The full sampler platter" all 98 pounds of me said
Sitting at an IHOP, barely 20, too naive to know I was on a date
"Cawfee" he said, waitress perplexed. "Coffee" I said and she understood
He called me Megan more than once, my 30 year old self would have left......
Pancakes, hash browns, and this journey was all on its way

I sleep in sheets that smell of pickle juice from a baby who looks like his dad
I have a paper cut from wrapping five children's gifts in one night
I will eat leftovers, nights like tonight realizing I make six plates, not seven
I threatened to throw out a few gifts a few too many times this month
Daddy made cookies for "Santa" in the mean time

I will have cards written in crayon, leftovers for breakfast
My husband will smile as kids tear apart gifts they will break in 48
We don't have gifts under the tree we sneak gifts daily
I give my children the gift of showing them two parents that respect each other

Professor Williams in Psychology had a girlfriend of 30 years
"We fight in the tub, literally" by the time you stomp to the "spot" the issue seems mundane
Modeling healthy communication to children who are at risk
It's exhausting..... It's present-less, in the present......

A decade will pass, my 40 year old self will see my daughter at 20
"I met this guy"...... She will say
Well what's he say, my mom asked back then...
He says he adores me, she smiled..... Good.

Ranking Up

Do you look young enough, or is too pretty also your doom, everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room. You laugh too hard, or not enough. Your kids are too polite, so you are too strict. My kids don't know what an iPhone or DS is, so I'm neglectful. I make too much income, and donate money, but for marketing only. My clothing is used, I have two outfits I repeat as much as possible. I sleep too much, my illness is made up to justify laziness....  Women, we are tearing each other apart. Dissecting the most intimate cores of our sisters. My cars too nice, so I'm a bad mom. I don't attempt baking so my kids suffer. What happened to Rosie the riveter, women empowerment. Being truly happy when someone does well. I can say I can, feel happy for others success. I'm not between you and your ambitions. I cant run, but I can pass out water bottles. I hate crafts, but I can balance a budget and negotiate a business deal like no other. If I were a man I'd be successful, not a "bitch". You don't hear men starting conversations with "did you hear what Tom said about Steve at that holiday party?" I'm no where near perfect, I've got battle wounds to prove it. But those are on all of us, in us, making us. My hard day is no harder than yours. My five kids aren't harder than your two. My laundry method isn't efficient nor a method. My house is a mess, I'm sorry if it doesn't meet your standard.

When I see another women struggle I help, if I see them succeed I rejoice. Haven't we come so far in humanity, rights, and we throw them out the door because someone's mom tweets too much, or refuses to buy her 12 year old a cell phone, wears too much makeup, or not enough.


Take inventory on what you hate and twist in others, it's lacking in you or you wouldn't zone in. I'm good at most things, I'm not amazing at anything. I'm a wife, mother, sister, daughter, so when you have a negative word on your tongue or in your mind you are degrading someone's child. Someone's mom, someone's wife...... 


Jealousy doesn't have to equal venom. I want my daughters to look at other women and learn their worth. Learn no one can speak down to them or about them. After all they will be looking for partners someday and what we model they seek. In friendships, in partners. Jealousy is normal emotion, it motivates improvement. But why caddy? 

We get one chance, let's use it wisely. Let's model our best. Let's value sisterhood instead of desecrating it because "she's wearing that?" Our grandmothers fought too hard for equality to allow their last days watching housewives pulling each others hair out, or worse smiling to their face to talk horribly later. Enjoy your vote, your right to a credit card, driving privileges, job opportunities, enjoy each other. I don't rank up, I didn't sign up to be ranked. I certainly won't rank you. 

Finding him, finding them

When you are young (20 young), and your only real boyfriend has left you, you feel like the world has collapsed. Obviously the cosmic forces have done you wrong and the vision of your super duper life (Disney, trips, college) is dashed. It's comical now really. When you are barely 20 your idea of the future is next weekend, what body part to pierce, what cool apartment to rent. Almost a dozen years later I worry about IRA's, college for five kids, property taxes, hurricane warnings. I was always kind of sickly so a mother hen if you will. My friend called as I was studying chemistry to tell me she was at a party by my moms house (I was living back home, boo). I declined to figure out the strand diagram of iron or some other element, "ok. I'm the only girl here, but whatever". This girl is crazy, I'm thinking, all these old guys hanging with a 20 year old, obviously psychopaths. I showed up in pajamas and intended to drag her out. I stayed about 20 minutes, met the group of guys.... Decided it was harmless, and went to leave through the garage. A garage full of old cars and racing motorcycles. "Wow nice car!" I said pretty loud, to no one. "Really?? You like it" a voice came from the end of the drive. A tall/fit man, like a man size man, no high school boy. "Ummm yeah!" I responded. "That's really cool, it's my dads 68 charger RT, you know Dukes of Hazard" (no I don't know since I'm a baby). "You want to drive it?" Tosses the key. "Heck no!". "Ok hop in then". Clearly the murder/rape plot is about to happen, I'm pre law people. "Ummm let me tell my friend". So that was Kevin. Tattooed, emotionally unavailable, super single, and not wanting kids or marriage. "Bingo" the brain said, he's perfect.

Now young girls don't do this! This usually ends horribly. The only reason it didn't fall apart was I'm stubborn as an ox, and smart as a whip. Must predict mans next move to make him think you don't like him tooooo much. It's a dance. 3 years later Kevin proposed on a Ferris wheel on a race weekend. We married (secretly eloped) to Vegas 10/8/05 because I had calculated ( now in my administration program) that if we married before tax end we'd get $7k back in refund, to help pay for our march wedding. Yes, I'm that romantic. The line of envious men is zero deep.

My husband is an attractive guy, who thinks he's average. He's the best dad, that second guesses every class/event we do, or don't do. My husband buries treasure chests in remote places at 11pm, plants fake maps he "stumbles" upon in his history book over breakfast, and spends a day treasure hunting with five kids to make them think they are explorers. I've heard him yell at our children (child) one time, and it was "you never, ever talk to my wife that way".  We've moved 4 houses in 4 years and 3 of the houses he saw after we offered, because he knows the kids need a special lay out, and he trusts my judgement. He forgets weekly routines, every week. We've forgotten a child once or twice. We've got a therapy fund going for that later in life.

I've seen him cry 3 times, the first time I asked about his fathers passing, the time CPS said to return Lilly and Theo (3 months in), and when I told him I was pregnant. He was double the size I was looking to date, double the trouble, double the convincing to marry me, and double at being a husband, father, and supporter of any dream I've ever had. He's double the sarcasm, inappropriate after 2 beers, New Jersey accent by 3. Marriage is this dance that involves ups/downs, routine, emergencies, surprises at every turn.

He's mine, he's taken. And we both lucked out finding them..... Although I still believe some heaven bound spirits set our paths on collision.

Dear John

My baby has brown eyes. Brown eyes with a silver haze. That's all he got from me. He wasn't born with brown eyes, and the shift from blue to brown was pretty quick. As if the 100% miniature version of Kevin wasn't enough, Kevin actually came in upset one morning that the baby had brown eyes, fingers crossed he has my spirit and study skills :)

I've never had to write a "Dear John" letter, mostly because some really stupid guys all left me first. (Insert laughter here). No really, if we were all judged by how we handled our break ups at 16 and 19 may the Lord help us all. If we were judged by anything we did from 14-20 I think we'd all shudder.... So sorry for my antics.

Many of you have followed our story of adoption via facebook, and now the blog. We've never hidden the fact that our kids came from a different background than what was "typical", but no family is typical. My husband gets a Kewpie doll tattoo for every child we get, only problem was we were done with three. So squeezing in the 4th, and then the 5th was a challenge. The artist asked what color Jaces' eyes are, for the Kewpie. Kevin and I kind of locked eyes..... "Well they are actually brown, but Im guessing Kevin will want blue"... "Yeah make them blue like the others". An odd phrase to stimulate a moms' mind from wandering down a daydream.

I never saw my babies eyes change, never. I got all of our kids at 14 months or older. For those of you that have read my posts you know I posted how the feeling on the day of my C section was the exact feeling on our severance day, when the kids were open to adopt. This is true. But as the days/months go by I would be lying if it doesn't feel different to look at a miniature version of your husband. Slight things like "Medical History" we can actually fill out (Not very Well Thanks Mom and Dad). My baby does pull ups and chin ups for fun, thats just hilarious. Now as an adoptive mom we did get the opportunity to meet our birth parents many times, not one all adoptive moms get. We know their Dad was slender, lean, tall, and had some athletic ability. Now thats a score coming from this couch lover, my sit-up is the one I do each morning. The only thing I remember of sports was my 8th grade PE coach yelling "Bethell get the hell off my field, you are a liability" after I couldn't finish my mile run. (Dont you miss the times you could say stuff like that to kids, but I digress). Recently I watched an amazing video of a woman adopted from Korea. Although she has no memory of her adoption she spoke of her heart in its state of being, versus the anticipating mothers. "To gain your family, I had to lose mine, I had to lose everything. Because you see this chapter, the one where you and I meet it gets awkward....... You dont have to listen to me and my heartache, my heart break, but you GET to".

Snap back to current time, Kevin getting a tattoo "So whats wrong with that women that she gave away her kids?". Its a question I take offense too, mostly because people assume if your child comes from abuse/neglect that that translates to hate for their birth parents. Of course a piece of you hates the actions, of course you do, the actions are horrible. Early on I decided that treating the birth parents, birth mom, with some level of respect would in the very least leave us open to watch the children grow up. Whether we kept them or not, we would be free babysitting, gas money, birthday gifts, car rides, whatever. So its a question I take offense too yes, but not one Im surprised by anymore. I suppose the majority of the world would not want anything to do with "such people" when you adopt from foster care. So Im different, im OK with different..... Our bio mom emailed four or five times the first year we adopted, then three times the following year, and now we are down to two... She wants to meet soon for lunch, because she is moving out of state. Not that we cant email still, but the reality of us ever sitting down to dinner is just not going to happen, that window has passed. I knew after severance that the distancing of ourselves from the birth mom should be like unpeeling an onion, layers removed one at a time. At first I did meet her for lunch once a year.... but as the emails get fewer and farther between I can see that the band aid has been ripped for her, and the tinge/pain has subsided. If she was even capable of feeling that tinge/pain coming from her own neglect history.

"There really wasn't alot wrong with her" I smile back "just alot of misguidance, misinformation, malpreperation, you know ill equipped". The artist nods. "Don't know how you do it, Id hate people like that". I get that alot. "Yeah but then, their blood runs through my child". They got to see their eyes change. They had the opportunity to learn what each cry meant, what each gesture meant, what things they discovered at ages 1, 2, and up to 7 years old. They had the opportunity, but they didnt take it. So do I relish in my newborn when I see glimpses of his dad? Yes. Do I post like crazy on facebook? Absolutely. Do I know instinctively what each noise he makes means? Yes. Because I get to. Not because I love him more. Because I get to. Theo didnt cry, he didnt move, he didnt really try to exist. He was stagnant. I didnt know what he needed, and he didnt know he was allowed to need me. He had been taught to cry was futile, so he was silenced. I thought I got the jackpot on easy kid. This is the part where his chapter and my chapter meet. The part where he loses everything he knows, to get to us. Where strangers are in his face, happy. While he is inside, terrified.......... This is the moment he loses speech, this is the moment his hands flap, this is the moment he stutters, this is the moment he rocks, this is that moment, that anxiety, that "processing issue" we see every single day. This is terrifying, this moment, and it lasts forever somewhere inside him.

So I will respond to the request to meet up with my first "Dear John". It was a day I knew would come for sure, and a day that needed to come. It's a bittersweet waving best wishes to someone that had no training, no capabilities, and no true childhood of their own. I imagine the next time we meet will be at the request of one of my grown children. Although we are mistaken for LDS , or as Gaffigan would say "Shiite Catholics", we are not religious people. I believe in Karma, doing what is right, admitting when you are wrong, and taking help when you can. I believe "Im sorry" means alot. I believe your God, my God, Buddha, Gandhi, Allah, and any of your blessed, divine creatures would support a belief system of "just do good, try hard, and try your best to remember we are all just making it day by day with no instruction manual here, and play well with others dang it". If I'm turned away at the pearly gates so be it, until then I think we are doing OK. If we find Jesus anytime soon I will let you all know, I promise.  

"All right man you are all done up, you got your five Kewpies with blue eyes, hows it look?" Perfect. Perfectly imperfect..............

The end of an era

Every once in a while you get news that takes the wind out of you. My brother and I grew up in a close knit neighborhood on acre lots..... Everyone had a cow, a horse, a gaggle of kids....... Kids could run up and down each street and everyone knew the neighbors. We were the neighbors with the stay at home grandma, fort type playhouse, and wrinkly dogs (shar peis). On our street we had a family with four kids with two working parents (pharmacists), they were the family with baseball practice in the back, awesome homemade tacos, homework help.

The next street over on Villa another family with four kids (who are these crazy people with so many kids right), Mrs.G was a stay at home mom, and Mr.G was this magical scientist/explorer that worked from home. He had designed his house around an indoor pool, he designed his home around faith. When you walked into their home the clean glass surrounding the pool was a sight to see. Certainly these people must be super rich or vain? Quite the opposite. Some of my fondest memories were hanging out at their house with their daughter Laura who was my age. Our friends in the neighborhood would come over to swim in the middle of winter. We would swim and point out the stars and moon through the glass openings, he would point out constellations. There was always kids or an adult at their house, so I dont ever recall being turned away. Around the perimeter of their house was a full flower bed that Mr.G had planned and he tended them religiously. The man had quite the tan from all the hours playing outside with his kids and tending the rose bushes. It all sounds a bit fantasy I suppose, a bit ideal....... But it was a great neighborhood to grow up in. Mr.G was the most patient man I can recall meeting. I only can say he got frustrated with silver fish and pool covers, two things that would spoil an indoor swim. Every summer he would take me with the family to bible camp. I can recall the 3rd or 4th year he had this belly laugh when he said "hey they didnt charge me for you this year since you attended church with us so many times they added you to our family rate". He was happy I had attended church so many times, not that he had saved money. We prayed before meals in his house, ate everything on your plate, didnt talk back, and waited patiently on the couch until your friend was done with organ practice. We all grew up and moved away, all forming our own identities. Last I saw Mr.G I was in my late teens. One day I heard some awful news. Mr.G had been helping at a baseball game and suffered an injury when retrieving a pop fly. He was paralyzed from his fall. After I heard the news I had visited our neighborhood a handful of times, but my own sorrow for him was too much for me to knock on the door. I very much wish I had. I suppose I was leveled by the thought of him not being able to tend his own roses, or look into his microscope, go for a long hike, or catch a baseball. I think something like that could crush the spirit of any adventurous person. But, I thought, if anyone could do it it would be Mr.G. In the book "Love Does" by Goff it talks about people that "ooze Jesus" and who don't have to convert you. I cant say I ever spoke of religion in his house, it just was in the brick and mortar. It was in every tile, every rosebush, every meal, and every belly laugh. It was in every made bed, folded laundry, organized routine. It was in the peanut butter and banana sandwiches he loved. He oozed Jesus. A decade has passed since that news and I have moved across country with my own five. None of his children have a facebook or email so I did lose touch with them.... I always thought it a shame that when I drove by Villa street I didnt see the friendly gardener waving at cars going by..... Last night my mom called to tell me Mr.G died suddenly while on vacation. They think possible heart attack or brain aneurysm. Last I heard he was still paralyzed, although I had secretly hoped he just woke up one day completely healed. I am saddened that a person who would not want any pity probably lost out on catching up with a few of his extra kids due to our own lack of ability to address such an issue, our lack of maturity. I suppose I was afraid I would shed a tear and hurt his feelings.

I spent alot of time not only in their lovely house, but in their home, in the fabric of a family. Especially around the time my father was sick with cancer. I know most of my 4th-6th grade years were a blur of playdates to keep me occupied from the illness in our own home. I can recall meals from Mrs.G arriving as well, even with a little baby at home, she made time. I am saddened I am across the country on the day many will mourn his passing. I am saddened I never made the time to let him know how well I had turned out. I am certain, without a doubt, where he is at this very moment. He is gathered with his Brethren, gardening shorts on, the sun on his back, hands deep in soil. Waving and hugging those who have greeted him on the other side. John denver or NPR on the radio, and a lunch sack with PB and banana sandwiches for when he gets hungry...... There are very few things in this world I am 100% certain about, but that for sure is one of them.

May the essence of his memory wrap his family at this time, may the thought of him totally free from any form of restraint bring them joy..... May they know that his presence in my life was nothing but a positive memory......May they know he was an end to an era....

My love and wishes,
Morgan Bethell (Wehner)

baby by nature, hmmmm

fathers day via a birth????

baby birth

Open Wound

Fathers' day is an odd juxtiposition in our househould, a warm feeling of having five kids, against the feeling that your father is no longer here (Kevins' father). Since my minor surgery my wound hasnt fully closed and they have tried many things to help "reduce scar" appearance. I suppose thats a metaphor for the loss of someone so close, a wound in your heart. Another realistic wound is the fact that someday, some fathers day, our children just may, want to look for their "real dad", OUCH. Tonight Bryce said "Mommy the kids at school laughed at me when I said I had a belly mommy too", I paused and then said "Well honey maybe they would understand better if you said you were adopted, or maybe you dont need to say anything really". I never met my father in law, and in some ways, he did not meet this Kevin. Father of five, dedicated husband..... Im going to embarrass him, and make him bait for my girlfriends to fight over, but the letter I came home to tonight read this:

"How about I get YOU the fathers day card? I mean you are the sole reason I became a dad in the first place. The single biggest fear I had in my life prior to meeting you was being a father, the thought terrified me, and yet it has been the easiest thing for me. From the first night that we picked up Lilly and Theo at the ER it was just natural, they needed a bottle I fed them, they needed food, I made it. Diaper change, no problem, one more kid? No worries! Another kid, sure. Oh you are pregnant, awesome! I wish other things in my life was so comfortable.

I have enjoyed every crazy challenge these kids have thrown at us. Being their Father is a responsibility I take seriously while still having fun. I love taking them out by myself searching for lost treasure, dinosaur bones, turtles at midnight, because I truly enjoy all of this with them, even when they are driving us crazy.

So thank you for making me a dad and being a great parent alongside of me. All I want for fathers day is to be their Dad and maybe get a starbucks that morning too. Thank you.

I love you,
Kevin


Not bad for a guy who wanted to never get married or have kids. Every once and a while my baby will gaze up at something and I will whisper "thats your grandpa Dave baby, say hi Jace". A man I never met but I am sure pulled some major strings to get us where we are.

Happy Fathers day to my dad, Kevin, and Dave. Also to our Pops who the kids love as well for embracing us as we come (loud and ruckus)......

My broken heart

March 2013


It was 2001 and I was staring at the ceiling tiles of my local hospital, only 20 years old. Admitted for dehydration once again. The nurses kept switching blood pressure machines "65/40 that cant be right, hold on". I've done this song and dance before. Another random doctor orders another "complete blood panel" and says "youre fine, go home". I wasn't fine. I was sick, and had been for some time. My face was gaunt, blackened eyes, super thin 95 pounds, very tired. I'd seen many doctors and finally this new guy says "you're depressed". Now Im not a crier people, Im not a complainer, but if Im mad I will cry. "Im not depressed damnit, I waitress, I take 21 college credits, I like my life, Im happy, I just cant move at times, IM HAPPY" as im crying he handed me the prozac slip......Great...
My cousin was working in California in an ER. He plugged in my symptoms (low blood pressure, low energy, periods of blackout) and 9 med files came up. He sent them over in an email and said "good luck". I skimmed through them all, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, file #7 Addisons disease. The skies opened and angels sang. That was me. I called a local Endo and said I needed in right away, they declined new patients. I called again the next day and got a different secretary "I just moved here from out of state and I need a dr in AZ to prescribe for my Addisons disease, and Im almost out". They got me in the next day. She ordered blood work that day at the local Quest. The Dr at scottsdale healthcare walked in with my results and said "so whos the Dr who diagnosed you but didnt give you the right meds?" Well, umm i havent really had a proper diagnosis..... "Addisons disease, and your lucky to be alive, I will get you on cortisol and florinef right now, and you need a gravity test at a cardiologist for the fainting". If I had the energy I would have kissed that man, and tigger bounced my way out. But I was tired, I laid back down on the gurney table. (Take that you jerk doctors with my middle finger waving in the air, I told you I was happy, IM HAPPY).
So basically Addisons means I dont make any cortisol, nor proper adrenaline, and that can screw with your blood pressure, fight or flight response, any stress can cause major damage. JFK had addisons and he was a prolific president, and he handled Marilyn Monroe, so Im good with that. A good medical bed fellow to have (pun intended).
A year prior to my diagnosis I was working as a secretary to a mom/pop corporate training company. I answered phones, set appointments, ran to get groceries, balanced their accounting. Every 3-4 months I would come across some hospital bills for "OB GYN Emergency room". I must have stared at one too long one day. "Yeah we keep trying, we just cant keep one after the first trimester". I wanted to die. I wanted to die for her.... Ive never had a large group of friends, im not a people collector. I think its my safety net. I physically felt ill. My heart was broken. That following Monday I walked into the office.... "So how about egg donation?"....... My boss smiled "we are finalizing an adoption, but if you want too we had a company lined up". So I became an egg donor. Some lawyer and his teacher wife have twins in Nevada the same age as my oldest daughter. Last I heard they had 15 more on ice so I could have a whole gaggle out there. I did it to be selfish, I did it because I couldn't get the medical bills out of my mind.....nor her face when I found out....I did it for the teacher who I never met, but who called every day to make sure I was "for real", because her only dream was to be a mother, who was terrified shed have a broken heart.......
So the gravity test the dr mentioned got lined up. Some young nurse sat on the other side of the glass, I was the lab rat.... four hours had passed, her voice came over "Now this is the last stage, you may feel some IV fluid and another tilt upward...." thats all I remember. Next thing I know she was over my gurney and I was back to flat.... "Doctor it was positive, its positive" she yelled. The cardiologist came in and took a manual Blood pressure, "you back with us, you broke my pressure machine?". He was a cute doctor, young.... "Im guessing positive isnt such a good thing then Dr".... "No not exactly". So we spoke options, apparently my heart was over compensating for my lack of adrenaline and telling my body to speed up or "fight or flight" when I didnt need too, so I was resting at 125. Only problem was your heart muscles get tired, enlarged even.... and I would hit 180 at a walk, then 60 the very next beat. "You are only 20, lets try medicines before surgery, you don't want a scar". I was young, beautiful, smart, I had a waist! I did not want a scar. So beta blockers and digoxen it was, lets roll.
So you know what happens next. Girl meets boy, works at a child crisis center, girl marries boy, does foster care, become legal kidnappers, nab four kids, and thats it.....Kind of. Im still debating this last part with Jesus, because I did not know high fives can make babies. We had four really tough kiddos, and I dont recall alot of "mommy daddy time" leading up to my epiphany over a taco bell gordita. My friend had finally left a really bad relationship and I had been helping her move stuff to her moms, sitting in the pain of the moment, my heart was broken. Another friend delivered us much needed comfort food and as I looked up at my two girlfriends I said "im pretty sure I missed my period". So I got a test. It was a faint line, didnt count. So I sent Kevin out. He took theo (age 4 at the time with a lisp). Kevin bought four different types. I think he had Theo tell the check out person "we're testing for babies" or more likely "my moms knocked up". But you get the picture. Kevin thought I was nuts, I mean 7 years had passed and I never had a scare (always took my pill). Left to right they read (plus sign, two lines, smily face, and pregnant). "Damnit Kevin" (actual phrase). Dont get me wrong I love my little baby boy, but Im not the women who says pregnancy is beautiful. Its an alien invasion. They literally feast on your blood supply, and he doubled my heart blood volume. Preeclampsia. But there he was at a six week sonogram, a gummy bear, with swirly threads and a tadpole face. It wasnt fun, but he came emergency C section at 38 weeks and hasnt stopped smiling since. But by definition an alien invader, a cute one, but still, you get my point.
I counted heads one day, seven. Five kids by thirty..... How did this happen.... Maybe time for a checkup on the heart. I found a local doctor and took in that tilt test. "Do I have to do that test again, it wasnt fun". With a smirk the doctor replied "This isnt a test you can pass, once you failed it no need to do it again, so what do you want to do about it". I told him I wanted a pacemaker now, I forget my meds, Im busy, and my 30 pound baby makes me dizzy to lift, so I just want it for the sudden rate drops. "You know you will have a scar right?" I wanted to pull my waist band down and show him my C section scar with that little poof of fatty skin above it that sits numb like jell-o, the numb muffin top that never goes away, but as you all know Im a lady. "Yeah im good with scars, the whole working heart thing would be nice". So he agreed. I went in for my two week follow up and the rep yelled out for the doctor to "see this". "So Morgan the green is when we have to take over your function and purple is you".... "Im seeing alot of green doc"..... Medtronic rep said "us too, thats heartblock, we didnt know you had that". So I have a broken heart. The top part doesnt like to talk to the bottom part in synch, and my AV node is terrible. They both looked at me for a response, expecting tears, "well lets crank this sucker up to 80 already". I have to take Jace in this week for his own evaluation since heartblock is passed to fetus, and with an existing autoimmune disorder like Addisons his chances increase. But this kids German, hes tough. I hope he gets my heart, sarcasm, empathy. I hope he gets his dads cardiac function and health.
My friend had a really rough time with her child the same day I got the heartblock news. Its hard raising special needs kids. Its harder when they are one way in public and another at home. God forbid we ever say or think "today I dont like being a mom". Judgement compounded with illness is terrible pain. I couldnt sleep over it, my heart was broken. The next morning I had to call the egg donation to update my "offspring" file. Weird call to make, trying not to sound like a psychopath hunting down DNA from a former hasty decision that I regretted, or somehow needing my old eggs back. "OK so I have five kids, so Im not needing anymore" I think thats a good ice breaker. I updated the nurse and she said she would "try to locate the file". OK thanks, tell them "im sorry for the scare and Im sure they are fine". I feel like I should offer a refund, like "sorry for my crappy eggs", I will never know if they find out, my heart is broken.
Bryce came over to me yesterday and laid his little hand on my scar and said "Hey mom whats that". "Just a battery for my heart, im kind of a big deal, like a robot"..... "Mom thats cool". My baby needed a specific medicine we drove around all night for last night. The fourth CVS had one bottle left, as I left the alarm system went off. "Thats odd, youre fine" the clerk said, waving me out. I got in the car and told Kevin the bottle set the alarm off..... "No your pacemaker did"...... We couldnt stop laughing, probably since it was true. Robots are cousins to zombies anyway so we better be looking out.
Mothers day will be here soon and a women across the country will write me a thank you letter and ask how "the kids" are doing. I will respond with kindness and generalities, using foreign names that they no longer go by. I will open five mothers' day cards. For a brief moment I will stare off and my heart will be broken, its a life she will never even aspire to dream for, I live a life many pray to have. However many things come my way I know one thing I got for sure, a perfect heart...

The belly mommy

I suspect amongst my friends who have adopted and/or work for CPS this may cause some debate (even greater for the four or five of you that worked with our bio family)......
Foster care was a short term deal, no "red file" agreement on our license, Nope, not us, we are just pitching in, doing a good deed, helping a family out......BAM (frying pan upside the head)..... Insert real life here. Reality is that helping a family out is really only effective if said family wants to help themselves' out.... or has the ability to.
My husbands from NJ, hes got a slight accent going, but lets just say the NJ never leaves the boy. Convincing Kevin to transport "our" kids to visitations with "their parents" was like trying to squeeze my size 6 jeans back on today (yes im still upset about it), it wasnt happening. The first "visit" didnt go so well, the parent aid called us 30 minutes after we pulled away from the public library, saying the kids were "ready" (red flag). Kevin walked briskly towards the kids with worry and Theo screamed "da da" and came bouncing up, this blank look came over bio dads face, panic on bio moms face.....Kevin could care less, but I noticed..... Theo loved Kevin, not his bio dad.
Here's the short of it, our kids have their own life story to tell so I wont tell it, but their bio mom was not abusive. Not mentally capable of parenting, or choosing men correctly, but not intentionally abusive or on drugs....just vacant, an empty shell of what could be. Kids from neglect dont form empathy at times, they werent given it to model.... Somehow I got a boatload, Im gonna blame grandma living next door, fresh baked goods on tap.... bandaids on every scratch. I have empathy for days.
Over the months/years of waiting on our kids' case to go to adoption I realized that I needed one thing, one thing for certain, I needed to be able to look my kids in the eye and say we really tried to help their parents' out. We really weren't on a crusade to adopt kids regardless of the wake afterward. Even if it meant another six months of court, I wanted to have the years of being able to say we tried. If she needed a ride, I offered, if she needed food, I packed it, if she needed supplies, I gave it.... Every christmas I took her out to dinner, gave her some money, and well wishes. I remember in my child psychology course that my professor said "I hate that they call this course Abnormal Child Psychology, I mean whats normal childhood? If you were raised by wolves, then thats your normal". Lets just say bio mom was raised by wolves.... She lived in an altered state of reality. You cant undo three decades of that overnight, or even in the 3 years that we tried. Luckily the visitations and meeting up with the kids ended well before adoption, so they don't remember anything about their biological parents.
It took some convincing but Kevin got on board with me. The blood that runs through their veins is not ours, and one day they will go searching. FACT... Do we want it to be a big secret, or do we want to stear them to the safest of the adults' involved? Post-adoption I have kept my email open to our bio mom, this was NOT an open adoption, it was my choice. She emails me every mothers' day saying thank you, and every christmas asking for a christmas card. Thats about it. Last christmas I took her out to dinner and her cell phone kept buzzing. She ignored it. Finally on the 6th ring she picked it up and yelled "I dont know what the emergency is but Im sitting with the mother of my children, nothing is more important than this, and stop calling". She knows who their mom is, no doubt. Im not very shy or meek. The line has been drawn for her.
So not always, but every few months something might come up in conversation.... I tell Lilly "Gosh you are so pretty, you look just like someone I know".... "Yeah the belly mommy". Nothing like a shock to the system looking at your own reflection 15 years down the line..... and its just the truth.....So its not a secret.
Every year my kids have to do some crayon/art project timeline crap, and Im supposed to find pictures from every year of their life. So early on I said "well you didnt live inside my belly, see you had a belly mommy whos only job was to keep you inside her belly, and then when you came out you came to your REAL mom and dad". I love saying that.... Because people will ask "whats up with their REAL mom/dad?". Yep, I'm part time folks, this is my moonlighting job. The owies, boo boos, surgeries, homework, speaking, walking, talking, bathing, feeding thing makes me some imposter for 18 freaking years until they find the REAL deal.... Anyway, her job is already done in my version of the story, and im their Real parent anyway
This year will be the first christmas I wont see the belly mommy. Im a bit perplexed, sad even. Not for me... I guess I want to be able to look at my kids when they ask and say "she lives in Mesa and works at this fast food place". I dont want them searching forever, and I really dont want them fantasizing some great thing, when its not reality. Those stories always seem to turn out bad. Child pines for parent for 18 years, looks them up and parent is still on drugs, or could care less.....Or somehow remarried and has totally no room for this kid to pop up now.
I choose to look at it as a blessing. If my kids need an organ I have a number to call. If they do go looking, it wont be that far. And more importantly when they sit across the table to break bread she will be able to say she knows we were the best for them, and we never ran her off. I choose to look at it as a period to a sentence, instead of the question mark that some of my international adoption moms have.... Like hmmmm, I just dont know where to start, or what to tell my kid.
I have a file two inches thick of CPS reports, court records, and phone taps... When my kids ask, I wont give them my opinion, I will give them the information and let them gather what to do next. Until then a Christmas dinner and some grocery money wont hurt me, and in fact it makes me feel kind of good. I dont have any bitter taste left in my mouth.... Im the one with four mothers' day cards written in crayon, in any version of the story I win. I win every time....
I said to a reporter that wrote an article on us "I feel badly pointing out which child is our biological child, I mean he has to grow up KNOWING he was the only one not hand chosen, what a sad thing for him" (sarcasm here) ....... Life is perspective now isnt it.....



Babies..... all of my babies

So the one question I think people have, and a few very brave souls have asked, is "do you feel different about your biological son than your adopted"..... Its a fair question, one I silently pondered myself.... I can tell you this, the moment my judge officially granted severance a weight of a thousand sleepless nights (roughly my wait) was lifted, and a peace came over me, even if fleeting as a mother of 4 would expect moments to be, that was heaven sent..... That same exact feeling I got when my Dr yelled, " look to your left Morgan", as my son was brought by me in a little incubator to get his check up, post C section. The same feeling, exact, no shade of grey, exactly....the same.
The amount of therapy hours I have spent on a couch/beanbag/bouncy chair with my children is really endless...... Its been insightful to learn how babies brains are formed (or malformed) due to neglect.... One fact always stuck out at me, newborns, seconds after birth, move their heads around to find their mothers' eyes...... Their eyes...... Can that be any more moving? This helpless thing, searching for reassurance through the eyes of his mother..... Tonight my baby was gassy and thus hard to put down, he would grunt in pain, then look at me, locking eyes and a sudden soothing feeling came over him, his body. One would think that this is something to be greatful for, a child I can reassure from day one. Trust me it is..... but it also brings a wave of sadness...... Theo weighed roughly 6 pounds more than my one month old, at 13 months when we got him, his eyes searched through 7 different homes, no one set ever stayed..... How many nights was he gassy and screaming in pain.... countless im sure. How many days/hours were my children alone, parentless, searching? Countless.......countless.....
Two weekends ago we went on a trip to sedona as a family. I was upstairs in our rental house and I heard downstairs Theo Say "I love you Lilly". Lilly said "I love you too Theo, and we are best friends, I love you forever, and I promise you we will never leave eachother, ever". Its the one bond in this home that came as a pair, every sibling after one at a time. To this day I can see the fear and panic of an autistic meltdown start to set in for him, and I will call for his sister.... she will sit through it, or by him, or translate for him, or say nothing, just be..... and I have no doubt that at 13 and 25 months when they came to us that they knew only one thing, that they must hold on to eachother......survival.
Theo had 4 surgeries that first year, 13 months of untreated ailments left him pretty sick. Lilly could eat poison I think and escape any sickness (I call her our anthrax child). Bryce, oh lord, he came at 19 months and had tubes coming from everywhere. He had been in a rough foster home and neglect unfortunately followed him there. I had to wait for his feeding bag to drain each night, wait for the hospital alarm of an IV bag being empty, reload in the dark every few hours...... Not an easy task since the port is 2-4mm wide, well not easy at first...... Became second nature. Oh the vomit, can we talk about a G tube baby and reflux? Buckets of vomit, so much so that we ended up often in hospital. The first time was 4 days after he came, and I wept. Called anyone on our case trying to convince them I was not the right mom, clearly I broke him. (Thank God our SW and licensing worker didnt buy it, and just listened to me cry for the first time in our case). Four days later, that visit, and we found out the health agency sent the wrong formula when he came to me and thus, was slowly dehydrating, vomiting, him to bones. Theo and Lilly survived on eachother, this kid survived on pure luck...... Those wounds are documentable, surgeries, ports, vomit....... Then we have so many wounds beneath the surface. Our oldest came weeks before turning 8...... 8 years of craziness said to be "normal", and 3 years later we have the push back daily.... But I have my moments like tonight thinking, but her eyes never locked on any one set, never. She was searching, searching, searching, and really still is.......
My house is like a weird game of soduko, I swear. Child A, cant be with any other child. Child B loves every other child, Child C lives in and out of this world, child D is bonkers but a genius, Child E is just starting....... Which combination today? I will take the lot of them and dish out which combo works. Usually a BC with a side of D by himself, and A playing a game........ Im not sure how to add any more in, we are done. Thank god my hubby and I make a good team.....
So I'm moving to the beach with my 4 (surprise!), no 5 kids. Because I want them to be happy, healthy, and live in a neighborhood where you can rent a boat, get an omelette, ride a bike, catch a huge fish, watch the sunrise, and depend on the two people that they have come to call "Mommy" and "Daddy"....... Whos eyes they look for NOW, and that in itself is a blessing....
xoxo,
Morgan

Adoption day

Dec 9, 09
People ask me all the time why I got into foster care…….. 2 moments in my life really. My senior year at ASU I had to volunteer to complete my BS in criminal justice, I chose the child crisis center. My shifts were supposed to be 2 hours, play with kids, hold some babies and I was done………my mind never stopped though. I would show up on days I finished school early, I would last 5 hours instead of 2. There was a young boy named Juan who was 3, and violent, yelling at the staff, crying in rage…….. I asked if anyone spoke to him in his own language? They looked stunned. I bought Spanish flashcards and sat on the floor with this angel of a boy who heard me say Spanish words horribly, he was peaceful….. One night I rocked this new baby boy who was so loving. He would finally fall asleep and I would try to lay him down and he jolted violently. This went on for 6 hours straight till 11pm. Finally I left in tears, no one could console him……… his core was damaged.

Fast forward 3 years and I was teaching High school business in a very wealthy, very white school…….. It was polar opposite of the true mix of people I enjoyed seeing at my own high school…….. One day I got 2 new transfer kids, not related, but in my Entrepreneurship classes, they were African American girls…… To say they blended in would be false. I was hoping they would feel welcomed by everyone. I followed them a bit closer to ensure they did. One girl confided in me she had to move around a lot because of her violent father…….so I had to start a CPS report. The other lovely girl was distant, didn’t make eye contact, didn’t see the point in school…….Didn’t have a base. The last week of school I had a meeting with her mom and this blonde hair, white, woman walked in……She told me her daughter was her “foster daughter of 13 years” but she never adopted her………My heart sank, no base indeed, this girl was going to be homeless shortly and age out of CPS. Her mom said to me, “just so you know, you are good with her, she only comes to school for your class, you could be a foster parent”.

I went home and talked to my husband…….. I was an egg donor to an infertile couple in college, so my fertility was solid, and so was his……… but how could I bring another child into a world where thousands wait for a home….. Is my DNA really that great? I mean seriously……

My husband is awesome, he deals with my type A personality and the kids love him….. Even better when he says “that’s MY wife you are talking to” when they get out of line…….They will have a healthy marriage, they see one.

After a 30 month roller coaster we pulled into our final stop today, adopted our kids. I looked around in court today and saw my kids fighting over their cars, who they wanted to sit with, and just being kids. It didn’t phase them, we ARE their mom and dad…….. They were more bothered by having to sit still…..this is how it should be……… some say it altruism what we do (did), its not, im selfish….. it fulfilled something in me that I couldn't do by being pregnant.

My 8 year old Beth asked me what “adoption” means. I told her it means out of all the little girls in the whole wide world her mommy and daddy only wanted her. We got to hand pick our girl.

March 2009

Parents will understand this a bit more maybe.... I'm putting this out there in the universe so that one day when I have two 16 year old boys, and a 17 year old girl that maybe they find this note to reflect on....


A Letter to My Children:

It was Friday the 13th, July of 2007. Your father and I were at your Uncle Michael and Aunt Genevieve’s wedding in New Jersey. Some said getting married on Friday the 13th was bad luck, but it turned out to be the first step in starting our family, so good luck for everyone. We got the call and email that we were approved as a foster home, and to expect our first set of kids within ONE week.

Needless to say it was a difficult week for me; I cleared my calendar and sat by the phone, a couple close calls. I called our workers to make sure they knew we still existed, they assured me that they did, a whole week passed till the following Friday. “You rarely get called on a weekend,” said our worker “go out for the weekend and have fun.” We called it our last date night, it was 8pm, and the phone rang. “How many kids can you take” the voice on the other end asked me, panic set in…… “Umm…..we are only licensed for two” I said back, “OK” the voice said, the oldest two are ready to get picked up, a boy and a girl, one year, and two years old”. I was in the aisle of a grocery store, your dad had walked away, “Kevin” I screamed out, I knew this was for real. It felt like it was real. Your dad walked towards me, I held up my hands, mouthing the words “a one year old and two year old”. “Sure” he replied, like no big deal, like I was asking him something normal. I covered the phone so the worker couldn’t hear me “Do you even know how to change a diaper?” I asked him, half joking…. Silence, on both the phone and your dad’s face simultaneously. “Geez” I thought to myself, this should be fun. I tossed the car keys to your Dad, “Your going to have to drive, I think I’m going to throw up”…….

Some say love at first sight exists, but I felt something different for you Lilly and Theo. I felt needed, drawn to you, like I could help. I felt like I wouldn’t give up. I remember thinking I wasn’t going to sleep that whole first weekend till I knew what was going to happen Monday morning when the offices all opened up. No one ever told me that being a Mom meant you never really sleep again. You dream of your children, you worry for them; you would bet your life that you heard one of them cry, and so my insomnia began. I remember early on thinking that this was all temporary and that I shouldn’t attach to you. But your big blue eyes did me in, did your dad in too. Two months after we had you you began calling us Mommy and Daddy. That sealed the deal, no matter what happened, our hearts were in it for the duration.

Theo you were a Momma’s boy, and Lilly went to the park every night with Daddy. Theo you stayed home with me till you could walk, and get stronger. Then I made my mistake, I went out of town for a conference. I remember walking into the house with your Dad and seeing Theo running right at me, I bent down to pick him up, and he kept running right to Daddy…..The gig was up he discovered the fun parent.

In October of 2008 we got you, Bryce, you were 20 months old. I had said “no” so many times to a new baby, to you, I was so worried for your health. I regret that so much. This whole time I thought eyes couldn’t get any bluer, and I was wrong. I held out my arms and you fell into me. Sucking on your thumb the whole time. You spent the whole day with Mommy, and learning how to use a walker. “He will walk in 3 weeks” I had told our case workers, so showing you the walker was step one. We met the goal with a couple days to spare. You skipped walking and went right to running I think. The first day you came I sat you in the middle of your bedroom and shut the door. We had explained to your brother and sister that a new baby would be coming to stay. “Yeah my brother” Lilly would say, like she knew you all along, like she knew the day would come. We climbed the stairs behind Lilly and Theo with a video camera. “He’s in the first room guys” I said with tape rolling. Bryce peered up at the two of you a little confused, and you both proceeded to put your face right in front of his, so curious to see him. Like you were looking into a reflection. Two weeks later Bryce got very sick, and ended up staying 6 nights in the hospital. We saw you every day, and when we walked in one night you yelled “Da Da”. I looked at your Dad and but said to you Bryce “we keep all the ones that call him Da Da kid, did someone tell you that secret”. And so our forever family began.

I can tell you that I can’t imagine loving anyone or anything the way that I truly love and care for you kiddos. When I met your father years ago he told me he never would marry or have kids. I think he mentioned not changing diapers either. God has a funny sense of humor and threw him in the deep end. He loves you so much you guys. He wells up talking about you, and would give anything he had for you. He became the best father you could ever hope for. He wont go to bed without “tucking you in” for the fifth time.

I want you to know we might have more kids some day. We might not. Mommy might give birth to some kids, or we may have more foster kids. Knowing what we know now makes it hard to not want to help out more. But whatever our final family looks like I want you to know you are completely our own. You are the children we would pick out, without changing a thing!

I Love You, WE Love You, So So Much my precious babies.

Love, Mommy

“Not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone, but still miraculously my own, never doubt for one minute, you didn’t grow under my heart, but in it……..”