I am Blessed

We fought.  Oh how we fought.  We screamed, we yelled and we said nasty, nasty things.  We thought that chances were as soon as we didn't have to we would never speak again. 

But my first memories are of sobbing hysterically because I thought she was getting her leg cut off when  her baby leg cast needed to be removed.  I remember endless nights laying awake in bed worrying myself to insomnia that something would happen to her and I would never recover.  I loved her.  I was jealous of her.  I drove her nuts. She drove me insane.  But born 22 months apart, sharing the same life, she was and is my sister.

I remember after a particularly awful bout of teenage animosity, my father shook his head at us in the rear view mirror and said "One day the two of you will be the best of friends".  We glared at each other and simultaneously fantasized of being only children and wondered at our father's sanity.  

Today, there is probably no one else on earth who understands those hidden parts of me like her.  We grieve the same losses.  We miss the same people.  We pray for the same father and survive the same mother. 

She is an amazing mother.  She is passionate and intelligent.  She is athletic beyond my wildest abilities.  She is the best of friends.  I am lucky to be her sister and proud to be her friend. 

Happy birthday Sis.   I love you.  I need you  AND more importantly, I really do like you.

Celebration of Family

It started with a trickle of company, crested with a house full of guests, and ended with grateful hugs and sad goodbyes.  And at a time when it could have just as easily been snowing, the son shone with a warmth that was far more reminiscent of a glorious July day than early October.  It was a weekend to remember.

First, we celebrated Tanner beginning his transition from child to man.  His "Rite Of Passage" 13th birthday weekend. 

A tradition we started with our oldest child, gleaned from the traditions of other families and other cultures.  We surround our sons with some of the most important men in their life.  Men they love and men they respect.  Each man given a task of imparting their own unique wisdom of how to become a man on the topics of Faith, Sex and Dating, Character, Work Ethic and Family.  And each son, nervous before it starts, has been glowing with pride at the end. 

I cannot say enough what it means to me as a mother of so many sons to see them cherished by others.  Our family ties are not determined by blood or race or location, and these men, family by choice and commitment,  come from far and wide because they love my children. 

And Sunday our focus turned to our daughters and their addition to our family.  Our chance to stand before our church family and thank them for their support, and to make a commitment to raise the girls to the very best of our abilties before God and man.

It was crowded and busy and very, very loud around here this weekend.  And I loved every.single.minute.  Kids might have had to sleep on the floor of the laundry room, and the 9 year old crammed into the toddler bed he was sharing with his sister was only SUPER CUTE for the first half of the night and cooking large meals and endless bags of garbage was alot of work, but it was worth every minute.  It was good. 

A time to celebrate.  Days to remember.

Family Time

Enjoying these last days of summer. Together.

Finally, Nothing Much to Say

But still I am going to say it.

First, I have decided to spare the world further trauma and made a decision about my summer attire with that in mind. I have never really been a bikini sort of gal. I had a mother whose guidebook on life included the requirement of modesty at all times. I lived under the threat (perceived or otherwise) that if I was seen in public in a two piece bathing suit it would be ripped off of me. I took it seriously enough (combined with sufficient self esteem issues) to never even consider wearing one in public as a teenager.

As an adult I graduated (at times) into the two piece shorts and top swim suit category. In fact, I own two or three like that and have worn them, IN PUBLIC even, on occassion. After this surgery, gall bladder removal and c-section I now realize I have NINE scars on my stomach. NINE. Add to that the stretch marks from two babies. Sparing you all the trauma and wearing a one piece the rest of my life. You're Welcome.

Secondly, Babies are both doing really well. At the same time however, my life is INSANE. Did you know two children 11 months apart that are both still babies never, ever, ever sleep at the same time? ** well except at this moment which is why I can blog** And did you know that I change about 13 dirty diapers a day? And did you know I am LOVING it? Thought so. And I have only called Older Baby by the former baby girl's name once. And I was really, really tired so that's practically excusable. Oh, and starting today I am supervising the twice weekly visits with parents. Wish me luck.

Thirdly, school is getting close to wrapping up. Caden (son #4) had his year end trip this week to Barkerville and foolish parents that we are, we went along, with the girls. I forgot I had surgery 3 weeks ago and that sitting in a car for 5 hours in one day might not be wise. I wish I would have remembered, but still it was a fun day and Caden was so, so happy we came.

Fourthly, Shel is looking for work and has had a couple of job interviews this week. None are for jobs I actually want him to get or take, but still, its progress. He is away this weekend to buy us a new vehicle (a pre-planned purchase that is now essential as we don't all fit into the van anymore) and away in Victoria for 4 days next week with Eric's class year end trip. Yes, I will need help. Thankfully its already arranged.

Lastly and most importantly, today marks my 15th wedding anniversary. 15 years ago in the pouring rain we joined our lives and became a family. We had no idea what was in store or how hard it would be. We were young, young, young and oh so naive. We have had many good and easy years, a couple hard and difficult ones, good times and bad times, grief, loss and joy. We are blessed. I am lucky (so is he of course)! Happy Anniversary Hon, here's to about 55 more!

Capturing My Family

It's been a few years since we have had family "portraits" taken but for some reason, with all this new talk of cancer and surgery I felt a NEED to capture the moments of us together. My friend Laureen generously, amazingly, and overwhelmingly offered her services to do a photo shoot.

Now if you know teenagers, you know that this sort of thing is not high on their priority list of fun things to do. You add to that fact that our photo shoot was done DURING a Canucks Playoff Game which is at the absolute top of the fun things to do list at our house, and well, let it hereby be known that Laureen Carruthers is a MIRACLE WORKER.

These are a few of the pictures she took, go to her blog to check out some more. Go to her site if you ever need a photographer. Her work is a amazing.

Because not only did she take some amazing pictures of my family but Laureen (and the magic of her camera) managed to make me NOT look like the tired and stressed mom I am. Thank you Laureen for giving me this opportunity to reflect on the beauty of my family. The joy these pictures have brought me is enormous!

Where in the World has Jen Gone?

Let's recap shall we. It might help if you read all the way to the end because the disaster that this month started out to be, it ended with quite a bang.

Wednesday March 4th - a peer calls Greg a racist slur at school. School finds out (along with Greg). Kid's girl-friend decides that if she makes up story about Greg this will get her boy-friend out of trouble.

Thursday March 5th - Girl has told friends and family that Greg pulled a knife on her at school and that is why her friend called him the racist name. Her sisters, cousins, brothers, uncles and friends show up at the school to threaten Greg and his best buddy. Oooops her little lie is now threatening my child. School does not inform us of this gang showing up at school to "get" my child. School ejects these kids from the property and tells Greg to "watch his back". No phone call home.

Monday March 9th - threats continue at school. Parents have still not been informed, nor has Greg mentioned anything. Principal decides to "deal" with situation by meetin with the girl and telling her they know she is lying so to call off her posse. Meets with Greg as well continues to tell him he is under threat and to "watch his back" but that things should be fine. Still no phone call home to parents.

Monday Night March 9th. Parents find out. Parents call principal. Parents demand action.

Tuesday March 10th. Girls, associates and friends suspended or expelled from school. Greg pulled from the high school for the day as teachers, parents and staff meet to discuss their lack of protection offered to my child and how failing to inform the parents was a huge big deal. Principal is a friend, this makes it worse as he KNOWS that we would wish to be involved.

Friday March 13th - High School put on "lock down" when a gun shows up at school. Greg is totally fine but Jen has a break down.

Friday March 13th - Thursday March 19th - We attend hockey tournaments. Eric's team wins bronze, Greg's team finishes 5th in the province at Provincials. This a great place for him to finish as our town is small.

March 20th - My dad tells us he is diagnosed with something very, very serious. We tell the boys. We cry. We scream. We fall apart. Hope seems beyond our grasp. I have one of the hardest conversations of my life. Papa. Cancer. Serious. Chemo. Papa. We hold a photo shoot that night. It seems surreal.

March 25th and 26th - I am in hospital taking tests at the final stage to be a kidney donor for my cousin. Yeah, I know I haven't mentioned that on here yet, but I was waiting to know for sure. Lots of tests, meetings etc. I have a CT Scan and a Nuclear Renal gram. Things look cautiously optimistic for a donation to happen in late May or early June.

March 27th - I and the boys return home

March 28th - My Nan dies. I feel like I cannot handle anymore. My Nan is more in my life than I can adequately describe, although I have tried. We cry. We scream. We fall apart.

April 1st - I return to Vancouver to plan funeral.

9:30 am April 2nd - My cell phone rings. Its my transplant surgeon. Something is wrong, they have found something. When can we meet. I explain I am already in Vancouver, he goes on to explain its a tumor, probably malignant. We agree to meet at 8 am the next morning.

9:33 am - Call Shel and tell him

9:35 am - Meet with my Nan's lawyer to discuss will, estate. Descend deep, deep into shock.

10:00 am Call my dad. Make him cry. My dad who hasn't shed a tear over himself cries over my news.

10:30 am Shel leaves work and decides to immediately come to Vancouver with boys.

Rest of day. Google. Cry. Shock. Call. Google. Get Scared. At that point I realize that a tumor on your kidney means you have Kidney Cancer.

8:00 am - At hospital with Shel. Run into surgeon in elevator. He looks serious. I am sweating. We meet. He utters the words "Malignant Kidney Cancer". Its small. Its manageable. I need surgery. Donation is not possible. Small chance its benign but either way it needs to come out. Chance of re-occurrence. Terminal if not discovered. Surgery in Vancouver. Need a new surgeon. Chemo? Don't know yet. Radiation? No.

Shock. No tears. Just Shock.

1:30 pm Meet with boys and have one of the hardest conversations of my life. Mommy. Cancer. Going to be ok. I have to be ok. I love you. I will be here for you. Cancer.


Saturday, April 4th. We bury my Nan. I feel. All I wanted was to feel and I felt. I was worried the shock was going to freeze my emotions, but as much as I could I was present. I greeted, I hugged, I shed tears. I smiled.

Saturday Night - I crash. Have never, ever felt so emotionally and physically exhausted in my life. Sleep. Weep. Laugh.

Sunday - Drive Home. To exhausted to think.


Monday - I let you know. I get dressed and I am heading to work. To face the first day of my real life with Cancer. Please Pray. Sometimes life feels like too much.

Being willing to be a kidney donor probably saved my life. I just dont know how to come to terms with that yet.

Living on a precipice

Its hard to put into words what life feels like right now.

On edge? Teetering? An infinite pause?

We sit and wait. We celebrate the fact that end isn't here, but we all breathe shallowly because we know its close.

I grasp at hope that I might get another visit, another few days together, and carry the reality that I really shouldn't count on it. I need to be ok if I don't. I have said what I needed to say. And still I hope.

And we focus now on the visits. The memories. The pictures. We laugh and reminisce.

We talk in circles around the idea of a funeral. Burial.

But what we all avoid is the reality of the shattering that will occur when we are plunged off that precipice. There will be no going back. No holding it together. No repairing the damage.

She is the glue that has held us together. The reason we hold on to our facade of a family. For her, we try.

My heart will break. And then my family will crack along the lines of difficult relationships.

And we wait. Until today? Tomorrow? Another week? Another month?

We sit upon this precipice of death.

Adoption Diary: Part 3

"The Girls That Went Away"

Through tears, my mom shared her story.

15, Pregnant, 1963. And the clincher, Catholic.

Divorced parents, an unheard of oddity during that era, was probably one nail in the coffin of her impending motherhood. Being Catholic, pregnant and a teen in Coquitlam during the 60's the other.

She was sent away to an Unwed Mother's Home in Vancouver in late 1962. Her friends were told that she was living with an aunt in Saskatchewan. She would write letters to the aunt, and they would be forwarded to her friends just a few kilometers down the road.

The nuns abused them. Verbally, emotionally and yes, physically. They were regularly called whores. Reminded that that no man would ever want them now. That bad girls deserved nothing. They were forced to work in a manner similar to slavery of years gone past.

My mother was violently ill with all her pregnancies, and this first one was the worst. Hospitalized, but segregated from the other pregnant women lest her tainted ways affect the other more deserving, married mothers.

She ran away from the hell that was then was dragged back sobbing and begging by the one relative that she thought would save her, and care for her. Her hope was gone.

The priest was consulted and decreed that the baby would be placed for adoption. There was no choice. No asking. No counselling.

There was no option for a teen mother at this time, during this era. Social stigma was enormous.

There was no welfare available for unmarried 15 year olds. An abusive father, an emotionally fragmented mother, an extended family that was more concerned with appearances around church circles than with the safety of their young niece.

The back street abortion that the baby's father wanted her to have was both illegal and unsafe, and against everything that my mother had been taught was right.

She cried as she shared and tried to make us understand what life was like back then for her. I couldn't comprehend.

I was OLDER than she had been when she had my sister and my biggest concern in life was what was for lunch.

She began to share what happened to her when her baby, her daughter, my sister was born.

Just for Aunty Jess' Sake

This blog has kinda gotten away from me a bit, and what started out as a private journal at an adoption forum has turned, in less than a week, into a 2000 hit experience. My dearly loved sister has pointed out that I have done a very poor job of introducing the entire family.

This is Greg. Greg is 13 years old and a really amazing kid. Yes we realize how good looking he is. Yes we do find this rather scary. Add to that he is smart, athletic and responsible and you have a mother who is terrified that he is starting high school in September. Greg has played AAA hockey for several years. He will be attending an International Development Tournament, as a great honor, in August. And, in case you noticed, he just got back from meeting his first family in Missouri. Greg was born in St. Louis and joined our family when he was 4.

This is Eric. Eric is 12 years old and is Greg's full biological brother. Eric has a killer smile which is always flashing across his face. His personality might best be described as "fiesty". Eric loves all sports but especially enjoys hockey. Eric loves having a 'fro and spends much time each day picking it out. He is entering grade 7 in the fall and joined our family when he was 3. Eric has had some struggles dealing with his past, and the way his brain learns, and he works very, very hard to deal with the deck life has dealt him. We are VERY proud of him!

This is Tanner. Tanner is almost 11 and has the sweet and gentle personality of his dad. Tanner is a pretty quiet kid unless you get him alone, at which time he talks non-stop. Tanner is the hockey goalie of the family. Tanner's main struggle in life is Seasonal Affective Disorder which he has dealt with since he was 5, and severely since he was 7. Because we live in the North and deal with long nights and short days in the winter, this is something we carefully monitor. I'll talk more about that later. Tanner is going into Grade 6 French Immersion in September, and grade 10 math. Yeah, he is a quirky kid. Tanner is our biological son and was born in British Columbia and was 22 months old when his brothers came home.

This is Caden. He loves EVERYONE and EVERYONE loves Caden. Caden is 7 and might best be described as a pepsqueek, snuggle bug, cuddle kid, or sweetie pie. And, ah, did I mention that he is my baby and maybe a tad spoiled? Caden loves life, loves his brothers fiercely, loves to learn, loves to laugh and especially loves to cuddle his mama. Caden was also born in BC 18 months after his brothers came home and enriched our lives in every way. KK (as we call him) will be entering Grade 2 at Eric's school in September.

This is my beloved husband, Shel. Shel and I have been married over 14 years now. I am blessed to be married to a gentle giant of a man who loves his family with his entire being. He is my strength on the days when mine fails me. He is calm, rational and supportive and willing to do anything for our family. I am very, very lucky that he has stuck by my side through thick and thin. Shel was born and raised in the states, and immigrated to Canada as a young man and is now a citizen of both countries.
This is me (well except now I am blond and older). Jen. 34. Mom, wife, daughter, sister, adoption forum junkie. I have been a part of the online adoption world since 1999 when the boys arrived. We lived in the middle of nowhere and were dealing with some pretty tough issues. I NEEDED the support, and you, my online friends, provided me guidance, friendship and support. I am passionate about adoption education and integrity in the adoption process. I love my kids with all my heart and being their mom is ALL that matters to me.

And for good measure, Annie, our Jack Russell Terrier. 5 years old. And because of her we no longer get mail delivery to our home. Can't you tell how fearsome she is? Stupid Canada Post.

Like Father Like Son

Can you tell someone was VERY happy to see their dad?

And someone else was even HAPPIER to see their son?

And that maybe someone else dressed them both?