Archive | Adoption

A Reptile Birthday Party!

So this little guy turned five yesterday.

I wrote this on Facebook about it:

today, moseby davin, you are five. or like you’ve been telling me for the past two months: “a WHOLE hand!” and every time you put that hand up to show me just how old you are turning my heart flutters a bit and my soul wonders how can it be? it honestly feels like just last week you were born, tiny & brown & covered with hair & perfect in every way. how can it be five years? i truly don’t know.
but what i do know is that you are fantastically perfect and unique. some things come harder to you than they do to some, like speaking or boundaries, but oh my, some things come so easily to you i’m even jealous. your natural physical ability to run, flip, kick, throw, climb, balance, and catch blow me away. how DO you do it?! and then there’s your ability to go into any situation and “just” make friends—i’ve never seen you nervous or shy—people are just drawn to you. that is SUCH an amazing gift, sweet boy.
at five you love power rangers (“the red one”), wild kratts, paw patrol (just chase), sloths + snakes, going ridiculously fast on your tricycle down our street, your four-wheeler, your friends lincoln + ty, hot dogs and popcorn and bacon (oh, you love bacon!) and my brownies and any cake with icing, and sissy and lala. what do you not like? the dark and ants…and that’s about it.
you are silly and mischievous and loud and always always moving and just about perfect to me.
i love you so very much, momo. happy “whole hand” birthday!

{You can read his birth story here.}

Since he’s going through such a reptile phase right now he just HAD to have a reptile-theme birthday party.

…and because I’m super creative corny I had to give all the foods weird reptile/swampy names. 😉

Pin this post by clicking here! 

 

Swamp Dogs Snakes

Alligator Eggs

Veggie tray featuring a spider zip & snakes made out of zucchini and cucumbers

Turtle (made out of a watermelon shell)

Rattlesnake fangs (aka Bugles)

Pit of Vipers

(I didn’t bake the cake, by the way, Baking Grounds did.) 

His party favors: lizards from the dollar store, spider rings, sour worms, and snakes.

And we had Mr. Greg’s Reptile Roadshow provided the entertainment for the kiddos. He brought a lizard, three snakes, an alligator, and an iguana. Check out Mo’s faces in some of these pics. He cracks me up!

(Yeah, even little Lala petted a snake.)

Oh, sweet Moe, I can’t believe you’re five. I hope whatever your wished for comes true {my wish? For time to slow down.}.

Other details:

2


Two Things to Do in Houston, Texas with Kids

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This past weekend Moseby and I met C. in Houston as he was finishing up a business trip there for one purpose: to see Moseby’s birth mama and three of his half-siblings. For the first couple of years they lived in our state {at the opposite end of the state} before they moved to Texas and therefore we haven’t seen them in right at three years and they were all long overdue for a visit with each other.

And there are so many things I could say about our visit and open adoption in general, but sometimes words fail me. As they do right now. The root of it is this: LOVE. I am so thankful to his birth mom for giving me a piece of her heart to love as my son {while I also mourn that she lives life missing a part of her heart as well}. We–she & I–love the same little boy with all our hearts. I always tell Moseby that he and I are the lucky ones (I’m adopted too) because we have so many people in our lives that love us and only want the very best for us.

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This trip was also Moseby’s first time on a plane and to a zoo. MM has been on a plane three times and to a zoo countless times, but for some reason he’s never done either (#momfail). So this was a big trip for him on lots of levels. We asked him a couple of times over the weekend if he was happy with the one-on-two time he was getting with Mommy and Daddy & every time he would say, ‘Yeah…but I wish Sissy and Lala were here.’ Yep, he’s a middle child all right–he doesn’t know what life is like without siblings–how awesome is that? (says this only child.)

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The first day while Daddy worked he and I headed to the Houston Museum of Natural Science because he loves him some dinosaurs and they have a T-Rex there with the most original hand and foot bones in the world (random) named Stan. He loved the dinosaurs and the fossils and the trains. He was scared to death of the mummies (which were my favorite).

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(That’s a bat fossil, by the way.)

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We pretty much made this trip all about him and let him go where he wanted to go (he picked the zoo over NASA, for instance) and he got extra souvenirs. His favorite thing was the geode he got. He picked it out of a huge bin and a girl used some sort of machine and cracked it open. He carried that thing around ALL.WEEKEND.LONG. (They really did have an amazing gift shop, by the way. If I had someone to watch/entertain him I could’ve looked for hours at all their jewelry made my different artists. It was so unique!)

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Today before our late afternoon flight back home we went to the Houston Zoo. Unfortunately, his favorite animal–the sloth (of all things!)–was under the weather so he wasn’t able to see it (but no worries: he + Sissy + Lala ALL got stuffed sloths, lordy!), but he did get to see tigers, bats, and spiders which were also on his “must see list”. HA!

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When we go to Houston again we definitely want to do the NASA Space Center, as well as go to Galveston {and let him go aboard the USS Texas that’s there–I think he’d get a kick out of it}.

Oh! And the best food we had was at Gringos, but I didn’t take a picture because we had just gotten off the plane and I was hangry. Super yummy Tex-Mex AND they have a playground for kids to play on AND there’s a self-serve frozen yogurt machine.

We stumbled upon Old Town Spring, Texas while we were out there and it was the cutest area! TONS of shops (like On A Whim) and some restaurants (including the best doughnuts I’ve ever had at Donut Licious–woah!). It’s a hidden gem in the north Houston suburbs.

One funny (gross? horrible? scaring?) thing that happened: so Moseby is *notorious* for holding it until he almost wets his pants. The mad dash to the bathroom happens daily. Well, I tried to get him to go before we got on the plane in Atlanta but nope, he didn’t have to go. Not at all. Not even a drop. He was fine.  …and then right as we’re getting ready to take off, like taxing down the runway, he has to go right!this!very!second! but of course the flight attendant told us we couldn’t get up. So I did what any boy mom would do: I whipped out a water bottle and he pee’d in the middle of a plane during takeoff. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried, folks. This kid gives me gray hair. And gosh, I sure am thankful for that because my life would be pretty boring without him in it.

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0


What I Haven’t Said

The cold rain comes down from a sad, cold sky.  The windshield wipers do their best to slap it away, but it’s still hard to see.  It feels as though the clouds are crying and aching with us.  I feel numb, yet so raw at the same time.  A juxtaposition of my soul.  Afraid yet strong.  Weak but steadfast.  I once heard someone say they were “strong at the broken places” and oddly I felt that exact same way.  As my hands gripped the wheel, my knuckles white with anxiety, I cried.  I cried like I had never done before.  I heaved so hard it actually felt like my ribs were going to break, my lungs might collapse.  It was animal-like.

Beside me sat a white box addressed to a genetics lab.  Inside was a small vial of Moseby’s blood that was taken at the local children’s hospital.  {He had laid so still while they took his blood.  Large tears rolled down his cheeks and he looked at us, questioning us, but he did not move.  My sweet boy!}  Now I was on my way back to the genetics lab so they could ship it for us.  I couldn’t help but look at the box at every stop light I came to.  Perhaps I should just throw it out the window and drive home.  Act like this was all some dream and that we didn’t need to know.  We could just pretend that this wasn’t a possibility for him.  But my head told my heart that it didn’t make sense.  We needed to know.  We had to find out.

Oh, my dear, darling boy.  Our much prayed-for blessing.

When Moseby was a little over a day old, still in the hospital in fact and before any paperwork had been signed, we found out he had a 50% chance of having a rare genetic neurodegenerative disease called Machado-Joseph Disease or SCA3.  It’s specifics are easily Googled, but suffice to say it scared us to our core.  Not enough to walk away from the “situation”–an adoption term that means baby–we were already so head-over-heels in love that we just laughed when the caseworker mentioned that we didn’t have to accept his placement.  He is our fate.  Our destiny.  He is our son just as much as if he had come from my womb.  So we signed the papers, cried happy tears that we were a family of four, and began our lives together.

At our first appointment with our pediatrician when he was two days old I mentioned the possible condition to the doctor.  His happy, jovial mood instantly changed.  ‘We’ll get you into with the best genetics doctor in Atlanta as soon as possible,’ he said somberly.  I think that’s when the reality set in that this could be something bad.  And later C. held me as I sobbed in the pediatrician’s parking lot, our newborn son asleep behind my seat.  We came home and told our families about this possibility.  They all said to not worry about it until we knew for sure–after all, there was a 50% chance he didn’t have it!  We had to think positive!

And it turns out genetic testing and counseling is a very busy business.  We were told we would have to wait over nine months for an appointment and that they could see us first thing on December 12th.  They asked if they needed to send us a reminder card and I laughed nervously.  No, 12/12/12 would be forever etched in my brain.  We began the wait for our appointment.

I was certain as the days turned into weeks and those weeks turned months I would forget.  And I did during the day.  I would see this wonderful, perfect little boy checking off milestones left and right.  Gaining weight, growing.  Smiling, cooing, being an absolute joy.  But at night I remembered.  Each time he awoke I would look at his face in the soft moonlight as he sleepily drank a bottle and I would pray.  More often than not I would pray with such fierceness that tears would roll down my cheeks unto his head.  Please God, PLEASE.  Please let him live a long, healthy life.  Do not make him suffer.  Do not give him this disease.  Please keep him healthy. I said the same prayer every time.  Repeating it like a mantra.  Oh, how I prayed!  Oh, how I hoped!

Because as parents, what do we really want for our children?  Happiness and health.  Sure, success and grandbabies and closeness are all wonderful things, but in the end we want them to be healthy–able to physically do what they want–and happy.  The thought that my baby may not get to experience a healthy life and that his life would be cut short?  Well, it physically hurts my heart.  And so I prayed.  And prayed.

The genetic counselor said that normally the test takes only one to two weeks {instead of looking at his entire DNA, they look simply at chromosome 14q}, but because of the holidays it would be after the first of the year before we knew the results.  So we celebrated Christmas and New Years the best we could.  I would often find myself staring off into space, realizing my cheeks were wet.  Sometimes I would cry and C. would hold me and say, ‘Natalie, you can’t think this way.  He might NOT have it!’  But I cried still.  I honestly didn’t understand why my soul hurt so much, of course, now I know.  I was grieving the loss of a “normal life” for my son.

Finally, we received the results.  Our genetic counselor called us last Thursday.  As soon as I answered the phone, I knew.  Her cheerful, upbeat voice was replaced with sympathy.

Oh.

But as she told me the news, I didn’t cry.  I realized during the phone call that my heart knew he had it all along–that’s why I had cried so much the past ten months.  This mama’s heart–this mother’s intuition–knew that my perfectly created son has Machado-Joseph Disease.  We don’t know when the onset of his symptoms will be–we are now fervently praying the onset of this disease will be early adulthood, as oppose to…well, much sooner.  We’re praying for the researchers that will hopefully find all sorts of treatments for the symptoms he will have.  We’re praying specifically for some studies going on in Portugal that are trying to block a molecule called Calpain {…which makes the extra protein that Moseby’s brain will produce eventually into fragments…and those fragments are what start the neurodegeneration, if that makes sense}.  If this research that is being done on rats now can be done on people…well, it would be the first-ever treatment for MJD.

The reason I’m telling you this very private, very personal story is because I’m begging you to pray for Moseby.  Pray for him please.

5


2012 Adoption Blogger Project

Heather Schade, adoption blogger over at Production, Not Reproduction had her annual Adoption Blogger Project this week…and I played along!

I was paired with Becky from Lessons from an Infertile Social Worker.  Here she is with her cute family.

family pic for blog

I had a wonderful time reading through her blog and getting to know her…and interview her!  Below you will see the questions I asked her in red.  I found her answers so insightful and thoughtful.

1) What have you found to be the most beneficial aspect of blogging?

Blogging, for me, has been an emotional outlet. When I started, we were waiting for our 2ndchild, and the wait was feeling like forever (it was so much longer than our wait the first time around). I had all these thoughts, and feelings, things I needed to get out. I’ve never been a pen and paper kind of journal-er. But I felt like if I didn’t get some of these words out of my head I’d go crazy. Thus, the start of my blog. I thought I’d blog for a few months and be done with it. I had no idea that it would become so important to me, or that I’d still be going strong more than 2 years and 400 posts later. I love writing, telling stories, having a platform to say what I want to say. I also love the opportunity to connect with people all over the world, people who I’d have never “met” if it hadn’t been for blogging.

2) What do you wish the general public knew about open adoption?

I don’t even know where to start with this question – there’s a lot to choose from! I wish they knew that it isn’t co-parenting. I wish they knew that it doesn’t look just one way. I wish they knew it isn’t always easiest for adults, but it is often healthiest for children. I wish they knew it isn’t something secretive or to be ashamed of.

3) What do you think is the biggest misconception about adoption in general?

There are so many. I think one of the biggest is that children who are adopted are “lucky” to have their adoptive parents. The truth is, they’re children and didn’t ask for the families they have. We don’t say (or expect) that biological children should be grateful for their families, so why are children who are adopted any different? It’s ridiculous to my say children are the lucky ones. I so wanted to be a mother. I am the lucky one, because of them, not the other way around. Also, on my cranky days, I’m pretty sure they’re the opposite of lucky J

4) Have there been things about open adoption that have surprised you?

I have been surprised by the feelings that sometimes pop up for me regarding the boys’ birth mothers. I truthfully didn’t expect to ever have feelings of possessiveness towards the boys. When baby E’s birth mom would call him “our baby” in the beginning, I sometimes wanted to quickly correct her. I *knew* that he was (is) her baby also, and I didn’t want him not to be. But, I think because she came so close to changing her mind, I was terrified. Those feelings are rare these days, but they sure were unexpected at first.

 5) Do you think you approach parenthood differently because you are an adoptive mom and not a bio mom?

I think our struggles to achieve parenthood have affected my parenting more so than being a mom through adoption. I appreciate being a mother more than I would have if we had had an easy path to parenthood.

6) How have your struggles to build a family impacted your marriage? And how has becoming parents impacted your relationship with your sons’ birth moms?

This is a hard question for me to answer. Not because it’s not relevant, much the opposite. Infertility was hard on my marriage. In some ways it made us stronger – that we could deal with it and still make it out the other side together. But in some ways it made things much harder.

7) If you are willing to share, what are your thoughts and feelings about adding to your family again?

I so want another baby. I can’t imagine not having another baby to cuddle, rock, love. At the same time, there is also something appealing about getting to the point where we no longer have to schedule life around naps, deal with diapers, etc… Mostly, though, I wish it wasn’t something we had to be so intentional in deciding. I wish it was something we could just leave up to God or fate to decide what happens.

8) What was your experience of adoption, prior to being an adoptive parent?

A very dear friend placed her baby for adoption many years ago. But that wasn’t something we knew until after we had decided on adoption. Her insight has been something we’ve so appreciated as it’s helped us better understand what the boys’ birth families may be experiencing. We now have a big group of friends who have also adopted. I love that our boys have so many friends who were also adopted.

Thanks for letting me interview you, Becky!

Soon my answers to her questions will be up on her blog.   Feel free to check it out!

0


Finalization Day

On Thursday, June 7th our family gathered at the Fulton County Courthouse in Atlanta.

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After three months we were going to make Moseby officially our son.  Of course, he’s been our son in our hearts since the first moment we heard about him over the phone with our caseworker in November.  Yes, at that very moment I knew she was talking about *our* son.  I can’t even describe the feeling.

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Our family with our judge and attorney.

And here we are now finally making our son legally ours after all those months of knowing in my heart.

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Our son with the judge.

Yes, an amazing feeling.  One of the best days of my life.

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My family…who experienced the same kind of joy in April of 1981 when my own adoption was finalized.

The judge who did Moseby’s adoption didn’t have us go into her courtroom, but her chambers instead.  We all sat around her table while she chit chatted and signed papers.  And before we knew it–POOF!–he was legally our son.  It was, is, a beautiful feeling.

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We love you, Moseby Davin C.  We are glad you will always be a C.

after moseby's adoption finalization {he's legally a cooper now!}

And I just have to tell you about Moseby’s special outfit on this day. In 2008 C. and I went on a “make a baby” trip…that turned into a I’m-already-five-weeks-pregnant-and-nauseous trip…to Puerto Rico after over a year of trying for MM. I saw this beautiful white linen handmade outfit in Old San Juan and even though it was a complete splurge I knew I had to have it for our son {I thought MM was a boy until the gender ultrasound–I just knew it}. I never let her wear it for some reason and now I know why. I did, in fact, buy the outfit for our son. The son who was not even a twinkle in our eye at that point. And I’m overjoyed that he could wear it on such a special day.

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I think he is pretty happy to be a C. too, don’t you?

1


Welcome to the Family

In Georgia the birth mother and father have ten days to change their mind after they sign the relinquishment papers.  My mom always said that was the hardest ten days of her life.  I wouldn’t say that was the case with me {those weeks leading up to his birth were so stressful for me…why I don’t know, his birth mom never gave me any reason to doubt, but boy did I worry!}, but it sure was a nice feeling to wake up and know that he was ours.

{Of course he won’t legally be ours until the adoption is finalized–probably in the next three months or so depending on how backed up the courts are–but you know what I mean.}

My parents decided to throw Moseby a “Welcome to the Family!” party the night after the tenth day.  I think he slept right through it…but that didn’t stop us from celebrating!

Here’s a few pictures.

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1


Welcome Home

It’s now or never.

I mean, the little guy turned six weeks old yesterday and I STILL haven’t posted the pictures of the night we got home at almost 9pm from the hospital {after a 4.5 hour drive…with a day old–newly circumcised and fussy–baby}.  Needless to say we were ALL worn out and ready to be home by the time we got there!

All our family came over and were waiting for us when we pulled into the driveway.  I think MM’s expression says it all–they were EXCITED!

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This little guy was a long time coming–we’d been talking to her about Baby Moseby or Baby Emmeline for over a year and she was just trilled to finally meet him!

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We loved showing him off to people {especially our little MM}.

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My parents.

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C.’s parents.

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My cousin, Jessica, and her boyfriend, Adam, who are going to be his godparents.

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Aunt Jen-Jen {MM’s godmother}.

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My Aunt Jackie.

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My Uncle Doug.

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C.’s sister, Katie.

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I think this was the funniest part of the night. Four C.’s hovered over Moseby while they tried to change his diaper and put Vaseline on his…uhm…boy parts.

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And the only way we could get this one to go to bed? To promise her she would get to hold him the next day …and the next. …and the next.

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3


His Story.

It’s funny writing this birth story.  With Mary Margaret I felt like her birth story was just as much mine since it was my body and all.  But Moseby’s?  I don’t know.  Something about it–the fact that I was even allowed to be a part of it–makes me treasure this story for my boy.  Makes me hold parts of it in my heart just for my son.

When I made his birth mother’s quilt I told y’all that words failed me.  And that is so true for this birth story and the pure love I feel for his birth mother.

And I’m sorry if I don’t do this story justice because y’all…words fail me.

*****

Our birth mom had been having pains for a couple of weeks.  It turns out that it was her body stretching her pelvis to make it wider for the baby.  By 37 weeks the baby had dropped.  By 38 weeks she was 1cm and 75% effaced.  The doctor could feel the top of the baby’s head.

And just like that, one day the pains went away.  She felt better than she had in weeks.  That was Thursday, January 23rd.

On Saturday morning (38 weeks, 5 days) I checked my email and there was an email from our birth mom.  She said that she was having consistent pains every thirty minutes since the night before.  They had even woken her up in the middle of the night and that morning they were still there.

It was promising, but because of all the aches and pains she had experienced already, we didn’t think much of it.

A little after lunch I received another email from her saying the contractions were now fifteen minutes apart.  Now that got our heart racing–they’re getting closer! So we called my husband’s aunt {a doctor} and a close family friend {a doctor}.  One said to head on out for the 4.5 hour trip, the other said to wait and see.  Both believed it was the start of real labor though.

And I’d like to think that I was all happy, bubbly, and excited.  But I wasn’t.  I just honestly couldn’t believe that it was really happening.  And every time I would get excited I would instantly feel nervous and scared.  I couldn’t think about the possibility of her changing her mind.

Thankfully C. wasn’t anxious like me.  Nope, he happily–and quickly–loaded our little family and our luggage into the car to drop off MM at her grandparents and we were on our way.

As we chatted on the way down there the nervousness and anxiousness slowly melted away.  By hour two I was so excited I could just burst.  Our baby was coming!  The one we had tried for for 36 cycles was about to be here!  In my arms!

We got to our destination around 6:30 and when we called our birth mom to tell her she said that her husband had just dropped off her at the hospital.  We checked into a cheap hotel and headed over.

We waited in the lobby as she went back to be checked.  Two hours later she came out and said her contractions were now twelve minutes apart but she was only 3cm so they wouldn’t keep her.

We took her home and headed back to the hotel.  We didn’t know what the next day hold–we joked about how this might be our little “vacation” and that we would be headed back home the next day since this appeared to be a false alarm.

Imagine my surprise when just two hours after we went to sleep a phone call made us sit straight up in bed at 1:30am.  The contractions were now 5-7 minutes apart and she couldn’t breathe through them.

Yep…show time!

We made our way to her in that small Southern town black night, the only car on the road.  We brought her back to the hospital and I was allowed to go back with her while C. waited in the ER waiting room.

She was now 4 centimeters and since she was making progress the nurses decided to admit her.  Eventually her husband and C. came in and we made small talk.  As the hours ticked back she would get checked and by 5:30am she was just 5 centimeters.  The anesthesiologist came in to give her an epidural, but was unable to do so.  I think we all about cried when we heard that since the contractions were hurting her so and she had a long way to go.

When she was still 5cm at 7am the nurse said the doctor prescribed Pitocin to speed things along.  {And boy did it ever!  She went from 5cm to 10cm in just 1.5 hours!}

I look back on the texts I sent my mom and it seemed like ever few minutes I was saying ‘She’s a 5!’ ‘She’s a 6.5!’ ‘She’s a 9 and wants to push!!’

And the pain increased and the contractions lasted longer and longer until her body was just in one long constriction.  She felt the need to push and once the nurse checked her and declared her a 10 the room filled with other nurses {no doc yet} and C. left according to her wishes.  I stood at her head, her husband stood on the other side holding her hand.

Before they even broke down the bed she was pushing and with one large push, out he came, screaming into the world.

And y’all, I lost it.  I tried to hold it together, I really did.  I’ve always been able to be the strong one–the one not to show emotion–but at that moment I couldn’t hold it back.  I sobbed.  There was this beautiful life–our son!–and at the exact same moment I knew this woman–who I had grown to love–was instantaneously going through the hardest moment of her life.  My heart couldn’t bear it.  Then the nurse asked who wanted to cut the cord.  Her husband looked at me and said, ‘Let his mom do it’ and they handed me the scissors.  And with shaky hands and tears falling down my face I cut the cord of my son and walked with the nurse to the little examination area for him in the room.

I stood there crying as the nurse examined him and cleaned him off, every few minutes looking across the room to his birth mom as she waited to deliver the placenta.  I would look at her and cry more.  I tried to give her a look to say, ‘I love you and I thank the Lord for you and I am a blessed woman because of you’.

Our little guy was healthy…and tiny.  18″, a little over six pounds.  Black hair EVERYWHERE {I have never seen so much absolutely adorable back hair in all my life!}.  And I was in love.  Oh my word, head over heels in love with a teeny tiny peanut of a little guy.

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When they placed in my arms I melted. He was perfect.

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Eventually the doctor arrived {thank heaven for qualified nurses} and after the examination was over C. was allowed to come in.  {Those were the hardest thirty or so minutes of my life–standing there beside our son with all these emotions–trying to text C. and my family, wanting him to be there with all that I had.}  We all–the birth mother, her husband, and us–passed that beautiful baby back and forth for an hour until the nurse came to take him to the nursery to check him out.

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Of course, there is more to Moseby’s story.  The next twenty-four hours were we spent many hours with his birth mother talking, laughing, and holding him in our hospital room {the hospital gave both the birth mom and us our own rooms}.  Getting to meet his birth father {such a happy, wonderful surprise}.  Getting the papers signed.  How when we arrived home at 8:30 that night he had twenty family members waiting on him to love on him and shower him with kisses.

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And there’s more.  More things that I will save to tell him when he is older.

Here’s one more picture to leave you with…me being put in a wheelchair {per hospital policy} and taken to our car the next day when we were discharged.

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So so so blessed to have this {now one week old} little guy in our lives.

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Introducing…

Moseby Davin C.

Born Sunday, February 26, 2012 at 8:44am.  Six pounds, six ounces and 18 inches long…and lots of gorgeous black hair.

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We got home Monday night and haven’t put him down for more than a minute.  We all love this little man something fierce and are over-the-moon excited to have him home.

I will post more details of his birth {I was there AND I got to cut the cord!} and afterwards.

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A Special Gift

Since we decided to adopt I’ve been thinking what I would give our birth mother as a thank you gift when we left the hospital.

Honestly, “thank you” sounds so very small to what we’re really trying to say.  I mean how do you show your gratitude for someone giving you the most wonderful gift of your life?

Words fail me.

But I knew what gift I wanted to make.  A quilt.  One that with each square I cut and with each line I sewed, I prayed.  I gave thanksgiving to God for putting this women…and our son…into our lives.  How blessed are we?!

Words fail me.

I asked her what her favorite color was a couple of months ago and she told me purple.  She said that she used to be embarrassed to say that because purple is such a “little girl” color, but that it has always been her favorite.

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So I made her a purple quilt.  I went to my favorite fabric store and got all their purple fabrics {…all 14 of them, uh-huh!} and stood there for an hour picking out the ones that went best together.  I added in a some green and a tiny bit of yellow.  I sewed a “disappearing nine patch” block {here’s a tutorial to one}.

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And after I had the top sewed together I took it and had it professionally quilted because I wanted it to be perfect.

And I wanted hearts {which my machine and my level of quilting is definitely not up to quilting hearts yet}…hearts that were connected. Because for the rest of my life my heart will be forever connected to this woman and to our child.

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On the back I did a bright purple print that wouldn’t show dirt if she and her family choose to have picnics on top of the blanket.

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And I made a patch in the top right-hand corner hand-embroidered with the simple words, ‘To ________, With Love’ because y’all…

Words fail me.

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