And then the phone rang.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes to take you to the hospital. Be ready for me,” came the gruff, yet this time nervous voice, of our director. On pins-and-needles I waited more, minutes that seemed to last for hours, but then his silver Ford pulled into the driveway and away we went. We wondered as we pulled into the parking lot what this baby would be like and questions flew through my mind. Would we run into his biological mother there? How would I handle that? How awkward would it be? Was I ready to raise an infant as his mother until an adoption was arranged for him? Could I bear the separation from this child who already had my heart in his hands when that time came?
All too soon we arrived in the nursery and there he was, tiny at first to me in his way to big blue and white striped footie pajamas, but huge compared to the two premature twins on either side of him. He was contently sleeping, swaddled tight, and oh, was he a beautiful baby. A full head of dark hair, olive skin, and blue eyes that simply melted my heart. And in these few minutes while I fell in love with him, the legal paperwork was being done. His social worker and our director were signing papers and then all of the sudden, we were putting him in his car seat and bringing him home to eight equally exited foster siblings.That was our beginning, he and I, and the loving mother-to-child bond grew. He was a precious child and lucky to us, an easy baby. He thrived on his schedule and was a happy little boy and his first months flew by. We loved each and every first – baths and smiles and laughs, the mess of his first cereal feeding, the tears of the first tooth. Yet we loved him deeply and privately dreamed of adopting him as our own, but knew it would not happen. His adoption worker was already working on finding a home for him and his sisters to all be together. We knew every day, any day, could be our last with him.
Then that day came.
In some ways I’m glad I was not there and said good-bye to him the day before Jonathan and I started our Christmas trip to visit family in Colorado. I do not think I could have bore the agony of handing my little boy, in essence my son, over to another woman to have. To know that I would never again wipe away his tears, see his smile as he woke in the morning, or blow bubbles on his tummy in the bath still is a sharp knife against my heart. I miss him so, and it has not even been a week yet. We are happy he has a home, and will be raised with his sisters, but we miss the light in our lives that he has brought over the past six months. And though he will never remember us, we will always remember him. He will forever be in our hearts.We love you.
I love you.
--Mommy Debbie
