Part 1 ended in April, ‘07. We had just sent our profiles to our agency in Florida, and we were now playing the waiting game. We had told our families and close friends of course, and they all were very supportive. No one thought it odd that we would adopt a bi-racial or African-American child; in fact, everyone was excited for us. (Side note: I hope they are just as excited and supportive when she’s a teenager.) Work was good about everything. I told my boss that I’d like to work part time the following school year, and he was completely on board. The worst part was waiting, waiting, waiting. And having everyone ask about how it was all going. That made the waiting worse, though we knew it was out of love and support for us.
We finally got a call the Thursday before Memorial Day: a young woman who was on a student visa from the Bahamas was about to give birth. Could we be in Florida this weekend? Ummmm, DUH?! We were told to stay put but to be on call 24/7. We crazily looked through name books and called our parents. We were completely thrown by the short notice, but we were so excited!
We didn’t hear anything over the weekend, but we trusted our agency. On Tuesday, I went back to school with cell phone in pocket. We’re really not supposed to have cell phones at school, but this was obviously a special circumstance. During my morning office hour, my phone rang. I ran outside to get a better signal. I could hardly stand it — she was in labor and at the hospital! They would call me when baby was here. I immediately called Dave and, again, went back to waiting.
I heard nothing for the rest of the day. Then, with about 15 minutes left of 8th period — the last class of the day — my phone rang. I told my kids it was a family emergency and stepped out in the hallway. Baby and mom were fine, but mom changed her mind — she would be keeping the baby. While I knew this could happen — and some statistics say it happens about 30% of the time with domestic adoptions — it was still a very hard blow. I just said, “Ok,” and listened to the social worker — apparently, the young woman’s aunt had tried to control her and told her she had to place the child for adoption. However, when it came time, she couldn’t do it. It was in this way that our first placement failed.
We took it all in stride. We only had a few days to get excited, so it was a short-lived blow, especially since a few weeks later, I got a call from my aunt in Ohio. She had been getting her hair done when someone mentioned that the salon’s former receptionist had left them, in part because she was moving back home to have a baby she would then place for adoption. My aunt, being the wonderful person she is, immediately got what information she could, called the family, and then forwarded me the information. Soon, I was speaking to the young woman’s attorney. The story, as we received it — V had a rocky time on and off of drugs; she became pregnant and stopped using drugs when she found out; dad wasn’t in the picture; she was getting good prenatal care and living at home; baby would be bi-racial. All of a sudden, we had a second possibility! We told our agency, but we kept things open with them, as we hadn’t received V’s medical records.
Meanwhile, life was moving, literally — we planned to put our house on the market to move over the summer while I was out of school and would have time to deal with unpacking. Amazingly, our house sold in nine days! NINE days! So we were dealing with packing and searching for a new home while all this was going on. It was a really good distraction, but it also felt pretty overwhelming.
Over the next few weeks, more information started to trickle in about V’s pregnancy. We received her mental health records just before we went on our annual family vacation with Dave’s family. The records were not good news. Although her attorney told us that she had quit using drugs, that wasn’t the case. There were at least two times during the pregnancy that she blacked out and ended up in the emergency room because of drugs and alcohol. Apparently, this was just the beginning of the bad news. We later found out that her own doctors had prescribed her medications that were contraindicated for pregnancy. This was too much for us; we called the attorney and told him we could no longer consider taking the child. We went on family vacation without getting her physical records, but we knew we had seen enough to know they wouldn’t be positive.
I was immensely depressed. V’s child seemed like the one for us — it was so serendipitous. However, we soon discovered we had made the right choice. When we returned from family vacation, there was a FedEx package at our door. The attorney’s office had sent V’s records just prior to our declining the child. Even though Dave said we didn’t need to look, I had to. The final page of the thick file confirmed my suspicions: her doctors recommended tests for “fetal abnormalities.”
Although we felt like we made a good decision for our family, it was still painful. I was alone in a new house, and there was no child on the horizon. Meanwhile, other couples and singles in our adoption classes seemed to all be getting their babies. I was bitter and jealous. I began having trouble sleeping.
Then, we got a call from our agency in Florida. They had a birthmom for us. Back on the rollercoaster! P was healthy. Birthfather was supportive, family was supportive, but P wasn’t sure. However, she kept in touch with the agency, and the agency kept in touch with us. It all seemed very positive. We sent some money to help P with living expenses. It seemed like this one would work out. Life was good, and Dave and I tentatively started planning for a baby (again). But within weeks, it all started going downhill. P began missing appointments with her doctor. She’d fail to return phone calls from the social worker. Pretty soon, no one knew where she was. As her due date came closer, she was nowhere to be found.
At this point, it was mid-August. I was thoroughly depressed, I wasn’t able to get regular sleep without medication, my husband was completely thrown by my behavior, and I just couldn’t seem to deal. I wondered where she was. Why would she treat herself like this? Why wouldn’t she just call the agency and tell them that she couldn’t do it? Just let us know! But nothing. I went back to work for all those before-school teacher meetings, and, of course, everyone wanted to know how the adoption process was going. I was snippy, angry, and felt completely psycho. Some of my favorite kids were in line for schedule changes, and they asked me about the adoption. I just broke down in tears and said, “Girls, I need a hug.” They, this great group of new seniors, just hugged me and listened to my horrible summer, assuring me that it would turn out alright. Kids really are the best. They always seem to pick me up when I’m down.
Two weeks into the school year, we got another call from our agency. There was a woman, S, who was about five or six months pregnant, and she couldn’t keep the baby. She already had four kids, three of whom were school-age, and one who was a year old. This pregnancy was a complete accident — and a surprise. I didn’t know how to react. I was actually pretty cold inside. I just thought, “Whatever. Here’s another birthmom, and for some reason, it’s not going to work out. But, whatever.” I called Dave, and we both tried to be positive but uninvested. This was becoming emotionally draining to say the least.
We kept this one pretty much to ourselves and our parents. We just didn’t want to deal with all the heartache publicly again. The summer was almost too much for me (and because of that, for Dave as well). If this didn’t work out, I was seriously considering just abandoning the process. I didn’t know how much up and down I could take.
But soon, August turned into September, and the agency put the money we sent for P to use for S. We were assured that S’s attitude toward adoption was very positive. She knew she couldn’t physically, emotionally, or financially care for another child. But still, I was very guarded. The agency understood this and supported me through the process.
As September became October, it came more clear that we would have to start some serious planning. S was due at the end of October. We began working in what we called “the second bedroom” — setting up a dresser, crib, and bookshelf, and keeping the dogs out of the room entirely. Pretty soon, we were buying our tickets to Florida. And making hotel reservations. And listening to S’s birth plan for her time at the hospital. We chose possible names for the little girl — we had been told when we received the sonogram picture (!!!) — and we allowed ourselves to get excited. “Cautiously optimistic” is what we said. Cautiously optimistic.
Stay tuned for Part 3!
