The Graduate

Becky holds her diploma in front of the fountain at Lincoln Center

Today our family traveled to Manhattan to watch Becky graduate from the American Musical and Dramatic Academy, a college where she has blossomed as a performer, gained oodles of self confidence, made fabulous friends from all over the world, and grown into an independent young woman.

Growing up, academics never were Becky's thing.  Sure, she was smart enough, but her work ethic was, er, always somewhat lacking.  Her heart was just never into her studies, which is why, with great regularity, I would be on the phone with the high school Dean of Students, a friend of mine, as he informed me for the 345th time that, unable to find Becky in her science, math, gym (name the subject) class, he had located her hiding out in the chorus room at the piano singing her heart out.  It sort of became our running joke.

Given her lack of enthusiasm for all things academic, we ruled out Yale, Harvard, and MIT as possible universities when Becky graduated from high school.  And, because she wanted to be a performer from the time she was about 5, it only made sense that she attend a conservatory after graduation.  So, off she went to New York, the city in which she had always wanted to live, to attend school on the trendy Upper West Side right in near Lincoln Center and Central Park.  She braved bed bugs in her jail cell sized dorm room with 3 roommates and then moved to a fabulous little apartment in Washington Heights.  She made wonderful, lasting friendships.  She had a blast!

Now, with graduation, the world is open to her.  She is free to live out her dreams without the Dean of Students searching for her, without mom nagging her to do her homework.

As she collected her diploma today, I was reminded of the tiny little girl whose very big voice took everyone by surprise from the time she was 3 years old.  I recall her singing "My Heart Will Go On" at her kindergarten graduation and the cafeteria workers thinking they were actually listening to a recording of Celine Dion.  I remember her first play, "Annie," where, at 10, she played an orphan in our local high school's production.  I smile recalling the day she called me to tell me she had landed her first lead role, Marian the Librarian, in the Music Man, in 8th grade.

There were a slew of shows between those early years and high school graduation, countless musical performances with her amazing high school chorus, duets with her buddy Brandon, and solos that brought the audience to their feet.

Today was a culmination of all Becky's hard work.  Yet, even as I sat with my family watching my daughter I was reminded that there was someone missing.  Someone who should have been there.  Just as every time I watch my daughter up on that stage, as I did today, my heart aches for the mother that will never know her talented, spectacular child.  Though I raised her, for many years alone, Becky's birth mother is always on my mind--especially at times like these.  I know her heart would swell with pride just as mine does to see that the baby she has not laid eyes on since she was 3 days old is healthy, happy, and bursting with talent.  Part of me wishes with everything that I am that she would stumble across this blog and somehow put the pieces together and be able to say with wonder, as I do, "that's my little girl up there," and that she would feel a sense of peace that her baby turned out to be a beautiful young woman.  Because she so deserved to be sitting next to me at that graduation ceremony today.

There are so many people who have helped shape Becky's life and bring her to the place she is today, and though they may never read this blog, I'd like to publicly thank them.  So, to Becky's birth mother...thank you for giving me the ultimate gift--the ability to be a mom to this incredible young lady.  To Barbie Harger, Becky's first voice coach--thank you for inspiring and challenging her.  To Eric Nyquist--thank you for giving Becky her first "break" in Annie, where she caught the acting bug.  To David and Susan Halliwell--thank you for giving Becky her first lead role.  To Joe Kobza--thank you for tracking down Becky in the chorus room time and time again and making sure she attended classes so she could graduate from high school.  To Brandon Mauro--thank you for all those beautiful duets at my dining room table.  To Abby Parkinson--thank you for being the best best friend my daughter could ever have.  To Robyn Gangi, the greatest, most inspirational choral director ever--thank you for recognizing Becky's talent and allowing her to shine.  Your work with all your students is truly miraculous.  To all Becky's fabulous professors and instructors at AMDA--thank you for letting her grow as an artist. 

As for you, Rebecca Susan, my precious girl, I am so very proud of  you.  Now go out there and do what you were born to do.  Show 'em what you've got!  And break a leg, kiddo!

As a retrospective, here are a few of Becky's performances from the past few years.

Happy Blogaversary to Born in Our Hearts

Today marks the 3rd anniversary of Born in Our Hearts, a blog I was naively coerced into starting by a secret agent of the fallen angel Lucifer, my friend Wyndee.  Along with her partner in crime, Mireille, I was tag-teamed into submission.  You see, I fought beginning a blog mightily.  Mightily indeed.  The idea that total strangers would be interested whatsoever in the mundane ins and outs of my so-called life seemed down-right preposterous.

But I finally began writing this blog thinking I could sell the gorgeous ankle bells that Lily and nearly all Thai children wear as a sort of adorable kiddy GPS system and to ward off evil spirits.  That turned out to be a bust.  Which led me to abandon the blog for several months.  I mean, after all, I had two followers.  And they were, not surprisingly, Wyndee and Mireille.

Then, for whatever reason, I started the blog up again.  I think it was mostly to archive my daughter Becky's waning days as a high school student and to share odds and ends I'd picked up about being a mom, an adoptive parent, and a teacher along the way.

Now, three years and 566 posts later, incredulously, people from all over the world stop by to visit this blog.  Folks from countries I've barely ever heard of and would be hard pressed to easily locate on a map show up on my live feed traffic.  Best of all, I've "met" some of the most wonderful friends from nearly every continent on the globe.

Though few of them comment, I can see from my statistics how many people read the blog on a daily basis, and it kind of leaves me speechless (hard to believe, I know).  Even though I've forced you to listen to endless recordings of my daughter singing.  Even though I've been long-winded.  Even though you've had to hear my complaining and pet peeves.  Despite the fact that I've posted 5,456 pictures of snow (in 2011 alone).  The fact that anyone reads this blog at all is pretty astounding to me.  And the notion that other adoptive and prospective adoptive moms have found solace and solidarity by reading some of my experiences as a parent of two internationally adopted children humbles me to my very core.  The friendships I have forged through this blog have, in kind, helped sustain me as well.

Though I do give commentary on some serious issues dealing with adoption and occasionally social issues, I have tried to keep this blog light-hearted--mostly a testament to my uncanny ability to put my foot in my mouth or make a fool of myself.  The zany ideas I've had, the times I've utterly fallen on my face?  Those have been some of my most popular posts.

My most popular posts over the past three years are generally ones that have made folks laugh--at my expense.  Which is fine by me.  Though I did write a post about how to make Philippine parol lanterns for kids that remains my most viewed submission (nearly 7,000 people have taken a peek--and probably are cursing me, tissue paper stuck to their fingers, for laying out such confusing directions).

So, on this 3rd anniversary of Born in Our Hearts, I wonder...which posts have you enjoyed the most?  Please take a minute--or 20,000, because surely you have the time--to look back and share which of these Top 20 viewed posts made you laugh or cry...or maybe both.  Or is there a post not on this list that really stood out in your mind?  I'd love to hear from you!

1. Philippine Parols Made Easy 

Whereby, without any graphics or photo instructions of any kind, I try to explain to people how to make parols.  With their preschoolers.  No need to thank me.

2. Do Not Steal This Genius Idea

A post about a remarkable idea, conceived by genius minds, which you may not steal.

3. Rhythmically Challenged Suburban Mom Meets Latin Beat and Lives to Tell

I try zumba for the first time.  It is not pretty.

4. Responses to Sh*t People Say to Adoptive Parents

What I'd like to say when people say stupid sh*t to or about my kids

5. The One About Getting Older

I have a colonoscopy. Enough said.

6. The One About the Gum

I explain how and why I woke up with gum in my hair.

7. With a Little Help From My Friends

My miraculous, wonderful connections with other adoptive moms, many of whom I've "met" on this blog and some of whom I have been fortunate enough to meet in real life!

8. I Was a Middle Aged Blogger Fraud

Exposed to the world, I explain and show (in techicolor and graphic detail) what a liar I've been my entire blogging existence.

9. To Share or Not to Share

I explain why I don't share much of my girls' adoption stories on this, an adoption blog.

10. Diversity:  Is It Just Skin Deep?

I talk about different kinds of diversity and how I've discovered it's not always about race.

11. The Three F's of the Apocalypse

I explore the depths of just what a loser I've become.

12. The Christmas What?

The Christmas song that makes me want to puke.

13. Hey, At Least She Came Home Clothed

Becky's Excellent New Year's Adventure, which prompted my friend Jen to comment "Oh, sweet Becky...I'm glad you are so pretty."

14. The One About the Dog's Penis Falling Off

No explanation needed.

15. The Great Intimate Apparel Calamity of 10/10/10

Whereby I get trapped in a bra at Kohls and live to tell.  Barely.

16. Yahoos in the City 

Why you can't take a Cushing anywhere.

17. Scopes, Lies, and the ENT's Office

Doctors who lie to little kids to get them to think sticking a 20 foot tube up their nasal cavities will be fun.

18. 10,000 Beads and Other Ways Mother's Show their Loathing

Passive aggression among suburban mothers.

19. Top Ten Things Parents of Internationally Adopted Kids Want You to Know +1

My Top Ten list, a la David Letterman, of what I want people to know about us.

20. Proudest Mommy Moments

The one where I expose private body parts to drug store clerks and shout out the name of an intimate act in a play space for kids.

I'd love to know who you all are, especially those of you who visit regularly but don't comment.  And if you haven't signed up as a follower, please do so. 

Cheers!

In Memory of Bo

Bo

October 15, 2001-May 12, 2012

 

Today we said goodbye to our sweet, lovable, gentle-souled lab/beagle mix, Bo.  Up until two years ago he was our "healthy" pup.  If the dogs got into the garbage and came up with the worst cases of gastritis in the world, Bo was always the only one who didn't end up vomiting all over my living room and needing IV fluids at the vet.  His Lyme test was always negative while the other dogs, despite vaccines, always tested positive and needed yearly antibiotics.  He was the only lab I knew afraid of water, but he loved bounding in the snow, going for walks, having his belly rubbed, and most of all, being with his Mama.  Bo was, above all, a Mama's boy.  No matter where I was in the house, he was always beside me, often to the extent that I would trip over him as I turned around after loading the dishwasher or vacuuming.

While our beloved, Abby, was our dog, Bo was my boy.

Over the past two years, though, his life was hard.  First, he developed diabetes, which was never fully under control despite lots of visits to our wonderful vet, blood work, and changes in insulin.  Though he was no fan of the vet's office, he never flinched at all the prodding and poking or at his twice daily insulin injections.  Soon after his diabetes diagnosis, he developed a significant heart murmur and severe cataracts.  Though only 9-10 years old, he began losing his hearing, and, I'm pretty sure, his sense of smell.  But, he remained, as always, my happy boy, always at my side.

Three months ago, I noticed a cherry sized lump on Bo's lower lip.  Upon its removal, we found that the lump was a grade 3 mast cell tumor, the most aggressive malignant type.  Yet, when an enlarged lymph node and subsequent came back negative, we were hopeful that our boy was on the mend.  He began taking daily medication to ward off the development of further tumors.

Then, suddenly, four days ago, I noticed that Bo's entire lower jaw was prominently swollen along with an area the size of a baseball under his chin.  Three days later, the vet called with the results of his needle aspiration.  Positive for mast cell tumor.  We would have to put our beloved lab to sleep.  By this time, the tumor was growing so rapidly and the changes in Bo's physical appearance were so dramatic, that we knew we had to act soon.  He could barely eat his dinner and was in obvious pain.  His face was dramatically swollen and deformed.  I could not look at him without bursting into tears.

So today we all gathered as a family and held our precious boy as he breathed his last breath.  No longer in pain.  No longer suffering.  And, I am sure, joyfully romping in doggy heaven his big sister and best buddy, Abby.

But it certainly will take a long time to get used to looking down and realizing he is not lying beside my feet.  I love you, buddy boy.

At my feet until the end

Last photo of all my babies together

I've created an online memorial for my boy here.

She's an Excellent Mathematician

Earlier this spring Lily participated in the Noetic Math Contest, a bi-annual, crazy-impossible math test taken by about 12,600 students nationwide.  In the fall, Lily scored an 80%, the highest score among all grades in her school and within the top 10% nationwide.  Today, we received the results of the Spring test, and, let's just say, this Mama is pretty darn proud.

This time around, Lily scored 100%, again the top score in the school and only one of 88 students out of the 12,600 across the country to do so.  Now I'm not the math genius my little girl is, but that's like in the top 7% or something, I think.  And so I'm expecting this kid to get a full ride scholarship to MIT or Yale and take care of her mom in her old age.  Because folks...she ain't gonna do it as a singer like her sister.  I'm just sayin'.

Out Here On Her Own (That's MY baby up there!)

After about two weeks of trying to figure out how to rip Becky's solo performance from her musical showcase DVD, I finally managed to do it. Sort of. The quality isn't the best, and I'm not sure it's loud enough, but this is my baby girl. Out here on her own!

19 Years Home

First moments in her new home

Nineteen years ago today, I stepped off a Northwest Airlines jet in New York City from a flight originating from Manila with my brand new, non-stop chattering daughter.  Loquacious from the start, Becky spent the 24 hour flight smiling at flight attendants, flirting with passengers, and babbling "da da da da da" to her heart's content.  Who new that 19 years later that beautiful voice would take her back to New York to live out her dreams as a performer.

Becky on stage singing

I have always considered May 2nd to be Becky's official "Gotcha Day;" it certainly is one I will never forget.  So, Happy Adoption Day to my precious girl.  You have given me the best 19 years of my life.  I love you more than words can say.

Nineteen Years

Nineteen years ago today in an stark white room at Smyrski Home in Quezon City, Philippines I met my quarantined (she had chicken pox), crazy-haired, smiley, 6 month old baby girl, Becky.  And in an instant it did not matter that I'd waited years to hold her, that we'd been essentially thrown out of the Philippines program at one point, that we'd been assigned another child with correctable special needs whom I'd named and about whose needs I'd spent days and weeks doing research at the library (no Internet in 1992-1993) only to have the referral pulled from us and given to another family, that we'd had our travel delayed at the last minute when little Typhoid Mary came down with the chicken pox, infected the entire orphanage and staff, and couldn't pass her physical to travel.  And finally, when I saw that little angel for the first time, it didn't matter that on the eve of our travel we'd received a call telling us that our "healthy" daughter had tested positive for a potentially deadly, life-long illness (which she subsequently--after months of hospital visits, lots of blood-draws, and anguished tears--showed no traces of whatsoever).

Truly.  None of it mattered.  Because there she was, and she was my little girl.  Forever.  For better.  For worse.  Forever.

Holding Becky for the first time

My life really started then in so many ways and it would never be the same again.  Because my little girl is truly one of a kind.  And she grew up to be beautiful, healthy, self-assured, and amazing in so many ways.  Happy Meeting Day, Becky.  I love you more than words can say.