Can I just say a HUGE "Thank you, Jesus!!" that AJ and I finally got to return home on October 2nd?!? Two weeks in New Jersey was ENOUGH! We were so very blessed to be able to return home on the same flight that Brian was on from Chicago to Springfield and surprise our kiddos when they got home from school.
Elijah's first words to me after being a part for 15 days, "Did you bring home my baby brother?"
Guess I know where I rank even with Mr. E!
It has taken a few weeks to settle in to our "new normal," but I didn't want to leave off our adoption story on Thursday's frantic pace. (click the link to refresh yourself with our story...in case your memory is as poor as mine!)
While I would love to paint the next few days as "romantic" or "amazing," that would make this more of a daytime drama and less of our real life. Adoption journeys are messy. They are awkward. And, they are filled with raw emotion...and, not always the good, warm-fuzzy kind. I will share with you the events as I remember them...at least the high points. But, much of the weekend is a blur...I have trouble reconstructing the timeline of events because most of the time I felt like I was moving through a disjointed dream.
Lifetime Movie Moment (LMM):
Brian and I wake refreshed from our brief nap both clad in our formal night-wear. We kiss each other with a quick morning peck complete with glowing smile and me with formal make-up. Birds are singing. Our maid knocks on the door to bring us our morning coffees as we begin to prepare for the day. Our attractive, Swedish-body-builder chauffeur, arrives to carry our bags to the limo as I put the final touches on my lipstick.
Reality:
The alarm rudely awoke us on Friday morning in time to be on our 5:10am flight. Three hours of sleep does not equal refreshed. I'm wearing the same long-sleeve shirt and sleep pants that I have worn since I was pregnant with Emma. My motto: The more fabric the better. Although, this particular fabric seems to be "giving out" and holes are appearing in weird places...like my elbows. We grunt something like, "I love you." But, it sounds more like, "Get the hell up! We need to go!" I apply make-up...with my eyes closed. Pretty sure some of it will stick. Brian lugs my suitcase to the car. McDonalds is NOT serving breakfast yet and I'm convinced I will starve.
LMM:
The sunrise is just cresting over the horizon as I step out of the limo. My beloved escorts me (in heels and a ball gown, of course!) to our private jet. Our personal pilot greets us and offers me a mimosa before departure. Brian and I sit side by side holding hands and smiling at each other. The love between us is overwhelming and highlighted by the beautiful orchestral music. The entire crew breaks out into a brief Broadway medley highlighting the beauty of adoption and how great it is to simply be alive (and wealthy). Brian and I even join in dancing with the crew before Brian finishes the number with a glowing guitar solo. But, I digress...
Reality:
We are flying coach. At 5:10am in the morning. No one smiles. No one makes eye contact. We are herded like sheep into a crowded air craft where EVERY seat is taken. Still, no one smiles. No one makes eye contact. And, before our plane leaves Springfield, my feet fall asleep. Good news! At least a part of me will be well rested! The best news is that McDonalds in Chicago is serving breakfast. I will not starve after all.
LMM:
We land in Newark (or our private airport conveniently located inches from the hospital). I exit the airplane with make-up perfectly applied and my hair blows gently in the breeze. Brian, in his formal business suit, exits first and then raises his hand to help me down to the tarmac where we meet our chauffeur (let's just call him Hans to complete the image) opens the door to our limo. Hans loads our bags as we sit in the back of our cool, luxurious ride hand-in-hand. We whisper in excitement at the joy of meeting our new baby and having the weekend get-away together. "Won't Mother be so surprised?" Scene fades to black and commercial begins for women's bladder control undergarments. Reality:
We landed in Newark and make the 6 billion mile trek to the rental car company line before even locating a bathroom that doesn't have a 40 minute wait. While I am grateful that I haven't wet my pants and that I successfully kept up with the Army Road March pace my husband has set, I am far from the picture of grace or beauty. Any trace of make-up has left my face even before we left Chicago. Brian waits in the line for a kiosk so that we can then wait in another line to see a real person. I return from visiting the restroom that was built about 1902 simply grateful to have an empty bladder and the ability to think about ANYTHING other than my bladder.
It is while we are waiting for our rental car that Brian, when asked what brought us to New Jersey, says, "we came to pick up our new son." Whoa. This is real. Our son is waiting for us. The adrenaline rush that comes with those words could have propelled me to run all the way to the hospital! Instead, we enter into New Jersey traffic with a GPS who has attitude.
LMM:
Brian and I enter the hospital. It is spacious and clearly newly built. Only top-of-the-line for us...and our birth mom. The staff is welcoming, loving and attentive (and very attractive...because otherwise they wouldn't be on a hospital TV show!). Looking like we have walked off the cover of GQ (is that even a real magazine, anymore?!?), we walk into the hospital room. The music swells, tears fill my eyes as I see my new son for the first time. The beautiful, equally glamorous birth mom asks, "would you like to hold your son?" I rush to her bed side and gush with gratitude as I pick up my new baby. I glow radiantly as I look to my husband who puts his arms around me and our new son.
Reality:
Brian and I spend a good deal of our initial 2+ hours in New Jersey trying to figure out when the loan we have taken out will actually hit our checking account so that we can wire the money to our adoption agency. We park in random fast-food restaurants and hotels trying to "borrow" wi-fi so that we can access the internet and our bank website on my lap top. Our agency finally assures us that we can wait for the necessary window of time to wire them the money and that it is more important that we visit our birth mom and new son. Duh!
Our first encounter in the hospital is chaotic and rushed. The original 15 minute visit with our birth mom becomes awkward and complicated as our case worker "drops us off" to go find our son. Introductions feel forced...conversation is difficult. The hospital isn't pro-adoption. The staff won't talk to Brian or I. We are not even acknowledged as nurses move in and out of our birth mom's room. The visit becomes easier as our son is returned to the hospital room. Our focus shifts to him. Holding him calms my head and focuses my heart. He is the reason we are all here. Just love him...focus on him.
Our visit lasts almost 3 hours. While we feel such love and acceptance for our birth mom and our new son, our heart aches at how poorly she is being treated. We know we aren't welcomed to return to visit. We leave with tears in our eyes and yearning for justice in our hearts.
LMM:
Brian and I leave the hospital the following day. Once again, we are both well-rested and wearing our designer fineries. Our slightly-tanned skin glows as we hold our new son and get into our spacious limo for the brief trip back to our personal jet. (Do limos have baby seats? My daytime drama viewing memory cannot come up with a single car seat.) Our weekend visit to New Jersey has been wonderful and we have to rush back to family and friends to celebrate the arrival of our new son.
Reality:
Friday evening, we check into the hotel and go to bed. It is only 5:30pm but the emotions of the past hours and days have drained us. We get up only to find food and then back to the hotel to sleep. There are no easy answers or definite plans. We wait by the phone for our case worker to let us know if Saturday will hold a visit with our son. Most hospitals would let the adoptive family bring the baby home on day three. Birth mom has to stay because of her c-section. Not our hospital. There is no part of their policy that will honor her wishes to be moved to a different floor, that he leaves the hospital with us and that she can have time alone. They insist on her feeding the baby, bonding and walking him out the door on Sunday afternoon.
Saturday is spent finding a new hotel for my extended stay, a Target (because you HAVE to have a Target! Am I right, Ladies?!) and a "safer community." We wait. We buy diapers and a stroller. And, we wait some more.
Sunday afternoon comes. The injustice and pain is visible on her face. We are helpless. We have waited in the hospital for 3 hours before she is finally released. I want to hug her. I want to thank her and take a "family photo." But, she is hiding behind our caseworker. She desperately wants to be anywhere but here...with me. With her baby. In a rush, Brian gets the car and we load up our son. We drive away to our hotel where we will sign paperwork for the next hour to make this "official." While there is incredible relief and joy that we have our son WITH US, we cannot shake the messy good-bye.
Brian flies home early Monday morning to our five children at home. And, I move to a new hotel and settle in for the next two weeks. While there is joy, it simply isn't "movie-quality." It isn't this neat package devoid of pain, frustration or messy-ness.
As you know from my other post that during my extended stay in NJ, I was able to visit and share life with AJ's birth mother. And, that was also made up of such joy but also such pain and messy-ness.
It is my belief that life is simply not meant to be a Lifetime Movie. It is far too BIG to fit into such a small, simple plot-line.
As time passes, I think we tend to re-write history a bit...trying to force it into a neater package more suitable for daytime viewing. But, that isn't what a real-life journey looks like...and, that package often writes the script for where God has acted and how He impacted the situation. I'm not ready to narrow down the moments where God was so very real and present. And, I may never know.
What I do know, tonight, is that I am grateful for the painful moments. I am grateful for the awkward times and the messy, chaotic moments. It is in these "real" places that I was and I am most in-tune with the God who loves me...because I am forced to realize that I am not in control and more importantly God is in control.
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