when it works, it's beautiful

You get a phone call in the wee hours of the morning.  "She's in labor" they say, "Are you ready to be a mommy?"  You thought you were ready until that phone call.  It's real, it's really going to happen.  You get up, pace around, look in your closet and ask your husband "What exactly does one wear to the birth of their child?"  "Why aren't you getting dressed? Why are you in bed?" you ask manically.  He groans not quite ready for the drama of all this so early.  "Can I at least get a shower?" he says.  Not soon enough, you are on the road to the hospital. For some, it's by plane, some by car.  We were lucky in that it took us no time to get there.  Then begins the delicate balance of walking the line between birth mom and adoptive mom.  The nurses aren't sure what to make of the whole situation.  The birth mom is fabulous in keeping you involved in all the details.  "This is your baby I'm having" she says, and you melt all over again.  "It's going to be a while" they say.  "If you want to go to church and come back, it will be fine. "  What?  Go to church?  And leave?  How could I possibly leave!?  It's MY baby being born!!!!!  After many hours, they say "At least go and get something to eat so you don't pass out. "  so, you leave, and go out into the world, and you wonder how people can act so normal when a miracle is taking place right down the street.  You get back, wait some more. Finally they say, "It's time.  Only one of you can go back."  Of course it's you.  The hubbs can fend for himself.  You walk into the surgery room, and there she is with a drape in front of her so we can't see what's going on.  "Are you ok?" you ask.  "I'm numb" she says.  And then it's procedure and blah blah blah and all of sudden a baby screams and you burst into tears.  And then she's in your arms.  The most perfect, beautiful creature you have ever laid your eyes on.  It's your daughter.  All 6 lbs, 8 oz 18 3/4 inches of her.  And she's looking at you.  But you can't see much 'cause all you can do is cry and snot all over the place.  "She's beautiful" you say for the 100th time, and the nurses all smile at you.  Then it's off to the nursery for her, and you to the hallway to see the family.  You fall into your husbands arms and you both cry.  "She's beautiful" you say...again.  Then you get to see her through the glass and lo and behold, they ask if you want to give her her first bath.  Of course!  And then she's in your arms again and all is right with the world.  The hubbs is climbing the walls wanting to hold her.  Finally, he is able to give her the first bottle, and all is right with the world.  Days go by, you stay in the hospital because you don't want to miss a moment. Then it's time and you wonder how it's possible that they are just going to let you walk out the doors with this precious angel.  But they do, and it's onto a new life.  Some time goes by, and the judge says "She's yours."  Of course, you have known this all along.  From the moment of the first cry.  She's all yours, and always will be.   This, my friends, is the BEAUTY of adoption.  And this, is why we continue to fight.  For when you experience that miracle once, you can't help but want to do it again.  I love you Micaiah Hope Sholty.

keepin it real

You get a phone call in the middle of the day and your heart stops in it's tracks.  It's "her".  Your adoption consultant.  She only calls if there's news.  There's 2 kids that need homes NOW.  Would you be willing to take them?  You freeze, your heart skips several beats, and you suddenly want to vomit.  Of course, of course we will take them.  Meeting tomorrow morning with the agency?  Sure, we will make it happen. What to do...what to do?  You walk in circles, call those closest to you.  Try not to get excited they say.  You've been hurt enough.  Of course I won't.  In actuality, you already have the names picked out.  You know who you can get clothes, toys, a bed from.  Try not to get your heart set on it.  It's just a meeting.  In actuality, you have their education and their life story already planned.  You don't sleep a wink that night thinking of "them".  What do they look like?  Will they love us?  The meeting takes forever.  You suddenly have spastic colon and want to throw up.  Am I coming across as good enough?  Do they see how much I love this man beside me?  Do they see what an amazing man and father he is?  The cost?  oh...the cost.  That's fine.  We will figure it out.  We will sell all of our possessions and move into a shack if need be.  Kids are worth it right?  You leave feeling like you've been hit by a truck.  The meeting was fabulous, you debate about whether or not to tell the other little one in your life.  You get home, want to sleep but so much to do.  Coffee it is!  Then, the phone call again.  Your head spins, you pace, you beg God to make this happen.  It's too perfect you have said so many times in the past 24 hours.  Oh, someones talking to me.  Oh...Oh...ok, I see.  And the world stops turning.  It's not going to happen.  We don't fit the mold of what they are looking for. Suddenly the names, the plans, the hope disappears, and once again, you are left with a hole the size of Texas in your heart. This, sadly, is the reality of adoption.  It's the ups, the downs, the severe downs.  You have been taught to praise the Lord even in horrible circumstances.  What you really want to do is crawl into the bottom of that old Tequilla bottle and don't come out.  Put on the happy face.  Dry the tears in front of the kiddos.  And you move on and continue to fight when every ounce of your being wants to give up.  Adoption, in its purest form, is one of the most beautiful experience this world can offer.  The road is hard, though.  We're taking a break...licking our wounds....rethinking every decision made in this journey...and contemplating whether or not we have what it takes to continue.  It's a time in life when we don't want to discuss it.  We don't want to hear how it will "all work out" in the end.  That God has a child for us.  I don't want to hear it right now.  I've had enough Christianese for a year.  What I know, is that my God is good.  He is a just God and I love him.  I am mad as hell at him right now, but I deeply love him and he knows that.