While the social worker and I were making sure birth mama was better, nurses were preparing to move her to a recovery room. They wheeled her down the hall to get some rest and moved us another direction. I thought we would be spending the next two days in the waiting room, in an uncomfortable chair at best. But the nurses prepared a room for us. It was such a huge blessing. They were so super to us. We even had a bed and a rocker. And even better–we had our daughter.

We hadn’t expected this. Because birth mama needed to rest, we got to care for our sweet girl. We got to hold her, feed her, bond with her, and even change her diapers. I know that sounds like something some people might want to pass on, but I was sooooo blessed to change her first (and second) diaper. I had never changed my boys’ diapers in the hospital because I had just been through cesareans. I was eating up these moments of pure joy. Diaper joy! I was enjoying every sober moment. God was helping me to notice these small but significant moments of gratitude.

That day, we were high on life. We phoned and texted photos home to our boys and parents and friends. We admired our newborn daughter. We called her by the name we chose for her, Moriah Joy. We loved on her, sang to her, dressed her in pink… You know!

Every hour or so, I would wheel her to birth mama’s room. She would hold her, love on her, brag on her (well-deserving), listen to us brag on her. This was going great! Birth mama would make sure the pediatrician and nurses included us in everything. She would make sure we dressed her in the outfit and swaddle she had bought for her. She would pose for pictures and videos for keepsakes. That time was precious. The social workers stayed all day and helped make the visits even more comfortable.

It wasn’t until the next morning that things would take a turn.