This post was originally published on December 14, 2011. It is a discussion on naming your baby, adoption style. It is being re-posted in honor of National Adoption Month.
The topic last night at my MOPS meeting was "naming rights". The discussion flowed from biblical babies to our own real time ones, and how their precious names were selected. We talked about how important our names are - they are our identity, a gift from our parents. Sometimes they are a link to our past. Names are so very important.
We talked about that first moment when you hold your new baby in your arms and look in his or her eyes for the first time, and how you just know, you just know the name you selected fits this tiny creature. Being the only adoptive mother in my MOPS group I am used to conversations about our little ones frequently being framed in the context of pregnancy and birth, and that is fine with me. All those mothers, having their babies the old fashioned way! Last night's conversation was the same - very much centered around those first few moments after birth.
But I can relate. I waited to see my baby's face too. I found out I was having a boy not in my doctor's office on an ultrasound table but standing in my kitchen, with our adoption agency on speaker phone. It's a boy! I remember hanging up the phone and sinking down into a kitchen chair, thrilled and stunned that we were having a boy. And the great baby name debate began.
It was funny, last night, participating in this conversation about meeting our babies. I saw my baby's beautiful little face not in person for the first time, but in a picture. But I was in the hospital. It was our adoption agency's policy to not show a prospective family the photo of the baby until after the parents to be had reviewed the baby's medical information, which makes sense. It would be hard to turn away from a baby you know in your heart your can't care for after you have seen the picture. So we had met with the doctor, we were confident we could handle the cleft palate and cleft lip our son to be would come to us with. And so we stood in a cubicle in the International Adoption Clinic offices at Nationwide Children's Hospital and waited as our baby's picture loaded onto the assistant's computer. And so that part of our story might be different than other's. But what happened next was the same as every other new parents' story. We looked at the picture of our new little son, a tiny Chinese boy in an over sized white t-shirt, his eyes speaking volumes to us. And we looked at each other and said, "Yes, his name fits him. He is a Matthew." You just know. You just know.
We talked at MOPS about how we all settled on the names we chose for our children. And again, my story was a little different. It wasn't just my husband and I making this decision. We had boys with names already. One given by the orphanage, another by a birth mother. (sometimes I still struggle with that word, birth mother. But no matter the struggle, I am everyday thankful to these unknown women.) Both names were links to history, to birth countries. So it wasn't just my husband and I. Or even extended family. It took two parents, a birth mother, an orphanage director, and two countries to name my kids.
Showing posts with label MOPS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MOPS. Show all posts
Friday, November 2, 2012
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
It took two parents, a birth mother, an orphanage director, and two countries to name my kids
The topic last night at my MOPS meeting was "naming rights". The discussion flowed from biblical babies to our own real time ones, and how their precious names were selected. We talked about how important our names are - they are our identity, a gift from our parents. Sometimes they are a link to our past. Names are so very important.
We talked about that first moment when you hold your new baby in your arms and look in his or her eyes for the first time, and how you just know, you just know the name you selected fits this tiny creature. Being the only adoptive mother in my MOPS group I am used to conversations about our little ones frequently being framed in the context of pregnancy and birth, and that is fine with me. All those mothers, having their babies the old fashioned way! Last night's conversation was the same - very much centered around those first few moments after birth.
But I can relate. I waited to see my baby's face too. I found out I was having a boy not in my doctor's office on an ultrasound table but standing in my kitchen, with our adoption agency on speaker phone. It's a boy! I remember hanging up the phone and sinking down into a kitchen chair, thrilled and stunned that we were having a boy. And the great baby name debate began.
It was funny, last night, participating in this conversation about meeting our babies. I saw my baby's beautiful little face not in person for the first time, but in a picture. But I was in the hospital. It was our adoption agency's policy to not show a prospective family the photo of the baby until after the parents to be had reviewed the baby's medical information, which makes sense. It would be hard to turn away from a baby you know in your heart your can't care for after you have seen the picture. So we had met with the doctor, we were confident we could handle the cleft palate and cleft lip our son to be would come to us with. And so we stood in a cubicle in the International Adoption Clinic offices at Nationwide Children's Hospital and waited as our baby's picture loaded onto the assistant's computer. And so that part of our story might be different than other's. But what happened next was the same as every other new parents' story. We looked at the picture of our new little son, a tiny Chinese boy in an over sized white t-shirt, his eyes speaking volumes to us. And we looked at each other and said, "Yes, his name fits him. He is a Matthew." You just know. You just know.
We talked at MOPS about how we all settled on the names we chose for our children. And again, my story was a little different. It wasn't just my husband and I making this decision. We had boys with names already. One given by the orphanage, another by a birth mother. (sometimes I still struggle with that word, birth mother. But no matter the struggle, I am everyday thankful to these unknown women.) Both names were links to history, to birth countries. So it wasn't just my husband and I. Or even extended family. It took two parents, a birth mother, an orphanage director, and two countries to name my kids.
We talked about that first moment when you hold your new baby in your arms and look in his or her eyes for the first time, and how you just know, you just know the name you selected fits this tiny creature. Being the only adoptive mother in my MOPS group I am used to conversations about our little ones frequently being framed in the context of pregnancy and birth, and that is fine with me. All those mothers, having their babies the old fashioned way! Last night's conversation was the same - very much centered around those first few moments after birth.
But I can relate. I waited to see my baby's face too. I found out I was having a boy not in my doctor's office on an ultrasound table but standing in my kitchen, with our adoption agency on speaker phone. It's a boy! I remember hanging up the phone and sinking down into a kitchen chair, thrilled and stunned that we were having a boy. And the great baby name debate began.
It was funny, last night, participating in this conversation about meeting our babies. I saw my baby's beautiful little face not in person for the first time, but in a picture. But I was in the hospital. It was our adoption agency's policy to not show a prospective family the photo of the baby until after the parents to be had reviewed the baby's medical information, which makes sense. It would be hard to turn away from a baby you know in your heart your can't care for after you have seen the picture. So we had met with the doctor, we were confident we could handle the cleft palate and cleft lip our son to be would come to us with. And so we stood in a cubicle in the International Adoption Clinic offices at Nationwide Children's Hospital and waited as our baby's picture loaded onto the assistant's computer. And so that part of our story might be different than other's. But what happened next was the same as every other new parents' story. We looked at the picture of our new little son, a tiny Chinese boy in an over sized white t-shirt, his eyes speaking volumes to us. And we looked at each other and said, "Yes, his name fits him. He is a Matthew." You just know. You just know.
We talked at MOPS about how we all settled on the names we chose for our children. And again, my story was a little different. It wasn't just my husband and I making this decision. We had boys with names already. One given by the orphanage, another by a birth mother. (sometimes I still struggle with that word, birth mother. But no matter the struggle, I am everyday thankful to these unknown women.) Both names were links to history, to birth countries. So it wasn't just my husband and I. Or even extended family. It took two parents, a birth mother, an orphanage director, and two countries to name my kids.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
making mommy friends is hard!
I used to be pretty popular, for a relatively quiet girl. In elementary school I was always friends with other "good girls" - girls who always did their home work and carried brushes and lip smacker lip gloss in their macrame or jeans purses. (how old am I?) In fifth or sixth grade I paired up with a mysterious young man named Earl, not so much because I liked him but because everyone had a "boyfriend". We would sit together at lunch and I would watch him play dodge ball or baseball at recess. I remember that Earl had dark hair and wore a lot of plain white t-shirts. Not a lot to build a relationship on, but it was a strong enough foundation for a young girl to fit in to the delicate balance of elementary school.
In high school and college I developed a close circle of friends, many of whom I am still close to today. I may not have been the most popular girl in school- homecoming queen I was not and I can't even remember the name of the quarterback, let alone remember if he ever spoke to me in the hall. But I was friendly and nice and caring and funny and when it came to friends I did alright.
Then I grew up. left the cloistered world of academia and entered the very real world of working, paying bills, dealing with family problems, dating. I maintained my friendships from college and added a few more along the way, from early jobs. As my career progressed I spent less and less time in an office, meaning more responsibility and the money that went with it, but less opportunity to build lasting relationships with co-workers. I went on a date and found the love of my life sitting in that BW3's and got married. And then we moved two hours away from family and friends.
We suffered through infertility and two invitro-fertilizations. (side note: the act of "egg harvest" is even more unpleasant than the horrific name implies.) We traveled to China and brought home our beautiful little boy and became a family "with children". Suddenly I was a wife and mother who worked outside the home but with a "home office", with my same circle of amazing close friends, all two hours away.
Making mommy friends is hard! I am not the most outgoing person. I don't find it easy to get to know others. It's not that I don't want to get to know people, it's just not easy for me. I have opportunities - the China play group my son belongs to, the other board members of Central Ohio Families With Children From China, the other daycare mommies. Tonight I am heading out to MOPS to meet with other moms and spend some time sharing and bonding and learning. I am looking forward to it; I always enjoy it when I go. But it isn't easy. Making mommy friends is hard!
In high school and college I developed a close circle of friends, many of whom I am still close to today. I may not have been the most popular girl in school- homecoming queen I was not and I can't even remember the name of the quarterback, let alone remember if he ever spoke to me in the hall. But I was friendly and nice and caring and funny and when it came to friends I did alright.
Then I grew up. left the cloistered world of academia and entered the very real world of working, paying bills, dealing with family problems, dating. I maintained my friendships from college and added a few more along the way, from early jobs. As my career progressed I spent less and less time in an office, meaning more responsibility and the money that went with it, but less opportunity to build lasting relationships with co-workers. I went on a date and found the love of my life sitting in that BW3's and got married. And then we moved two hours away from family and friends.
We suffered through infertility and two invitro-fertilizations. (side note: the act of "egg harvest" is even more unpleasant than the horrific name implies.) We traveled to China and brought home our beautiful little boy and became a family "with children". Suddenly I was a wife and mother who worked outside the home but with a "home office", with my same circle of amazing close friends, all two hours away.
Making mommy friends is hard! I am not the most outgoing person. I don't find it easy to get to know others. It's not that I don't want to get to know people, it's just not easy for me. I have opportunities - the China play group my son belongs to, the other board members of Central Ohio Families With Children From China, the other daycare mommies. Tonight I am heading out to MOPS to meet with other moms and spend some time sharing and bonding and learning. I am looking forward to it; I always enjoy it when I go. But it isn't easy. Making mommy friends is hard!
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