Tuesday, November 27, 2007

NaBloPoMo - Day 27- The woman she's chosen to be the BOY's mother walks next to her

November 2003 - the next day

After last night's wild ride with the birthfather, it was hard to go to sleep once we got back to the hotel. We had a long talk with T and with our counselor and everything looks like it is going to move forward. Truthfully, we can't imagine otherwise. BOY's birthfather did sign his release for BOY to leave the hospital and now it is just up to T. She has been nothing but reassuring to us. She needs reassurance herself. And that is why her sister is here with her now.

We are sitting out in the lobby scared to death, as this is it. In 3 hours BOY is supposed to be released from the hospital into our care. It is a temporary legal arrangement, but we are all looking to the future and seeing it as a step toward the final adoption. I went in briefly to see T and it was obvious that she needed time with BOY and that I needed to give her space. She was sobbing and her sister was holding her. This is the time when I need to draw on reserves of strength that I didn't know I had. On faith. On courage. On hope. That all of this will happen. That our BOY will come home with us today. Meanwhile E and I sit here in an impersonal hospital lobby. Together, yet each alone with our thoughts. Afraid to voice our fears. Afraid to give them weight. Everything feels surreal and I am both desperate for this to happen and devastated by T's grief, as she feels almost like a little sister to me now. Spending time with her over these last two months has been very special. And she is special.

3 hours later...

They are walking as a group toward the hospital exit. Once outside the doors the soon-to-be mother is conscious of their unusual circumstances and that people are staring at them. It is probably not an ordinary sight. A birthmother being pushed in a wheelchair by her sister, followed by her family, holding the baby she carried for 9 months in her arms. The woman she's chosen to be the BOY's mother walks next to her. Both of them, tears streaming down their faces. Just outside the doors, the birthmother reaches out to the adoptive mother, handing her the tiny, cherished baby. They embrace. The adoptive father pulls up in his truck with the brand new infant car seat, which has been checked and rechecked 20 times or more. The boy is placed lovingly in his car seat. His eyes wide and awake, open to the world. Quick good-byes are exchanged. A promise of seeing each other in 3 months. The new parents drive away and their last glimpse of their precious birthmother, the woman who has given them everything, is one of love and heartbreak. Once they drive a few blocks, they pull over and get out of the truck - just to reassure themselves that BOY is indeed in their car. A miracle. An amazing grace. An open adoption. A day never to be forgotten. BOY is home with them on Thanksgiving eve.

To be continued...


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9 comments:

Kellan said...

This just made me cry - I was so sad for the birth mother (that gave you everything) and so happy for you. That you got out of the car to check to see if he was really there ... I am still in tears over this precious story. It is just precious ...

Rachel Inbar said...

It made me cry too, of course... and I think, in a lot of ways, you feel the same way when it's not adoption - "Can I really be so lucky as to be taking this precious baby home with me?"

Can't wait to read more :-)

Mary Alice said...

You're killing me....I should know better than to read these posts AFTER I apply my mascara.

All Adither said...

What an amazing story. Well written too. Looking forward to reading more.

ziff-niffer said...

Wow. Just... wow.

WorksForMom said...

Once again, I have a lump in my throat. This is exactly how I envisioned it would be. Difficult and beautiful and life changing for everyone. Do you have any contact with the birth parents to this day I wonder?

LOVE IT.

Professor J said...

I am SO happy for you.

Mrs. G. said...

Well it's about damn time! I don't care if it was a holiday, you can't just go off and keep us hanging on like this.

Sigh...and could you pass me a tissue? I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle. So beautiful.

liv said...

I know this can't be easy to walk down memory lane. Joyous, and fearful and all of these things. The month's almost gone. I hope you'll complete the story.

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