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Little Victories

I have to report that Lia is making fabulous progress with potty training. It's such a difference from last August, when we made the first attempt.

She had several accidents in the first few days but also many successes. Then on the fourth day she seemed to decide she really WANTED to be trained. I heard her say "I don't want to have an accident." That desire has overcome the resistance she has to being told to sit on the potty.

This time around she has figured out how to pee on demand, how to hold it, and how to recognize when she needs to go. The potty training trifecta.

Yesterday was the best yet. She had no accidents and didn't go in her Pull-Up either. Driving home from Kingston, she announced from her car seat that she had to pee, and we pulled over and got out her little travel potty and she went! She's so proud of herself, and I'm thrilled for her.

Fire!

We awoke this morning before 4am to the cries of "FIRE!" and the flickering glow of flames from the condo units across the parking lot lighting up our loft. After quickly determining that our building was NOT on fire, we quickly dressed the kids, caged the cat, grabbed our valuables, and made our way downstairs. By this point, the firetrucks began to arrive, and it looked like the fire was contained to only one of the four buildings that make up our 50-unit complex. So Ali sat upstairs with the kids and read them books to keep them calm, while I went outside to learn what next steps we should take.

It took them nearly an hour and a half to put out the flames. The fire spread quickly through the attics of the upper eight units, and the lower eight sustained a lot of damage from all the water they pumped inside. We've heard that they'll probably have to be torn down. Right now the owners are picking through their belongings as the firefighters empty the units. There's a Salvation Army rescue team parked on the street and I'm sure we'll be doing something together as a community to support our newly homeless neighbours.

We're ok, albeit a little freaked out that it all happened right outside our front door. And we've learned that it's not easy explaining to a three-year-old why the parking lot is full of firetrucks and the houses we view from our kitchen window are "broken".

CBC: Downtown streets closed after condo fire

Here's some shots I took from our front steps after the worst of the fire had been put out::

Race and Transracial Adoption

A few weeks ago I had the great privilege (and I use that word intentionally) of attending a workshop with Lisa Marie Rollins on race and transracial adoption. The workshop was held by our adoption agency, and here's how they introduced Lisa Marie:

"Lisa Marie Rollins is the Founder and Executive Director of AFAAD, Adopted and Fostered Adults of the African Diaspora. Lisa Marie was in foster care and then adopted into a white family in Washington State in the United States in the 1970s. She is the author of A Birth Project, a blog focusing on transracial adoption and black diasporic identity.

She has been featured on NPR, KPFA, KPFK and was recently given the honor from Colorlines Magazine's "2009 Innovators to Watch" for her social justice work around black adoptees. She is a multidisciplinary performance artist developing her one woman show, "Ungrateful Daughter" and is the Artistic Director of Third Root Productions, a multidisciplinary theater company that supports artists in the Bay Area. She is a Ph.D. Candidate at University of California Berkeley in African Diaspora Studies."

I've been reading Lisa Marie's blog for a while and it was even better to meet her in person. She's charismatic and smart and funny, and she did a great job of facilitating the session and telling her story while connecting and inviting comment from others in the room. The essence of the workshop was "Your children's race matters. Don't ignore it. Find ways to help them develop a sense of who they are as people of colour."

As white parents of Chinese children, Shawn and I are very aware of our responsibility to our kids around their racial identity. Coming to terms with all the implications of being adopted transracially will probably be a difficult lifelong journey for Lia and Nico, and we want to be a help rather than a hindrance in that process.

Lisa Marie showed the video Struggle for Identity, which features adult transracial adoptees (TRAs) talking about their experiences.

Watching the film, I was struck by the significance that the adoptees placed on the question "Why did you adopt?" It's a question I've thought about a lot on my end, and I appreciate knowing that it can be crucial to adoptees as well.

When Lisa Marie asked for reactions to the video, the very first comment had to do with being surprised at how "suspicious" the adoptees were of their parents' motives for adopting (some of the TRAs raised the issue of adoptive parents being seen or seeing themselves as martyrs or saviours).

A later comment was that the video was "very negative" and gave the impression that the "children" didn't love their adoptive parents.

Someone else said that "[our kids] are going to have something else to hate us for" and "why do we have to explain why we want kids? It's primordial ... a force of nature."

Lisa Marie was very composed as she listened to these comments but I couldn't hide my reaction; I was shocked that adoptive parents in Ottawa in 2009 would voice these thoughts. Here we are at a workshop to learn about our children's racial experience and how to support them, and instead the reaction is to accuse them of suspicion, negativity, and hatred? Really?

Sadly, I believe that it's pretty common for adoptive parents to have this negative reaction, which must make it all the more frustrating. Check out Jae Ran Kim's post called Adoptive Parents - Be Our Ally. She writes:

Do not assume that if I write about some hard truths that I, as an adult Korean American adoptee, have experienced that I must be (in any order):

ANGRY - BITTER - RESENTFUL - HAVE A BAD RELATIONSHIP WITH MY ADOPTIVE PARENTS - HATE MY ADOPTIVE PARENTS - AM PSYCHOLOGICALLY DAMAGED - UNGRATEFUL or HAD ABUSIVE ADOPTIVE PARENTS

- or any other such assumption. If you want to argue and debate my truths, how are you going to respond to your own child’s future experiences when and if they are brought to your attention? Are you going to invalidate their feelings and experiences too?

I think the adoptive parents at Lisa Marie's workshop heard the question as "Why did you wreck my life by adopting me?" and got defensive. What I heard in the question was "What were the factors that went into the decisions you made around bringing me specifically into your family? What do your reasons for adopting me say about my identity and place in your family?" It's not just "Why did you want to have kids?" but "What led you to adopt?" and "Why did you adopt domestically/internationally?" and "Why did you adopt from China/Korea/South Africa/Ethiopia?" and "Why did you adopt a special needs child?" and "Why did you adopt an infant/toddler/older child?"

Adoptive parents get to make SO many choices in the adoption process. We have a lot of power and privilege. Our children have NO choices. Adoption is done to them. So I think it's only fair that we do the work of understanding and explaining how and why we made those choices, even when the answers aren't as pretty as we would like. Whose motives are ever completely pure? Who is totally exempt from acting out of self-interest, ignorance, privilege, and yes, racism?

I know that it's REALLY hard for adoptive parents to hear that their children might suffer and struggle and even regret being adopted because they've been removed from their families and culture of origin. I remember facing these hard truths around the time we adopted Lia, when I was finding and reading adult TRA blogs like Twice the Rice, A Birth Project, and Harlow's Monkey. No one wants to hear that their children might be sad, angry, depressed, or filled with grief because of adoption. And it runs counter to the rose-coloured myths that get perpetuated by agencies and news media and movies like Juno and even by adoptive parents themselves. But the alternative is denying a big part of our children's experience, limiting our connection with them, and possibly causing more trauma.

I have lots more to say about this subject, but it's taken me over two weeks to get this written and posted, so it will have to wait for another day ... My big thanks to Lisa Marie for the work she's doing.

Unrestrained

Last Wednesday I took Nico to CHEO to see the plastic surgeon, and he got the go-ahead to remove his arm restraints. He can feed himself again, thank goodness! He will still be on soft foods for another three weeks.

His palate is healing nicely, so the surgeon says. He does have a remaining cleft near his gumline that won't be permanently closed until he gets a bone graft around 8-10 years of age. The cleft is perhaps larger than it should be (a fair bit of food and liquid is still coming through his nose) so the surgeon said that could be revised when he has another operation on his lip. The cleft unit nurse also said he will learn not to allow food through there (unless he's trying to impress his friends by threading spaghetti noodles out his nose!)

Our current project is potty training Lia (take two) while her daycare is closed this week. We tried this last summer but she wasn't ready yet, and then we decided not to worry about it until after our trip to China and getting her adjusted to a new brother.

We had some highs and lows on Monday. She had several accidents, but even more successes, most of them self-initiated. The hardest part was keeping both kids in the kitchen all day, away from the carpet and the toys. Plus I was feeding Lia multiple cups of juice and that made her quite crazy by the end of the day. She ended up having a meltdown and falling asleep at 4:30. Then she was up again at 6:30 and didn't go back to bed until after 9:30. That made for a loooong day.

I learned my lesson and yesterday we spent the morning at the park where they could run around. I slashed the juice consumption too. That meant for a better day, although we still had a few accidents and tears.

I am still getting up early in the morning to write and it is keeping me from completely losing my mind. I think I can hang on for a few more days. The hardest part is training myself to help Lia sit on the potty regularly, deal with the accidents, and keep her calm and willing. One hour at a time.

Halfway There

Nico at the hospital, May 2009 from SdR on Vimeo.

Today marks the halfway point in Nico's recovery from palate repair surgery. The hardest part is definitely behind us. He's adjusting so well!

I want to write a bit more about how things went in the hospital and afterward. It might be useful for others who are preparing for a similar situation.

We checked in at the admissions office and then went to the day surgery unit. There was a waiting area where Nico and the other surgery patients could play. We saw a nurse to answer questions about his health and when he'd last eaten and drank. Then we were brought to another room and Nico was given an oral sedative to help calm him before he was taken to the operating room. The nurse said it was the equivalent of five beers!

Shawn had gone to get coffee, but before he returned they brought in a wheeled bed for Nico. I settled him on it and he seemed quite content and rather dopey. He had his pink puppy Yo-Yo and his yellow blanket with him. I asked what was happening next and they said he was going to surgery! I was surprised because it was about half an hour early. Shawn wasn't back so they paged him to return to day surgery :-) Then we headed to the operating unit.

There we spoke to the anesthetist and the plastic surgeon. I was going in to the OR to stay with Nico until he fell asleep, so I put on cap and gown and booties. Nico was calmly lying on the bed this whole time. When we were ready to go into the OR, Shawn said good-bye to the little guy and got a bit teary.

In the OR, the anesthetists prepared to put Nico to sleep. Everyone was very kind and gentle with me and the boy, and he never got upset or cried. He pointed at the monitor and made his little "huh" sound, meaning "Check it out, isn't that interesting?" I held his hand while one anesthetist held a mask to his face and he began to breathe in the anesthetic. I had been warned he might jerk or flail as different areas of his brain went to sleep, but Nico just gradually closed his eyes and went limp until they were able to lay him back on the bed. Then I kissed his forehead and was escorted away.

I felt good--a little keyed up but sure that he was in good hands, reassured that he hadn't been distressed by the OR or the mask. Shawn was glad to see me come out. Then we had a few hours to wait. Our first time alone without the kids in over three months! We had a nice lunch in the cafeteria and talked and read our books in the waiting room. The hospital had wifi which was how we were able to do Twitter updates. We weren't really anxious; I suppose I'm an optimist and assume things will go well, and I don't worry until something actually happens to worry about.

We did get antsy when we were about an hour past the time the procedure was supposed to finish. I really wanted them to bring us into the recovery room right away when he woke up. Finally the plastic surgeon came out and told us everything had gone well and gave us instructions for his recovery (purees and liquids only for a week, then soft food like pasta and rice for five weeks) and told us about the possible risks of re-bleeding and infection. We also heard from the ENT doctor that the ear tubes had gone in without a problem and there had been quite a bit of fluid in his ears so we should notice an improvement.

They brought us back into recovery to see Nico, who was still sleeping. He had woken briefly but they were keeping him sedated so he could stay still longer. There was a bit of blood around his nose and mouth but I've seen a lot worse working at my dad's dental office :-) We stroked his head and then headed back to the waiting room. The nurses assured us they would fetch me as soon as he woke up.

We waited for another hour and then they told us he was up and crying. I went back and they arranged a chair so I could hold him. He was pretty upset, arching his back and struggling a little. I just focused on being calm and present, and at one point was able to get him settled by putting my forehead against his and singing "Jasmine Flower", the song I always use to put him to sleep. Then the nurse gave him some water with a syringe, and he fought a bit but swallowed, and they felt he was ready to go up to his room.

They brought us to a room with four beds in the surgical recovery ward. Nico continued to cry and they found us a rocking chair, which helped. He had an IV in his foot, and they also gave him some Tylenol with codeine orally. He wasn't thrilled about that. He calmed down even before he got the medication, though, which was encouraging. About an hour after he woke in recovery, he fell asleep on my shoulder and we laid him in the crib to nap some more.

He slept for an hour and a half and then woke fussy again. There was some blood and mucus oozing from his nose and mouth so we just kept wiping that with a cloth. We tried to give him more water although he really fought that. Shawn left to go home for dinner. I eventually got Nico to sleep again, and to my amazement he slept through the cries of the three-year-old in the next bed getting a nasogastric tube inserted through his nose, plus they were testing the fire alarm bells!

Shawn and my dad came back after dinner. Nico woke again and wasn't so upset. After the guys left, he really perked up. When he stood up in the crib I knew he was feeling better. I decided to try and feed him, so I hoisted him in one arm and pushed the IV with the other hand and we ventured out to the kitchen, where I picked up some applesauce and pureed carrots and sweet potatoes. So he had his first food around 9 pm on the day of the surgery. I was so delighted to see him eating! And he devoured all three jars of food.

I got him back to sleep around 10 pm and set up my bed for the night. The hospital has bed chairs that fold out completely flat, and they gave me sheets and blankets and pillows. It was actually pretty comfy. I lay down at 10:30 and my last thought was, "that was easy." It had been a long day but never really hard. Maybe it would be in future but I was thankful and accepting of "easy" for right now. (This thankfulness was reinforced by what we saw and heard of the two other kids in the room who were much sicker than Nico. His needs are so mild in comparison.)

I was up a few times in the night, when they woke Nico for medication and to change his diaper and check his vitals. Around 4 am he was up and bouncy so I fetched more baby food and fed him in the library. He didn't want to go back in the crib so we dozed together in my bed chair from 5:30 to 6:30.

It was a long wait for Shawn to come in after 9 am. I was rumpled and hungry and needed to pee and change my clothes. But we managed to pass the time. The family next to us were very helpful, fetching toys and a high chair and stroller for Nico. They were hospital veterans.

We waited for the surgeon to come by and check on Nico, but he got held up in the OR, so eventually the nurses discharged him since he was eating and drinking just fine. We left the hospital shortly after 12:30. It was great to come home to Lia and my parents.

In the days after surgery, Nico would get cranky and upset when the Tylenol and codeine wore off every four hours. He HATED getting his meds and we had to pin him down and squirt it in while he screamed. He's only been waking once a night to get another dose and going back down pretty easily.

His love of food has been his salvation and also his greatest frustration. We made a ton of baby food: applesauce and pureed sweet potatoes and beans and squash and chicken, and he's inhaled it all week. He is very reluctant to drink from his cup but I think he's getting enough liquids in the food. But he gets very mad when he can't eat what we're eating, so we try to keep him out of the kitchen or at least turn his high chair so he can't see his sister eating toast or crackers.

Nico has restraints on his arms to prevent him from touching or putting things in his mouth. These are plastic half-tubes with velcro straps. He has hardly complained about them at all, and he hasn't tried to take them off (I know, I'm counting my blessings!). Even when I take them off to give him a bath and then put them back on, he doesn't protest. He's figured out how to play with straight arms :-) The cutest thing is that he can't put his hand to his mouth to give kisses, so he smacks his upper arm instead.

Very soon after the surgery we were taking him out in the stroller. He's been more tired so he's taking regular morning naps. A week after surgery we stopped giving him Tylenol during the day and he's pretty much back to his regular self.

So, twelve more days of restraints and soft foods. No sweat!