Our Adoption Story Part III: Bringing Home Baby

Hi friends! If you’ve landed here and haven’t had a chance yet, you may want to read Part I and Part II of our journey first! Those two posts have been read almost 2,000 times since they were published just 10 days ago (thank you M & B readers!), so apparently there is at least something informative or entertaining there!

And now, for the post everyone probably expected when I first announced I would share our adoption story—the coming home of Baby Bright.

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It took me a while to sit down and write this post. I very much wanted to write a post that accurately shared our story. My HOPE was that it would also help other potential adoptive parents. At the same time, I wanted to be respectful of Baby Bright’s birth mother, and really all birth mothers, as well as Baby Bright’s right to not have every detail of his life out there until he decides to tell it. That’s not an easy task, friends.

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Part II underwent several rewrites, and even after I posted it, I immediately made some changes the following morning. It still wasn’t sitting well with me, because I felt my tone was perhaps inappropriate for the seriousness of addiction as it is referenced in that post, and while I use humor to cope in difficult situations, I could see how some of my reactions detailed in the post could potentially seem insensitive.

I even had one reader (not someone I know personally) kindly reach out to me, praising the post and including a question that got me thinking a bit further about how birth mothers might feel in reading the post. I was so appreciative of the feedback, and I embarked on another rewrite.

That’s one great thing about blogging vs writing for print–I can update and make changes quickly! So if you were one of the first 80 readers of Part II, I hope you liked it, but if you didn’t, there’s a rewrite for you!

At the end of Part II, we were in what I call the “adoption abyss.” The place where almost all adoptive parents go and no one wants to be. We were ready to adopt, our home study was complete, we had some money saved, we’d had a failed adoption, and we were NOT matched with an expectant mother. Not only were we not in the game, we weren’t even on the sidelines. We were basically left back in the locker room of the adoption world. We were suited up in uniform with no place to go. (And yes, I like sports).

I also mentioned in that post that I DON’T WAIT WELL. About two weeks after our failed adoption, I was getting antsy. I wanted to DO something. I’d thought about reaching out to a few people–even to the referral agencies, but I didn’t want someone to vent to—I wanted someone who could help me take a next step. I had connected with Crunchy Mommy online (read about her in Part II), through a referral agency, and she had been really helpful to me before we matched with our first birth mom. It was Valentine’s Day though. Late afternoon. Not really the best timing.

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Call me desperate, but I did it anyways. I figure people can act on their own accord, so she could ignore me if she didn’t want to respond. I don’t even remember what I wrote in that text message, but it was something along the lines of asking her more details about how she ultimately adopted her baby boy and sharing that we had just had a failed adoption. After a few texts, she suggested we just hop on the phone–yayness!

Crunchy Mommy’s husband would be at the restaurant they owned all night, so she didn’t mind spending some time with me. Thirty minutes later, I had a list of every person, attorney, and agency she had ever emailed, called, or utilized in the adoption world. It was a list of leads I could chase down if I wanted to take action, and I DID. Crunchy Mommy, however different she was from me, had given me LIFE.

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I read through the list, checked a few of them out online, and after Valentine’s dinner with Mr. Bright, which was probably pizza, I did some more internet searching and finally went to bed. I told Mr. Bright I had spoken with Crunchy Mommy, and he didn’t have much of a reaction. He was still bitter and angry about the failed adoption.Totally understandable. I was, too, but I have a hard time staying in that place. It feels awful and seems counterproductive, although it’s probably healthier. On the other hand, I knew our baby was out there, and I was going to find him or her.

I didn’t sleep well that night and found myself awake around midnight. I gave myself some time to flop around and get back to sleep, but when that didn’t work, I reached for my phone (I know = bad). I was thinking about that list. The name of a few agencies came to mind, but there was one I hadn’t gotten to earlier. I went online to see if they had a social media presence.

And they did.

They had a Facebook page, and this was the first thing I saw:

February 14, 2018
STORK DROP SITUATION!! Only registered families can submit. Need pdf, word, or web link for profile by 8:30 am to be submitted. Caucasian boy – 6 lbs – in NICU due to zero prenatal care and unknown drug use. Birth parents are homeless, and the state will step in if baby is not placed through private adoption. Married couple will be signing consents tomorrow.

I read it three times and immediately dismissed the fact that this agency had no idea who we were and that we were not even registered. What did we have to lose? I went to their website, found a bit more information about the situation, and then tried to register. THREE TIMES. I kept getting an error message, but I was already 30 minutes into this thing, and you never know, this could be our baby, so it wasn’t like I could give up!?

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Twenty minutes later, my form FINALLY submitted, on the 4th attempt. I also sent our profile off via email, and I went back to the Facebook page to read the post again. Then I read every review ever written on their page and every post they had made for the past year. You know, just level one FB investigatory work–nothing crazy. I noticed they were located in Michigan, not too far from where I grew up in Ohio. That was it. Come what may. Eventually, I fell asleep.

At 8 am, my phone rang. The phone number was out of a city in Michigan, which I knew quite well. It had to be the agency.

The next ten minutes were a total BLUR. I do remember the woman saying that she didn’t like to break the rules, but after reading about us earlier that morning, she just knew we were this child’s adoptive parents. She went on to explain that the birth parents would be making their decision later that morning, and she would be in touch. She just had a feeling. It was a God thing, she said.

It was CRAY.

You have to realize, in the adoption world, NO ONE says such things. In fact, everyone in the adoption world is uber-conservative about giving anyone false hope. The birth mother and father choose the adoptive parents. No one else can influence this decision, so making such a statement was completely out of the ordinary.

I wanted to be excited, but I landed on just being hopeful, and then immediately called Mr. Bright. He’d already left for work when I got the call, and he’d been sleeping when I filled out the registration! I didn’t mention it to him that morning because a) he doesn’t talk in the morning and 2) there was no sense telling him if nothing was going to come of it, right? I knew he was still in angry mode about the failed adoption, so I didn’t really want to poke that bear with an update about my midnight shenanigans and also, MORE MONEY.

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So, there was Mr. Bright, just sitting at his desk, doing his work, when he got the call from me. I tell him I’ve registered us with another referral agency and submitted us for a baby boy who had already been born. Oh, and also, we could be parents by noon. Ok BYEEEEEEEE.

Fortunately, he’s used to such things from me, and remember, he was still in angry mode. All he could muster was that these places just wanted to take our money. No excitement there, which was expected and works well in this scenario.

Noon comes and goes. I don’t sweat it, because nothing really happens on time in hospitals, especially when multiple professionals and patients have to coordinate. I received a call later that day, letting me know that the parents hadn’t chosen a family yet. They had narrowed it down to four, and we were one of them. NBD. They would decide by the next day, on Thursday.

Welp, I’m not the type to fall on my knees and face down pray on the spot, but you can bet your bottom dollar that I did, right there in that moment. I prayed to be that baby’s mommy, but most of all, I just prayed for that baby to be with the family that was best for him and that he would be o.k., whatever the outcome.

Meantime, there was baby in the NICU, probably without a mommy and daddy holding him. Thursday came and went. No decision.

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Friday came, and Mr. Bright casually asked if those parents of that boy ever decided. I said no, but that it would be any day now….and that we had a 25% chance…. but probably don’t get your hopes up. No response from him = normal.

I had actually sort of lost hope myself. I figured by this time they had figured out a way to keep their baby. Perhaps they thought it best to put him in foster care and see if they could get him back. Maybe they were on their way to recovery? Maybe the baby would be their reason?

And maybe we just weren’t this baby’s parents. I’d read that many hopeful adoptive parents endure at least one, if not several, failed adoptions before they bring their baby home. And we had not been waiting long at all. Many parents wait for a year or more, so who was I to think we would be any different?

It was dark and raining, and we were in Old Betsy, ( see Part II for a tidbit on that one) on the way to pick up Chinese food for dinner. Goose had jumped in the back, too, and my sweet, beloved Cowboy stayed home because he really didn’t love car rides.

And then my phone rang. Same Michigan phone number. I remember telling Mr. Bright that it was the adoption lady, and she was probably about to ruin our dinner with some bad news.

After I said hello, she simply said, “Have you guys been practicing your lullabies?”

WHAT??? ARE YOU SERIOUS? THEY CHOSE US??!!

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They had, in fact, chosen us. And we needed to be there Sunday morning by 10:00 a.m., with a car seat, a diaper bag, diapers, wipes, bottles, and some clothing, and all the money.

We were in complete shock. I tried to stay focused on everything I was being told, but all I could think about was our baby. Was anyone holding him?

And how in the heck were we going to manage getting to Florida, packed for at least two weeks, find arrangements for the dogs, tell our relatively new bosses that we wouldn’t be working the next week, and oh, round up ALL the dollars into one account by Saturday at noon? I wasn’t even sure we had enough, because this situation was at the very top of our adoption budget!

And also, IS THIS REAL LIFE?

We had nothing–not a single diaper or baby wipe at home. No formula, no nursery, nothing. We had no intention of getting any of that until we were very close to having a baby in our arms, and even then, it would be minimal, just in case the mother changed her mind. We felt like putting together a nursery would make the waiting even harder, and what if the wait never ended?

But the waiting HAD ended! We called Kyle’s parents and my mom. They knew about the failed adoption, so they were shocked and of course, THRILLED. We quickly made some arrangements for me to leave first thing the next morning. Mr. Bright would stay back and make a plan for Goose and Cowboy and fly in Sunday morning. We were told that we wouldn’t be going home for a while. We had no idea how long the baby would be in the NICU, and there were many hoops to jump through to bring a baby across state lines.

My sister-in-law diverted her plans to head to South Georgia for her winter break and instead drove to Florida with my mother-in-law. These two know all things baby and all things shopping for baby. Good thing, because I had NO idea what I was doing. I hadn’t researched bottles or car seats or anything else! When we walked into a Babies-R-Us in Florida, I was already exhausted and overwhelmed but OH SO HAPPY!

I told my MIL and SIL to just put everything we needed in the cart. Whatever they thought was best was fine with me. I had no clue about anything! Like how in the heck do I know what kind of bottles to get? Swaddles? Diapers? Nope–no idea.

About $500 later, we left with our main supplies and then headed to Nordstrom to get a stroller (my MIL had one picked out). We also stopped in a few baby boutiques. Who knows where baby boutiques are AND wants to go to them in a town they’ve never been to before? My MIL and SIL!

I am so thankful for the knowledge and stamina of these two shopping QUEENS, because I don’t know what I would have done without them. By that time, we were running out of daylight, so we found our hotel and got started on prepping all the baby supplies (i.e. teaching Mary how to Mom in less than two hours).

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The next morning, at 9:30, we arrived at the hospital. I asked my SIL to snap the picture above. I love this picture of me, because it’s the last one that was taken before I became a mom…. and the first picture of my journey into eternal mommy exhaustion.

I KID. I KID. Kind of!

I remember walking down the hall with the hospital social worker. I’d had a perma-grin since Friday. No tears–just crazy, happy, disbelief. She asked me how I was doing and how I was feeling, and I suddenly felt this massive wave of emotion come over me and tears ready to burst. I could tell it wasn’t just a few happy tears–it was like ALL THE TEARS I had held back over the few years before that moment, but there was no way I was letting them out now. My baby needed a strong mommy, and I wanted this moment to be pure joy.

Just a few more steps down the hall, and I laid eyes on him for the first time.

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It was absolutely a dream come true and 100% the most surreal experience of my life. The nurse placed him in my arms, and he was so tiny and PERFECT. He had suffered no withdrawals from the drugs that were in his system when he was born, and he would be able to go home that day. It was just my SIL and me, and then soon after, my MIL returned from the airport with Mr. Bright. More magical moments!

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The social worker from the adoption agency in Florida was there, too. Remember, the referral agency in Michigan was just part of the Florida adoption agency’s network when the list of their own families was exhausted. She had all kinds of paperwork for us to sign and wanted to talk to me about meeting our birth mother.

Both birth parents had signed their consents, and Baby Bright’s birth mother had checked out of the hospital early. She’d said that she wanted to meet me though, just us, no husbands. I agreed to meet with her later that day.

Meantime, the NICU nurses moved into instruction mode. Baby Bright needed to eat every three hours. WHAT?? These are things that expectant parents would probably know about, but we hadn’t gotten close enough to expecting our own or an adopted child, so we were truly out of our element…crazy, happy, out of our element!

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We learned about car seat and sleeping safety, feeding, changing, the whole nine. It was overwhelming and WONDERFUL!

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I tried to meet Baby Bright’s birth mom later that day, but she didn’t show up at the designated meeting spot in the hospital. She had checked out of the hotel room the adoption agency had reserved for her to stay. I was told this is not out of the ordinary. The agency would try to get in touch with her again.

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The next morning, I went back to the hospital to try to meet her, but she didn’t show up again. I don’t know the reasons why, but I simply cannot imagine how she must have felt, having just given birth to a child and then having to leave him. I know, if she could have, she would have wanted to take him home to a loving, stable environment to be his mommy forever.

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This is where the elation of finally adopting a baby meets the devastation felt for what another family is giving away. It’s not something I can understand, as I’ve not been in the birth parents’ situation, and I have never given birth, but I do know that it must be a very painful place.

I still feel a connection to Baby Bright’s birth mother, just as I did from the very beginning, and I always will. I hope for her that she can get her life back on track. Everyone deserves health and happiness, and I hope she and her husband can get themselves back to that place someday.

We spent two weeks in Florida waiting for the interstate adoption process to be completed, which involved government and legal personnel communicating and coordinating. As such, it also involved a bit of hassling people on my part, as we were anxious to get home and get settled in with our baby.

While we waited, we were able to stay with a wonderful family friend who welcomed us with open arms and held Baby Bright for hours every night while I got a little rest. Our little village was the real MVP of that two week period, and we were so grateful for their support!

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Within a month or so of bringing Baby Bright home, I was finally able to speak to his birth mother. I cried for the duration of the call, and we both thanked each other for what the other mother had done. It’s difficult to describe my feelings during that call. I was absolutely bursting with gratitude, but I was also full of heartbreak for her. I hurt for Baby Bright, too, because even though I knew he would have an amazing life with us, I couldn’t ignore how addiction had changed the course of his life, like it had mine, in both a tragic and beautiful way.

And really, that’s how I can best describe adoption, tragic and beautiful, all at the same time.

Seven months later we had our adoption finalization hearing. We had nothing to worry about before then, this just made everything official. We were able to attend virtually rather than all three of us making a trip to Florida.

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And so here we are, two years later into what the adoption world calls a semi-open adoption. This is where the adoptive parents and birth parents connect through an online portal. The adoptive parents are asked to update online “lifebooks” at certain milestones. And both sets of parents can communicate through the portal. We updated pictures with captions and a brief letter once a month for the first six months, and after that, once every year.

I also upload pictures with captions and a letter on special occasions, like Mother’s Day, because I imagine those times are difficult, and I’m certainly thinking of Baby Bright’s birth mother during those special holiday moments. It is not lost on me that without her brave and loving decision, Baby Bright would not be ours.

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As for our birth mother, we have heard sporadically from her through the portal–all very positive and loving sentiments. I have checked on her through the adoption agency in Florida as well. If Baby Bright ever has questions, I want to have answers, and I want to be proud of what those answer are. I want him to know that we cared about his needs and curiosities before he ever thought of them.

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So there you have it, friends. That’s the story of our three year journey to our beautiful, perfect little boy (who is now a slightly terroristic toddler) and a bit of an update on where we are today! We are THANKFUL every day for the miracle that is Baby Bright!

If you have questions about our journey or adoption in general or just enjoyed reading this post, please leave me a comment, or reach out on my Contact Me tab. I’d love to hear from you!

xo Mary