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.