Gotcha Day 10/19/18

Two years ago tomorrow (10/19/18),  I was in our bedroom folding a mountain of laundry. The twins were at school and Ryan was working. It was a Friday. I was trying to finish up some tasks because that afternoon, we were having an 8 year old respite friend come for the weekend. Our family was coming into town for the twins birthday party the next day too so that morning was really just cleaning and getting ready for a big weekend. 

I received a text from our support worker. 

“Hey, I know you have the twins but your crib is open right? Would you maybe be interested in an infant? One week old. Give me a call if you are.” 

I called to get more information. She told me there was a baby boy that needed a temporary home. They had called several other people though so I probably wouldn’t get him. I called Ryan and we decided to say yes. The next step is waiting for DHS to confirm the baby was coming. 

That first call with dhs made me sad. The baby had already been through so much in just a week of life. She confirmed that we needed to pick the baby up a few hours later. When she told me that I got really nervous. The worker reiterated that he may not stay very long. 

I hung up the phone and started to do all of our rush shopping prior to taking any child. We had the big stuff but no diapers, wipes, formula, clothes, etc. I had so many questions…what size diapers? He was only a week old so was he premature? Was he going to come with anything? So. Many. Questions. 

A few hours later we were ready. The twins and our bonus 8 year old friend were settled watching a Barbie movie. I was told the baby was at a shelter where he had been for only one night after leaving the hospital. I remember Ryan giving me a big hug and then I headed to get the baby. I had only a first name but the worker said he was the only baby there. I pulled in and got the car seat out of my back seat. I took a deep breath and went in. 

Going to shelter is awful. It’s just a sad place. I knocked on the door and said what I was doing there. They let me in and said they were looking for a diaper for the little guy. The shelter worker told me that they didn’t know how to put up their crib so they took turns holding him all night. They told me he was a good eater and liked to snuggle. The worker brought him out and placed him in my arms. He was so tiny. I put him in the car seat and had to bundle him in. It was a bit chilly that Friday afternoon. I remember driving home and being a little freaked out that I had a newborn baby in the back seat. I didn’t have months to prepare, I had a few hours. 

I was in love at first sight. 

523 days later, that little boy would take our last name and become our son. Forever. We love him more than I could ever put into words. It wasn’t an easy path to his adoption, but I’m thankful we went through it. Every day with him is a gift and I’m so thankful we get to be his parents. I truly believe he was born to be my son.  We were the 5th family that was called for him–but we ended up taking him home. We were originally told he would leave after a week or two–well, God had other plans for that too. God had a plan for his life and we were always written in it.

 However, on gotcha day, I have to pause and think about the other side of our happy ending. Every adoption starts with a loss. Every happy ending in foster care starts with a crisis or tragedy. My son is no different. On that day, he lost his biological family. Not just his first mom and dad. He lost grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Whether he is aware of it or not right now, my son has had great loss. That has never been lost on me. Our great gain was at another’s loss. 

There is this saying about biological moms and adoptive mom’s. It goes something like this: He will never be hers like he is mine, and he will never be mine like he is hers. That is exactly it. 

I took him home at 8 days old. I was up with him in the middle of the night as a newborn. I was there when he smiled for the first time and started rolling over. I was there when he took his first steps. I have been there with him for every appointment, procedure, and hospital stay. I know  his favorite color and how to get him laughing. He calls me mama. 

She carried him and gave birth to him. She was there from the moment he took his first breath. The first thing he saw was probably her. I have a picture from the day he was born and he was holding someone’s finger…was it hers? I am thankful for Tripp’s first mom and dad. Without them, I wouldn’t have the greatest joy of my life. 

I will never be done talking about adoption and our foster care journey. I will never stop being thankful for the gift that is my son. Happy gotcha day little boy….you are so incredibly loved.