mother believe their baby was the most beautiful? Even from the beginning, I thought so. With a cherub face, long eyelashes, and curly light brown hair, Brian was the most beautiful child. People were always mistaking him for a girl. I would dress him in a little blue knit sweater and pants with a football embroidered on the front or in a baseball suit and matching cap and someone would stop me to express what a beautiful little girl she was.
And once in a market when I explained she was actually a he, the woman exclaimed that having such eyelashes were so wasted on a boy. I laughed. I didn’t agree. I knew one day a young girl would come along and fall in love with those lashes.
At nine months old Brian weighed 20 pounds, 5 ounces and was 29 1/4 inches tall. In the ninety percentile for his age, the doctor told me. I started him on 2 percent milk. At his nine month check-up, the pediatrician found a heart murmur. Three months later, it was gone.
Chapter 12
Brian’s adoption became final just days before his first birthday. The waiting was over. Even though he’d been placed in our home months before and we had raised him thus far as our own, there’d been the uncertainty that until the adoption was final his birth mother or father could claim him. It was legal for them to do that. We’d known it to happen twice. Though it was something we’d never dwelled on, Bob and I always knew it was a possibility.
So on that big day I dressed him in a new emerald green Izod pants and shirt and we drove downtown to stand before the judge.
We chose Brian’s birthday, June 24, 1981 as the day to celebrate the finality of his adoption as well as the day of his birth. Our home was packed with family and friends to help us celebrate.
Brian had already been circumcised at the hospital in Roseburg; however, according to Jewish law, the drawing of blood at the site and offering his Jewish name would signify that the baby was officially Jewish. Wanting to raise our son in the religion we had been raised, Bob and I made the necessary arrangements with our Rabbi. Now Brian was ours. Forever.
Chapter 13
It began with the tantrums. At fifteen months, Brian began to have a terrible time accepting the word “no”. He tightened up his little body, turned red-faced, and lay on the floor screaming. With tears streaming down his face, choking, convulsing nearly to the point of throwing up, he screamed for what seemed forever. We thought he was going through what everyone knows as the terrible twos, a phase, only in this case he was starting earlier. We hoped with any luck, he’d out grow it earlier. But that didn’t happen. He was getting bigger and stronger. There was no consoling him unless we gave in, which was not an option. So he lay there and yelled. Bob and I were amazed at the boy’s stamina.
“Let him scream it out,” advised well meaning friends and family. Sure, I thought, they didn’t have to listen to him. It was always easy to tell others what to do.
Of course, seeing Brian so distressed was difficult for Bob and me. And it went on nearly every day. At nap time. At bedtime. When play time was over. Dragging him away from a birthday party was torture. He loved playing with other kids. Any time his routine was interrupted for another activity, he’d grow so angry.
What was wrong? Was this behavior normal? I thought we were doing the right thing by taking a firm hand. Maybe it wasn’t. It was hard to know.
One day, I had a dentist appointment. It had been arranged that my friend, Jo, would watch Brian while I was gone. We often planned play dates for our babies. Times when Jo and I would sit and visit. Occasionally, we babysat for one another.
When I arrived at her house she hadn’t yet returned from a morning shopping trip; her sister was there watching Andy. I had a few minutes to spare so I sat down to visit with Ann.
I didn’t know the woman well, nor did she know me. Her demeanor seemed formal, her eye critical. Brian was fussy, perhaps sensing that I was planning to leave.
I waited for Jo as long as I could and when I finally stood up, Brian began his usual tirade. I held him and tried to console him, told him Mommy had to go, but that I’d be back soon. But he was unmanageable. If I didn’t leave right now, I’d be late for my appointment. I told this to Ann.
“I’d never leave my child if he was this upset,” Ann told me sharply.
I began to panic. Jo still hadn’t returned and I couldn’t cancel my appointment just because my baby was upset by my leaving. I knew Ann was thinking I was a terrible mother, but ...
“I’m so sorry, Ann, but I have to go.” I was all but pleading for her to understand. I wasn’t a terrible mother. I loved my child, and Jo would be coming home any moment. Brian would be all right with her.
Ann stood there and gave me the most disapproving look as I thrust Brian at her. I hurried out the door.
Chapter 14
Neither Bob, nor I knew what to do to help Brian when he had one of his tantrums. The terrible twos had leaped upon us with a vengeance. They were wicked, filling us with frustration and fear. To be a parent wasn’t easy, even with a toddler. We never thought for a moment it would be.
And still, I ached for another baby. Bob played along for awhile.
“Do you want to look into open adoption?” he asked me one day.
Open adoption? We didn’t know much about it. But it was an option and at this point we needed to have a Plan B since Karen wasn’t coming up with a baby through the traditional way.
We went to a meeting at a downtown clinic with other parents who’d gone the route of open adoption. We met mothers who’d given up their babies and couples who’d been there with open arms to receive them. But we were scared. Neither of us felt comfortable seeing another woman through her pregnancy, having her come to our home for occasional visits, sharing letters, phone conversations, and holidays. Open adoption was not for us.
Besides, Bob didn’t want another child. Not really. When he tried to explain his reasons for stopping at one I wanted to hold my hands over my ears and block out his words.
“Maybe if we wait a little longer, something will come up,” I begged, tears falling down my face. “There must be another baby out there for us.” It hadn’t been part of my dream to have only one.
Bob and I had always thought alike, had always been on the same page, as it were. Now that had changed. I didn’t agree with any of his reasons that we shouldn’t have a larger family, but I listened. He was adamant. Brian was beginning to be a handful, he acknowledged. I wanted to scream.
With only one income, money was tight. We’d have to make sacrifices, Bob went on to say. So we would eat out less and not bother to go on vacations. Everyone made sacrifices, didn’t they? I tried not to scream.
I continued to listen and in the deepest part of me I knew he was right. But my heart ached. I thought about all of the baby clothes, toys, and furniture I’d stored away in the attic, just waiting for our next child and the one after that. Was it possible that maybe Bob and I could make it work? Perhaps I could do some freelance writing for the Oregonian or magazines. Maybe Brian would eventually settle down. Maybe.
Months passed. Brian was not settling down. He was having anxiety attacks whenever I left him. He was still having tantrums. And we had no other money coming in other than Bob’s monthly pay check, which was not
