Chapter 10
The second half of the expectant mother's pregnancy, who we've supported since she first found out she was pregnant and wanted to place her baby with us for adoption, proceeded smoothly and we continued to behave as family. She continued to convince us over and over of all of the reasons that this was to be our child and that it would be the best choice for his sake. We repeatedly heard, "It would be a disaster for me to raise this kid." We tried to remain wise with the knowledge that it was entirely possible that she would change her mind; that's her right. But with her constant reassurance and reliance on us for support, we fell more and more deeply committed to this baby and his mother. We gave literally every ounce of emotional energy, time, services, skills and financial resources that we had to give for as positive and easy a pregnancy as she could experience. Even so, her pregnancy was very difficult on her body and she resented the stress it caused. She often expressed regret at getting pregnant and also at continuing the pregnancy. We listened for hours, often several times each week, and reassured that this child would have all of the love, support and advantages he would need to live a wonderful life.
I acknowledge these emotional and resource investments that we made in this new extended family vision that was co-formed with the expectant mother, not because they were given with conditions, but because they were given with love and hope and then were dismissed in a single impulsive moment along with our role in this child's life. That is a devastating loss, not matter how rightful deciding to parent at the last minute is for an expectant mother planning on adoption.
At her request, we travelled to be near and help with her home preparations and hospital check-in 5 days before labor induction was scheduled. The biological father had entered within the final few weeks as a new boyfriend, and we spent time getting to know him as well. We enjoyed our time with them and appreciated his kindness toward her leading up to the birth, which she was very afraid and anxious about. He stated that though he did not want the adoption plan, he would support her desires, which was why he released his rights earlier in the pregnancy. So, we attended medical appointments, mowed her lawn, fixed her car, mopped her floors, helped her put her elderly dog down, and held our breathe while waiting to meet this child who she called our son and referred to often by the name we had chosen together.
When we arrived at the hospital, things started to feel a bit different. She and her boyfriend didn't call to let us know they were on the way, she didn't introduce us as she had done before as the adoptive parents, and we were asked to leave the room several times and wait for hours in the lobby for news or allowance to be included as planned. Her boyfriend was an excellent birth partner, so I was no longer needed for that either. She did invite my husband and I back into the room for her son's birth, but that is where this story for us ended and her new story began. After a beautiful delivery, we had about an hour to stare at this amazing little life in the room with what would have been our integrated, open adoption family before the mother asked the nurse to tell us to leave. Four hours later in the lobby, her boyfriend came out to inform us that she had changed her mind. After experiencing the shock and first waves of grief, we went in to say goodbye to the new mother. She appeared refreshed and very happy. She said, "Hey, sorry guys, when he came out I just knew! I can't deny my feelings, right?" Though I hugged her and wished her good luck, I was stabbed by this statement because I believe that is exactly what adoption is about...denying your own adult feelings and doing the hardest thing ever so that your child lives a life without so many hard things...prioritizing a child's needs and rights to a healthy, happy, relatively stress-free stable family where all his basic needs will be met. I've had to really re-think my beliefs about this.
We drove the long night home alternating between silence and sobs. We are resilient people, with solid coping strategies and a healthy dose of love and gratitude for all of our experiences...both joyful and difficult. We will be fine. We sincerely hope that they will also be fine.
As we evaluate our gains and losses from this experience, we recognize that we will likely never see the many thousands of dollars that we paid in her bills and expenses throughout the pregnancy. Though this is not in any way about the financial risks and losses, we hope to have a new opportunity and with that will come a new expectant mother to support. I wish that with her newfound sense of responsibility for raising this child, she (and the child's father) would also take responsibility for at least a small portion of her needs during her pregnancy. Otherwise, I will need to reframe our efforts in my mind during this pregnancy as an act of charity and find some peace in that. These are the messy, unattractive clean-up parts of my grief that I am exposing here. The hot pain throbs underneath the cold logistics.
Back at home, we pack all of the baby's things into a closed space and share love with each other, our spunky teen, our heart-broken extended family, and our generous friends. I know what we are supposed to say and maybe it's true: this simply was not meant to be our child. Our child hasn't found us yet. He or she will come to us and we will know that it was meant to be. Ok. Got it. Moving on...
About the Writer
- Heather Diamond, M.Ed., Certified Health Coach
- Heather Diamond, M.Ed & Certified Integrative Health Coach, has 22 years of experience leading effective change in small and large educational systems, in her own life of continuous improvement opportunities, and as a graduate from the Institute for Integrative Nutrition, NYC. The purpose of Heather's work, Heather Diamond Health (HDH), is to help identify and make changes you desire across the five interrelated domains of healthy living: physical, mental, social, emotional and spiritual. The ultimate vision is that ALL people are empowered to make changes for a healthier, happier life.
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Monday, July 10, 2017
Chapter Nine: Waiting and Then Waiting
Chapter Nine
There are two kinds of waiting that I've experienced so far in the adoption journey. One is before you get "the call" that initiates a match with a potential birthmother who has chosen you, and the other is during the pregnancy and birth before you know if she will change her mind and decide not to place her baby for adoption. Both are excruciating for different reasons.
We got "the call" only three months after our home study and paperwork was complete. Sounds like nothing, right? Yes, that's how I feel looking back on it, but...let me tell you whether you can imagine it or not, every month before "the call" felt like a year. The days during that wait seemed to stretch endlessly, no matter how busy and full our lives were. The feeling of a loose end...not knowing or having any influence on whether the call would come in five minutes or five months or several years, was confounding and all-consuming. Stephen and I are both quite compulsive doers, taking care of business as soon as things need doing, so the waiting affected us both similarly, though overall, I think he was more patient. We did the holidays, we took a trip, we drank, we ate, we read, we laughed, we walked, we talked, and we imagined our way through those three months. We re-situated our lives to put a new baby at the center, while also mindful to keep Eva in her rightful spot as our bright light.
Then one evening, ironically while Eva and I were visiting my mom out of town and Stephen was home alone for the workweek, our agency called me to tell me that an expectant mother in her first month of pregnancy had chosen us. She was reportedly healthy and very clear about her desire to have an adoption plan. The happiness was too big for words. Eva was giddy, eavesdropping on the call with my mom from the other room. Stephen was smiling so big it was audible across the phone line when we called him to report the news. Eva and I drove home the next day, and we had a conference call to "meet" the expectant mother and decide if we wanted to formalize the match. We loved the sound of her voice right away. She seemed practical and confident and articulate. We had things in common that felt synchronistic. We said yes.
Throughout the first trimester, the pregnancy was uncomfortable and often painful for her. We spoke or texted almost everyday and enjoyed getting to know each other, but I would have absorbed every ounce of pain from her during that time if I could have. That part made me feel helpless. Within a month of the match, Stephen, me and Eva drove the six hours between us to meet her and her teenage son for lunch. We met at her home beforehand and then strolled and chatted downtown and on the beach afterward. We couldn't believe how much we admired and genuinely liked her and her son. It touched and haunted me a bit, seeing what a great person and mother she was. I was having some difficulty imagining that this could be real.
The next visit was for the baby's first prenatal visit and ultrasound at twelve weeks. I went by myself this time and stayed with her in her home. I had thought about her and her baby every waking hour from a distance and now I was physically with her and her growing belly for four days! It was a great visit that included lots of late night talking, movie watching, and cooking for her and the baby...which I loved. The ultrasound showed a strong heartbeat and a tiny little moving blob, just cooking up a storm in there. This marked the end of the shaky period for pregnancies, so it was a great celebration for my family. She was very happy for us. She liked to delight in our excitement, which felt wonderful to me. She told me that she continued to feel detached, not maternal, toward this baby, and clear that this was my baby. She was reassuring at a time when I felt very fragile and vulnerable. Little did I know that those were mild versions of those feeling compared to what they would become as the reality of the adoption journey unfolded.
The next visit was very exciting. Stephen, me and Eva planned a summer beach trip to coincide with the twenty-week ultrasound, which is the halfway point and the gender reveal. We also planned a hospital tour and family photo shoot for that week with our expectant mother. By the time we were planning for the trip, the three of us were feeling so much love toward this baby and the baby's birthmom. It was getting so real. As I should have been prepared for from my reading about adoption, so was it also getting very real for our expectant mother. In one phone call, she revealed some frustration at how much she was having to mentally and emotionally process now that the physical distractions had subsided. She needed a break from talking about the adoption and distanced herself for a week or so. I thought that this was wise and mature on her part. By the time we left for the trip, to my relief, she was up and running with communication again. We had a fantastic time, though we could see that parts of the hospital tour and the ultrasound were particularly difficult for her. We learned that she was carrying a boy and we all had a blast with the photo shoot. Sharing with our extended family and friends that we were expecting a boy seemed to be the point of making it real for them too! Suddenly baby shower ideas and ultrasound pictures and updates were buzzing around us, fueling the reassurance we craved that this was actually happening.
After the excitement was over, however, a new reality set in. The halfway point in this pregnancy just happened to be that magical, and in the case of adoption, painful time when our expectant mother fell in love with the baby boy growing inside of her. Phone calls revealed loads of regret, anger and sadness. My heart breaks for her pain. Anyone who has ever had a need to grieve understands that it involves first denial (as seemed to be the case during the first trimester) then anger, bargaining, depression/sadness, and if one is successful at moving through the stages, eventually acceptance. This is where we are now, wondering if this baby is meant to be ours, but also hoping that this woman we have come to love and respect is ok. I often want to reach out, but am walking on eggshells hoping not to offend or annoy her unintentionally. We have four months of the pregnancy to go. Will she move through the stages or get stuck in a loop of emotions that prevent the adoption plan? She has just enough conviction to say that she doesn't foresee anything changing with the adoption plan at this point. There is no telling. There is only compassion and supporting. Giving her space when she is distant and giving her friendship when she needs empathy. She could change her mind about what's best for this baby many times in the months remaining. It's a different sort of waiting. It's a roller coaster of emotions, just like pregnancy is an intense series of ups and downs. The benefit of moving through this entire pregnancy with her is that I have learned to trust her to do what's right, and whatever she does, I will accept it as what was meant to be. This is the leap of faith that everyone who experiences the bright beauty and deep loss of adoption knows well. No adoption is without both extremes for all involved.
We can't know for certain if this baby is ours or hers to raise, but until we know otherwise, we will love him as ours. For us that means journaling is his baby book, putting pictures together to build his story, naming him, making his nursery cozy and fun, buying the best of the best and the cutest of the cutest, pumping every two hours to induce lactation so that he has the benefit of being breastfed (yes, that is possible and it works), meeting with his pediatrician, getting a kid-friendly car, strength training for strong baby-holding arms, building up excitement with grandparents, paying birthmother expenses, taking extra consulting jobs, researching everything about everything related to adoption and parenting, and even working out details related to his college fund. We do these things with utter joy, knowing that we are acting out of love, hope and positive intent for his life. Because ultimately, we want this kid to have a wonderful life...no matter who raises him.
There are two kinds of waiting that I've experienced so far in the adoption journey. One is before you get "the call" that initiates a match with a potential birthmother who has chosen you, and the other is during the pregnancy and birth before you know if she will change her mind and decide not to place her baby for adoption. Both are excruciating for different reasons.
We got "the call" only three months after our home study and paperwork was complete. Sounds like nothing, right? Yes, that's how I feel looking back on it, but...let me tell you whether you can imagine it or not, every month before "the call" felt like a year. The days during that wait seemed to stretch endlessly, no matter how busy and full our lives were. The feeling of a loose end...not knowing or having any influence on whether the call would come in five minutes or five months or several years, was confounding and all-consuming. Stephen and I are both quite compulsive doers, taking care of business as soon as things need doing, so the waiting affected us both similarly, though overall, I think he was more patient. We did the holidays, we took a trip, we drank, we ate, we read, we laughed, we walked, we talked, and we imagined our way through those three months. We re-situated our lives to put a new baby at the center, while also mindful to keep Eva in her rightful spot as our bright light.
Then one evening, ironically while Eva and I were visiting my mom out of town and Stephen was home alone for the workweek, our agency called me to tell me that an expectant mother in her first month of pregnancy had chosen us. She was reportedly healthy and very clear about her desire to have an adoption plan. The happiness was too big for words. Eva was giddy, eavesdropping on the call with my mom from the other room. Stephen was smiling so big it was audible across the phone line when we called him to report the news. Eva and I drove home the next day, and we had a conference call to "meet" the expectant mother and decide if we wanted to formalize the match. We loved the sound of her voice right away. She seemed practical and confident and articulate. We had things in common that felt synchronistic. We said yes.
Throughout the first trimester, the pregnancy was uncomfortable and often painful for her. We spoke or texted almost everyday and enjoyed getting to know each other, but I would have absorbed every ounce of pain from her during that time if I could have. That part made me feel helpless. Within a month of the match, Stephen, me and Eva drove the six hours between us to meet her and her teenage son for lunch. We met at her home beforehand and then strolled and chatted downtown and on the beach afterward. We couldn't believe how much we admired and genuinely liked her and her son. It touched and haunted me a bit, seeing what a great person and mother she was. I was having some difficulty imagining that this could be real.
The next visit was for the baby's first prenatal visit and ultrasound at twelve weeks. I went by myself this time and stayed with her in her home. I had thought about her and her baby every waking hour from a distance and now I was physically with her and her growing belly for four days! It was a great visit that included lots of late night talking, movie watching, and cooking for her and the baby...which I loved. The ultrasound showed a strong heartbeat and a tiny little moving blob, just cooking up a storm in there. This marked the end of the shaky period for pregnancies, so it was a great celebration for my family. She was very happy for us. She liked to delight in our excitement, which felt wonderful to me. She told me that she continued to feel detached, not maternal, toward this baby, and clear that this was my baby. She was reassuring at a time when I felt very fragile and vulnerable. Little did I know that those were mild versions of those feeling compared to what they would become as the reality of the adoption journey unfolded.
The next visit was very exciting. Stephen, me and Eva planned a summer beach trip to coincide with the twenty-week ultrasound, which is the halfway point and the gender reveal. We also planned a hospital tour and family photo shoot for that week with our expectant mother. By the time we were planning for the trip, the three of us were feeling so much love toward this baby and the baby's birthmom. It was getting so real. As I should have been prepared for from my reading about adoption, so was it also getting very real for our expectant mother. In one phone call, she revealed some frustration at how much she was having to mentally and emotionally process now that the physical distractions had subsided. She needed a break from talking about the adoption and distanced herself for a week or so. I thought that this was wise and mature on her part. By the time we left for the trip, to my relief, she was up and running with communication again. We had a fantastic time, though we could see that parts of the hospital tour and the ultrasound were particularly difficult for her. We learned that she was carrying a boy and we all had a blast with the photo shoot. Sharing with our extended family and friends that we were expecting a boy seemed to be the point of making it real for them too! Suddenly baby shower ideas and ultrasound pictures and updates were buzzing around us, fueling the reassurance we craved that this was actually happening.
After the excitement was over, however, a new reality set in. The halfway point in this pregnancy just happened to be that magical, and in the case of adoption, painful time when our expectant mother fell in love with the baby boy growing inside of her. Phone calls revealed loads of regret, anger and sadness. My heart breaks for her pain. Anyone who has ever had a need to grieve understands that it involves first denial (as seemed to be the case during the first trimester) then anger, bargaining, depression/sadness, and if one is successful at moving through the stages, eventually acceptance. This is where we are now, wondering if this baby is meant to be ours, but also hoping that this woman we have come to love and respect is ok. I often want to reach out, but am walking on eggshells hoping not to offend or annoy her unintentionally. We have four months of the pregnancy to go. Will she move through the stages or get stuck in a loop of emotions that prevent the adoption plan? She has just enough conviction to say that she doesn't foresee anything changing with the adoption plan at this point. There is no telling. There is only compassion and supporting. Giving her space when she is distant and giving her friendship when she needs empathy. She could change her mind about what's best for this baby many times in the months remaining. It's a different sort of waiting. It's a roller coaster of emotions, just like pregnancy is an intense series of ups and downs. The benefit of moving through this entire pregnancy with her is that I have learned to trust her to do what's right, and whatever she does, I will accept it as what was meant to be. This is the leap of faith that everyone who experiences the bright beauty and deep loss of adoption knows well. No adoption is without both extremes for all involved.
We can't know for certain if this baby is ours or hers to raise, but until we know otherwise, we will love him as ours. For us that means journaling is his baby book, putting pictures together to build his story, naming him, making his nursery cozy and fun, buying the best of the best and the cutest of the cutest, pumping every two hours to induce lactation so that he has the benefit of being breastfed (yes, that is possible and it works), meeting with his pediatrician, getting a kid-friendly car, strength training for strong baby-holding arms, building up excitement with grandparents, paying birthmother expenses, taking extra consulting jobs, researching everything about everything related to adoption and parenting, and even working out details related to his college fund. We do these things with utter joy, knowing that we are acting out of love, hope and positive intent for his life. Because ultimately, we want this kid to have a wonderful life...no matter who raises him.
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