There is a moment in life that will forever stick in my head. It may seem random to others, but to me it is a pivotal time when my husband’s and my world changed forever.
I was leaving the courthouse one August afternoon after being called in for jury duty. It was a pretty uneventful day until my phone rang and I saw that it was the case worker in charge of our adoption process. With butterflies in my stomach, I nervously answered the call. We had recently finished all our paperwork and were just waiting for a placement. She started the conversation by telling me they were meeting with an out-of-state birth mom that seemed like a good fit and would be showing her our profile book (among a dozen other hopeful adoptive parents) later that night. She also told me that the birth mother was due in October with a boy. I felt giddy with excitement, but also guarded my heart carefully. I called my husband ,and we imagined for just a moment that we could actually be holding a baby boy in just two short months!
You see, at this point we were both so weary and broken. As heroic as adoption sounds, I must admit, it’s not how I planned to have kids. We spent the first five years of our marriage buying a house, healing past hurts, and vacationing. I had thought through so many details and even planned what month we would start “trying” so we would have a spring baby. But it didn’t quite work out as we had planned.
After the first year of trying unsuccessfully to conceive, we began to seek answers. We spent the next four years going through tests and fertility procedures that only left us more discouraged and heartbroken. As we reached a fork in the road, we decided against moving forward with more fertility treatments, and instead started down the road of adoption. I will admit, I said yes to this process reluctantly. My heart was so tired; I couldn’t imagine any more heartache, let alone the long wait that often comes with adoption.
In the fall of 2008 we began the long process of home studies, background checks, classes, and paying fees. We were approved and placed on the waiting list by the following spring. So, imagine our shock when we received the phone call that the birth mom picked our profile book from the stack that August evening to meet in person. We had only been on the waiting list four months, and were already planning a meeting with a birth mom. We couldn’t believe it!
We met the birth mother at a restaurant on one of the hottest August nights in the history of Oregon. To say we were nervous was an understatement. I analyzed my outfit and even what I would order for dinner. Would she like us? Are we best representing who we really are in just one meeting with the agency representatives and her parents over dinner at the Olive Garden?
So many things buzzed through our minds as we answered her questions that evening. We immediately loved her, but that didn’t matter as much as her liking us and choosing to entrust us to raise this baby growing in her belly.
After dinner, we got in our car not expecting to hear anything for several days. But then the phone rang; it was our case worker calling to say, “Congratulations, you’re having a baby boy in October. She picked you guys!” We cried happy tears, and couldn’t believe the words we were hearing. So we stopped on the way home and bought a diaper bag. It seemed like a good way to celebrate.
The next two months was a whirlwind of getting ready for a baby. The room we had always planned to be the nursery got a fresh coat of paint, friends gave us hand me downs, and before we knew it we were ready to welcome this baby boy home.
The doubts and fears still crept in, especially when people would ask us if the birth mom could still change her mind. The answer was yes, she could, but we didn’t camp on those thoughts. Instead, we chose to trust that God set this whole thing up, so He would finish it.
As October approached we waited anxiously for the phone call that she was in labor. We had made arrangements to travel out of state and be in the hospital waiting room when he was born. That day finally came on October 9th. The birth grandparents came into the waiting room and announced his arrival. We went into the room where his birth mom handed us a sweet, little 7lb 4oz baby. With tears in her eyes she thanked us for what we were doing. I wept and said, “No, thank YOU.”
There are no words for the gratitude I felt that day for our son’s birth mother, and the hard choice she made. Because of her selfless decision she made our dream of having a family come true.
The nurses put our son in a little bed, and wheeled him to another room where we would spend the next week as we waited to be approved by a judge and released home. As we followed the nurses out of the room, I looked down at his red, squishy newborn face and saw a dimple, just one, and I was absolutely overcome by this beautiful little boy that we got to call our own.
It’s been seven years since that wonderful day in the hospital, and we are still just as grateful to our son’s birth mom. God brought us all together, and gave us the most precious gift through her. Our lives are changed for the better, and I am so glad I said yes to the journey of adoption.
Chelsea and her family live east of Portland, Oregon on a small farm with chickens and goats where they are surrounded by tall fir trees. Chelsea and her husband will be celebrating their 17th wedding anniversary this year. After many years of trying to start a family they ventured into adoption where they were blessed with a healthy baby boy who is now 7 years old. Their family also consists of two boxer dogs that are kids themselves. In her spare time Chelsea writes to help process the joys and heartache of life, and she loves spending time outside whether it be hiking, gardening, or hunting with her husband. Coffee, tea, heartfelt conversations and chocolate are a few more favorites, and if they can be combined, even better!