I was going back through Julia's baby book and came across a newspaper article about our family that had been published in the local press shortly after we returned home. Our story was being followed because it tied in with the horror of SARS (remember that at that time no one really knew how bad it was and how widely it might spread). While China was figuring out what to do about their outbreak, adoptions were put on hold. As I have already written (and many of you recall), we had Julia's photo at that point and were anticipating travel any day when we got the unexpected news that we couldn't travel until the outbreak was contained. No one had a clue when that might be.
When we were finally able to bring Julia home there was much rejoicing. We were so delirously happy that we didn't realize how massively jet lagged we were. We were so in love with our girl and our new role as parents that we hadn't registered how absolutely maxed out we were and how far we were from being the (mostly) rational selves we were before parenthood. So when the reporter who had been so kind and supportive to us during our delay called to schedule an interview about our happy ending, we said COME RIGHT OVER! We were shouting our joy from the rooftops anyway, why not let the readership of the local press in on the fun?
We all know I can barely string words together in a coherent sentence under the best of circumstances. At the time of our interview, I hadn't slept much in two weeks, was adjusting to a major time zone change, and was so slammed by meeting the needs of our baby that I was struggling just to find a clean pair of skivvies to wear each morning. Anyone want to guess how it all turned out???
Big surprise...I said something stupid. Not major, shake the world stupid but stupid enough. Bad enough that when I re-read it printed in the article that I had lovingly placed in Julia's baby book five years later, I thought I'd better take it out and burn it. Bad enough that I wonder if the connotations are going to impact Julia (and Mimi) later.
You see, words really do mean something. I believe the way we phrase things can make the difference between a child growing up with a strong sense of self or a shabby take on their world. For instance, consider the words "real mom"--we all know some people use that phrase to mean "biological mother". In our family, though, when someone asks Julia and Mimi who their "real mom" is, you can bet your buttons they think of me! Believe me when I say you really don't want to be the person who questions that response if it gets back to me. I'd be out for blood.
So that's kind of why my own blunder is so hard to accept. Here's what I said in a nutshell: I was telling about when I first saw Julia in the flesh...that amazing day in China that will forever live in my memory...I was attempting to "set the scene" so I could describe the moment and I said, "then, when they were handing out the babies...blah, blah, blah." HANDING OUT THE BABIES! Like they were cookies! People don't "hand out the babies"! For crying out loud, I see my child for the first time, the baby who was MEANT to be ours, who God had lovingly placed in our family, and I describe the moment with the same language people use when referring to pamphlets.
Yes, yes, I was tired. Yes, yes, I often have trouble with my speech. Lord knows I didn't mean it that way. On the otherhand, can I claim the same excuses others do? No way. I'm the REAL mom and I'd better get it right.
By the way, in that article Mark was completely articulate...practically poetic. Thank goodness he is here to balance us out.
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