Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
This weekend was mostly uneventful, but on Sunday we did get to go to my friend Alex's church to see her get baptized. It was very cool, her dad got to help baptize her! Their praise band had a trombone and 2 flutes that were pretty exciting for Vivi to watch. She stared intently at them every time they played.
We're getting packed for South Carolina this weekend, I'm pretty excited that it will be in the upper 70's. We'll be visiting Eric's Aunt Chris and Uncle Howard in Myrtle Beach, Vivi's birthfamily in Charleston, and maybe stopping by to meet little Aera in Ohio on the way home. Its a lot to pack into one weekend but it should be fun.
ALSO, I think we forgot to post that we don't have to go to Utah to finalize! Our motion was granted. We still will be finalizing in November, our lawyer will appear in court for us. We got some paperwork this week that has to be signed and notarized and sent back and then we wait for our court date.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
After our bag was full, we went across the street to the cider mill and got cider and donuts and a cider slush! They had a giant rocking chair photo op that was pretty funny, talk about a size comparison picture! The chair was solid wood and actually rocked, it was very cool.
There are a lot of really cute pictures, too many to put on this page, so click on the picture below to go to the online album.
|Apple Orchard 2009|
Monday, September 21, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
"Did You Try to Have Your Own Kids?"
My wife was deluged with questions at a new moms' group, each one more personal than the last.
By Billy Cuchens
When we became parents to our two multiracial kids, my wife, Laurie, and I became a novelty to friends and acquaintances—and to strangers we met in the grocery store. At first, I was somewhat sympathetic to the staring. If I had seen a white man chasing a small black child, who was crying and screaming, “I want my Mommy!” through a crowded restaurant, I’d want an explanation, too. But as the child’s parent, the staring makes me eager to claim Isaac as my son. “I love you, son” or “Hold Daddy’s hand,” I announce loudly when I see someone looking our way.
Questions and comments, however, generally require a response. My lot is to endure blunt questions, like “Why did you adopt? Do you shoot blanks, or something?” or “Do you wear boxers or briefs? I’ve heard briefs can really mess up your count.” My wife undergoes a subtler get-to-know-you interrogation.
The other day, Laurie took our three-year-old son and baby daughter with her to a new moms’ lunch group. The conversation began when one mom asked my wife, “So, how long have you had the baby?”
“Since birth,” my wife said. “Her birthmother asked us to be in the delivery room when she was born.”
“Did it cost a lot?” another asked.
Each time we’re asked the money question, we think of asking if the interrogator’s hospital bills were high. But my wife calmly responded, “All adoption agencies charge a fee for their services.”
“What’s her background?”
“If you mean her ethnicity, our daughter is multiracial.”
“What do you mean?”
“She is part Caucasian, part Hispanic, and part African American.”
“Now, how does that work?” The woman was obviously struggling with the math required to understand more than two races.
After the moms had satisfied their curiosity about our daughter’s race, the talk circled back to adoption. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but why did her mother give her up?”
“Every birthmom has a different reason for making an adoption plan. Often, she realizes that she doesn’t have the resources to parent a child for the next 18 years or so.”
“Is that what happened with her?”
The new moms didn’t seem to be picking up on Laurie’s discomfort.
“We don’t discuss our children’s stories with other people. We’d like them to decide with whom they’ll share details when they’re older.”
“Was her birthmother young?”
“I just wonder what kind of person….” the woman caught herself. “Well, I can’t believe anyone would give up a baby who smiles so much.” As my wife pondered a response, another mom asked, “So, you still have contact with the birthmother?”
“Somewhat. My husband and I have an open adoption.”
“Is that weird?” someone else asked.
“Why would it be weird?” my wife inquired.
“I just think it would be too hard to see her holding the baby. I’d get jealous.”
“Well, she’d be holding my child. Besides, she hasn’t seen the baby since birth.” At this, all of the moms let out a sigh of relief.
But soon enough, they asked the inevitable question: “Did you try to have your own kids?”
“Well, these are my own kids,” my wife said. The leader began to fumble over her words. She knew she had asked an inappropriate question. Laurie is always kind enough to bail out someone who’s just said something stupid, so she replied, “Did you mean to ask if we tried to conceive?”
“Yes, that’s what I meant.”
“We tried for a year before we realized that God was calling us to adopt.”
“We’ve always talked about adopting,” someone chimed in. We hear this a lot, too. Mothers, in particular, say this, usually followed by, “Being pregnant is so hard. I don’t think I could do it again,” or “We have always wanted to give a home to all those poor babies who don’t have one.”
“It took us a while to get pregnant, too,” another mom volunteered.
“It can take a long time for some couples,” my wife sympathized, assuming she had struggled through years of infertility. “How long did it take you?”
“It took my husband and me a couple of months before we got pregnant.”
My wife simply nodded her head. Then she called my cell phone to see when I was coming to pick her up.
As Laurie spotted me walking into the restaurant, she began putting our son’s shoes on him. I waited for her to introduce me to some of the other moms. When she didn’t, I took the hint and asked, “What do you need me to do?”
“Get me out of here,” she whispered.
My wife cheerfully said goodbye to the group. As we headed toward the door, I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation. The women were discussing how much their children resembled themselves and their husbands.
Billy Cuchens lives with his wife and children in Carrollton, Texas.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009