Goodbye, Stephen.

While Bill tells our story so eloquently, I wanted to express our experiences in my own words as part of my own healing process.

On January 5, we were matched with a local birthmom. On January 13, we met her. On January 19, her son was born. I held birthmom's hand for the c-section. I was the first to hold him. I was the first to feed him. We named him together: Stephen Chanon Walker Murray. Stephen is my father's name, Bill's middle name, and the middle name of two preceding generations of Murrays. Chanon is the name that birthmom chose. She is Thai and it means "thirst for knowledge" in Thai. Walker is my mom's maiden name. He was born at a healthy 8 lbs. and 20.5 inches.

We spent every day, all day, at the hospital with birthmom and Stephen. While her friends and family came and went, we were there to care for her and to care for baby. To get her water when she was thirsty. To make a McDonald's run when she was hungry for non-hospital food. To comfort her when she was in pain or feeling sad. She was reassuring, wanting us to know that she wasn't changing her mind. She had been working with the agency for about seven months, and was confident in her decision to make an adoption plan.

She chose us because she wanted an open adoption. She wanted to visit Stephen and we wanted that, too. We wanted an involved birthmom. One who would help our child to understand the unique story that brought him to us. One who would help connect our child to his cultural heritage and biological family history. One who would be an extended part of our family -- "the new American family" as I joked in the hospital. We all laughed.

Because of DC paperwork, Stephen had to go with one of our agency's foster families before he could be in our custody. Marilyn and Chris and their niece Colleen took exceptional care of Stephen. He was loved, held, fed, washed and kissed. And we visited him nearly every day. It was more than an hour for us to go to the Virginia town where they live (and much more in traffic), but no distance was too far. When we were there, we fed and diapered him. We held him while he slept. We played with him and cooed with him when he was awake. We fell madly, wildly, head-over-heels in love with him. We may have been separated by genes, but we he was as much our child as if I had given birth to him myself.

I sent photos of him to birthmom and we exchanged texts often. We were setting up her first visit to see him since his birth. She was preparing to go back to work.

My friends threw me the most amazing, joyous baby shower. Friends sent boxes of their own children's clothing. We set up Stephen's nursery: crib, changing table, book cases. We renewed our Costco membership and bought wipes and formula. Bill installed the car seat. We reorganized our kitchen cabinets for all the bottles. We were ready to bring Stephen home.

And then, the call.

Birthmom changed her mind. She wants to parent the baby. An outcome that was so wildly beyond our imaginations, given the "perfect" situation and relationship that we had with her. With assurance from the agency that she was "doing well" and "looking forward to going back to work." Which may have been exactly what she was telling them, but clearly what wasn't going on in her mind.

Having never been able to make it beyond seven weeks of pregnancy myself, I can't imagine the onslaught of post-pregnancy hormones. And as someone who has done everything in her power to try and become a mother for the better part of the last five years, I can't imagine having to make the decision that the best option is for another person to raise your child. So I can only pretend to know birthmom's anguish. Her vulnerability. Her emotional pain, resonated in the physical pain from her c-section.

That pain was powerful. And timely. At her most vulnerable moment, she was influenced by family that it was best to keep him in the family. A changed financial situation gave her options that she hadn't had before.

I have a million questions. What happens to us? How will I ever move beyond this grief? Will he be okay? Will his mother, who shares an apartment with two other women, make sure that he has male role models? Will she end up raising him or will she feel (as she originally felt) that being a parent is too much? How long will it be before her financial support dries up? What will become of him then? Will any other child ever be so beautiful to us? Will we be able to keep our hearts open for another child after all we have been through? Why does the world hate us so much, preventing us from being parents at every turn? How do I forgive her for stealing our family name – the only boy’s name we ever chose, with connections to my family and to Bill’s?

Last Wednesday, at 12:00 noon, we said goodbye to Stephen Chanon Walker Murray. Our almost son, who will be in our hearts forever. I wish for you a life of joy, opportunity and meaning. Wherever you are, know that you are deeply loved.

Adoption Fail

How to even start this. I apologize because this is going to be crappy, choppy writing. It is totally stream of consciousness and I don’t have the inclination to edit. This will be repetitive for some of you but I’ll start at the beginning of this story. As many of you know, we were approved (in Virginia) to adopt a little less than a year ago. We have been planning on an open domestic adoption. On January 5^th we received a call from our Agency that a birth mother had picked us and that her due date was January 17^th. So we scrambled to get things together, which we managed to do mostly because of the generosity of you all and many others. We met the birth mother (Ying) on the 13^th and had, by all accounts, a wonderful meeting with her.

On paper this whole match was about as good a situation as one could ask for. The birth mom had been getting pre-natal care for most of her pregnancy, had been working with the Agency for most of her pregnancy and, we assumed, had really thought through her decision to make an adoption plan for her baby.

At our meeting we expressed to her what we hoped to name the baby and said we would like to have one of his names incorporate Ying’s Thai heritage. We walked away from that meeting so confident as did the Agency personnel.

So on the 19^th we get a call from that Agency that Ying is at the hospital and would like us to be there. We arrive at the hospital and spend time with Ying in her room as she is in labor. Fast forward to that evening, and the doctor has decided that Ying needs to have a C-section to deliver. Ying tells the Agency social worker that she would like Julie to be in the OR with her while the C-section is performed. Julie suits up and is there, holding Ying’s hand through the whole thing and is actually the first person to hold little Stephen.

Because of the C-section Ying has to stay in the hospital until Saturday and the baby stays with her. We visit every day (making sure that it is OK with her) and get to spend quality time with Stephen and with Ying who was going to be part of our extended family. This was, after all, a completely open adoption and we had agreed there would be regular visits.

During this time we’re also racing to finish up some outstanding paperwork. Because we had moved to a new home in DC from Virginia, the Agency needed to update our homestudy with a visit from the social worker and we needed to get our FBI background check redone and get a DC Child Abuse database check. Now indulge me for a moment as I rant about the FBI background check. I see the purpose in this background check – no question. Here’s what I don’t understand. We had the same check done to be approved in Virginia – fingerprints are sent to the FBI to be run through their NCIC to make sure we aren’t criminals. If we had still been in Virginia this check was still valid – not like a lot of time had passed BUT states (or in this case a state and DC but it would be the same if we had moved anywhere) don’t have reciprocity. So it wouldn’t have mattered if the check had been done the week before, DC wouldn’t recognize it. Luckily we had started this process before Christmas and before we knew there was a match. So this check came back (negative of course) during the course of events. /rant. So what all this means is that until the paperwork comes through, we can’t take Stephen home – he has to be with a foster family (I suppose in retrospect this was a bit of a blessing). Now he was placed with a truly wonderful foster family who took fantastic care of him but they were in fucking Haymarket, Virginia (yes fucking needs to be part of the name). This, with no traffic (rare) is over an hour each way. Maybe the Agency didn’t have anyone closer who was ready to take a baby but maybe they just didn’t look hard enough – I don’t know and my anger is probably getting in the way here. So after Stephen was discharged we would trek out to see him in fucking Haymarket. At first every day but we realized that the foster family had a life too and so cut back our visits to maybe every other day. I was managing to still work part time and eventually went back full time so as not to blow through all my leave before we even got him home. By the way (I warned you I would ramble), once our paperwork came through we still couldn’t take him home because we had to wait for ICPC (Interstate Compact for the Protection of Children) approval, which needed to be signed off by Virginia and DC. That would only take 7-10 days, during which we would be with Stephen but couldn’t leave Virginia. Of course through all this we were also waiting for the revocation period to end. Every state has a different period of time during which a birth parent can change their mind after signing a document giving up custody of their child. In Virginia that time period is 7 days.

So here we are, visiting Stephen (Julie more than me since I am working now) as often as possible, hoping the DC child abuse database check comes in soon when I get a call from the Agency telling me the birth mother has changed her mind. I am glad she called me instead of Julie because I can’t imagine her alone while I try to race home via public transportation.

That was yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon.

This morning (Wednesday) we had to wake up, get ourselves out the door, drive to Falls Church, Virginia (at least it wasn’t fucking Haymarket) to see Stephen for the last time and say goodbye. As far as goodbye visits go, it was perfect. He was awake, happy and active. We got to feed him and change his diaper. We had him for about an hour. Then we had to hand him over, walk out the door, collect the things we had given the foster family to use like the bassinet and drive away – family sans Stephen.

Now Ying has every right to make this decision and who knows, maybe it is the right decision. But from my position it can’t be. While her circumstances have changed a little I don’t believe they’ve changed enough to make that much of a difference. Yes I’m sure I am biased but I’m also sure that I’m right. So as my brain hurts itself trying to apply logic where none exists, I am left with nothing. No good reason for any of this other than to have Stephen in our lives if only for a short time. While it is so painful now, somewhere deep down I know that this brief time makes it worthwhile.

I still believe in the Agency we’re using and wouldn’t change them but I do have questions about this situation and, at the moment, believe there were dots not connected that should have been. Topics not delved into deep enough. You can be sure my questions will be more probing and more precise next time and if I have even a hint of something that doesn’t feel right, I will run that issue to ground and to hell with anyone who gets annoyed or pissed off with me. If given any choice at all, I cannot, will not and should not trust my situation to anyone else but my family.

I don’t know anything about Stephen’s future anymore – I don’t know who exactly will raise him, what country he will be raised in, whether he will have a father figure or even if his name will remain as Stephen. All I have is my love for him and my deepest desire and fondest wishes for all the love and joy he needs for a wonderful life.

Oh, right! We have a blog!

Once upon a time there was this woman named Julie. She and her husband planned to adopt a child and decided to create a blog to keep all of their friends up to date. But one day, Julie woke up from a long summer and realized she hadn't put up a blog post in THREE MONTHS!

Suffice it to say that if there was major news on the baby front, we would have posted something. We promise not to leave everyone out in the cold when we are matched with a potential birth parent or get wind of anything that might be exciting. The only news on the baby front is that the agency's fabulous director mentioned that they were getting busy again for the fall. Perhaps another nod to the "Blizzard Baby" phenomenon?! But we haven't heard anything about a potential match yet.

And, since we were *bored* (or something), we decided to buy a house. OK, not really because we were bored. The prices, low interest rate, and knowledge that our baby is indeed coming made us decide to move forward. So we are leaving our beloved Arlington for the big city! I always thought we were pretty cautious people (OK, Bill is cautious. I'm more impulsive.) but we started the loan pre-approval process on August 3 and we close on September 20! Super fast! It's a great row house in a fab neighborhood and we are psyched!

I figure that one of two things will happen. Either we will move in and 15 minutes later the phone will ring and we'll have a baby on the way, putting me into cardiac arrest, or we will move in and busy ourselves so much with unpacking, making the house fabulous, and throwing dinner parties that when the phone rings we'll be completely surprised. Hey, whenever that phone call comes, I'll be over the moon!

June Thoughts

June is our anniversary. Not the anniversary of our wedding date, or of the start of a new job. No, June marks the anniversary of when we first started trying to conceive. It's been four years, this month.

The most recent news from our agency is that there aren't many birth families that they are working with right now. So I need to retrain my mind for what is likely a long wait ahead. Another year or possibly two. And while so many of us keep thinking that we're going to be the lucky ones -- those with a short wait, so fabulous that we're snatched right up off the waiting parents list -- the reality is that it's likely to be another year or more and that I will be less heartbroken if I can stop living day to day for that phone call and instead just live my life, take vacations, enjoy wine and sleep in. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm blue and left feeling like after working so hard and waiting so long already that it feels just maddening to have to continue to wait.

HOWEVER, the wait will be worth every moment. You may not anticipate what I'm about to say. Yes, of course the wait will be worth it for the baby that was meant to be ours and the chance to finally become parents. But it will also be worth waiting because our agency works incredibly hard to support birth parents to make the right decision for them and their families about their babies. As I recall, our agency connects with more than 300 birth families each year and finalizes 20 or so adoptions. Yeah, that's a small percentage. But it means that those families have been supported fully in their decisions, whether or not the choice is adoption. And that's critically important because that wasn't always the case for women.

I'm reading a book right now, shared with me by a friend who is also an adoptive parent. The book, The Girls Who Went Away, is a study of the girls and women in the late 50s, 60s and early 70s who were forced to give their babies up for adoption. Unwed, pregnant women had few options and no voice in making decisions and were routinely sent away to group homes to live out their pregnancies, give birth and sign away rights to their babies. These young women were made to believe that they would be unfit mothers and undeserving of raising their children. If they tried to fight to keep their babies, they were often presented with a bill for thousands of dollars for room, board and medical expenses, which meant that signing a release was the only option. This was in the time before Roe v. Wade and girls were not only left to trust their boyfriends to take care of birth control but also had no choices in the event of an unplanned pregnancy. And these girls carried the guilt and shame of stigmatizing their families.

So these girls were sent away to institutions and special centers, often hundreds of miles from home, with little support from their families. Friends and neighbors were told of a sick aunt who needed care or a special opportunity to summer in a faraway place. And these girls went, had their babies, and were told they would forget all about them. That they would move on and another, more deserving family, would raise that baby. And these girls were sent back home to pretend that nothing had happened, that that little life they carried for nine months meant nothing and to just get on with their lives.

But of course they couldn't and didn't. They thought about those babies every day for the rest of their lives. They remembered tiny toes and buttery skin and wondered, forever, if their babies were okay and if they knew they were loved. Some turned to drugs and alcohol. Some never reconciled with their families. All grieved. And some reconnected with their biological children later in life, often leading to finally coming to peace with what had happened.

I can only read this book in small doses -- it's extremely emotional. And while we will be so happy to have a baby through adoption, I don't forget for a moment what these birth families are giving up so that I can become a mom. As someone who has wanted to be a parent for at least five years, I can't imagine what it must feel like to decide that the best option for you and your baby is for someone else to raise him or her. But it relieves me to know that now women have options. For some, abortion is the right option and even though adoption is how we will build our family, my pro-choice stance hasn't waivered one inch. For others, maybe the right choice is to raise that child alone, or with less means than one would like, or to have a parent, grandparent or sibling become the primary parent. And for others, adoption is the right decision and for one of those babies, Bill and I will become dad and mom.

I guess what I'm trying to say is thank goodness women have choices about their bodies and their families and that our agency works tirelessly to support women in making the right decision for them. And that every day that we wait for our little one and every day of our little one's life we will be in awe of that birth mom who made the most selfless, difficult decision of all on behalf of her baby.

Still waiting...

Not much happening, but I'm feeling lame that we haven't posted anything in awhile, so I thought I would at least put something up since I know people are keeping their eyes peeled for news!

We know we've been shown at least once to a birth family, so that's good. And while we're bummed that the fabulous Director of Domestic Programs at our agency has stepped down, she is being replaced by the equally-fabulous social worker who did our home study, so I hope that will help in some way, since she knows us so well. But at the end of the day, the birth family makes the choice, so it's still very much up to fate and when it's meant to be.

In the meantime, I'm trying hard not to be totally restless. We still have plenty to do -- we need to get the nursery together and start registering for the things we know we'll need so that if we get a call with little notice, we can just pull things off the registry and be ready to roll. And we need to research child care options and get ourselves on some daycare lists.

But it all still seems far away and sort of unbelievable. It's hard to remember a time when we weren't wanting to try and have a baby or actively trying to have a baby or grieving the loss of a baby or filling out paperwork to adopt a baby. And while I logically know that little Green-Murray is on the way, it's still really hard to imagine. But I can't wait! I hope that phone rings with good news soon! Come on, phone call!

WHAT IF...

This is National Infertility Awareness Week. While we are thrilled beyond measure that we are going to become parents by adoption, and while I feel firm in my belief that this was the path always meant for us, there will forever remain scars on our hearts from our little ones lost and the years-long journey through the dark forest of infertility.

To commemorate this week, I'll just share the following link to a well-known infertility blog. The comments list -- a compilation of "what ifs" from women and men who are currently experiencing or have experienced infertility -- is a powerful and emotional reminder of where we have been. CLICK HERE.

Reading through them brought me back to some hard times. But I am so elated to replace many of my own IF statements -- for instance, it's no longer IF I'll be a mom, but WHEN I'M A MOM!

Education

Julie and I are (only three weeks in to the waiting) are feeling very well taken care of by Barker. We have been matched with and met with two mentor families who are incredibly helpful, open and nice; we have attended our first (possibly of many) waiting parents group; and just recently attended The Barker Foundation's annual conference.

The conference was just full of great information and people. The keynote was given by Collins Tuohy, sister of Michael Oher (if you're not familiar with either of these names, see The Blind Side). While her delivery was a tad tone deaf at times (she twice referred to "Orientals"), her message was basically a good one - don't think, just go out and help. Now this talk was also a tad awkward for this audience because her message was all about adopting a child to do a good deed. Admirable as that is, it is not the reason Julie and I (or I suspect many adoptive parents) are adopting. We are adopting because we want to be parents, not because we want to be saints.

The closing speaker was Scott Simon (he of NPR Weekend Edition Saturday fame) who was, as you might imagine, a fantastic speaker. He and his wife have adopted two girls from China and he has a book coming out this summer called Baby, We Were Meant for Each Other: In Praise of Adoption. He was an articulate and funny speaker who hit all the right notes about adoption and parenting.

In between these two speakers was an afternoon of breakout sessions that covered topics like transracial adoptions, blended families (families with birth and adopted children), and open adoptions. These sessions were extremely helpful but really reinforced that my education about adoption is just beginning.

I often wonder if I will be able to keep all this in mind while dealing with everyday parenting. There can be so many levels to parenting an adopted child that it seems like it can be overwhelming to keep it all in mind. Though I suppose all parents feel like this and most do great so I'm sure I will get there. The mountain always looks more daunting at the bottom.