Waiting for our flight - our adoption journey, domestic infant adoption

This was it... we were literally getting on a plane to fly to Florida to meet our son.

This is us, hugging and smiling at the baggage claim, knowing that our son had been born.

This is us, hugging and smiling at the baggage claim, knowing that our son had been born.

It was April 4th, and Mama T had been induced earlier in the day due to preeclampsia. He would be born today... April 4th. Today. TODAY.

When we boarded, I received one last text from Mama T. "He hasn't come yet... I think he's waiting on you."

My heart overflowed. And then I rambled to her. I texted that we were praying for her, for her son, for the doctors—that if he didn't make his appearance before we landed, we'd be at the hospital to hold her hand and be there for her during labor... I turned my phone to airplane mode and prepared for an all too long 3 and half hour flight.

We landed at 11 pm EST. I quickly turned my phone back on, and saw the simple text. He was here. He had been born. No other details other than our son was born. Mama T was tired. We'd visit in the morning.

We insanely arrived at our hotel in Palm Coast past 2 am. Thankfully we were all running on adrenaline—which made sleeping tough, but who needs sleep?

 

The next morning, April 5th, I shot a text to Mama T to check in on her while we were eating breakfast.

Boundaries are HARD, my friends! If it were up to me, I would have been out of bed by 6, skipped breakfast, and heck—even a shower, then been at the hospital no later than 7. But God had me practice patience.

We had told Mama T we'd be at the hospital around 9 am, so we figured we'd make our way though we still hadn't heard from her. We swung by the grocery store to pick out a little vase of flowers. "Yellow. Yellow is happy... I want a yellow vase with yellow flowers, something to brighten up her room."

Walking out of the grocery store with happy flowers in hand, I received a text from our adoption case worker. "Don't go to the hospital."

My heart raced—in a different way than it had in the last 24 hours. My butterflies turned into a different feeling in the pit of my stomach. John, being the "man of reason" as he usually is, put his arm around me and assured me everything was okay. God holds it all. And I was confident in that. Mama T was tired. She just needed time. I can give time.

We decided to go by Walmart (since—you know—we were slightly under prepared given our timeline and all), and I was in the checkout line when our adoption case worker called me.

 

I can't disclose what she said, or what exactly happened next... but the next three hours were the most difficult hours of my entire life.

I had to leave the vase of flowers in the car when we got back to our hotel room. My eyes were holding back confused tears. My hand couldn't hold John's any tighter. My mom was so gracious in giving us distance, yet being there for us at the same time. Those next three hours held so many prayers, questions, anger, grief, tears... I lost all motivation to even move. I tried staring at the television, or reading my book to take my mind off of... things. But how could I? I was in this moment, facing fear, surrounded by prayers from family and friends on the other side of the country. God was requiring faith, and needed my faith to show up in this moment.


Several friends, before we got on our plane, questioned whether or not we were moving too quickly. "You don't want to get hurt. You should guard your hearts. Be careful..." We know this was simply out of their love and care for us. But the truth is, if this adoption did not happen, if Emerson was not meant to be our son—I would have rather told my future child that I had loved a little boy like a son with all my heart and God revealed different plans for us—than to guard my heart and love this baby boy reservedly, regretting not experiencing full love in these first moments before meeting him face to face. I needed to love this child as if he would one day be our son. I needed to love him with no reservations or second thoughts. And if that meant being hurt in the process (and we got a taste of that), then so be it.


It was just after 1 pm. My phone lit up—It was Mama T.

 

>>> Read Part 2

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