One month

Brett and I have talked about how having an adopted child is different than having a biological child. Even though we had Ben with us for eight months before he was even born, the biggest difference so far is that I didn't have to recover from an all-nighter athletic event (labor). Maybe second is that we're not surprised our newborn doesn't look like us (Ben, four days old, is pictured at right).

With the exception of the first few hours of life, I would even say that Ella has felt more like my child than Ben did in the first month. And those first few hours shouldn't count anyway, since Ella wasn't yet our daughter. I think Ella, with her brown skin, feels more like my child because I'm established and comfortable in my identity as a mother. That took a while for me to get used to after Ben was born.

Then our week at Primary Children's Hospital sealed the deal (and I ended up getting in my all-nighter, a few times). Doctors and nurses seem very concerned about numbers--weight, blood count, liquid ounces, inches, etc., all compared against charts of "normal" babies. And they have their standard way of treatment. So anything out of the usual--like attachment parenting or an adoptive breastfeeding mother--stirs things up a little. Through this I felt my mama bear instincts gear-up to protect my daughter's interests.

For example, the doctors prescribed three bilirubin lights for Ella to sleep and poop under (more than is even needed, but whatever). Everyone knows babies sleep, poop, and the third thing they do is eat! Ella is a breastfed baby, so I needed to pick her up off of her table and hold her in a rocking chair. It was especially important to me to nurse hre, as I was building my milk supply. The doctors freaked out about this: "But she needs the lights!" So I suggested that we move the portable bili-lights to shine on Ella's skin while she nursed. "...But we've never done that before and what if it doesn't work!" It got to the point where I asked them to explain the risks to me so I could sign a waiver for her nursings. They couldn't. We got around that by compromising--I could nurse her with the lights as long as I didn't nurse her for more than 10 minutes every couple of hours.

Another example comes from the phlebotomists who pricked Ella's feet to draw blood. A couple found it very inconvenient that I wanted to hold Ella during the prick, to reassure her and let her nurse my pinky for comfort. I think they are used to pricking feet of babies that are lying on tables, but as admitted by one phlebotomist afterward, holding a baby upright actually helps--it brings the feet up to a more comfortable working height and it allows gravity to bring more blood down the leg. Several days of asking for accomodations to better mother my daughter made me feel very motherly toward her.

I remember when Ben was a few months old, Brett and I would look at each other, still surprised that he was ours. I think Brett feels that way with Ella. He didn't have the same experience at Primary's that I did. When Ella and I were there, Brett was at home with Ben, or shuttling back and forth between there and home, so he didn't have to battle doctors for her sake.

Brett has also commented on a few double-takes from strangers when they see him holding Ella, something we'll probably get more of as she gets older. But I don't feel yet like I have gotten any more comments or looks with Ella than I did with Ben. Many have stopped to comment, mostly of the older generation, on both of my cute babies.

So there are a few differences of course. And of course we feel the same way toward each of our kids, and love them both as they are--our own. We're excited to see how we all grow, and are looking forward to many more months together as a family. Happy one month, Ella!