Ending One Chapter and Beginning Another

11 months old is how young tiny Lyla was when Eric came into our lives. We began dating with the understanding that motherhood came first, dates were spent at playgrounds, and that I was a package deal. I knew that no matter how well I was treated, the true test would be his time with my daughter. He accompanied us to parks, changed diapers, created laughter, and witnessed first steps. I'm not sure whose heart he won first, but in a short time, he had us both.

As waters remained rough with Lyla's biological father, I would often find myself wishing that there was a way for her to be Eric's instead. Fast forward 3 years, and it's coming true.

It's no secret that the relationship I had with bio-dad was solely because we created a child. After our split when Lyla was 10 months old, he saw her off and on for 8 months, and then stopped completely. These two and a half years have been filled with lots of back and forth on his part; wanting to sign her over then wanting full custody, paying child support then not paying, wishing to start over, and now, his final decision, surrendering his parental rights. It's something we've heard him say he would do before. Well, today, I got a call from my lawyer confirming that he has made this decision and that she had the signed document in hand.

This could not be happening at a better time in Lyla's life. She is aware and sensitive to the fact that her last name is different from the rest of her family's. She (amazingly) remembers visiting her bio-dad's, and will bring up questions about why he is not around. On her own, she has gradually made the transition from calling Eric by his name, to calling him "Daddy".

With her being so sensitive, I was careful with how I approached this subject with her. After reaching out to several "mommy-support-groups" as well as friends and family over the last few months while we waited for this process to become final, I came up with what I believe to be an age-appropriate explanation of what will be happening. This is how our conversation went:
"Some people aren't ready to be Mommies and Daddies, and [bio-dad] wasn't ready. But because he loves you so much, he wants you to have a Daddy who can see you and be with you everyday, which is why he wants Daddy to be your all-the-time Daddy. It's like you are the biggest, best present that [bio-dad] can give to Daddy - isn't that so nice of him?"

She loves the idea of being a "gift". She was even more excited when she found out that this meant her name could be changed to match Mommy, Daddy and Hannah. And, as much as a 4 year old can, she seemed understanding and accepting of the fact that after this happens, Eric will be her only dad.

I want her to be clued-in. I want her to be informed. I want to be as open and honest (as well as age-appropriate) as I can be with her, so that she does not have some earth shattering realization when she's a teenager that she is adopted and used to have another, different father. For the first time today, I started using the word "adoption". I told her that it means Daddy loves her so much that he wants to be her Daddy every single day forever and ever. The smile on her face when I explained this was priceless. I don't want to overuse the terminology to make her feel different, but I do want her to be aware of it, too.

When I received that phone call, I cannot put into words the relief it brought. No more anxiety over the "what if's", no more nonsense, but most of all: no more feeling bad. I have had moments where I just felt plain old sad; sad for Lyla that someone could just give her up like that. Sad for him, that he put excuses before a relationship with his child - but these feelings are long gone. Lyla was fortunate enough to have Eric as a constant in her life, and that his family was overwhelmingly accepting and loving. She will never feel  neglect or a lapse with this change. As for him, well, I could not force a relationship between them, and will never again hold myself responsible for his decision.

Once again, I find myself repeating the ever so cliché expression: everything happens for a reason. 3 years ago I would watch Eric play so lovingly with my baby girl and ask him "why can't you be her dad?" - how lucky am I to be here, today, having just that come true. Some mothers didn't get to hand pick the father of their child at all, and most others didn't get to take theirs for a test drive. I had a very big advantage here, for which I am forever grateful.

Looking forward to the rest of our lives as one big happy Dorschied family :)

"I'm Sorry", always.

Relationships, whether it's with friends, family, or your children, will inevitably have arguments. The one thing that leaves these relationships undamaged and gives them the ability to grow and move forward is the apology. This is one of the more important aspects of life I try and teach my children through example every day.

I've blogged before about Eric and I both apologizing after an argument (one for the upsetting event, and the other for the reaction), but I also make a point to apologize to my children, too. I've read parenting articles that describe "sticking to your guns" when it comes to discipline, because "the child will never learn if you go back on your word" - true, but not in all cases in my opinion. If I give several warnings and eventually end up taking away dessert, yes, I will stick to it, and there will be no dessert after dinner that night. But if the punishment comes from my lack of patience and I feel I am being unfair, or unnecessarily yelling, you're damn right I apologize to those kids, just as I'd expect someone to apologize to me in a similar situation.

I've definitely had my days where I got little sleep, missed my morning coffee or didn't have a chance to run, and my temper flairs up easily. In our house, we call these "grumpy days" - and I make a point to explain how I am feeling to the girls (yes, even little Hannah). After feeling intolerant and putting Lyla in what was probably an unnecessary time-out, I am sure to take that time to take a few cleansing breaths, enter her room, and explain to her why I got upset. But more importantly, I apologize for raising my voice. At this point, Lyla usually instructs me on "what would have been a nicer thing to say", which is just adorable, and pretty much always squashes my poor mood right then and there.

I absolutely hate yelling. I strive for calm, patient ways to deal with even the most frustrating tantrums, but some days I lose my cool - it's never something I feel good about, and I know my children don't feel good about it either. This is why I feel like it is so important to apologize when it happens. No, I don't feel like I'm "un-doing" any discipline by saying I'm sorry, especially when I still take the time to explain what they did wrong, why it upset Mommy, and why Mommy reacted that way. I tell them that Mommy needs to work on not raising her voice, just like I will tell Lyla she needs to work on using kind words, or tell Hannah she needs to work on being gentle and not hitting. Children learn best through example, and what better example then to hop aboard this learning journey with them. I want them to know it's normal to feel frustrated; that it's okay to get upset and overreact - we are human after all, but the lesson I want them to grasp is what you do after that is what matters.

Hopefully I am building a foundation for a lifetime of wonderful relationships for these girls, one apology at a time.