Part 33

After Emery was born, our lives felt perfect.  We had everything we ever wanted…finally a family.  However, the 24 hours following her birth were some of the most stressful hours of my life.  We had to wait 24 full hours for the birthmother to release custody of Emery to the court – with the intent of us adopting her.  At that point, the court would release Emery into the custody of the adoption agency – and they on good faith – would release the child to us, until the adoption was finalized.  Once she was released to us, we could take her home, but there were still quite a few steps we had to complete before she was finally ours.  Before the adoption would be final.

After Emery was born, she was taken to the NICU.  She was pretty sick and we knew she would be spending a couple of days in the hospital until she was stabilized, had a round of antibiotics, and all her tests came back clear.  The hospital graciously gave us a room that we were welcome to stay in during that time, conveniently right across the hall from the entrance to the NICU.

I don’t think I slept a wink that first night.  Aside from the hospital cot I was sleeping on, I was on edge.  We had hours before morning when Rebecca from the adoption agency would arrive to get the paperwork signed – which meant hours were left for the birthmother to change her mind.  I was so convinced that I would wake up from this beautiful dream, that the birthmother would change her mind, and that my dreams of being a mom would disappear with the morning fog.  I spent most of the night in the NICU, holding Emery.  I wanted to soak up every possible minute I could have with her…just in case it was all destined to end in the morning.

The next morning came and went, but by early afternoon we got a text from Rebecca saying she’d be in our room shortly, she was headed to the birthmothers room to have her sign the paperwork.  At that exact moment, I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing.  I didn’t want this dream to end.  I wanted Emery to be mine and I prayed that she would.  About 30 minutes later Rebecca was walking into our hospital room.  When I saw Rebecca walk into our room, I took a deep breath, waiting for bad news.  No bad news came though, Rebecca simply smiled and said, “She signed.”

Exhale.

No more than 30 seconds later, I was sitting on the hospital bed, signing the paperwork that would give me custody of Emery.  The paperwork wouldn’t be approved by a judge until Monday (it was Saturday), but it didn’t look like we were leaving the hospital before then anyway.  After we signed the paperwork, we walked back into the NICU and I picked Emery up and whispered to her, “One step closer, baby girl, one step closer.”

The adoption wasn’t a done deal at this point.  We still had to wait for the punitive father registry to come back clear – and that takes up to six weeks.  What’s a punitive father registry?  Well, when a birth father is not named in the adoption proceedings, the state of Indiana requires that the registry be notified.  It is a place where men, who believe there is a child that has been born that they have legal rights to, can register to claim those legal rights.  So we had to wait for that process to happen.  We also had to wait for a second home visit to be completed by our Social Worker, Sue, for our agency to file the motion for adoption, and wait for a court date in Delaware County Family Court (where Emery was born).  That process could take weeks, if not months.  We held our breath, hoping everything would go smoothly and that it took weeks, not months to get everything wrapped up.

We spent the next 13 days in the NICU with Emery.  After we realized it was going to be a bit more time before she was coming home, we gave up our hospital room and headed back home.  We spent the next 10 days splitting our time between home, work and the hospital.  We’d get up every morning, work until about 2 p.m., then make the 75 minute drive to the hospital in Muncie to catch the last 2 or 3 feedings with Emery every day, snuggle her, sing to her, and get updates from the nurses about how she did that day.

We made sure to stay for the shift change at 7 p.m. so we could see both of her nurses every day (NICU nurses are some of the most amazing people on the planet, but that’s another blog for another day).  Somewhere around 9 or 10 p.m. we’d make the 75 minute drive back home, crash into bed only to start over again the next day.  Those 10 days, splitting our time between hospital and home were a total fog.  We wondered if we would ever get to leave – and every day the answer seemed to change.  One day, the doctors and nurses would say, “She had a great day!  It’s looking good.” and the very next day she’d have a bad day and we’d be met with, “it’s gonna be a bit longer.”

It was frustrating, overwhelming, and exhausting.  I wasn’t sure how much more of it I could take.  Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, the hospital called and said, “Pack your bag.  You’re homeward bound tonight!”  We were ecstatic.  In a frenzy we grabbed our stuff and headed to Muncie.  What awesome news!

Homeward bound is the last 24 hours before a child leaves the hospital from the NICU.  They put you in a regular room with the baby and you stay overnight, no monitors, no tubes, no nurses except an occasional check for vitals.  If all goes well, you’re homeward bound the next day!

We show up at the hospital, car seat and diaper bag in hand, ready to take our baby home.  The night goes perfectly.  She slept well, ate well, and vitals looked good.  Our nurses were wonderful.  All we needed was one final check from the neonatologist to sign off on our departure.  The head NICU doctor came in the next morning and began doing a once over on Emery, while we sat there, holding our breath.  She spent an inordinate time listening to the heart and I began to get worried.  She looked up at us, while hovered over Emery and said, “Has anyone said anything to you about her heart murmur?”

What.  The.  Fuck.

“NO!”  A heart murmur?  We’ve been here for 13 days an NO ONE has uttered a WORD to us about a HEART MURMUR!  The doctor continued, “Well, there’s a slight echo that sounds abnormal.  I can’t sign off on her release until we do an echocardiogram and we have a pediatric cardiologist look at the report. That means, we’ll have to send it to Riley Hospital in Indy to be read before I can release you.”

Ugh.  We could be here for hours waiting for our turn in line to get the echo, then hours waiting for the cardiologist at Riley to read it.  Ben and I settled in, took a deep breath and prepared to be told, “Not today” …again.  Five hours later, however, we got the “all clear” and the doctors signature to go home.  As we were walking out of the hospital, I couldn’t believe it.  I kept looking behind me, because I expected to see a nurse chasing after me screaming, “Come back! Just kidding!  Not today!”  But they didn’t.  As we pulled out of the garage, I sat in the back seat, staring at my daughter with more joy in my heart than I had ever felt.

Exhale.

She was finally home.  It was starting to feel more and more real every step closer we got.  We did our final home visit with Sue.  Exhale.  The punitive father registry came back clear.  Exhale.  We filed the paperwork.  Exhale.  Court date set.  Exhale.

And all of that leads us to one year ago, today.  There we were with our team from the adoption agency:  Rebecca, Sue, and Jessica, sitting outside the courtroom in Muncie, IN waiting for the judge to return from lunch.   It was just us (all family court hearings are closed to the public).  I’ve never felt so nervous in my life.  I know that Rebecca and Sue could tell we were nervous because they tried everything to occupy the time with conversation.  Then the clerk came out and welcomed us into the courtroom.

We walked in to a small circular courtroom, that culminated at the judge’s desk.  It  was tall and elevated about 4 feet higher than any other seat in the room.  On each side was another desk about 2 feet down, where the clerks sat on each side.  They were busy getting the paperwork and everything situated, when the judge walked in, Hon. Marianne Voorhees.  She was a short woman, who from the moment she walked in, commanded a lot of attention and respect.  I liked her and I felt immediately at ease.  Her smile was warm, but you could tell she meant business and took her job seriously.

Rebecca, representing us as our attorney, began speaking making the case for why we want to adoption Emery.  We kept responding yes to all of the questions.  Then Rebecca, turned it over to the judge.  She flipped through the paperwork, which I’m sure she had already read, looked up at us, and asked us to raise our right hands.  She then asked if we would love and care for Emery as our own for the rest of our lives.  It felt like a silly question to me at the time – I couldn’t – and still can’t imagine loving anyone more.  Her question was met with a resounding, “Yes!” from both Ben and myself.

Then, Hon. Marianne Voohees said the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard, “I now declare that Benjamin [full name] and Jessica [full name] you are the rightful and legal parents of Emery [full name].”

And just like that…

Exhale.

 

I had been holding my breath.  I had been holding by breath since the moment she was born.  I had been waiting for it all become a dream.  I had been waiting to wake up and it not be true.  But at that exact moment, that perfect, beautiful moment, it became real.  She was ours.  It wasn’t a dream.  100% of it was true and real – and we were now a family and there wasn’t anything that could “undo” that.

So today, September 22nd will always been an important day in our family’s life.  It’s the day we finally exhaled.  It’s not the day we “got her” or the day “we became a family”.  She was ours and we were a family from the beginning.  Today is the day that we got to exhale, knowing that we would always be together…a family.