Baby Girl...Part 2

Well...she's been weighing heavily on my mind lately so I figure I might as well tell the rest of it.

Read PART ONE first!!
After these visits with Baby Girl, we wanted to move forward legally. I don't want to be a glorified babysitter; I want to be a MOTHER. My good friend, Racean (pronounced RAY-shawn), was in constant contact with me and Baby Girl's aunt. Racean and I talked it over and decided that if I would take the youngest (Baby Girl) of the siblings she would take the other THREE. Racean is truly an angel. You have to understand that at this point she already had 4? of her own, twins on the way and a goddaughter that frequently lived with her. And yet she was still ready to take on THREE other kids!!!
We agreed that we would let the kids talk to each other every night, alternate sleepover weekends where each family would take turns taking all the kids, attend Racean's church every Sunday, get together every holiday and we would aim for 2-3 family dinners every month. That's a LOT of compromise there. We would be seeing Racean and Baby Girl's family 1-2 times every week and at least 8-10 times per month. We had a game plan and we were going to give some little kids some MUCH needed love, attention, and a home that wanted them.
It broke my heart every time I dropped BG off at her aunt's house. She would be shuffled into the room that she shared with her older sister and two older brothers that had an A.L.A.R.M. on the door that sounded every time someone opened it. Yes, those kids were prisoners in their aunt's house. I was there for dinner one day and the aunt's children had McDonald's for dinner while BG & her siblings had 2 slices of salami on white bread and water for dinner. WTF?! Who treats kids like that???? I don't care if you don't like the kids; they're still children that rely on you for everything!!!!
Racean and I spoke to the case worker on this case and told them we would like to adopt them and that we had a game plan. I made it very clear that I understand there is a cultural difference between me and my future daughter but I had a plan to help her remain in touch with her roots and her family and her culture. I explained how I had learned to do her hair and take care of her skin. I let them know that I understood the dirty looks that I was going to receive when I took her out to the park, the mall, the restaurant. D & I understood that there were always going to be whispers behind hands from people who were TRYING to be tactful and full on stares or rude comments from people who were ignorant. None of that matters when it comes to love. I loved this little girl like she was my own. I was prepared to take care of this little girl like she had come from my "lady garden" while acknowledging that she was the daughter of another mother. We were even prepared to keep the family ties with her first family and add them to our family.
These ladies sat in my living room drinking iced tea and nibbling on the fruit tray I put out smiling and nodding their heads. Racean and I explained how we were going to practically co-parent so the kids wouldn't feel like they were separated. Then they dropped a bomb on us. If we wanted Baby Girl, we had to take the youngest boy. Uh..say what? This isn't a sale at Younkers...there shouldn't be any fine print. We're not expecting a BOGO event here, people...we're talking about kids who need homes and people who are willing to give them!
My mind works fast...sometimes way faster than D's does. I said that we would think about it and do a visit with him this coming weekend. D has always wanted a son; I have always wanted a daughter. This would be almost perfect. Baby Girl was the sweetest little thing on Earth; she was so eager to please and hungry for attention and love and if her brother was anything like her I would be honored to have him as a son too!
Fast forward to the end of the week. D & I are excited to get our kids and get on with our plans for the weekend which included tickets to a football game.
Game didn't go well and the little boy was hell on 2 tiny feet. I swear he wanted to drown in the indoor pool! He kept leaving the floatie to jump off the step as far away from me as possible. Let me tell ya something...little kids can MOVE! As we were walking away from the pool, he let go of my hand and jumped back into the pool. I am 250 ISH pounds and not prone to running...it makes my boobs bounce too much and that crap HURTS! I hauled ass and jumped in after him only to see Baby Girl come flying in after us. That brings me to parenting lesson #2: DO NOT TAKE MORE THAN ONE TODDLER TO THE POOL WITH OUT ADDITIONAL ADULTS. This kid was unruly and hell bent on tearing up anything he could from papers in the car to clothing to my cats! When he was with Baby Girl all he did was torment her. He would pinch her, bend her fingers back, pull her hair, smack her, steal her food, bite her. I swear I spend that entire weekend trying to keep him off of her. I knew there was no way I could handle the two of them together so Racean and I made a plan. After the adoptions were finalized, I would sign custody over to her and she would take the little boy. She wanted him because he LOVED her and Chuck (her husband) and they already had a special bond. I'm not sure why the case workers were ok with splitting the kids up in 2 and 2 but not in 3 and 1.
Then we found out that it wasn't even an option. Because D & I are white. Yup. Mama found out that we were white and raised hell. Apparently she's ok with her kids being treated horribly but not ok with them being raised by a white girl. Oh, and BTW...Racean...Yeah..she isn't white. So I'd be spending damn near 1/2 my month with Racean's family and that still wasn't good enough.
Bitter? Not any more but my heart does still ache for my brown skinned not-daughter.

My eyes have been opened.

Little by little my heart is breaking each day. And HE WASN'T EVEN MY CHILD. I can not imagine how my friend, Tomeko, is feeling. One week ago today, her 24 year old son had a seizure in his sleep and passed away. I was on my way to a training on life insurance when I found out and I couldn't stop thinking about it during both days of training.
Of course I sent the obligatory text/facebook message/sympathy card and called Meko to see what I could do to help but she sounded so lost and tired and it slowly started to sink in that I would never understand exactly how she feels unless I had the same experiences. She isn't going to bounce back in a week, a month, a year or ever.
Her son is dead.
Forever.
Never coming back.
And my heart broke for her. There is nothing you can say or do to ease someone's heartache. I can only hope that she has a light that helps guide her through her fog. I've spent the larger part of today fighting off tears that want to come every time I think of Joey's sweet smile and gentle disposition or of Meko's shattered heart.
I've watched Meko try to figure out how she was going to manage to give her son a funeral, struggle to come up with the funds to purchase a headstone and purchase his last outfit. The worst part is she hasn't even started to deal with the financial aftermath of taking time off of work past her THREE days of bereavement pay.
Being an insurance agent, I hear tough stories everyday. The client whose wife passed away and left him with two young daughters and no life insurance. The man who had it through work and couldn't afford to take it with him when he retired who is now unable to buy insurance due to his health. The young family with a 4 and 5 year old who would rather buy a big house, a new car, new fancy computer, and eat out frequently than make the SELFLESS decision to make the hard choice and buy insurance to protect their loved ones and the life style lived.
I've never had to watch someone I love struggle through a death. You'll probably read this and think "How sad!" and put that wall up around your heart. I want you to keep that wall down for the next couple minutes. I want you to imagine how it would feel to be you. I want to open your eyes. I want to protect you and your loved ones from the tiny fraction of Meko's heartache that I'm feeling and from the full weight of loss that is on her shoulders right now.  I want you to visit Life Foundation's website and read these stories.
After reading them, I want you to think how you would FEEL if your spouse died last Friday. What if the last paycheck you received truly was THE last? How would your family pay the rent/mortgage every month? Are they going to have to downgrade or sell their home? What dreams are they going to have to give up? College education? Financial security? Travelling? How long is your spouse/mother/father/loved one going to have before they HAVE to pull it together to go back to work? 3 days? 2 weeks? What if they just can't scrape themselves up off the floor?
Now I want you to think how you would feel if this was you. What if your loved one died last Friday and you've received the final paycheck. How long do you want to have to get it together? How long do you want to stay in your home? What dreams are you going to have to give up?
I blame myself for part of Meko's struggles. I never asked. I didn't push. I didn't want to offend or ruin a friendship. I assumed she couldn't afford it. I wish I had. I'll never get another chance.
I can't write a policy on 95% of you (because of location) but I can help you determine your NEED to cover your family's WANTS. How do you think Meko would feel if I could write her a $10,000, $50,000, $100,000 check instead of sending a measly card? Do you think she would have paid the $20 or more per month to get that check today?
Email me: Jenna@tanyaPatzner.com, call me at 402.333.1866, text me at 402.490.4862, Facebook me
and I'll help you determine what you need. There's no cost for knowledge. If you're not comfortable with that, check with a local agent.
I need you to truly feel this. You need life insurance whether you ignore it or not. You have some through work or you purchased some years ago, that's great! That's a start! How do you know if you have enough? How do you know if you never get it checked.
I'm not sorry for pushing you now and your family wouldn't be sorry for it either.

Once our eyes are opened we can not pretend we don't know what to do.  I know what I have to do.

I just haven't met you yet

 I'm feeling a little blue right now and I can pinpoint exactly where it hurts. I feel silly sitting at my desk at work trying to hold back tears. Some people say their hearts hurt but mine doesn't. I feel like there is a hole in the middle of my rib cage and it is sucking in all the energy and any positive outlook I have today.

Today is a day that hurts. I don't usually indulge in what ifs or dream about recreating the past but I can't turn away from it today.

What if D and I had children already? Would they look like him? Would they have his green eyes or my muddy swamp colored eyes? Would they have inherited the cupid's bow of my top lip that I inherited from my mother? What about D's big nose (I certainly hope not if it was a girl! I have a much cuter girl's nose!!) or his love of spicy food? Would she be a girly girl like her mamma or would she like to play ball with her daddy? Would he sleep nestled in Popop's arms with his little rosebud mouth in a perfect smile?

I don't usually ask these questions or dream about these babies that were never meant to be mine because it hurts. Oh it hurts so bad that it sucks the air from my lungs and leaves me gasping for breath and leaves a tightening in my throat. And then Pandora (oh, Pandora..you are the death of me sometimes and times like today you are a savior!) played Just Haven't Met You Yet by Michael Buble.

I might have to wait.
I'll never give up.
I guess it's half timing,
And the other half's luck.
Wherever you are.
Whenever it's right.
You'll come out of nowhere and into my life.

And I know that we can be so amazing.
And baby your love is gonna change me.
And now I can see every possibility.

I LOVE Michael Buble like truly LOVE his music, his voice, his persona and everything about him. This song is for you, Baby. We haven't met yet but we will. I will never give up on you and I know that you will be the biggest joy of my life. I will wait for you as long as I have to and will love you no matter where you come from.  You have a daddy waiting for you that is kind, funny, sosososososo interesting to talk to and wants to protect and love you more than anything.  We love you.

For You are who You are no matter where I am

Music moves me. A well written verse can stick with me and make me contemplate my situations and my reactions to them. Since playing Adams Wilson on repeat I have started to incorporate some of my old favorites back into my rotation. Now I remember why I stopped listening to them. They strike a chord deep inside of me and force me to grow (or stop listening to them). 

I was sure by now
God, You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining...
Casting Crowns "Praise You In This Storm"

So often D and I have cried in pain, frustration, anger and jealousy over our infertility. "It's not fair!" "We would be excellent parents!" These phrases have come out of our mouths so often they are like well worn worry stones; the syllables rounded from use and comfortable to say.
We used to think that our God would miraculously step in and save the day and we would find ourselves preparing for children. For years we said "Amen" through tears and later through gritted teeth. Until one day we just couldn't do it anymore and we stopped going to church. We cut ties with all the friends we had made and our church family and decided that we were done with the kind of God that would let people hurt when they didn't need to.
We tried to say that it was because no one called when D was in the hospital or because people we had loved didn't have anything better to say at Grandma's funeral than "I'm sorry."  In reality we were spoiled toddlers in our faith and after having asked a million times and not received the answer we wanted we decided to go away and sulk.   Aunt Jessa's daughter, Doodle, has been angry with me once. She had done something and I scolded her and she was angry. She walked up to me and crossed her arms over her chest and said "We're not best friends anymore!" then stomped away. Yeah...we basically did that to God.

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
(Same song..same band)

I've tried to be still and hear God's voice. I fall asleep. My attention gets pulled in 100 different directions. OOOH!! SQUIRREL!!! My mom would say that is the handiwork of the Debil!! (Use your Kathy Bate's Waterboy voice!!) I think it hurt more that I never heard the great Almighty's voice comfort me. Almost 4 years later I'm beginning to think that I wasn't listening closely enough. Maybe instead of laying in bed in silence I should have paid attention to the feeling in the pit of my stomach during worship service. Or really thought about why those simple words above are enough to make me cry.

I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find You
(Once again...same song..same band. Sense a theme here?)

I was raised in a "religious" house. My mother and grandmother are bible thumpers from way back. "Pray about it" was one of the most commonly used "Jesus-isms" in my house aside from "Praise JEE-susss!!"  When I moved out I revolted against God and church and my mother. I stumbled in my faith which was never very strong to begin with. I felt I couldn't find my way; I felt like I was drowning and I would never find peace.
Grandma brought D and I to church (long story..) and we felt like we were home. I felt like I had found a family. I grew in my faith and felt the support it gave me in tough times. Then we struggled to have children and I walked away again. It's hard to have faith in a God when you are hurting and you feel He's turned His back. It's hard to open yourself up to hearing His voice in the middle of your storm. It's much easier to turn Pandora on and listen to music and squelch all those feelings down and pretend it doesn't matter. And then an unexpected song comes on that speaks directly to me. I am going to make the conscious decision to work through this.

And I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

(Do I need to say it again?!)  

My Almost Baby-part 1

Almost a year ago I received a text message asking "Do you want a 2 yo black baby girl?" My heart skipped a beat and without thinking my chubby fingers raced over my phone's keyboard, "YES!!!!" 
I raced down to Lower Level 3 (LL3) from my 6th floor office to the friend that had texted me to get more information and find out where my daughter was. Yes...I already thought of her as my child. I had no clue what she looked like or who she was but she was mine. As I talked to the friend about Baby Girl's situation I couldn't help but think of how easy this was. I had heard of people waiting for adoptions for yeaaaars and yeaaars and here Baby Girl plopped into our laps.
I called D and asked him what he thought and we agreed that we should go visit Baby Girl at her aunt's house first. We went over and were greeted by noisy, dirty, hungry children. Everyone wanted NEEDED attention and D & I were overwhelmed to say the least! Baby Girl was introduced to us and we scrutinized her just as she scrutinized us. She had skin that was dry and ashy but would be a beautiful, warm brown with a little TLC, cornrows that looked like Velcro, snot dried to her nose, and clothes that were too big and dirty. I was HORRIFIED that anyone would allow a child (theirs or not) to be in that condition. Baby Girl was living with her aunt who treated BG and her siblings like second class citizens and common criminals. The aunt wanted to get rid of them and had already talked to the state social worker about putting them up for adoption. D & I didn't want to get too attached until we knew what was going on but we agreed to take Baby Girl for the weekend.
We picked up Baby Girl for the weekend and this child was so hungry she ate an entire can of veggie soup by herself! She didn't say a word; she just allowed me to spoon more and more soup into her. I changed her diaper which should have been changed A LONG TIME AGO and put her in jammies. Baby Girl fell asleep almost instantly in the crook of my arm suckling her fingers. I watched her sleep for a long time, my heart aching at the care she was being given. I was so thankful that I could give her a home where she was cherished and well taken care of. The next morning I woke up to see these big brown eyes scoping me out as D and I snatched the last few Zs of the early Saturday morning. I scootched over and offered part of our bed to Baby Girl and she climbed in and went back to sleep with her head resting right underneath my chin. I laid there in silence reveling in the simple joy of her warm, little body curled with mine until my tummy rumbled. I got up to go make breakfast and she continued to sleep with D.

After breakfast D went to work and I guess I went to work on Baby Girl. First on the agenda-a bath. This child smelled like rancid oil and was in desperate need of a good, long soak in a warm bubble bath. I called up a good friend of mine and asked her how I should take care of Baby Girl's hair because I was taking it out of those horrible cornrows and going to make sure my baby was clean. 



Towel Time!!



I started with a wide toothed comb and some Pink Oil. I would soak her braids in Pink Oil and try to ease the tangles out. A few hours later (this was one patient child!) I had her hair flying free from the cornrows and realized that it no longer looked like Velcro! I called my friend back in tears because my hands were covered in black with occasional bits of hair here and there. I was certain that I had pulverized her hair as it broke off during my brushing. My friend laughed and laughed and called me a crazy white girl. Her hair was just DUUUUURRTY!  I ran a bubble bath for Baby Girl who was terrified of the bubbles at first. (I doubt she had ever seen a tub with bubbles and toys before.) After a little coaxing she sat down in the bubbles and let me bathe her. After I rinsed her off with the shower I wrapped her in a warm fluffy towel and held her for a minute as I watched the gray water drain down the tub.

Next on the agenda was to tend to her skin. I may be a white girl but I have had plenty of AA friends who joked about ashy skin. I grabbed a bottle of Skin Milk Lotion and started to lovingly massage my baby's juicy thighs and arms with it. While I lotioned her up I talked to her and sang to her and was rewarded generously with a big toothy smile and could see our future as a family in her chocolate eyes. The next step on Project Baby Clean was to wash her hair.

My little princess

I know that I made some mistakes now but at that point her hair was so dirty I knew it needed to be washed, not just conditioned and rinsed but actually WASHED. I grabbed a bottle of shampoo that the kind, black lady at Walmart suggested to me and laid Baby Girl on the kitchen counter with her head over the sink and proceeded to wash her hair. She eventually fell asleep during the 5th rinsing of her hair. I filled the kitchen sink FIVE (yes, 5!!) times so I could rinse her hair before it finally rinsed clean. I could not imagine the lack of care my beautiful baby had received prior to me. As I towel tried her hair and added conditioners and layer upon layer of product to it I learned my first parenting lesson: ALWAYS PUT YOUR CHILD IN A DIAPER DIRECTLY AFTER LEAVING THE BATHTUB! Yup...Baby Girl peed all over me!! I still smile to this day thinking about that.
Finally after almost 3 hours of bathing and primping this child she was clean and sweet smelling like she should have been. I pulled her hair up into afro-puffs and popped a cute headband on with a big flower, got her dressed and fed her lunch. D came home soon after that and stopped as soon as he saw her. He could not believe this was the same child that we had picked up last night. We decided we were just going to live our lives the same way we always had and see how Baby Girl fit into our life. We immediately felt like a family. I saw what kind of father my husband was going to be and I won't lie to ya, I cried like a big baby in the shower that night after watching him and Baby Girl.
D was gentle and kind with BG. When he talked to her he would get down on her level and look her in the eyes. He waited until she finished her babbling response and would shake his head and pretend to understand. D played with her and made her squeal with laughter when he blew raspberries on her tummy or tossed her in the air and caught her. They would curl up together and watch Dora or Little Bill. At first D seemed hesitant about getting close to Baby Girl but there was just something about this child that would melt even the coldest person's heart and make them fawn all over her. I loved D even more than before. He was the kind of father that I wish I had grown up with. Loving, caring, compassionate, funny, and attentive.

David was so happy to have a daughter.

Saturday turned to Sunday too quickly and suddenly it was time to return my baby to her aunt's house. After we returned to our home we noticed it was too quiet...too peaceful. We truly missed our daughter. D and I had a long discussion about how our lives were going to be changed by Baby Girl. We were suddenly going to have day care (right around the corner from our house), diapers to purchase (makes a Costco membership worthwhile), and an extra mouth to feed. Admittedly I was smitten and not thinking about the legal aspects of adoption but I had held this child and felt her open up to me and learn to trust that I was not going to hurt her and she loved me (not as much as she loved 'nanas, but still!). I knew that she had to be part of my family.


This picture breaks my heart.



Baby Girl fit into our lives like a piece we didn't realize we were missing. We had known we wanted to have children and we had suffered through unsuccessful infertility treatments and grieved the loss of our dreams. Baby Girl was a piece in our mosaic and we hoped to cement her into our lives.