Chapter 9: She Chose Us

Taylor was getting prepped for delivery and getting checked into the hospital. She was in a bit of disarray, caught off guard and not ready for this moment at all. She started crying, I asked if she wanted me to call anyone or do anything for her. She screamed at me, “I can do this myself!” I wasn’t hurt by her screaming, I wanted to fix this for her and I couldn’t. So instead we decided to run out and get her some food and give her some privacy. Food cures everything right? I was in contact with her over text so when she was ready, she responded to me. 

She didn’t want anyone in the delivery room. I’m not sure she even wanted to be in the delivery room, but she did want us in the hospital. We were surprised and excited that we would be able to be in the hospital with her and the baby. That is not the usual story of adoption beginnings. We were grateful that she was including us as much as she could. While we were out, we got her favorite soda (root beer), treats she loved, a bouquet of flowers, and I pretty much dumped the random gift aisle of Target into the cart and packed it all in a giant basket. Crap, we are doing too much? I don’t want her to think we are buying her baby. This feels so uncomfortable, so unnatural. We returned to the hospital, delivered her gifts and left her in peace. The hospital set us up in the room right next to Taylor’s since there was space available in the delivery ward. We didn’t know what to expect. We had heard stories of nurses making adoptive parents leave the hospital or making the expectant mom feel shameful for her decision to place her child. It was uncomfortable, surreal, exciting, scary, and all happening before my eyes. 

It was getting late so Justin decided to go to sleep. Seriously, how can the man sleep at a moment like this! He went to sleep on the couch and I got comfortable on the hospital bed. 

I opted to watch a “Friends” marathon while Taylor and I texted throughout the evening. Her mom had come to the hospital to be with her, which relieved me. I wasn’t sure what their relationship was, but I was glad she wasn’t alone. She made sure I knew the epidural was NOT working and I told her that if I could change places with her I would. Probably not the right words. I’m not good at this. Meaning I’m not good at compassion, empathy, showing love. Basically I am a good at being total goober in sensitive situations.

At about 1 a.m. a nurse came in and flipped on the lights. She said, “Baby should be here in an hour or less.” 

Like a real baby? Our baby? Is this happening? 

She wheeled in the infant warming table and scale. “Baby will be cleaned up in here.” I remember asking Taylor if she wanted to hold baby first. She said she didn’t know. Clearly she was winging this as much as we were. I asked the nurse to please encourage her to hold him before bringing him in here. 

I guess I just wanted her to feel him in her arms before giving him over to us. I wanted her to see his face and give him kisses before she handed him over to us. I wanted her to be absolutely sure this is what she wanted to do. Looking back at it, how could anyone be 100% certain this is what is best for their child? 

Moments later, nearing 2am, a screaming baby boy was brought into our room and placed in the incubator. We heard a “Congratulations MOM and DAD! It’s a Boy!” as we slowly backed to the furthest corner from the baby. Our fears in plain site. I want to shout, WHAT IF HE ISN’T OURS TO KEEP! The nurses ignored the fright on our faces and dance around the little baby boy with their cleaning cloths and suction tubes. 

 “Get your camera out and come closer MOM and DAD!” they shouted in excitement for us. So we did, slowly. He was screaming and squishy and covered in goo. He was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. The nurse handed Justin the clippers - “Go ahead”, she said, “trim the umbilical cord.” Justin looked to me for help and he probably saw some ghostly face staring back at him, so he did what she said and I think I took pictures. The nurses were giving us as much of this newborn hospital experience as they could. I was so grateful. 

After they cleaned him up and wrapped him like a burrito they handed him over to me. There he was, quiet and staring up at me with beautiful dark eyes. We fed him a bottle and settled in to parenthood. He was ours in this moment. There is no possible way not to fall madly in love with a squishy little baby. Whether they are screaming or pooping or covered in goo. They are perfect little humans requiring your love and attention. I would give him anything in an instant. 

I couldn’t help but think of Taylor. Did she get to hold him? What was she going through right now? Why didn’t she want him in her room? Was she going to change her mind? Is she in pain now? How can I love her right now? This is her baby. She deserves to see what I see. I wanted her to love him like I love him, regardless if she took him home or not. Yet I was already holding a little baby that felt like my child. I was torn between loving on this tiny human and running to her side to comfort her. She didn’t want to see us though. She couldn’t bear to see this little baby we were holding. I don’t blame her. In an instant, this thing in her belly that she carried with her everywhere for nine months became a real breathing human that she birthed and then placed in another woman's arms. 

We watched through our tiny hospital window as our agency social worker came in to be with Taylor. Before she even was able to check in, the hospital social worker stopped her in her tracks and forcibly led her off to another room. What could possibly be going on? What happened? Is the hospital intervening in this adoption? We were a nervous wrecks! Finally, the agency social worker talked to us. Apparently she hadn’t filled out the correct paperwork to be offering counseling services to a birth mother in their hospital. Quite frankly, the hospital should not be the one to decide who a patient gets to see or not see unless that patient specifically states one way or the other. And of all things, in this moment, they weren’t going to allow Taylor to see her counselor! I was appalled. This hospital social worker was a piece of work. 

Taylor agreed to see all of us just before she discharged from the hospital that afternoon, only 12 hours after she gave birth. The nurses were making her uncomfortable she said. She had to get out of there. She held him for a moment then handed him back, tears running down her face, tears running down mine. Her heartache was evident. My heart hurt for her. Maybe she was hoping this was all a bad dream. This is not how I dreamed I would become a mother. This is probably not how she dreamed she would become a mother. This was not my birth plan, yet my dreams of becoming a mother were coming true in an extremely unique way. 

The tragedy of adoption became evident. A woman gave her heart to me today. She left the hospital broken and I left the hospital healed. All because of a tiny 6 lb 12 oz human. I felt guilty for my joy, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help feeling whole again. Feeling like the past five years have led me to this moment. Today I became mom. 

Although she will always be his first mom, she may never hear him call her mom. This breaks my heart. How can I feel heartbreak and heart healing in the same moment? I can’t explain it, but it was there. This little boy is forever going to have two mothers. I hope I raise him to know that she made this choice out of love. I hope he can grow to know her and see her the way I see her. The truth is, I don’t know her at all. I know only what she has shown me. I held our son close to my heart. I love him already with every sense of my being. 

Friends and family came to the hospital to celebrate our new baby boy, but I couldn’t get into the celebratory mood. For one, we still weren’t sure if Taylor would change her mind. We had experienced this before and she had every right to do so. Secondly, I didn’t feel like I belonged in that hospital. I felt like a fraud. I felt like everyone knew I wasn’t his mother and didn’t deserve to be treated as such. The nurses avoided our room for the most part, which was nice. They were all very nice with us. At one point, in an attempt to feel like I belonged, I made Justin go get me one of those water cups they give all the new moms. It was the little things.

The next day Taylor came with her father to visit the baby. She was smiling and seemed relaxed. They were cooing over his crooked toes that were just like theirs. I wrote everything down. I wanted my son to know every part of him had a match to someone. I knew he didn’t have anything that was just like me, so I reveled in the things he had in common with Taylor. Watching her joyfully fawn over our son was truly beautiful. There was no competition for motherhood. We were this baby’s mothers. The two of us. 

Our son was born just before Memorial Day weekend. The hospital social worker fought hard for us to stay in the hospital over the weekend even though the pediatrician agreed to discharge us in 72 hours. Eventually after talking to the right hospital staff, we were allowed to discharge just before the holiday weekend. Our tribe got us through this time. They helped us get ahold of the right people at the hospital and helped us be the advocate for our son and for ourselves. I’m still not sure what the deal was with that hospital social worker. We would have stayed in the hospital for six days had it been up to her. 

Finally the time came to take our son home. The hospital policies required an agency social worker to physically walk him down to our car. You see, we were technically his foster parents under the care of the adoption agency. So we had no rights within the hospital. So the agency worker walked our child in his carseat to our car and secured him in place. I got in next to him and my husband got in the driver's seat. We slowly pulled away from the hospital, somewhat expecting the police to follow shortly after. Are they really letting us take him home? He cried most of the way home. My husband drove slower than he has ever driven. Our one hour drive home was quite a bit longer this time. There were so many nerves in that drive, I can barely remember it. All I know is, it was long. 

Having my son home finally made me feel fully like his mother. I knew that he would always have two mothers, but in this moment he is mine and I am his. 

In this moment we could be a family of three.