Expectations, Hope and Love
I've never had a child biologically, so I can't compare my experience to those who have. All I know is our situation: three years of trying to get pregnant, deciding to adopt and waiting three years for the birth of our son with what I call our false start in the middle (a birth mom who changed her mind once the baby was born). It was laborious (no pun intended), emotionally draining, and given the amazing outcome, I wouldn't change a minute of it.
At one point all of the starts and stops made me lose hope. I thought it would be easy. I thought we'd get married, I'd get pregnant, and that would be it. I remember shopping with a girlfriend during the throes of Clomid, daily temps and sex on command. I tried on a cute pair of shorts and shirt, and I hesitated. I told her, "What if I buy this and I get pregnant?" Without a beat she answered, "What if you don't?" I remember being so hurt. I remember thinking how dare she? It was definitely going to happen for me. And then it didn't. Month after month, it didn't happen.
Then we decided to adopt, and I threw myself into that process with a vigor and renewed energy. And then we waited. Eighteen months in we were chosen by a birth mom, and we were having a daughter! I folded pink onesies and we named her. She was our daughter, and then her mother decided to parent her. And just like that she wasn't ours. With each disappointment my heart broke, and I lost hope.
I didn't read parenting books. I began to wonder if we'd ever be parents, and then we were. Will arrived on a beautiful December afternoon, and I was a mom. My heart exploded with the love of this perfect child that was ours. He was OUR boy, and all at once I had hope again.
The last three years have been a whirlwind of awesome, hard and magical. This son of ours makes my heart explode every day, even in the throes of having a threenager. And despite my thinking a decade ago when we got married that we would have lots of children, he's it for us. We're at a point in our life as a family and as professionals where our family of three is perfect.
Now that I have settled into parenthood, I occasionally read books that impact parenting. I hesitate to call them parenting books, preferring to think of them as books about another's experience that I turn into parenting advice.
Ron Fournier's Love That Boy is one of these books. It's brilliant. Heart wrenching. Ron's son Tyler has Asberger's, and the book is an exploration of parenthood through the imperfect eyes of Tyler's father. I use the word 'imperfect' intentionally because I am so inspired by Ron and Lori Fournier. We're all imperfect as parents, and if we pretend otherwise we're kidding ourselves. The book is a remarkable look at these parents tackling a complicated syndrome head on. And it turns into (either intentionally or unintentionally) a parenting treatise that brought me to tears repeatedly.
I am late to the Fournier fan girl train. I attended a banquet for the Conference of Western Wayne about a year and a half ago where he was the moderator. He had just returned to Detroit after decades of covering politics in Arkansas and Washington. I saw him present to the Lansing Economic Club in December, and I sat there with tears in my eyes as he relayed poltiical and parenting anecdotes in a way that made it hard for me to determine which was which.
The book hit a nerve with me. Fournier talks about the expectations of parents and what that does to children. It made me think of my expectations for my son. And honestly, maybe naively, it also made me wonder what expectations I have for him. Sure, like Fournier notes, everyone wants their kid to be "happy" (whatever that means). And of course I want Will to be happy.
But I want him to have structure. I want him to have rules. I want him to feel safe. I want him to feel like he can do whatever he wants whether that's being a fireman (his current life goal), a mechanic, a chef, or a stay-at-home dad. I want my son to be fulfilled in his life choices. I want him to like his parents. Loving us is probably easier, but I want him to like us. And Fournier talks about how most kids are average and parents have these expectations that are out of control.
Like a lot of parents I think my kid is pretty brilliant. Actually I think he's hilarious, so let's add comedian to the list of things that may fulfill him. But I know I (we) will screw him up throughout the next few decades. This is my second solo parenting weekend in a row, and the days are long. I feel so guilty putting on PBS again just to have a minute. Or 30 minutes. I've watched Cars 3 today for probably the 50th time, and I felt guilty that I wasn't more engaged with my kid. Parenting is not for the faint of heart, but it's worth it. The hard moments, the easy moments, the snuggles and the toddler tantrums. But the snuggling is pretty legit.
At one point all of the starts and stops made me lose hope. I thought it would be easy. I thought we'd get married, I'd get pregnant, and that would be it. I remember shopping with a girlfriend during the throes of Clomid, daily temps and sex on command. I tried on a cute pair of shorts and shirt, and I hesitated. I told her, "What if I buy this and I get pregnant?" Without a beat she answered, "What if you don't?" I remember being so hurt. I remember thinking how dare she? It was definitely going to happen for me. And then it didn't. Month after month, it didn't happen.
Then we decided to adopt, and I threw myself into that process with a vigor and renewed energy. And then we waited. Eighteen months in we were chosen by a birth mom, and we were having a daughter! I folded pink onesies and we named her. She was our daughter, and then her mother decided to parent her. And just like that she wasn't ours. With each disappointment my heart broke, and I lost hope.
I didn't read parenting books. I began to wonder if we'd ever be parents, and then we were. Will arrived on a beautiful December afternoon, and I was a mom. My heart exploded with the love of this perfect child that was ours. He was OUR boy, and all at once I had hope again.
The last three years have been a whirlwind of awesome, hard and magical. This son of ours makes my heart explode every day, even in the throes of having a threenager. And despite my thinking a decade ago when we got married that we would have lots of children, he's it for us. We're at a point in our life as a family and as professionals where our family of three is perfect.
Now that I have settled into parenthood, I occasionally read books that impact parenting. I hesitate to call them parenting books, preferring to think of them as books about another's experience that I turn into parenting advice.
Ron Fournier's Love That Boy is one of these books. It's brilliant. Heart wrenching. Ron's son Tyler has Asberger's, and the book is an exploration of parenthood through the imperfect eyes of Tyler's father. I use the word 'imperfect' intentionally because I am so inspired by Ron and Lori Fournier. We're all imperfect as parents, and if we pretend otherwise we're kidding ourselves. The book is a remarkable look at these parents tackling a complicated syndrome head on. And it turns into (either intentionally or unintentionally) a parenting treatise that brought me to tears repeatedly.
I am late to the Fournier fan girl train. I attended a banquet for the Conference of Western Wayne about a year and a half ago where he was the moderator. He had just returned to Detroit after decades of covering politics in Arkansas and Washington. I saw him present to the Lansing Economic Club in December, and I sat there with tears in my eyes as he relayed poltiical and parenting anecdotes in a way that made it hard for me to determine which was which.
The book hit a nerve with me. Fournier talks about the expectations of parents and what that does to children. It made me think of my expectations for my son. And honestly, maybe naively, it also made me wonder what expectations I have for him. Sure, like Fournier notes, everyone wants their kid to be "happy" (whatever that means). And of course I want Will to be happy.
But I want him to have structure. I want him to have rules. I want him to feel safe. I want him to feel like he can do whatever he wants whether that's being a fireman (his current life goal), a mechanic, a chef, or a stay-at-home dad. I want my son to be fulfilled in his life choices. I want him to like his parents. Loving us is probably easier, but I want him to like us. And Fournier talks about how most kids are average and parents have these expectations that are out of control.
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| Earlier this month. Next stop...Harvard? |
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