Well, everyone, it’s been ages since we’ve updated this blog, mostly because there hasn’t been a lot to say. We’re in the super fun “wait and see” stage of the adoption process. We’re actively being shown to birthmoms, usually 2-4 at any given time; BUT we’re only allowed to check in on our activity once a month, so it’s kind of hard to tell if we’re at 2 moms one month and 2 the next: are they the same moms, different, or one the same?
But this post isn’t about waiting and seeing. It’s about embracing the process, and all the uncertainties, and all the craziness with a spirit of love and openness.
You see, about 3 weeks ago, we got an email from the agency that there was a special situation, and would we mind our profile being shown. Normally, they just show us; they’ve only asked permission one time before this for a “special situation.” This time, the special situation was that baby had been born at 28 weeks gestation and was in the NICU, with what looked like an extended stay there. Of course, we allowed our book to be shown. Our attitude with this whole process has been to be open to everything; we’ll get the child we’re meant to raise. Who are we to stand in the way of that?
Every day for about a week, we got a little more information from the agency about the baby’s condition. It trickled in slowly, as the hospital could only legally share bits and pieces since birthmom hadn’t yet finalized a placement with a couple. One day we learned how big baby was, the next day we learned about results from brain and kidney scans, and so on. Feverish phone calls with nurses we trust (topping the list: awesome soon-to-be Uncle Chris! and Brian's college friend Elizabeth-Boiler Up!) ensued to see what the results of these different tests and procedures meant. What did it mean that she was moved off a ventilator and onto a nasal cannula? What did it mean that she was weaned off TPN and now on donor milk? (Side note: Trust your friends/family in the medical profession. They are much wiser than Dr. Google.)
Then one day, we learned birthmom had named baby. To protect privacy, let’s call her Baby E. We didn’t tell many people. We gave vague information. It’s hard when you want so desperately to parent this child to not shout to the world that you need sent your way all the prayers, positive energy, kind thoughts, good juju…whatever it is your friends believe in. At the same time, we could only think it would be 10 times harder to call all the people we care about and give them disappointing news.
And disappointing news it was, for us. One of Baby E’s tests came back positive for higher levels of drug use than anyone thought they’d find. Because birthmom has 2 kiddos at home, a CPS case had to be opened for them. While we don’t know for sure what happened, we think birthmom may have chosen to place all 3 kids in the same foster home, rather than place the older kids in foster care and Baby E with an adoptive family.
Either way, we grieved the day we heard the news that she wasn’t ours. We asked each other if we should be this upset, never having met her or her birthmom. Ultimately, we came to the conclusion that it’s probably better to get excited and hopeful about potential matches and possibly get our hearts broken than to put up walls and guard our hearts so closely that we close ourselves off to our birthmom and child when we finally do get to meet them.
So we file Baby E into the same group as “Erin’s” baby about a year and a half ago. (revisit that here) We’re praying hard for her, for her birthmom, for her siblings, and for her family, whether they are adoptive or foster. And we continue to wait…
