Two years ago this month I was anticipating becoming a mother of a little baby boy.
It all started back in the beginning March of 2013. Jayson and I were on our way home from Hawaii. My mom had sent me a text saying that a dear childhood friend of mine had been trying to get a hold of me because she knew of someone thinking of placing her baby for adoption. So many emotions ran through me at this point. I was excited, but then I wondered if I should be excited?! Or should I be nervous? Definitely anxious. Adoption is a crazy thing.
Anyway, I finally got a hold of her and we chatted about the situation. But then I didn't really hear anything about it for a few weeks.
On March 30th one of my oldest (and by oldest I mean the length of time that we've been friends, not her age) and dearest friends got married. It was on the night of her reception that my childhood friend sent me a message to call her when I had time to talk. And my heart fluttered and sank and lept and broke all at the same time. I showed Jayson and then I disappeared into the tower of the Old McMullin House and Jayson frantically tried to find me. All my friends thought it was pretty weird that he was freaking out so badly about where I was, ha ha! Anyway, up in that tower, my friend told me that her friend had decided to place with us. She wasn't due until August 9th, but she was sure she wanted to place with us. As I came back down to the party I found it was mostly over and that that my mom and some of my best friends already knew why I had gone up there. I got to share the happy news with all of them right in the excitement of the moment. If nothing else, I am glad for this experience and I am writing it down to re-live that moment. That moment will always be in my books as one of the sweetest and dearest of my life. Almost everyone there was hugging me and weeping for joy with me. It was perfect.
On our way home we stopped at Jayson's parents house to tell them the happy news and his parents, his two youngest sister, and of friend of theirs were there and that was also such a special and joyful moment. We called my Dad and Step-mom (we didn't go in person because my Step-mom was sick) and there was more happiness all around.
Over the course of the next four months we got to know the expectant mother and we prepared to be parents. I remembered secretly hoping she would have him a tiny bit early so that he would be born in July because when I miscarried I was due in July and I was convinced it was a boy, so wouldn't all of that just make so much sense?! These are the type of things I would tell myself to convince myself it was going to happen and that it was right. But, if I'm being honest, things felt off from time to time. Then, a few weeks before her due date she sort of just stopped answering everyone involved for the most part, even my childhood friend. The baby was due August 9th and that first week of August was a time of really high anxiety and anticipation. We didn't know if we should be waiting for a phone call any day or if we should be giving up. We decided to paint the nursery anyway. We had finished the first coat when I decided I just had to know, so I decided to try to find her on facebook. I wasn't (and didn't) going to contact her that way, I just wanted to see if her page gave any signs of the baby being born. And, sure enough, there was a picture of her with her whole family and the new baby. At the moment I was honestly just relieved to know. The next day I finished painting the nursery, since we had already started, so we might as well finish. And then when I put down the paintbrush it hit me, so I sat there, in our extra bedroom, covered in paint, and had myself a really good cry.
(Little did I know that I was painting that room for a sweet little boy who would come to us just two and a half months later.)
When Jayson got home from work we shirked all responsibilities and he took me to Cafe Rio to get some Coconut Shrimp Tacos (my favorite!) and then we saw some friends later. And then we began the road to healing.
I don't blame this mother at all for her choice to parent. I don't harbor any ill feelings towards her. If we would have adopted him I'm fairly certain we wouldn't have our Little Guy or our Jane and I can't imagine life without them. I'm sure I would have loved him just as much, but still, it seems things worked out for the best. And even if we didn't have these two kiddos I don't think I would hold this against her or have bitter feelings towards her because it was absolutely her choice to make. This experience also gave me something to compare the feeling of Jane's adoption to. I remember meeting Angela and talking to her and just thinking that this experience felt so different than the first. It didn't ever feel off. It just always felt right, so when it came to it, I wasn't worried. I had only hope.
If I'm being honest, this little boy doesn't cross my mind all that often. But every now and then, like when I pass the Old McMullin House, or when it's August, or other random various times, I think about this little boy. This little boy who must be two by now, but who will probably always remain a newborn baby in my mind. I think about how he is doing and how I hope that he is happy. I sometimes wonder what he is like and what he is interested in. It feels strange that he was once so close to being my son and I don't even know his name.
So, this is to you, Little Baby Boy. You'll always have a little place in my heart.
It all started back in the beginning March of 2013. Jayson and I were on our way home from Hawaii. My mom had sent me a text saying that a dear childhood friend of mine had been trying to get a hold of me because she knew of someone thinking of placing her baby for adoption. So many emotions ran through me at this point. I was excited, but then I wondered if I should be excited?! Or should I be nervous? Definitely anxious. Adoption is a crazy thing.
Anyway, I finally got a hold of her and we chatted about the situation. But then I didn't really hear anything about it for a few weeks.
On March 30th one of my oldest (and by oldest I mean the length of time that we've been friends, not her age) and dearest friends got married. It was on the night of her reception that my childhood friend sent me a message to call her when I had time to talk. And my heart fluttered and sank and lept and broke all at the same time. I showed Jayson and then I disappeared into the tower of the Old McMullin House and Jayson frantically tried to find me. All my friends thought it was pretty weird that he was freaking out so badly about where I was, ha ha! Anyway, up in that tower, my friend told me that her friend had decided to place with us. She wasn't due until August 9th, but she was sure she wanted to place with us. As I came back down to the party I found it was mostly over and that that my mom and some of my best friends already knew why I had gone up there. I got to share the happy news with all of them right in the excitement of the moment. If nothing else, I am glad for this experience and I am writing it down to re-live that moment. That moment will always be in my books as one of the sweetest and dearest of my life. Almost everyone there was hugging me and weeping for joy with me. It was perfect.
On our way home we stopped at Jayson's parents house to tell them the happy news and his parents, his two youngest sister, and of friend of theirs were there and that was also such a special and joyful moment. We called my Dad and Step-mom (we didn't go in person because my Step-mom was sick) and there was more happiness all around.
Over the course of the next four months we got to know the expectant mother and we prepared to be parents. I remembered secretly hoping she would have him a tiny bit early so that he would be born in July because when I miscarried I was due in July and I was convinced it was a boy, so wouldn't all of that just make so much sense?! These are the type of things I would tell myself to convince myself it was going to happen and that it was right. But, if I'm being honest, things felt off from time to time. Then, a few weeks before her due date she sort of just stopped answering everyone involved for the most part, even my childhood friend. The baby was due August 9th and that first week of August was a time of really high anxiety and anticipation. We didn't know if we should be waiting for a phone call any day or if we should be giving up. We decided to paint the nursery anyway. We had finished the first coat when I decided I just had to know, so I decided to try to find her on facebook. I wasn't (and didn't) going to contact her that way, I just wanted to see if her page gave any signs of the baby being born. And, sure enough, there was a picture of her with her whole family and the new baby. At the moment I was honestly just relieved to know. The next day I finished painting the nursery, since we had already started, so we might as well finish. And then when I put down the paintbrush it hit me, so I sat there, in our extra bedroom, covered in paint, and had myself a really good cry.
(Little did I know that I was painting that room for a sweet little boy who would come to us just two and a half months later.)
When Jayson got home from work we shirked all responsibilities and he took me to Cafe Rio to get some Coconut Shrimp Tacos (my favorite!) and then we saw some friends later. And then we began the road to healing.
I don't blame this mother at all for her choice to parent. I don't harbor any ill feelings towards her. If we would have adopted him I'm fairly certain we wouldn't have our Little Guy or our Jane and I can't imagine life without them. I'm sure I would have loved him just as much, but still, it seems things worked out for the best. And even if we didn't have these two kiddos I don't think I would hold this against her or have bitter feelings towards her because it was absolutely her choice to make. This experience also gave me something to compare the feeling of Jane's adoption to. I remember meeting Angela and talking to her and just thinking that this experience felt so different than the first. It didn't ever feel off. It just always felt right, so when it came to it, I wasn't worried. I had only hope.
If I'm being honest, this little boy doesn't cross my mind all that often. But every now and then, like when I pass the Old McMullin House, or when it's August, or other random various times, I think about this little boy. This little boy who must be two by now, but who will probably always remain a newborn baby in my mind. I think about how he is doing and how I hope that he is happy. I sometimes wonder what he is like and what he is interested in. It feels strange that he was once so close to being my son and I don't even know his name.
So, this is to you, Little Baby Boy. You'll always have a little place in my heart.
1 comment:
ugh. Life is so hard. But so great. Love you!
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