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Mama
There were a few things we knew when our son was born. That we were going to be his parents...that he was AA...that he was 7lbs 3oz...oh, and that his birthmother spent the first half of her pregnancy using crack cocaine everyday, drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes.
I can still remember so clearly what it was like picking him up from the hospital. I was so nervous. My mother drove us. He was on the other side of the state...4 hours away. Our sweet little 3 year old sat in the car seat next to my husband. I was up front. We told him he was going to be a big brother, but he didn't know what that really meant. And my sweet angel wasn't going to be the only one anymore. Even when we arrived I didn't believe it was going to happen. She was going to say no at the last minute. I just knew it. We had 2 adoptions fall through already. And I was so nervous. She wanted to meet us before we took home the baby, but because she choose us when she was in labor that meant today. As I walked down the hall to her room it felt like I was in some sort of dream. Nothing seemed real. I looked back at the window in the nursery, one little baby who was AA, a blue cap, could that be him? And then we were at her door. She was dressed, hair pulled back, pulled together and obviously anticipating this moment as much as we were.
The next few moments are somewhat a blur. But it wasn't long before she called the nurses to bring in the baby. Does this mean she really is going to ask us to be his parents? She asked if I wanted to see his picture and as I am getting up to take a look he is wheeled through the door. I turned around to see him for the first time. He took my breath away. He was so little and precious. His birthmother said, "go on, pick him up". This really was happening, here was my son. My husband told me to go to him, he held our other son first. So I walked around to his bassinet. I was worried that I was so nervous I was going to drop him or faint. And I lifted him into my arms and looked at his face. I fell in love, head over heals in love. I felt it, I felt like his Mama for the very first time at that moment. But a part of me worried...will I REALLY be his Mama forever...will he be ok...how badly will everything have affected him.
We stayed there with his birthmother for 2 hours that day. We got to know her and love her. She had 4 other children, was clean and sober and ready to start a new life without the drugs. She seemed to really believe in us and told us she was happy that WE were going to be her sons parents. She fed him a bottle, changed his diaper, held him. I knew that these things she wouldn't do again, so I didn't even offer my help. I just sat there and allowed her this time with him. We took pictures. One of my favorites is of her looking down at him while she was giving him a bottle. She was there when my Mother brought my son in to meet his new brother. He was so excited and so gentle. He gave him a kiss on his forehead and I knew everything was going to be just fine. We were going to be a happy family. we were there when she signed the relinquishment papers. It was hard to be there for that. She didn't really say much at all, just "I sign here?". But I knew in my heart that it was the most difficult thing she would have to do. She had her lunch and shared it with our 3 year old. They both sat on her bed and chatted as he ate her french fries and shared her milk. And we dressed him together, she and I. his two mothers...we got him ready for the world together. Something very poetic about that moment. We didn't speak the words, but I know we both felt it...a real genuine love for each other. We took a picture, me and my husband next to her, she was holding our son. All of our son. And when it was time I told her I wasn't going to take him from her, she could give him to me when she was ready. She held him up and looked him in the eyes and said goodbye. And then she placed him in his infant carrier. She walked us down to the car and helped us get him in. I gave her a hug and told her "I won't let you down". And we left. I looked back at her standing at the door of the hospital. I ached in my heart so for her.
I was so scared the next few days. I couldn't eat because of a nervous stomach. I don't know if I was scared that our oldest son would have trouble adjusting to being a big brother...maybe it was having to take care of two children now...but I knew a lot of it was I was scared what the drugs and alcohol had done to him. WE knew that we wouldn't know the extent of the damage for a long time. I called every service I could think of that could help us raise a child with special needs. So far so good. He didn't have any tremors or rigidity, he was alert and could hold his head up, he would drink from his bottle with ease and cry when hungry but otherwise be content. So far so good.
But we knew what to expect down the road. Developmental delays. Learning disabilities. Speech problems. But we were going to make sure that any challenge he faced we were going to identify immediately and find help right away. But he kept doing so well. When he started having some stiffness in his hips and couldn't roll over he decided to get around by turning and scooting backward. He just found another way until we got him the physical therapy he needed and started rolling over. He had low tone in his mouth and everyone thought that he would be delayed in speech. But he has kept up with all his milestones. He said Dada early.
And I look at him sometimes and think, "this is a crack baby". Everyone told me to never adopt a "crack baby". In fact we have kept that fact a secret because we are afraid that peoples biases will affect him. But everything we heard was that he would be delayed, would cry constantly, would be difficult to soothe, that this was going to be hard. But it isn't. He is our little miracle and such a joy. He is so bright and loving. He is the sweetest child I could imagine. He will be content to just sit in my arms for hours. I just can't believe that he almost went to foster care because no one else wanted to adopt him. HIM! How could there be a more wonderful child?
And then today it happened. Today he said Mama! I thought I was going to fly to the moon. I picked him up and swung him into the air, showered him with hugs and kisses. Mama, he said Mama. He tried for days to say it, first making the movements with his mouth, then saying "Mmm", and now "Mama". I could see in his eyes that he was as proud of himself as I was. But it wasn't until I left the room to get him a bottle that I realized it wasn't just a word to him. I heard from the other room, a sad and lonely cry, "Maaaamaaaaaaa". He called for me. Mama.
When I came back into the room he said happy,
"Mama".
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