Birth stories, part 5.1

I skipped the birth story of my eleventh child, because I didn't give birth to her, at least not in the traditional way. (disclaimer: I may have covered much of this in earlier posts, but will be redundant here for the sake of having her birth story with the others)

My little sopapilla was "conceived" in our hearts on January 31, 2010. We were at a church service, Lou Engle was speaking. I don't think the focus of his talk was about adoption, but he did talk about a small church somewhere in the south that has adopted a large number of children out of the foster care system. And I think he may have talked about the idea that we, the Church, can't say we are against abortion unless we are willing to open our arms, pockets and homes and receive those babies that didn't get aborted.

Each time I had heard people say those things in the past, I had been very moved, but knew it was not for us, not now, simply because we had so many kids, I run a pretty disorganized shop, I didn't think we could get through a home study, didn't think a birth mom or adoption agency or home study agency would ever say yes to us. But I had heard a few stories to the contrary about that time. And while Lou was speaking, and I was thinking my same thoughts, I felt like God said to my heart, "Why don't you try and see what I will do?"

After the service was over, my husband and I talked and he had had a similar conversation with the Lord. In his case, it went something like, "Why don't you take [That thing I spoke to your heart about being] Not Ashamed out for a spin?" So we took some time, prayed, talked, listened, waited, weighed, researched, and landed at the following conclusion:

God wants all of us to do something for the widow (a woman who has been left by a man, either through death or abandonment) and the orphan (fatherless). The question is what? What we had to offer was us. And we felt like we'd been given an invitation. So we said, ok, we will start walking until we meet up with a closed door.

First door, Tracie Loux. Tracie is the sister in law of our beloved Derek Loux, minstrel, writer, father of a total of 12 biological and adopted children, one of whom is in heaven with him, since he was taken from us in a car wreck around Christmas of 2009. Tracie is carrying his torch as an adoption consultant (www.thespiritofadoption.wordpress.com) helping people find the need and bringing adoptive families together with babies whose birthmothers are placing them for adoption.

Our first questions to Tracie were a little crazy, but what we were really asking was, do we have a chance? (reminds me of Dumb and Dumber, "What are the chances of a girl like me and a guy like you?", "Not good", "Like one in a million?", "More like one in a billion", "So you're telling me . . .

There's a chance."

That's kind of how we went in. Yes, there were big families adopting. Ok, we said, door number one, open, at least slightly. We accumulated the myriad of pictures and completed the many page profile prep document to give Tracie so she could use all that to make the magical family profile book for us to send to birthmoms, so she would know what our family was like, and what her baby's life would be like if she were to place him or her with us.

Door number two was the dreaded home study door. We had two families ahead of us on the journey, who had both used the same home study agency, and who both agreed that we should NOT use that agency, that they wouldn't know what to make of us. So we went with the other agency, Adoption and Beyond in Kansas City. They would have a contract social worker do our actual visits, and we would go there for a class. That seemed good to us.

Amazingly, (really, I was amazed) we found favor in the eyes of our social worker. She seemed to enjoy (not be overwhelmed by) our children, and each encounter with her was pleasant. This agency does most of its information gathering in the form of a written interview, which worked for me, being a writer of sorts (means: I like to write; not referring to skill), and we did my husband's portion in a sort of dictation/interview/review format, 1 or 2 questions at a time. The funny thing was when a question was something like, "what are your parents personalities, roles in the home, what did you do in your free time and on vacation?" and he would say, "That's ONE question???"

Incredibly, in late June, we received the rough draft of our home study to review and send back. We were thrilled, amazed and worried sick. I was late. Not tardy. Late for not being pregnant.

Now, lest you think us irresponsible for not preventing pregnancy (even though we established in the first few birth stories that we are not very good at preventing pregnancy, and that we think children come from God and are a blessing to be received with joy), remember that we also believed (and still do) that we were a long shot, and that the only way we would adopt is if there was a true need and if God wanted us to.

Not only that, but we are pretty firm on this concept: that children are an unqualified blessing. Period. Whether they are biological or adopted, typical or chromosomally enhanced, and regardless of the specific shade of brown their skin is and the number of alcoholic beverages the mother consumed while she was carrying them.

If God, Who opens and closes all wombs and creates all life from nothing and knits each child from conception, if He put a baby in my belly while we were in the adoption process, then either He would close the adoption door, at least for a time, or He would give us both babies. But honestly, we figured if there was a pregnancy for us, that would be at least the temporary end of our adoption story.

Secretly, I was hoping the whole process would move quickly enough that a pregnancy wouldn't be an issue.

So, as I was suspecting, but didn't feel pregnant, I asked Tracie - what happens if, hypothetically, I were to get pregnant. The answer was basically that if we found out later, it would cost money - because we'd have to update the homestudy. So I went upstairs in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday and took a test. Dark, positive, immediately. K.

So I sent out two emails and a prayer, to Tracie, to the homestudy people, and to God.

I was not excited. I was nervous. I was wrong. I realized I wasn't rejoicing over what God was doing, so I made a conscious decision to tell the people I was with and celebrate with them. 5 minutes later I got an e-mail from the home study people saying congratulations, you're still approved. Unbelievable. My biggest fear - gone.

The 3rd step (door) was sending out applications (filling out applications) - there is a lot of paperwork in adoption. We sent them to a few places, and over the summer had very few opportunities come our way. We said yes to them all, and they all said no to us.

Until a few days before Labor Day, when we learned of a situation that an agency was trying to place. Leaving out the details, a birthmom chose us. She was presented with just one family, but was told repeatedly that if she wanted, they would find more. She picked us.

Fast forward a very few weeks to the actual birth. (Sorry this is so long). We got a phone call on Monday morning that our birthmom was at the hospital with nausea, headache, high blood pressure, admitted with an i.v. magnesium sulfate drip, and was alone. I believe now she had a family member visit, but for the most part she was alone, and I knew they wouldn't take her off the mag, and I knew she was in till delivery, and my heart said, "let's go."

A day later, we had rented a car, packed for 5 (4 going down, 5 to return, we hoped), placed the other 8, and were on our way. We drove all night and I walked into her hospital room at 6 Wednesday morning. After about 5 hours, they announced they were going to begin inducing her. Her platelets were low also, so she couldn't have an epidural. She was not very dilated either, so they started with a cytotec tablet smashed into some gel. This caused her contractions and pain to increase but no dilation. They gave her some pain relief when they could, but she was working all day. She had a friend and a family member there, and her previous labors had been quick, but this was early (36 wks) and her body wasn't ready. After 8 hours, they started the pitocin drip, and it got pretty tough. I was glad to be there, glad to pray with her, glad to help her with contractions and hold her hand when they checked her.

Eventually the family member left, and the friend and I were still there. Her contractions were still strong and hard and she still wasn't progressing. Around midnight or 1 (all fuzzy now) the baby's heart tones began dropping between contractions. I knew from my experiences with The Show and Dimples that we were in trouble, especially since she wasn't progressing at all. So we prayed again, and I sent out a prayer request on facebook. 15 minutes later, because they were worried, they checked her and she was at 2-3 centimeters. Still praying, heart tones still dropping. 15 minutes later, 4-5 centimeters. Prayer, heart tones, 15 minutes, 7, rinse, repeat, 9-10! Thank You Jesus! My girl was ready to push.

45 minutes earlier she had had another dose of pain meds. Between that and the problems with the heart tones, we were told that our baby (which still in my mind was just her baby - none of this was for us yet) was probably going to need some help. She did. She was born with an apgar score of 1, and I'm not sure what that point was for. She wasn't breathing or moving and didn't look good.

Either because I knew God would take care of her and that she was in good hands and because they told us she would have trouble, or because my mind was just on mom at this point - I wasn't afraid. Not for the baby.

Mom, I was worried about. She was bleeding an awful lot and they were repeatedly doing painful things to try to get it to stop. I knew how much it hurt, and I hated it. And they wouldn't stop, couldn't stop, because she needed them to get the bleeding to stop.

Headache, blood pressure still high, platelets still low, our mom was in bad shape. Finally a doctor who seemed to have more authority came in and talked to us, to her. (The medical staff did not know what to do with me, by the way.) They were going to give her general anesthesia and do an emergency D & C. (good.) There was a possibility that she would need transfusions. (okay.) There was a possibility that she would lose her uterus. (not acceptable, not to me. she was okay with it, but i was not - not if she was placing this baby, please no.) We prayed, again, and they took her.

Back on facebook, please pray. Prayer warriors, hundreds of miles away, putzing on facebook in the middle of the night, called to arms. Praying, praying they said.

We waited, her friend and I, for a long time. We talked about lots of things. She was less nervous than I. And it seemed like forever, but God was in that too. This was a friend who was not happy about the adoption. Actually she was pretty angry. And having hours of building relationship with me may have helped some, for her, for mom.

They eventually came and told us she was okay, was given blood and platelets, but still had her uterus. Thanks again Jesus.

From that point on for a couple days, I felt like a new father, taking care of my baby in the NICU, who was on oxygen, feeding tube, eventually taking bottles but without much passion, trying to gain weight; and my baby's mom, in the ICU, no food yet, blood pressure still high, headaches and blurred vision, so that she couldn't even see the pictures I brought her of the baby. My heart was torn between two floors. Between visiting hours and pregnancy and loving two humans that I barely knew, I was exhausted and emotional.

I prayed. I prayed as I walked to the Ronald McDonald house. I prayed while I gave my baby girl bottles (although she didn't feel like my baby yet). I prayed on the elevator between floors.

Our birthmom hadn't signed yet, couldn't sign because she was still on meds. And I told her, on multiple occasions, "If you decide not to place her, it's okay. I'm glad we came, glad to be with you, glad to be here. It's okay." I always treated it like it was a decision yet to be made. I never wanted her to feel like it was too late to change her mind, so I just spoke as if she hadn't made it up yet.

But she told me again and again that she hadn't changed her mind, that she was going to do what was right. She wasn't deciding because of herself, but because of what was right for the baby. And she signed the papers.

It was one of the saddest days of my life. I knew I should be happy on some level. I wasn't. I wept. I cried through dinner. I went to see the baby and ran into mom and the friend who was not happy, so I went somewhere else and wrote in the baby book we had summoned the courage to buy earlier, and prayed, and cried.

It reminded me of Jesus, "And can it be that I should gain . . . " And it seemed horribly wrong. And I felt like I was stealing.

Eventually birth mom was released from the hospital. We didn't get to say goodbye. She was still sick, and unable to come back. After a couple more days we drove away, the five of us. It still felt mostly like we were gaining at someone else's loss.

I still struggle with that. I have to be reminded fairly often that the choice was hers, before she knew anything about us, to place her child, and that she chose us for her child. That she felt like being adopted by us was the right thing for her baby, that she saw it as the right thing to do.

I hope she still feels that way, or at least remember that she felt that way. I hope she remembers that I told her it was okay to change her mind. I hope she remembers that she was and is important to us.

We wanted to give relief to the widow and the orphan, the mom and the baby. The baby is happy. She is fine. She will be well. She will be okay.

But the mom is out of our reach, mostly. Our ability to bless her, to love her is limited to prayer, pictures, texts and facebook communication. How much to reach out to her is a mystery to me. I am not sure all her fb friends know about her decision, and, well, my profile pic is me and the baby.

My heart is for our birthmom. I pray for her. I want what's best for her. She is in my heart forever. I think it never occurred to me that she would perceive us as hurting her so we could have the blessing of her baby. I believed and hoped it would give her relief to know that her baby was in a good place.

I hope that's true. I know she will have bad days. I know I am not to blame for her bad days. But I hope, and I do pray, for joy, for freedom, for hope, for peace, for a good healthy future for this heroic, beautiful, strong woman who somehow allowed us to be part of her life for a moment, and to have part of her heart for a lifetime.