That icky feeling in my gut is returning as I think about our final 24 hours in the hospital. We had kept the baby all night so birth mama could rest with the instructions to her and the nurses to just let us know if she wanted us to come anytime. The nurses didn’t come get us though. When we went to see birth mama in the morning, she was upset that she couldn’t find us in the night and wanted the baby. It felt heartbreaking to us that we didn’t know. The nurses decided for themselves that they weren’t going to help her. I felt sick. It wasn’t the first time I had seen or heard the nurses pass judgement. I tried my hardest to get them to see how giving and loving she was but some of them would not try to see her. I think they thought they were making it better for everyone by keeping the baby with us, but the social workers would later explain that this 48hours was very important for birth mom to have this time. There are books devoted to this and yet I am giving it just a paragraph in our story.

Tons of emotions were flooding me. I was sad for birth mom and frustrated that we appeared to hijack the baby. I was mad that the nurses made decisions for everyone. I felt alone without the social workers (they had gone home for the night). And I was torn because I knew we had to stay with the baby in some capacity as birth mama was admittedly on so much pain medicine that she couldn’t hold the baby. And you see, birth mama didn’t have anyone there with her through the night (and all this next day either actually). She had begged her boyfriend to come back but he didn’t. He had a lot of reasons why but I could tell they were not sitting well with birth mama. I don’t think I would have handled it as well as she did. Have I mentioned how strong this lady is.

Well, the emotions were intense, and got more so as baby stayed with birth mom with no help. The comfort with each other we shared yesterday was missing. I was not invited to help this time but she had no one else to help. I felt HELPLESS. To make things more emotional, the night nurse, before going off duty, told us that birth mom had asked to be discharged and so we should get to go home a day early. With that news, I called our social worker, who needed to make the long drive back to tend to this new development. When she got there, she went directly to see birth mama and talk her out of early discharge. I trust she knew what was best for everyone, but I have to tell you it made that day even more challenging. The roller coaster of emotions sounds cliche but my stomach was doing flips.

I hadn’t seen the baby in hours and was feeling like an outsider. It was the craziest flip and I wasn’t dealing with it well. Before I could have a meltdown, Tony got me out of the hospital for a couple hours. We got a call from the social worker that we should come back and help with the baby. I put on a brave smile and when we got back to our room, the social worker and the director of our agency were there with even more news that I didn’t understand…news that would keep us on edge for over a year…news that has kept fear too close…news that a biological family member may be protesting the adoption.

I was so ready for the next morning to hurry up, so I could take my baby home.

Yet, I look back at those 24 hours and they were just a preview of some of the anxious waiting we would endure in the next period of our lives. There have been many moments where we could feel the enemy physically trying to steal our joy, trying to overcome us with fear and doubts, distrust and blame…and anger. Yes, we did have opposition to our adoption. We have had to deal with legal issues and red tape since that moment. The cool thing about it, was feeling the presence of Jesus throughout it all. I was learning to discern truth from the attacks of the enemy and I was learning to call out to Jesus to battle the devil for me. I am not a fighter, people! I am a lover! And the battle is not mine (2Chronicals 20:15); He would remind me over and over. And He would remind me about this journey that we had been on together, with God writing this story. How could I doubt that our girl was right where she was supposed to be and that she was indeed the daughter He chose for us and us for her? Yes He would remind me of this a lot and give me the strength and fight.