sometimes goodbye comes before hello

I'm not sure where to start. The past few days have been like a rush of events, all churning around me, but none of them involving me directly. I want to focus on one event in particular.

I have some amazing, wonderful, and inspiring friends. They are hoping to adopt. No, it's not Dave and Amy. These friends helped support me through my unplanned pregnancy, and were some of my biggest cheerleaders through placement and post-placement.

My heart is aching for them right now. They were told a sweet baby girl would be placed with them today, and as soon as they arrived in the baby's birth state, they were told the new mother had changed her mind - she would not be placing.  When I got the news, I was devastated. It shocked me, because I know how painful it would have been for the girl to relinquish her parental rights... but I cannot fathom how much pain is involved when you have to say goodbye before you even say hello.
 
I am praying for my friends. I am praying for that sweet baby girl. I am also praying for the new young mother. It will not be easy for her, but I'm praying she can be strong as she takes on the world. Although there is anger that my dear friends were hurt, the anger is not at the would-be birthmother. My anger is directed at how unfair infertility is. I don't struggle with infertility that I know of, but it hurts. It hurts to see people aching to be parents, and unable to do so biologically... and even more to see them be so close to having a child, and having it taken from them. It makes me angry that anyone else has to go through any of the emotional torment associated with placing a child for adoption. More than anything, though... there is sorrow. This is part of being human, and like it or not... I can't do anything about it. I can support, I can love, I can educate.

My dear friends who have gone through what may be the worst day you have ever known... I love you. So deeply. I pray for you, I wish I lived closer to you. I want you to know how much support you have, from those you know and many you do not. I know that our Heavenly Father loves you, and I wish so much there was something, ANYTHING, I could to do take your pain away. But I can't. As much as I want to.

I am a birthmother. I ache. And, unlike many, I also ache daily for the other side of my sorrow.

fight like a bear

My sister told me about an amazing little boy who was recently diagnosed with T-Cell ALL (Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia). Baxter "Bear" Blaney is 9 years old and fighting like a champ! In the past three weeks, he has undergone some serious rounds of chemo and will continue for quite some time. Please share this information with everyone you can. Click HERE to view his special "Fight Like A Bear" Facebook page. You'll find support items such as adorable glass tiles, bottlecap keychains, and wristbands for purchase. 100% of the purchase price will go to the Blaney family to help support this sweet little boy in his fight against cancer. Even if you don't purchase anything, take a moment to share. We all have the ability to help!

a new birthmother??

I recently read/watched one of *Joniece*'s posts about what happens when a new birthmom is added to a family... that is, when the birthmother's "couple" adopts again and has a new birthmom join their little triad. Joniece and Nicole both placed their babies into the same family, and are now very close to each other. I've thought about it a lot recently, especially since Dave and Amy are in the process of adopting again.
   From the beginning, I've been excited for little David to have siblings. I grew up with five siblings, and I can't imagine not having a big family! But I've also been fearful of what will happen when a new birthmom is put into the balance of things. Will everything still be perfect? Will I start to feel resentment? I can honestly say that I don't know. I know it will be one of those jealousy things when Dave and Amy have my birthmom sister visit, and be there when they are sealed, etc... But will it honestly be a bad kind of jealousy? I get jealous when my siblings are able to visit each other and I'm not, but it doesn't result in  a bad relationship. It's just something I can't do at the time.
   Here's the skinny... I know David will have younger siblings. I know Dave and Amy are going to be just as amazing to another birthmom. I also know that our relationship with each other may change through the years, but I know it will always be strong, no matter how many birthmoms are involved! I also know that I will love and adore the new birthmom, simply because of the sacrifice she will make. I remember how it feels, and I remember how deep the pain goes. I will love her and I will do everything in my power to be close to her. I don't know who she is yet, but I love her already. She is giving my little boy siblings!!!
   Who knows... maybe I'll have the means, when that time comes, to be able to visit when Dave, Amy and David are sealed to the new little spirit. My hope is that regardless, I will someday be able to wrap my arms around the new birthmom and tell her how much I love her, how much her sacrifice means to ME, and how I know she will LOVE her relationship with Dave and Amy.

   I have a different perspective... I know that. I welcome comments, but understand that I do know other birthmothers do not feel the same way that I do - which is normal. But I'm moving forward, I'll be getting married to my best friend and love in July, and I will still continue my relationship with my little boy's parents. How blessed am I? Pretty darn. David is loved, beautiful, and has a mom and dad who are always there for him... and he will have a wonderful relationship with me and with Bradley. Yes, my sweet Bradley has already become friends with them. And it is perfect.

      Oh... by the way... I'm getting married! see *HERE* for details! (feel free to follow!)

it's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right

February 20, 2010. My phone buzzed under my pillow, and "Blessed" by Elton John began to play. It was 6:15 am, and I woke up feeling numb. I showered, twisting to see my beautiful toenails I'd had my sister paint two nights earlier and thought, "Well, at least my toes will be pretty."

My bag had been packed for over a week and hauled around in the back of my mother's car on the off-chance I went into labor while at the University of Utah hospital (that's another story...). I pulled my hair into a messy-bun, dressed warm, and got into the car at 6:40. I called Ben, told him to be on his way down (he had an hour drive) and I arrived at the hospital at 7:00.

To say I don't remember much would be a lie. I remember counting the black tiles in the emergency room check-in (because the main doors weren't open that early). I remember filling out way too much paperwork, not asking enough questions, and silently wishing I hadn't decided to be induced, after all. After almost an hour, I was in a delivery room and the sweet nurse hooked up the contraction monitor, baby heart-rate monitor, and started the pitocin. I settled in and began joking with my mom. By 9 am, Ben had arrived with a large bottle of chocolate milk (which I wasn't allowed to drink) and two bags of Lindt chocolates (which I also wasn't allowed to eat). It was so slow. So agonizingly slow.

We listened to music, played games, and talked. I would stare at the heart-rate monitor and try to imagine the tiny little heart beating in my womb, just hours from entering this world. I was so afraid to meet him. I was so afraid to love him. But I already knew that I did.

David and Amy were on the first leg of their flight to Utah, and I anticipated them arriving well after their little one was born. In those first few hours, I decided I wanted them to come to the hospital. Not part of the original plan, but so far NOTHING had gone according to MY plan.

My wonderful, amazing Bishop came to the hospital and, with the aid of my loving brother, Spencer, gave me a blessing. I was blessed that I would have a smooth delivery and that I would heal well, both physically and emotionally. I was blessed that I would feel my Savior's love for me. I was blessed that I would be strong and remember the changes I had made in my life to get to where I was. After that blessing, I began to feel. I began to accept that I was going to love this little boy, and he deserved nothing less than all the love and care I had to offer him. I couldn't offer him much, but I could offer that sweet little boy all of me.

A little after noon, even though I was breathing through my contractions, I was talked into the epidural. Within 30 minutes, I began to experience a panic attack as I felt my body go numb. By 1 pm, the epidural had been stopped. For me, the pain was preferable to being numb. Each contraction hit me like a wave of reality, each more intense than the last and reminding me that I was part of something greater than myself.

As my body began to get ready for delivery, my plan began to fail again. The baby's heartbeat was slow, my heartbeat was slow, I had to wear oxygen, the cord was around his neck, Ben's mom was in the room, Ben saw everything, they had to use the vacuum, I had to have an episiotomy, but...

At 5:31 pm, David Allen Harmon III entered this mortal existence. It was the most sacred experience of my life. 8 pounds, 2 ounces. 20 1/2 inches long. A bundle of swollen, puffy, sticky perfection. I did not get to hold him immediately as I'd hoped, but Ben's blessed mother took pictures for me. When I did hold him, every fear I had melted away. He was tiny in my arms. I felt like I was in a cloud amidst all the noise and distraction around me. It was just the two of us. I knew in that moment that I would do anything for this little boy. I knew that I was about to do everything I was capable of doing. I cried from exhaustion, sadness, joy, and every emotion in-between.

Amy and I had decided to breastfeed. I would start in the hospital, and Amy would do a hormone-induced pregnancy to induce lactation. I had such a strong desire to breastfeed, and Amy's desire to had solidified my decision. As I learned to nurse David, my love for him increased. How incredible it was that I was the only person who could do this for him? He was relying on me, solely. I was his protector and provider. I was his mom for a small time, and I would make those moments last. Nursing him was such a beautiful and incredible experience. I will never regret that decision.

I called David and Amy. Their son was here!  He was perfect!  Would they come that night? Of course I wanted them to! They would call when they got to Utah. I got off the phone and cried again.

My dad came to meet little David. Ben's family met him. Then, Ben and I were alone with our son. It was heaven. I held him, rocked him, nursed him, sang to him, and told him stories. I told him everything I wanted for him. I made him promises that I have kept so far. I memorized his face, his hands, his little feet. I memorized the sounds he made while he slept. I memorized his little whimper, and I memorized his huge, beautiful eyes.

Exhaustion caught up to me, and I asked David and Amy to wait until the next day to come. They gladly agreed. (As I've said, they are amazing). As midnight rolled around, I kissed my sweet little angel on the forehead and breathed in his scent. As my tears fell on his sweet face, I promised I would make him proud of me.

He is perfect. As with my whole story, that day was perfect in its imperfection. With the existence of this perfect little boy ended my old life, and began a new life. Here was my second chance at life, by giving him the best first chance I could give him.

Happy Birthday, sweet one!

i was changed

52 weeks ago, I was taking a hot bubble bath in the middle of the night. My mom knocked on the door, and informed me that my OB had called. I was going to be induced (at my request, even after all the effort I had gone through to go into labor naturally) the next morning at 7 am. I yelled okay, acted fine... sank down to my ears in the water, wrapped my arms around my beautiful, rounded belly.... and I sobbed. I tried so hard to stop, but the tears just kept flowing. I knew it was right and necessary, but I was so scared. I wasn't ready. I wanted more time.

I dried off and examined myself in the mirror. I had always loved the beautiful curve of a pregnant woman's body, but somehow seeing myself in such a sacred role was overwhelming. I had gotten there in a very un-sacred way. Why was I entrusted with this perfect little life? Why was I chosen to make such a huge decision, at the risk of breaking my own soul apart?

I tried to memorize the shape of my swollen belly, even finding beauty in the stretch marks curving across my skin, and willed myself to remember how each movement felt from the tiny life inside me. I went upstairs, prayed and begged God for a release, and tried to fall asleep.

I thought of never-ending pain. I imagined a hollow ache. I imagined coming home with empty arms and feeling like a piece of me was missing. As I lay in agony, still begging my Heavenly Father for another way, I saw two faces in my mind. A beautiful couple, so ready to be parents. I could almost feel the joy they were about to experience. I began to anticipate their excitement and gratitude. I realized that although I would be aching, their emptiness would end.

I fell asleep clinging to the peace that came with knowing David and Amy would soon be meeting their son. My tears continued to soak my pillow, but a warm peace came over me. Lying alone, with my arms wrapped around my sweet unborn angel, I slept.