Adoption Here We Come - Part 8

Birth-Moms ob/gyn contacts us on Saturday, all is good, we still have a few days maybe even two weeks to finish preparing. I feel very comfortable, two weeks will allow more time for planning and implementation, I can wash baby clothes, pack them, clean the house, prepare for the baby in a systematic fashion. I’m feeling good. Two days later, T-w-o D-a-y-s later on Monday, around 7:30 pm, Mirisa calls, our baby girl has been born and she is perfectly healthy. I’m speechless, two days, two days not two weeks, excuse me God, I’m not completely organized yet! I am on a plane Tuesday morning by 6:00 am, Husband is to follow on Thursday.

I arrive in Seattle at 1:00 pm and head straight for Swedish First Hills hospital (a magnificent facility and incredible clinical staff), to meet my daughter for the first time and Birth-Mom for the first time. It’s a little daunting, how am I supposed to act with Birth-Mom, do we hug? For petes’ sake, should I bow, she’s giving us her daughter?  What am I supposed to say to this young woman as she hands me her daughter? What is appropriate? This is not a stranger handing me my baby, but the woman that birthed her, the woman who will be her biological mother for life, someone that loves my daughter enough to place her for adoption in order to have a better life. As I walk in the room she recognizes me immediately from photos, she gets up from the bed, we hug, the ice is broken, we are connected. Now, I know that we will always be connected. I am introduced to her Grandmother who is visiting, supporting her, and seeking living options for her when she is released from the hospital. The room is filled with all of her belongings she was able to escape with, clothes, various nick-knacks and a notebook in which she has documented her emotional status while in rehab, she shows me her diploma for completing rehab, a prayer that my Mother sent her that she now cherishes. She is proud of herself, and believes she will move forward with the right decisions. She wants to make the right decisions; she wants a better life for herself. People in her life have convinced her that she is ‘stupid’ and that she has a comprehension problem, that is far from the truth, she is bright, all she needs to do is believe in herself to take that first step to the right path. She is not only smart but also beautiful, she has a lovely personality, there is a kindness in her that must get trampled on with the life she has led, I pray she doesn’t become cynical.

The baby is in the cradle; I don’t know if I should just reach in to touch her, what is the appropriate protocol, Emily Post didn’t offer me the do’s and don’ts for this situation. Birth Mom and I look at each other, we both smile, I lift the baby out of the cradle. As I look down at this fragile being in my arms, I know in my heart a daughter is good, it is right, this is my child, she is beautiful and perfect. Her little body is semi-rounded out as she sleeps like a peanut, in my mind she is my ‘Peanut’, that is my love name for her to this day. My daughter, our daughter has arrived. I’m excited, but, I know that there are a few more days before we have full custody according to the law, I tread lightly, not wanting to say the wrong thing to Birth Mom. I thank her for this wonderful gift, I share with her how all of us will love the baby, that she has an extended family ready to open their hearts to her, that Husband and I are dedicated to this baby and already love her. I am allowed private time with my daughter, we have about an hour together before she is taken back to the room for monitoring and feeding.

Birth-Mom tells me she is breast-feeding the baby to give her at least some breast milk, and she will pump later and get the milk to us. Breast Feeding? Oh my, that is the building of a bond. Is this a good idea? I keep those thoughts to myself; I can’t change what has already been done.

Before I leave Birth-Mom looks at me with sincere big blue eyes and asks,  "Is it ok if she calls me “Auntie” when she is older?" My heart hurts for this woman, it must have been so hard for her to ask that question. I fully comprehend she wants to retain a familial connection with her child it is logical. Before I could respond, a nurse interrupts changing the subject. I have thought about this question long and hard for months after we had Beny at home. I have decided that when Beny is young, too little to truly understand, she will have a special name for Birth-Mom such as “Emmy or Meme” (Birth-Mom’s name starts with an “E”). And, when Beny is older I am ok if she calls her Mom or Momma. I’m sure that the first time I hear Beny call her Mom my heart will take a little dip in my chest, but that’s ok, she is Beny’s mother, just a different Mother than I am. I firmly believe one can't be selfish with love. It is better for Beny to love more than less. In today's world of his, hers, ours, multiple stepparents, two mommy's, two daddy's, its good to be open-minded. 

One of the greatest gifts I have ever received is from my sister Dina ... her eldest daughter - Devin - would sometimes play that she was Baby Cami and I was her Mommy, so she would go around all day calling me Mommy, this went on for a few years. Devin and I enjoyed playing Baby Cami sometimes we carried our little acting role out into our day's out together. Dina never minded, she never was jealous, she actually told me if Devin wants to call you 'mommy' I'm good with that. On another occasion when someone from our past asked her if I was married and had children (of course for the longest time, people who had children thought there was something wrong with me because I didn't), Dina's response was, "Yes, she has two daughters, Devin and Chaney" - Chaney is her second daughter. My sister was sharing her daughters with me privately and publicly, that is a great gift, I have always felt a deep sense of honor for this gift, a gift I can now return to the Birth Mother, to my sisters, and my mother.

As I am preparing to leave the hospital Birth-Mom hands me some of the hospital paperwork, she has named the baby, a name she has selected, it is listed on the paperwork. I have another uneasy moment, first breast-feeding, now naming the baby. Those are serious emotional connections. I leave the hospital, exhausted, happy, and anxious. 

Arriving the next day Birth-Mom is getting ready for discharge, she says goodbye to both baby and me, she feels she must physically distance herself from the baby.  We are moved to another room, thankfully all the rooms are private rooms in the PICU (pediatric intensive care unit). Baby is born addicted to drugs, meth and some anti-depressant. Otherwise the baby is perfectly healthy, we were well aware there was a significant chance that she would be born addicted, particularly after our experience with the first baby and his five month hospitalization. We were emotionally prepared.

Birth-Mom comes to our room to say goodbye once again, she has made the baby a quilt, she has made one for all of her children. She asks that I keep the quilt for the baby. It is a loving gesture, I will take care of the quilt until she is old enough to appreciate it. Birth Mom asks for visitations rights while baby is still in the hospital, I am the one that can authorize or deny visitations, she also requests visitation rights to other family members. Part of me would like to deny the request, I want time to bond with this baby, I don’t want visitors. However, I do what I think is the right thing, and I allow visitation. 

Baby is now about 38 hours old, I am alone with my daughter, I am at the hospital until 10:00 pm. The next morning I arrive to the hospital at 8:00 am, Husband lands around noon. She had a good night, eating is a little slow which is common in NAS (neo-natal addiction syndrome) babies, lots of gas, NAS symptoms are measured every two hours, baby's vitals are monitored 24/7. The nursing staff has educated me on the NAS symptoms, I watch closely for those symptoms - tracking them, reporting them to the nursing staff. I urge baby to eat every two hours a minimum of two ounces of formula, when she manages to drink a full two ounces I feel a sense of success, its a win! She is a very slow eater, not necessarily uncommon particularly with NAS babies, it takes about 45 min to feed her and 10 to burp her. I am a person accustomed to fast tracking everything, it takes considerable patience to slow down and feed her according to her schedule not mine. This is my first lesson in ‘Mommy-ing’.  

Shortly after arriving to the hospital Mirisa called, we have a serious problem. Birth-Mom has contacted her caseworker at the hospital and is reconsidering placing the baby for adoption - the adoption is on HOLD. Now, I understand the hesitant looks the nursing staff give me, the looks of sympathy from one nurse in particular when I walked in is now understandable. They had already been informed by the caseworker that I could visit with the baby, but no final decisions had been made, consequently, at that point in time I was not to be considered the ‘babies mother’. That is not specifically said to me, but that is what it comes down to. The clinical staff did not discuss the situation openly with me, they can't for privacy reasons. Husband would be boarding a plane to Seattle shortly, I opted not to tell him, I didn't want him upset and worried while alone on the plane,  there was no reason for him to suffer the long plane ride over, I would tell him when he arrived, that was soon enough. Though I did call Mom, and the few others that were aware of our adoption to begin a prayer circle, I was on panic mode. My stomach was in knots, my heart literally was clenched. I was not going to lose another baby, I was going to fight for this child, she was ours, she was mine.

To be continued……

© Yvonne B. Pérez and The Life and Confessions of an Older Mother, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Yvonne B. Pérez and The Life and Confessions of an Older Mother with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.