our knitting project

I’m always pleasantly surprised by the ways our family is knitted together. It reminds me of knitting actually. Not that I’ve ever really knitted anything so I guess it’s more like it reminds of what I think knitting would be like. I imagine that we started out thinking we were going to make a sock, and then we kept adding to it and pretty soon it became a scarf and then we added some more in different colors and it started to look like a sweater and the we add more in more colors and it might end up being some kind of poncho thing with a hood right now.

I say that because our old nanny was just in town visiting from her new home and life in California. She loves these kids like a favorite aunt: phone calls and gifts on birthdays and holidays, pictures from her new life as a college graduate. We chat over dinner about Sloane’s potty training, Tagg’s new addiction to Star Wars, her boyfriend’s crazier-than-ever mother, her search for a new house. She always feels like family to me and I hope that no matter what happens in the future, she feels that way too. 

We were blessed to find her at a time when I was really struggling with the fiscal requirements that drove me back to work when I wanted nothing more than to be home with my children. Leaving them in a stranger’s hands was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But she was perfect from the first meeting – she was the only candidate who insisted on meeting at a Starbucks because she was concerned about safety, not paranoid just cautious. I was sold! - and she just got better from there.

I was often jealous that she was leading the life I had dreamed of and planned on – play dates and swimming lessons and craft projects - while I was living meetings and deadlines and office politics. But you do what you have to do to get by, and now I realize that maybe she was brought to us because she was meant to be part of our random, ever-expanding, knitted-together-by-love little family. 

I also think she helped me figure out something that I think most working moms know, or learn: you get as much joy out of the time you have together as you can. You might even appreciate that precious time more because you actually know what you're missing. 

I do have to say that since Nessa left, I have a newfound appreciation for her ability to have EVERYTHING in perfect order when I got home at night. When Scott gets home on Saturdays, it's like Toys R Us exploded in our house and our dishwasher and washing machine are broken. Hey, we all have our strengths. Cleaning may not be one of mine, but I can craft and soccer-mom my ass off!

So who knows where it will end up, this knitted-together family of ours. What shape, size and combination of colors it will end up. The one thing we do know is that no matter what, it keeps us all warm and snuggly.

there's the thread

I went to a baby shower for one of my dear friends recently. She and I were roommates when she got divorced a little over 10 years ago. We were both in advertising, addicted to shopping, liked to hob-nob at clubs and Sundance movie premieres, we were both Pisces, and had a million more things in common. She had a pug who would wake me up before I was ready. I had a cat that liked to pee on her bed. 

We don’t talk a ton since she moved to New York City about 5 years ago, but every time we do it’s like no time has passed. That's the best kind of friend to have, in my opinion. Low maintenance, high value. She’s kind of living the dream – she packed up and moved to Manhattan to pursue a photography career and ended up in design, hopping from fabulous party to famous restaurant to high-profile accounts, always looking gorgeous and free and happy. I quietly coveted her footloose, glamorous, Sex In The City life on those days when Utah felt too pedestrian and stifling, or when marriage and a house payment seemed too grown-up and stressful, or when my job seemed boring and unsatisfying.

And then one day last summer she called me and asked about adoption. She was turning 40 soon and had decided that what she really wanted was a baby. And since the dating scene had been less than productive (even in New York…who would have thought that!) she was going to become a parent on her own. And, in typical Jen fashion, she wasn’t exactly doing it the “conventional” way.

Nope. One of her very dear gay friends had offered to serve as a sperm donor, and they were literally using a turkey baster – yes, an actual Thanksgiving-like-your-mom-uses turkey baster – to do the deed. As it turns out, that did not work for them and they had to go pro (ka-ching) but still, success! She’s pregnant and is officially staring single motherhood square in the face. We had a chance to chat when I visited her in New York and it was interesting to see that she struggles with a lot of the same issues we do with our adopted children: What is the baby daddy's role going to be? How much will he be involved? What if he wants to be more involved than she’s prepared for? Do his parents get to act like real grandparents? What does she tell this baby about how he or she was born and who all of these people are?

After a long discussion about the pros and cons of this option or that strategy, expressing our fears and uncertainties, and admitting that we really have no freaking clue what we’re doing, we settled on the one thing we both do know 100% and without question. We love these children and they can’t ever have enough people to love them, so as long as we make decisions with love and trust in our hearts, we’ll be doing the right thing. Well, actually there were two things we figured that we do know. The other? We’re probably going to screw a lot of things up along the way and that’s okay too. And just like that we’re back to having something in common. I’m excited for her and I look forward to a lot of those sporadic future phone calls and emails, and hopefully some visits, where we can prop each other up and share our unique stories just like the good old days. Maybe we'll get to do some shopping and have a martini while we're at it.

When Tagg was born, someone gave us this lovely book called The Red Thread, An Adoption Fairy Tale. It's about people following this thread that tugs at their hearts till they embark on a journey to find their family and their joy. I kind of think that's how a lot of families are made these days. And a lot of friendships. I know that Jen and I have a "thread" connection, just like Scott and I have a thread that unites us with our birth families. And Jen will have that same bond with her baby-family, I think; sometimes it may wear thin or get a little twisted but you're still joined together by love. And that's what makes it all work.

the good stuff

I have a friend who is in her early 60s. She's a brilliant, interesting woman and I gather she may have been a bit of a wild flower child back in the day. I also happen to know that she placed a child for adoption when she was a teenager. She shared this very personal story with me when she found out we were adopting our daughter and as much as I appreciated it then, I really treasure it now. Why? 

Sometimes it's hard being so open with your birth parents. There's a lot of anxiety, paranoia and fear that comes along as part of the package. Some of it's justified, most is completely fabricated from dark, icky places in your head and weird stuff people say to you. There are days when you don't want to share the title of "mom," or when you vividly see a day in the future when your dramatic teenager will crush you in the heat of a stupid argument about curfew by saying they want to go live with their "real" parents, or when you tell someone you had lunch with your baby mama and they look at you like you said you sent your baby to the zoo with a kidnapper, or a Catholic priest. There are days when you wonder if you've shared too much, or not enough. And, the worst of all, what if they try to get your baby back. Sure, not realistic, but in crazy-brain town you still worry about it. And bear in mind, our birth families are AMAZING people. Like unbelievably cool, normal, awesome people. And I still play out these internal soap opera moments in my head more often than I care to admit. 

So that's where my friend and her story serve as a beacon of light. AKA, a virtual bitch-slap to the face. I see my relationship with my birth parents fast-forwarded 40 years. I see our relationship from their point of view, with a veneer of wisdom and life experience to boot. I hear her talk about how much she struggled with her adoption decision back then. A decision that didn't feel like a choice based on the circumstances and pressures at the time. A choice that opened up a future full of adventure, love and success. But I can tell she still has traces of regret. I see how much she loves the child she gave up all those years ago, and how much she cherishes the precious little time she is able to spend with him and her grandchildren now. She calls him "my son" and speaks about him with an ease so natural that most people never know that of her two sons, she raised one and watched one grow up from afar. My heart aches to hear how hurt she is by his adopted mother's territorial nature which keeps her so very distant and removed from her son and his family. I "ooh" and "ahh" over the family photos she proudly shares and the stories of her grandkids' triumphs in school and sports. All proof that a mother's love doesn't require a formal title, or a typical family tree, or daily conversations. It just is. And when someone asks her how many kids she has, she doesn't hesitate when she answers, "I have two children." 

Seeing that love and conviction, and the joy and pride she has as a mom, reminds me why it's important to invest in this relationship with love, trust, hope and, maybe most importantly, with open hearts and open minds. Because the more you open up, the more room there is for the good stuff. And it's really all about the good stuff.

graduation day

It was graduation season a couple of months ago (where does the time go?!) and our mailbox was full of white and cream envelopes. A lot of our friends, who got started with their families well before we did, have kids graduating from high school and they proudly send announcements with photos of their smiling kids in caps and gowns.

Among them was an announcement for Tagg’s baby mama’s high school graduation. Amazing. He’s almost 4 years old and she is just graduating from high school. How crazy is that? 

I keep in touch with Juno’s mom and Juno and I are friends on Facebook (weird, right?) so I know that she’s graduating with honors, was the star of her high school basketball and volleyball teams, that she’s going to college to study medicine, and that she’s been to lots of dances and football games and that she's gorgeous, popular and seems really happy. Basically, she's having the perfect high school experience. I’m really proud of her. In what I hope is a non-condescending kind of way. 

That graduation announcement was comforting to me. Like we all did the right thing and it's working out perfectly. I hope she felt the same way. And that Tagg will, too, someday.

Now the big question…what do you get your baby mama for a graduation present?!

hey baby

I have always wondered what it feels like to be pregnant. To give birth. Once I knew I wouldn't ever have children or experience any of it first-hand, I wondered if I seriously missed out on something, if I should have these pangs of remorse and deprivation by not being able to deliver (pun intended) the one event that makes you a "real woman," or if I should be a little wistful that I missed the pregnancy/birth experience, or if I'm really and truly fulfilled with the birth experience I had as an adoptive parent. I think I found some answers today...

My little brother's wife had her second baby today and I got to be there for the birth of my new, incredibly handsome nephew. She is such a gracious, loving and thoughtful woman that she had invited me for her daughter's birth two years ago because she thought it might be important to me to have that experience. Of course, I was sick. Sick as a dog. Like damn near pneumonia sick. So I missed it. Today I got my do-over.

I made it to the hospital just in time. Like, seriously, one more wrong turn or a pee break and I might have missed it. Saw a little bloody show. Saw the pushing (way less dramatic than on TV but, then again, Becks is a rock star). Saw the baby come out (which reminded me a little of Total Recall...sorry Becky and baby boy, just being real). Managed not to get any inappropriate pictures or video of the vah-jay-jay, per strict instructions. Saw the little guy take his first breath, belt out his first cry, open his eyes the first time, calm at the feel of his mother's breast and heart beat, slap the nurse's hand away. Fell in love. 100% and then some. And ended up in tears.

After some reflection, I think I'm good. I don't feel like I've "missed out" by not being pregnant. Or by not actually giving birth. I have loved my children wholeheartedly from minute one. Second one. Nobody sat on my bladder, gave me heartburn, kicked me in the middle of the night, or made me puke for 9 months, but the second we heard "we want you," we became parents. With less hormones. That is undeniable. The pain points were different. Wondering if you'd walk away with baby, how the relationships would work, that kind of thing. So my takeaways from seeing a baby born are, perhaps, life-changing. Or at least attitude-changing.

• I kind of wish that I had been there in the room when they were born even though the reasons we weren't are completely fine. But there's a little magical bond that got delayed for us, and I would have loved to see the joy and love on their birth family's faces at that moment. Although, maybe that would have been harder. I already ache for them every day. Would those pictures turn a sweet twinge into full-on pain? Or would I continue to adore the fact that pictures we have of our children's birthdays have their birth families and us hugging, smiling, loving? I think that's pretty amazing.
• I kind of wish that our family had been able to join us, in the hospital, to celebrate these children and welcome them to our family like most children are. Kind of like that last scene in Parenthood (always makes me cry because that is SO my family!). Where you have almost too many family members there to welcome them and to love them and to embrace them into your life
• I wish all hospitals knew how to deal with adoptions. They can either make you feel like parents from day one, or awkward intruders.  
• Whoa! When you see that stuff on TV about bowling balls through a straw and "how are you doing that?!?!?!"...all true. Women are pretty fucking amazing. 

When you're in an adoption situation, no matter how secure you are, you are on an island. We spent 3 days in the hospital both times, trying to figure out our role. Balancing hopes of supreme joy with fears of excruciating devastation. Alone. Without our moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, friends and confidants. Loving this baby - our baby - 100 and a gazillion bazillion percent, wanting to share this child with the ones we love...and yet knowing, fearing that there's a good chance something will blow up, minds will be changed, and you will come home with nothing but broken dreams and broken hearts and no baby. Those days in the hospital might be the most joyous, petrifying, insecure, blessed, paranoid days I've ever had in my life. And we did it twice. And no matter what the "norm" is or what I know now or what I "kind of" wish, our babies and the experiences we had are still the most perfect and wonderful moments in my life.

Now that I've seen the birth process, I think the only thing I might truly regret - or maybe the right word is "covet" - from today is a feeling. Security. Knowing for sure, 100 and a gazillion bazillion percent that this child is yours, from the moment he or she takes their first breath, to the first time grandma or favorite aunt or best friend gets to hold the little nugget, to the moment you strap them in their car seat and drive home at 5MPH. All of the other stuff...the love, the connection, the family, the memories. That has never been a question or an issue.

So, hey new baby. Welcome to the family! You are in good company! And thanks for the lesson. I owe you one.

mothers' day

My friends had sweet, all-smiley pix with their kids for Mothers Day.
This is our best take...Tagg wishing he was throwing rocks in the pond,
and Sloane going for my bracelet. At least my eyes are open.
Welcome to my mom life! I L-O-V-E it.

Mother's Day, for me, is an incredibly special day. There were days, years even, where I never thought I would be somebody's mom. I love my mother so much, and my mother-in-law and my aunts and so many of my friends are amazing, incredible and inspirational moms that I feel honored to be in "the club." Scott and I had a little romantic escape at Snowbird that included a lovely dinner, a hot tub with mountain views, and much-needed massages in the morning, and then we spent a fun-filled day with the kids. Perfect Mothers' Day in my opinion.

And then I got this text from Juno: Happy Mother's Day! I hope it is a great one :) love you all so much!

AND this Facebook message from Bella: I hope your Mother's Day is wonderful [: You deserve it! I think I could have interviewed every mom in the world, and still never found one that came close to you!

I cried a little. Happy tears. They made me feel...like a Mother. I'm not sure how to describe this exactly, because I feel like a mother every day when I'm with Tagg and Sloane. But I think somehow when you're an adoptive parent, especially one with such an open relationship with your birth parents, you feel like you share these children in a way. At least that's how it is for me.

Sure, you're their mom. You do all the hard stuff - diapers and discipline, patience and potty training, late nights and last-minutes, college savings accounts and clean up. But you get all the good stuff too - the hugs, the night-night kisses, the "firsts," the giggles, the random and hilarious comments and dances, and all those moments that make parenthood so delicious. But for me, I share these children with their birth moms. I'm aware, always, that I made a pact with them and our babies to be not just a "whatever" mom, but a great mom. And that's not always an easy promise to live up to.

So knowing that I not only get the joy of this handsome, clever, hilarious boy and this adventurous, lovely, whip-smart girl, not to mention the entire "mom" experience...and that they support me in the journey? That they appreciate me and respect our relationship enough to send those messages? Next to my children, that is THE best Mothers' Day gift I could ever hope for. And every success that these girls have in their lives is just a special bow on top. A bow that makes me proud and warm inside. I hope to get the same gift every year. It will just get richer and more special as time goes on.

I still never know exactly how to respect their place in this relationship. Hallmark doesn't make "birth mom" Mothers Day cards. And it seems like it could be offensive or hurtful, or something not right, to send them a card or an email acknowledging that it's their day too in a weird, unconventional way. No matter what, I hope they know that every moment of every Mothers Day and most days, we have them in our hearts and minds. Because without their mother's love, I would not be celebrating this very special day.

*There's an Open Adoption Round Table blog about Mothers Day...lots of great conversations that we are now part of...

how does it feel?

The Open Adoption Roundtable posted a discussion topic today...how do you feel after a visit? A little like you've been through an emotional sausage grinder, I think but hey! sausage is pretty yummy when it's done. Let me see if I can capture some of the feelings that ricochet around your heart and head and family after a visit.

Full of Love. We always say that you can't ever have too many people to love you. We are extremely lucky to have these amazing people who started as strangers and became part of our family. Our love for them is genuine, and so is their love for us. It's amazing how much love is out there when you open your heart to it. We chat about life and the weather and marvel over how amazing our kids are, like we would with aunts and cousins who live out of state. Thoughtful little gifts show how much they care for our whole family whether it's a special book that Bella knows Tagg would love, or a cute outfit that I know Juno picked out specially for Sloane. Sometimes my heart practically hurts and my eyes well up with tears, I'm so overflowing with love.

Blessed. How on earth did we get so lucky to have these amazing, perfect, beautiful children?! These people. That's how. These selfless young women and men, and their families, who gave us a gift for which there will never be enough thanks. We are blessed that they chose us, blessed with these amazing babies, and blessed that they are now part of our life and are willing to figure it all out and make mistakes and enjoy the wonderful...together.

Insanely lucky. We'll probably never win the Lotto. We must have used up a lifetime of good luck getting these adorable kids. But to get the extended family too? They are all, all of them, so special and wonderful and loving and normal (let's face it, that's a big one!). They are beautiful and smart and funny and fun. And they could have done this. But they made an incredibly hard decision and took a huge gamble on us. And I guess we gambled too. Open adoption takes a lot of trust, and a lot of openness. We've been lucky that everyone in this crazy relationship respects the relationship, and puts the kids first.

A little sad. Like I said, they could have done this. And I know that after every time we talk or meet for a picnic in the park, they have to leave their kids, and deal with the separation again. They have to file away those fleeting moments - a hug, a facial expression that reminds them of themselves as a child, the chime of a giggle that sounds familiar. Trying, in a few minutes or hours, to absorb all the change that weeks or months of growing up has affected on the baby they placed so lovingly in our arms. Hoping that they didn't say or do anything awkward, that they didn't push too much, hug too tightly. And wondering how long it will be till they can do it again. It makes me feel a little sad.

Relief. I think before every meeting, you work up in your head a list of all the worst things that could happen. From a bad hair day or an awkward conversation to a full-on meltdown or...who knows, random kidnapping attempt. Seriously, your head can get a little crazy. And when it all goes well, and you've added another brick to the foundation of trust you're building together, it feels good. And right. And you're relieved.

Wonder. How on earth are we doing this? How are we making it work? There's no book. No instruction manual. There are hardly even any good conversations online to help guide you (except this one of course). We're just winging it. And what's next? What happens when the kids are old enough to understand who Bella and Jacob and Juno and Paulie are, and how they fit in our family? How are we going to explain adoption to them? How do we make sure they know how much they're loved by all of us? What if, in their teen angst years, they don't want this relationship anymore and how do we help them and the birth parents deal with that? What if their birth parents "move on" and don't stay in touch, or what if some do and some don't? And when they have children that they parent, how does that relationship work? We know it's going to get easier in some ways, and harder in lots of others. I suppose we're going to keep walking ahead blindly, guided by nothing more than love and faith.

love notes

I am not a huge fan of Valentines Day. Very un-girlie, I know. It just seems so manufactured and forced. Not that I wouldn't love some flowers or a little romantic dinner somewhere, don't get me wrong. I would just rather get a bouquet of tulips on a random Tuesday in May or have a lovely dinner out for no particular reason without seven billion other people celebrating romance because they're supposed to. Bah humbug!

The one thing I do love about Valentines Day is thinking about love. Being reminded how much love there is in my home, in my life, in the world. Loving love.

I was reminded of the love fest today when I opened the mailbox and there was a red envelope addressed to our family, postmark West Virginia. It was a Valentines card sending hugs and smiles...and love our way. From one family to another. To me, the best thing about open adoption is being able to share that love and caring. Across the miles and the months. I know that someday my children will have this tender history of the love that brought them to us and keeps us close to their birth families' hearts.

As usual, I am running a few days behind in getting my cards out. Doesn't seem to matter how early I start, I always end up late somehow. But I love the handmade cards we made for the kids' birth families. Their watercolor art is unique, special and beautiful with the drips and streaks —Tagg's are intense and bold and organized; Sloane's are arbitrary, free, delicate. I love them so much it's hard for me to be unselfish and send them off. A poignant reminder of the special gift that we were given. Maybe that's why I waited till the last minute to post them. So off these little masterpieces of love go, families joined by little hands and little hearts.

Maybe I am a fan of Valentines Day after all.

the little things

I got a little note from Paulie tonight that was a big deal to me. I am a little weepy about it. I had posted a preview of some family holiday photos that we had done a few weeks ago on Facebook. Not gonna lie, they're pretty cute. Stinking adorable. Mostly because our kids are darling and our photographer is amazing. Maybe we're not so bad either.

So Paulie Facebook-messages me cuz that's how you do it these days and says, after letting me know he's almost done with finals (good boy):

"i just looked at some of the christmas pictures gosh he is getting soooooo handsome and sloan is just gorgeous you guys look like the perfect little family =] makes me the happiest person in the world"

That right there is the beauty of open adoption. You get to share all of this stuff, this great love, these perfect moments...these children, in a way that is so incredibly special and shocking and unique and wonderful. My heart is so full of love right now. We are all the perfect little family.

thanks a million

I love Thanksgiving. Not just because turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, rolls and pumpkin pie are my favorite...although that's always been a big part of it. But mostly because it gets really easy to take all of the things that make life wonderful for granted and this time of year you get to revel in each and every blessing that you have. So here we go...

our little man.  
He is such a joy and a blessing and a gift. There's no way to describe how his big heart and sharp wit and around-the-neck-bear-hugs and 'emergency kisses' have made our life and our family so amazing. He has this little lilt in his voice when he says things like "Thanksgiving is for loving mommies and daddies" or "You wanna make a deal?" We are so incredibly grateful that Tagg is our son.

our baby girl 
Those big blue eyes. Sloane brings new meaning to love and adventure every single day. She will wrap her arms around your knees one second and scale the counter tops the next. There is nothing better than her belly laugh or her big kisses or her curiosity for life. She is our angel and our love and our miracle baby.

friends, family and crazy running stuff.  
I am grateful for my family and friends who do crazy things with me, like run 188 miles in 24 hours or get up at the ass-crack of dawn to run a 5K in freezing temps on Thanksgiving. And I'm grateful that I am healthy enough to run a block, let alone 6.2 miles in 63 minutes. Most every step is hard, but every step is a gift and I know that for sure.

sunrises. sunsets.  
Somehow the sky gets painted with these breathtaking colors and patterns that make me stop in my tracks. God, nature, miracle, call it what you want. I don't care. I love them.

freedom.
You ain't seen nothing until you've seen Sloane in the throes of the joy of running. In her Uggs and her leopard skirt-pants, baby mullet flying in the wind. She is the epitome of joy in life, all day every day.

love.
You can't ever have too much love in your life, we always say. And judging by the calls, texts, emails and hugs we got today, we are not lacking in that category in any way. We are so very, very blessed to have an extended family that envelopes us all with so much pure, unadulterated, unselfish love. It is beautiful and amazing.

special friends.  
Tagg and his cousin Ashley have a special relationship. They have grown up together and well, they just love each other. I have a lot of friends like this. The ones who love you even when they smack you or share their cold with you. No matter what, they are always there to hold your hand when you need it, or when you don't, and to give you their last M&M, even if you don't ask.

Scott gets the love. I am the ride. Did I mention that I also love little kids in footie pajamas?

my amazing husband, scott.  
I love this man. He is my best friend, my rock, my guy who will do anything for me as long as I ask with a smile on my face, and he is the best best best father in the world. He can out-play, out-patience, out-smart, out-love our children and me without a sweat...and that's saying something!

Seriously. Does it get any cuter than this?

suburbia.  
Normally I don't love living in the burbs but every once in awhile you find a reason to love it. Today, we had an epic Thanksgiving dinner with the family and then walked about a half-mile to see a zebra. Oh yeah. You heard me right. A ZEBRA! Like at the zoo. And a couple of emus, a goat and some horses and stuff. But seriously, a ZEBRA...named Zuri. We fed it grapes.

Here, goatie, goatie.

grandparents. 
Scott and I have unbelievable parents. And those parents make over-the-moon grandparents. It's a different kind of special love. It's beautiful to watch and enjoy and appreciate and be inspired by. And I love that our babies are embraced by that all-consuming love from all of their grandparents every day of every month of every year.

family.  
Sometimes a walk on a cool day is the thing you remember.
It's always the thing that you love.

football. 
I am grateful for DVR (thanks couch potatoes) so I could watch the games between chasing kids.

food on the table. 
We ran a 10K this morning to benefit the Utah Food Bank. They did a challenge recently to see if you could survive on food stamps for a month which basically meant you could spend 6 bucks a day on food per person. Uh, hello. That's my Starbucks budget. So we've tried it and failed. And I am so, so incredibly grateful that our family has more than enough to eat and that we can share with others who don't.

The spoon is actually sticking to Sloane's hand like magic. But really it's sticky Jell-o hands. I am thankful for Jell-O, especially when I'm sick or when my mom makes it for Thanksgiving with cranberries and nuts.

hope. 
I want everything for my children, my siblings, my parents, my family, my friends. When there is something that they desire, I want it for them and we will do everything we can to make it a reality. Today we know that the all promises of life and love and family continue. There are so many great things ahead of us, more joy, more love, more photo moments. And we are nothing but thankful. So incredibly thankful. Today and every day.

happy birthday?

Tagg's baby-mama's birthday was this week. We've called her every year on her birthday and on Christmas and it's always been really sweet and wonderful. So this year we called and Tagg jumped in as soon as she answered and belted out his rendition of Happy Birthday. And it was weird.

We could tell she was a little choked up. Who wasn't?! (other than Tagg who was just quite pleased with his singing skills). So we tried to chat about life and birthdays and stuff and it still seemed really awkward. It felt like she was in a place where she couldn't talk or didn't want to talk and then we started feeling bad. So we hung up the phone, and spent the next hours slash days feeling more bad. And then even more bad...

Did we just completely 100% RUIN her 18th birthday with her friends or her boyfriend by having the baby she gave up for adoption call her for a b-day serenade? My God. How absolutely stupid are we?! That might have been the most tragic, horrible thing ever when we thought it was so super-sweet. Or would it have been worse if we'd called every year for the last couple and then didn't call at all? On a big b-day. Mind-numbing arguments can be made both ways. Trust me. We've been having them.

Definitely one of those moments where you wish there was some kind of handbook for this open adoption stuff. I hope she knows and believes that the call meant that we love her and are always thinking about her, every day but especially on the big days.  The call means that we are so happy that she is doing exactly what she was supposed to be doing on this important birthday - thinking about homecoming and what colleges she's applying to and volleyball and her boyfriend and hanging out with her girlfriends and just being 18. And the call means that the baby she gifted to us is doing and being all of the things she wanted for him, and that he will always be grateful to have her in his life. Hopefully that was the gift. And it wasn't an emotional white elephant.

So happy birthday, beautiful girl!