Heading home!

Great news: my paperwork is in Boston and has been approved. I leave first thing tomorrow and, weather permitting, I will be arriving in Boston tomorrow afternoon. I'm so eager to leave. 

Oh, and my first class upgrades came through too. (Thank you, Joel: you taught me well.)

I'm off now to say goodbye to Emily. I'm sure this will be hard.

A light at the end of the tunnel???

My paperwork is supposed to be leaving Austin today. If received in Boston tomorrow, I should be able to fly home on the 1st...

Happy New Year! Reprieve for prisoner 24602.

This morning Kofi saw his first movie: Slumdog Millionaire.  I thought it was a bit overrated and, well, Kofi slept through it. (A one-very-long-nap movie using the A. Ralston rating system.) And, of course, some of the suspense is ruined if you've read too much Dumas...

Kofi and I spent the day sightseeing. Trying to make the best of our Texan imprisonment. I feel a little like an outlaw, holed up in a hotel, watching too much TV and eating too much junk food. 

[If anyone in Boston wants to do something for me when I get back it is this: watch Kofi for an hour or two so I can go work out.]

Kofi is stirring now, hiccuping a bit (he does that a lot), and, well, looking  like the perfect champ that he is. Given how frustrating it is to be here this long, it is a testament to the power of this strange thing called paternity that I find myself wildly happy to be here with my dear little boy.

That being said, does anyone have any connections to the Governor of Texas?

OK, I'm sorry to all of you with children, but my son is just the CUTEST thing ever. There's just no competition (as you can see on the right).  Thank you, Londa, for the outfit.

Today was a day of sightseeing in Houston. Two art galleries, a bookstore (that had once been a movie theater) and the best supermarket in the world (so Josh says).

Kofi and I were exhausted after that outing. We downed some formula (we're up to 3oz per meal, in case you're interested... and how couldn't you be?) when we got home and took a long nap.

First Pediatrician Visit

Well, socialized medicine is great. We went for our state mandated 1 week check-up today, paid for by the taxpayers (my son is on Medicaid!), and we had a great visit.  Clean bill of health. No respiratory infection (normal newborn congestion), left with 2 boxes of formula and a spare diaper. 

Of course, it's easy to be critical when you're on the other side of the stethoscope. We waited 45 minutes to see the doctor (we got there 10 minutes early). And not a single person in the office introduced themselves to me: not the secretary, not the nurse, and not the doctor. [I'll give the doctor some credit: she was thorough, kind, and reassuring; she asked questions about Kofi and the adoption and was totally supportive.]

We then went to Babies 'R' Us for a lesson in cribs and their accessories. Frankly, it's all overwhelming. I think I need to go back with an experienced parent.

Don't Hold Your Breath...

My paperwork is stuck in Fedex limbo... it hasn't even been delivered to the Texas State Adoption Agency (or whatever they are called) and the office is closed today, so at best it will get there Monday. If I'm lucky, Boston will get it Tuesday or Wednesday and then I'll be home Thursday or Friday next week.

It's a little frustrating, because they could have gotten the paperwork to Austin on Tuesday, but they were waiting on some lawyer to write some letter that didn't get written until Tuesday morning... it's also a little odd to have your movements restricted like this. It makes one feel like a fugitive, or some underprivileged citizen.

But, the glass is totally half-full. Who am I kidding? My glass runneth over. So there is nothing to be done but enjoy my time here in Houston with Kofi (and Josh for the next few days).

Happy Boxing Day to all.

My talented son...

Last night my little Kofi, my darling son made his first attempt at art on my favorite green t-shirt (see pic at left). It's a bit Jackson Pollacky for my tastes, but I thought it deserved digital preservation.

Josh arrived today bearing many gifts: dreydls, candles, a menorah, and an assortment of cute socks for the Kofster. 

Tomorrow we're off to the pediatrician for a well-baby check up. 

[For those of you with keen eyes, you may have noticed that we lit the wrong number of candles on the menorah in today's slideshow. We eventually corrected that. This is much better than the virtual menorah that Marsha and I were using: www.jewishcolorado.org/page.aspx?id=52216]

Things New Fathers Worry About

First, I swear I am not at all (OK, not very) neurotic and I my parenting philosophy so far is: let him do what he wants to do; if he wants to sleep, let him sleep; if he wants to eat, let him eat; etc.  But each of these has crossed my mind at least once:

1. Is he breathing?

2. Is he breathing normally?

3. Is he peeing/pooping/eating/breathing/focussing enough?

4. Is his neck in a normal position?

5. Is he comfortable?

6. When is that umbilical cord going to fall off?

7. Am I diapering him correctly? (The answer to that one was sadly no, which is why he was peeing on himself. The solution came to me on its own: point the penis down. Duh!)

8. Is he enjoying this version of "Carousel" or would he prefer the Original Broadway Cast recording?

OK, maybe the last one is more specific to me and doesn't belong on a generic list of fathers' worries...

Anyway, so far, things here in babyland (aka Stafford, Texas) are great.

Josh arrives tomorrow. Yay!

Marsha's Last Day

Marsha is leaving tomorrow and I know it's going to make life harder here... but luckily Josh is replacing her 24 hrs later. So it will be me and the little Kofe-monster for a day. I'm not too scared, though I know the sleep deprivation is going to get worse daily...

I'm a little pessimistic that I'm going to get out of here before 2009. The Agency (sounds sinister, doesn't it?) sent my paperwork to Austin today and so it's all in the hands of the bureaucrats here in Texas and then up in Massachusetts... The ICPC (Interstate Compact on the Placement of Children) controls the movement of children and adoptive families between states... 

Anyway, the hotel is great: free breakfast, coffee and fruit around the clock, a small exercise room, lots of shopping nearby, DVD player, and an awesome AAA discount.

I think my baby has a cold. :-( But, he's more and more adorable daily.

Sleepless in Houston

Well, actually, I'm not that sleepless yet. I'm sure tomorrow will be harder than today, which went really well. Kofi was totally cooperative (kooperative?) and slept well. We gave him his first bath which, well, he basically hated. It's hard not to feel I'm scarring him for life every time he cries, but I'm pretty convinced that I will have many more opportunities to affect his chances for long-term happiness in the days to come.

It's about 10:30pm now, and he's due to wake up soon. I'll try to get a couple of ounces into him and then get some sleep.

I spoke to Emily tonight. She sounds OK, glad to be out of the hospital. I'm probably going to bring Kofi to visit her on Xmas eve. It's a strange dance: wanting to help her separate for her sake and my sake, wanting to preserve a connection for Kofi's sake.

Dear little Kofi. Tonight he is well behaved and perfect. I wonder who he will become tomorrow and the next day and the next day? I feel so lucky to be able to be with him on his path towards Kofidom. I can't wait for you all to meet him! 

The First Night

Well, I nearly jumped out of my skin when he woke up the first time last night and cried. And my heart did sink a little when I looked at the clock and saw it was only 2.5hrs since the last feeding.

But then he slept 4 hours (as did I).

So, all in all, not so bad.

It's Official!

Little Kofi is mine.

Well, as mine as possible at this stage of the game.  I am now his official adoptive father: Emily has signed an irrevocable relinquishment of baby Kofi to the adoption agency who then gave him to me. It all seemed so easy. We still need to wait 30 days to officially terminate her parental rights and the father's rights, but he has been so absent that the agency has no doubt about this happening.

It was all rather emotional, as you can imagine. Emily asked Marsha to be the witness (as testimony to the warmth that Marsha exudes and the ease with which she connected with Emily) for the relinquishment signing. Marsha says Emily was sobbing afterwards, but quickly pulled herself together. Emily and I then greeted each other, hugged tightly, cried some more and then Emily and I then left the hospital together, hugged goodbye, and Marsha and I loaded Kofi into the car (thank you, Terri, for the car seat!) and drove off into my incredible future.

Marsha and I took him out for a celebratory Tex-Mex lunch (our hotel room wasn't quite ready). He got a lot of attention from the wait staff and he took 2oz of formula lickety-split and then fell asleep while we chowed down our enchiladas and salad.

Now we're warmly ensconced in our efficiency apartment which is just great. We're listening to my iPod play Messiah (you know, "For unto us a child is born...") and Kofi is napping like the perfect angel he is.

14 Hours, But Who's Counting?

Emily will (hopefully) be signing relinquishment papers tomorrow morning. She and the baby are staying in the hospital until then. There is absolutely no sign that she is changing her mind or ambivalent in any way. I'm only slightly anxious, but we bought a bottle of red wine to help the evening pass quickly.

Marsha has been a godsend. Today was just perfect. We spent a few hours with Emily and then Kofi this morning, and then we went and checked out our lodgings for the next 10 days (Homewood Suites in Stafford, TX) which are quite nice. It's a one bedroom apt with a kitchenette. It seems clean and plenty spacious, and with a door to the bedroom so we can have some privacy and quiet time if we need it. Then a little shopping for the baby (formula etc.)  and then back to the hospital for more time with Emily and Kofi.

Ok, he is just perfect. I can't even type that without welling up with tears.  He's so lovely and sweet-smelling  (yes, I know that will pass), and soft, and so peaceful, and he only spit up a little today, and well, it's just impossible not to love him.

I'll post confirmation tomorrow when he's really mine.

Today's ITAVTHSAAB* award goes to Marsha who arrived last night greeting me with the love and enthusiasm I knew she would. Her plane was blessedly late, allowing me to nap for 3 hours before going to pick her up. ("Sleep when the baby sleeps. Sleep when the baby sleeps." One of my  friends -- maybe Linda? -- has been drilling into my head.)

We arrived back to the hotel in time to close down the bar with a congratulatory glass of champagne. I have to admit I felt a bit guilty drinking in a hotel bar instead of being at Kofi's bedside... but the subsequent solid 7 hours sleep has washed away those feelings and now I feel ready for a new day of Kofiness (Kofiosity? Kofidelity? Kofiliciousness? Kofifragilisticexpialidociousness?)

Warning: this blog may be devolving into an unbearable combination paternal bloviation and cutsieness...

Oh, and one more ITAVTHSAAB* award: David Weinstein for giving me a Garmin last year which has been helping me navigate the highways and byways of Houston.

*It Takes A Village To Help Steven Adopt A Baby (See 12/11's entry for those of you who haven't memorized every blog entry yet...)

EXHAUSTED

Yes, I'm tired, but flying. I just came from the hospital and am about to crash in my hotel for a few hours before picking Marsha up at the airport. I spent all day with Kofi, Kofi and Emily, Kofi and Donna (his nurse), Kofi and his spit-up (twice) (so THAT's why I need so many t-shirts for him!), and Kofi and his dirty diaper (men are so proud when they change a diaper) (even gay men).

It's a bit of a rinky-dink hospital and they aren't quite set up for adoptive families (no place for us to relax, shower, nap). Even the "Bonding Room" is tiny and uncomfortable and not even that private (it's essentially the foyer to the nursery that all parents pass through to get to the nursery). And they haven't quite figured out what to make of me, a single dad. Sadly, they seem to have lied to the obstetrician and told her that I was not married but that my girlfriend was coming tonight... 

Anyway, the drill from now on is:

Tomorrow, Kofi gets discharged and I will take him home with me to my hotel.

Sunday morning, Emily signs "relinquishment" papers which irrevocably terminate her parental rights.

Some time over the next 4-10 days, Texas and Massachusetts approve me as an adoptive father and I get to leave the state and head home.

And there is no sign from Emily that she is hesitating at all... Keep your fingers crossed...

Birth Day

Ok, we're in labor. I can't type much because I'm using this computer at the nurse's station breaking several hospital policies and irking several nurses (please no comments on that!).

So far so good. Emily is comfortable, 4cm, drugged up.

My perspective on obstetrics in America is a bit bleaker this morning than it was last night (I would be happier if we were in a birth center in North Hadley), but I'm not all that surprised.

[They didn't start the induction until this morning, but insisted on keeping her on the monitor and giving her antibiotics every 4 hours all night (waking both of us up, of course). Meddlesome obstetrics as Sabrina says.]

And I had a dream last night in which I played Shirley MacLaine (not a stretch, some of you might think) to Emily's Debra Winger, complete with me running out to the nurse's station screaming that my birth mother needed pain medication. No one was happy with me in the dream.

But in reality, everyone's been super nice and bending over backwards to accomodate me and Emily.

I expect I'll have a birth anouncement by the early afternoon...

LOVE TO YOU ALL!

Back to my role as doula...

Meeting Emily

She's great. Beautiful, poised, kind, smart. And laughs at my jokes.

We spent the afternoon together then dinner at PF Changs (her choice! I think it's a sign) and she ordered the Mongolian Beef (another good omen). She clearly likes me and I think we were both relieved to have our first meeting go so well.

Anyway, no more time to type. The induction is starting tonight and she's starting out with a very "inducible" cervix (she's already 3cm dilated... that's out of 10).

And the labor room is huge and gorgeous.

I'm pretty much beside myself.

Stopover in Chicago. 9AM Central

I think I have gastritis. I've been popping antacids and Pepto Bismal for several days now. I think my stomach hasn't been this unsettled since my first year of medical school. For some reason dealing with high-risk pregnancies, emergency cesareans, hemorrhages, and the like, my stomach is just fine. 

But the prospect of seeing my own baby be born tomorrow has my stomach churning out the hydrochloric acid... I'm sure this is making many of you chortle away.

Lucia, my friend the former yoga instructor says I should just breathe. 

I took call last night: 4 babies, 3 mothers (you do the math) and now I have my last class of the semester tonight and my flight leaves tomorrow morning at 6:45AM (seat 4E, in case you're interested... yes, I got upgraded: a harbinger of good things, I hope). (If I learned anything from my ex, it was how to travel in First Class as often as possible while paying coach fares.)

I left work today pushing a stroller/car seat combo (a Snap 'n' Go for those of you in the know), more bags of clothes, swaddling supplies, toys, and miscellaneous other baby things. I thought to myself as I passed colleagues in the hallway, "People must think I'm a father."

I paged my boss to say goodbye and was crying before she even called back. I think I might be a real mess in the delivery room.

And no, I have not started packing yet.

American Airlines

Today I went on to aa.com to check my reservation to Houston and almost had a coronary when I saw that all my reservations were cancelled except my trip to London, the trip I thought I had actually cancelled. (OK, the Houston trip wasn't cancelled. Just mislabeled. Phew.)

Not that I don't want to see my parents, but last week I had spent about 45 minutes on the phone with AA (no, not that AA, the other one) to change my London trip to a Houston trip. The very nice woman at American Airlines was quite sympathetic to my plight, let me change my ticket without the usual $250 change fee for an international flight, and also gave me a "compassion fare" for my trip to Houston.

When all was said and done, I had a flight booked to Houston with a flexible return date, and a $200 voucher for future travel.

All I need is a doctor's note!

Meanwhile, Emily called me today. All is well in Texas. For those of you who are interested in these things, she's swollen and uncomfortable, her BP is 120/73, her fundal height is 37cm and her cervix is 2cm dilated. It's obstetrical perfection.

And I finished my last paper for the semester!

OK. Killing time in the Apple store while my glasses are being made (using up my flexible spending $$ while I still have flexible spending $$, or perhaps I should say while I have any $$ whatsoever). It's hard to walk out of this place with buying some essential tool of everyday living like a device to connect your iPod to anything in your house from your alarm clock to your dishwasher.

I leave for Houston in 4 days. I still have one last paper to write for my Genetics and Public Health Law class (I've been procrastinating in a big way) (in case you're wondering, I dropped most of my classes for the Spring semester, but keeping one class that EVERYONE tells me I don't even need to go to in order to pass -- it's a required course in Behavioral Sciences -- which would be abbreviated as B.S. but the dept. is actually Social and Behavioral Sciences).  Anyway, I'll be looking for babysitters from 6-8:45pm every Thursday evening (you know who you are). I know, I know, I should not commit to anything yet, but I don't want this MPH to drag onto 2012. I promise I'm not going to be singing (except to the baby) (or in the shower -- I will have time for showers, right?), or going to the theater (as much??) or reading as much Proust (sorry, Phil) (or reading anything for that matter).

The picture I posted today is all the clothes I've gotten in the past few days; it's from my phone, so it's not that clear, but I think I have enough to last a week or so... Lots of blues and greens and they are all adorable.

No news is good news?

Tonight I saw my last work of theater for a while, I expect. Kander and Ebb's "Chicago". Great dancing, but I've never loved the show (thought the movie was better). 

Not much to report on the adoption. All seems to be well in Houston. Emily is feeling fine, though her doctor has scared her about the birth and now she thinks she will need pain medications. I told her I would be a good support person (a doula) (or what I call the birth-equivalent of a sherpa) and help her avoid an epidural if that's what she wants. I think she wants to be a "strong African woman" but her doctor is trying to convince her not to have that goal. Not sure why. I guess I'll find out Friday when I meet the doctor.

I stopped at work and the nurses on the postpartum floor prepared 2 bags of purloined goods including diapers, formula, t-shirts, baby shampoo, and vaseline. They are all thrilled for me; it's like having several dozen mothers looking out for me.

It Takes a Village Awards

Today's winnner of the ITAVTHSAAB* Award goes to my tenant Sara who has had to get 2 criminal background checks, be vetted by the sex offender registry, and, most recently, fingerprinted at the Boston Police Department so that the FBI can search through their database to make sure she isn't a terrorist or something like that.

Thank you, Sara.

*It Takes a Village to Help Steven Adopt a Baby

Gifts and Anxiety

OK, for those of you who wanted to be the first to send me a gift, it's too late.

My dear friend Londa, a nurse here at the hospital, stopped by my clinic today with a bag full of things for the baby. And omigod they are cute beyond measure. A little toy elephant (pull its tail and you hear Brahms' Lullaby), 2 outfits (adorable!), and a beautiful fleece blanket. Of course I burst into tears (I'm a bit of a wreck these days) (I know Josh is thinking, "So what's new?"; his favorite adjective for me is lachrymose).

[OK, I do have to give credit to my other friends like Martha and Kim and David and Chuck who gave me things last winter before the last possible-adoption (including a Baby Bjorn which I've been thinking of trying on with one of my cats to see how it feels, but that seems a little strange).]

Anyway, it's too early for gifts, please. I'm not superstitious, but it just doesn't feel right. And as much as I'm trying to be as joyful as I can, there is an undercurrent of anxiety because, well, it's not a done deal.

I hadn't spoken to Emily for 2 days and I was getting nervous that she hadn't returned my calls or my emails and I was of course worrying that she had changed her mind, ignoring all the evidence that she is unlikely to. But it's like dating in high school: every action, every word, every pause, silence, and avoidance seems to be replete with significance and portent. Or maybe this is my neurotic way.

Anyway, I just got off the phone with her and I'm flying again. She talks about the baby as being destined for me and that she is so happy to have found the rightful father of her child and how glad she is that my agency had "alternative couples" for her to choose from. I can't wait to meet her in person.

The next week seems interminable to me.

Doing it alone

Some of you might be wondering how I'm possibly going to do this on my own...

Well...I'm not!

While my long-term plan is to have a live-in nanny (a Mrs. Livingston to my Mr. Eddie's Father) (that's a reference to "The Courtship of Eddie's Father" in case you missed that, a 1960's Bill Bixby -- yes the Incredible Hulk -- vehicle) but my short-term plan is to (a) take leave and have friends come visit and keep me sane, then (b) have my family (my Mom and my sister) help me when I start back to work part-time in February, while all the while searching for that perfect Nanny who is a the right combination of Julie Andrews, Angela Lansbury (Bedknobs and Broomsticks, not Sweeney Todd), Juliet Mills (Nanny and the Professor -- trivia: sister of Hayley Mills of Pollyanna and The Parent Trap fame) and maybe just a hint of Fran Drescher...

And short-short-term, while I'm in Houston (I have to stay there about 2 weeks while the legal stuff gets worked out), my two ever-faithful and generous friends Marsha and Josh will be visiting and staying with me and helping me keep Baby _______ clean and fed and sung to. They deserve some sort of reward or sainthood or perhaps part of my liver someday.

More showtunes

Just in case you thought the showtune section of this blog was over...

This was going through my head this morning, a song from Bye-Bye Birdie, made famous by the incomparable Paul Lynde:

Kids!

I don't know what's wrong with these kids today!

Kids!

Who can understand anything they say?

Kids!

They a disobedient, disrespectful oafs!

Noisy, crazy, dirty, lazy, loafers!

And while we're on the subject:

Kids!

You can talk and talk 'til your face is blue!

Kids!

But they still just do what they want to do!

Why can't they be like we were,

Perfect in every way?

What's the matter with kids today?

Giddiness Enters

Well, I have to confess: giddiness is starting to set in. I feel optimistically joyful this evening. I spoke to Emily today and she is so looking forward to meeting me and (apparently) giving me her child. I know I'm supposed to be somehow protecting myself and not fully embracing the joy right now, but it seems like I might as well embrace the joy while I can.

When I first spoke to Emily last week, we talked about what kind of contact with the baby and me she would want in the future and she was a little cagey in her response, I think because I had told her that I would like her to remain "involved" if only for the baby's sake (when it's old enough to have a sake). Today she told me that she hoped I wasn't too disappointed, but that she really didn't think she wanted any involvement at all except maybe an occasional picture.

It was a little sad to hear, but not very surprising. I think she has wanted to move past this pregnancy for a while and she wants it behind her. And even though I think her situation is bad (religious family, won't accept her pregnancy, father of the baby has rejected her and the baby), she has great optimism for her future, but it is a future without this baby.

And that, I'm sad/glad to say is good for me. Every time I talk to her I am more and more convinced that she genuinely likes me and wants to do this great thing for me (and for the baby) while also wanting her life back in her own hands again.

It's really one of the challenges about this for me: I want to be happy for me, but I also can't help feeling for her plight all the while hoping that this truly is in this child's best interest. Well, of course it is! Just ask my mother...

Leave Approved

My boss came through. My leave has been arranged. Of course they haven't really fixed the policy (i.e. no leave for adoption or paternity) but they are pulling an HR fast one by pretending I'm taking back vacation that is due me (which, if any of you know me, is far from the truth: I'm very good at taking my vacation days).

But, it's a relief.

Emily (the birthmother) has an appointment with her OB today, so hopefully I'll hear more about her induction date. (Yes, she's being induced. Don't ask: I don't know why.)

Steven's Adoption: The Musical

I spent the weekend in NYC, my last hurrah before the end-of-my-life-as-I-know-it. And on the ride home (3hr & 45min, in case you're wondering) I was singing showtunes (imagine that!) and thought I should catalog some of the lyrics that will inform my parenting philosophy and fears:

Did you think life was sweeter than honey?
Did you think you had plenty of money?
Now you're gonna have a kid, well sonny:
Kiss it all goodbye.

China plates, did you think about keeping?
Sporty cars did you think about beeping?
Sunday mornings, did you enjoy sleeping?
(Kids don't even try.)

Will you give up some things that you'll want? Sure!
Each of them's gonna need orthodonture.
Any junk that the monsters will want, you're
Gonna have to buy

But your head is high and the air is sweet
And the street will not stay under your feet
You walk along with to a funky beat
Whereever you go you're happy.

Deep in debt, with holes in your shoes
But you've got The Fatherhood Blues
You're happy.
--------------From a somewhat obscure musical, "Baby", Richard Maltby, Jr.

Plant a beanstalk, get a beanstalk
Just the same as Jack.
Then if you don't like it
You can always take it back.

But if your issue doesn't kiss you
Then I wish you luck
For once you've planted children
You're absolutely stuck

Every turnip green, every kidney bean
Every plant grows according to the plot
While with progeny, it's hodgepodgeny
For as soon as you think you know what kind you've got
It's what they're not
--------------From "The Fantasticks",  Tom Jones

Everyone hates his parents
Don't be ashamed
You'll grow up, you'll come through
You'll have kids
And they'll hate you too

Everyone hates his parents
But I confess
You grow up, you grow old
You hate less
--------------From "March of the Falsettos", William Finn

I'll be damned if he marries his boss's daughter
A skinny-lipped virgin with blood like water
Who'll give him a peck, and call it a kiss
And look in his eyes through a lorgnette
Say, why am I taking on like this?
My kid ain't even been born yet!

I can see him when he's seventeen or so
And starting into go with a girl
I can give him lots of pointers very sound
On the way to get round any girl
--------------From "Carousel", Oscar Hammerstein, III

What's in a Name?

Today's post is about names. I've been having second thoughts about an African name, afterall, this child will be African in many ways, but also Jewish, and, of course, Steven-ish. Does the name matter? Should it reflect these things? My name has little to do with my heritage or place of origin, nor do those of my siblings (except the one who was conceived in England). But somehow giving this child a purely Jewish name (Josiah, Avi, Jeremiah, Aaron) seems to be avoiding the truth of his heritage to me.

I'm sure this is just the first of many landmines I will encounter raising a child of a different race. Who is he? How will he identify himself? By his name? By his skin color? By his family? His community? By the way people perceive him? Unlike some adopted african-american kids, this kid really IS African (his mother was born in Kenya, his father lives in Nigeria). Does this matter?

Maybe I'm being too neurotic about this. Maybe a name is just a name. But Kwame seems different from Kevin. Billy is not the same as Babatunde.

Of course, I have to wait to see who he looks like, but it's hard not to want to call him something in my mind.

Maybe some of you have some wisdom about this...

Update

My friend D________ says he thinks it unlikely that I will be able to keep up this blog for more than 2 months... I think that's quite optimistic. If I make it more than a couple days after the baby is born, I think that will be astounding.

So far everything is on track. Well, a few snags: my dossier seems to be missing a few FBI fingerprint cards (mine and my tenant's), but my social workers swear this won't delay things; a battle with my HR department (they've changed their policy on leaves: no paid leave for adoption; I told my boss I refused to worry about this and it was her problem to fix -- I basically told her she could give me a bonus, a raise, or find a replacement for me because I would be happy to find another institution that appreciates me more and that this was b---sh--t when every woman in my division has gotten 12 weeks of paid maternity leave up until now) (but really, I'm not stressed about it); and of course, it's the end of the semester and I have two final papers to write and can't really concentrate on Women's Health Policy or Genetics and Public Health Law (I even asked for an extension... I feel like a lazy undergraduate!)

In the meantime, I'm taking suggestions for names as I was all set for girls' names, but none of the boys' names seem to thrill me. The baby will be of African descent (mom from Kenya, dad from Nigeria), but I'm not sure I want an African name... although a certain ex of mine suggested Simba as a possibility...

Some of you may be wondering why I'm doing this blog when the adoption is still not a 100% sure thing. I guess it's a gamble, but I do have a good feeling about this and the writing makes it real for me and is cheaper than therapy.

I'm in NYC for the weekend, maybe my last completely fun-filled weekend for a while...

The Birthmother

I had a long conversation with Emily, the birthmother, last night. She seems like a terrific person: smart, articulate, funny, self-effacing. She seems really committed to me and to adoption. We talked about things ranging from her family, her religion, pain control in labor, to circumcision (she wants it for cultural reasons). It's a huge contrast to my experience with the last birth mother I was connected with who was an ambivalent teenager.

I haven't seen any medical records yet, but the agency says that everything looks good... as you can imagine, I'd like to see them with my own eyes. Emily's obstetrician won't talk to me directly, which only annoys me a little bit.

But, need to keep my thoughts positive...

Fingers remain crossed.

I fly to Houston in 2 weeks.

In the meantime I've been trying to tie up every loose end I have here at work and at home.

Adoption News

OK. I got the phone call three days ago. Healthy woman in Texas, due in 3 weeks, wants to give me her baby. I'm a combination of thrilled, disbelieving, and quite panicked. I'll try to keep this post updated so you can follow along...
S