Things Can Only Get Better

And we took Brayden home from the hospital, and she was the greatest baby ever, and we lived happily ever after. Forever and ever. Amen.

Um, yeah. You didn’t think it would be *that* easy, did you?

A few things first ……from your comments:

To all the adoptive parents, birth parents, prospective parents, and adoptees who wrote in, or e-mailed me privately, and shared a bit of your life with me, thank you so much. I am truly touched to hear from so many people who feel a connection, through their own experiences, with this exciting time in our life, and honored that you would share your own stories.

Jeff B, the new song is for you. I had trouble finding a song titled “Yippee, after all those years of infertility I’m finally a Mom!” so I chose this one, “Things Can Only Get Better” because that’s how we felt at this point. Thanks for reminding me, via Mel, that although “It’s All About Me” (and you KNOW that it is) that I’d been hammering it home a little too long. :)

Kim, yes, scalloped scissors. {hangs head shamefully}

D. Johnson, if you’d like, please e-mail me privately. There was no contact in your comment section so I can’t e-mail you, but I’d be happy to talk to you, if you feel comfortable.

So, ok, back to the story. You guys might have THOUGHT it was over, but no, we were just getting started. Remember we brought Brayden home to my parents’ house, in our role as fosters parents, for ten days, until M was able to relinquish her parental rights. Those were ten fun, happy, sleep-deprived, joyful, busy days. Friends threw us a baby shower, and prior co-workers threw us another. We were able to take Brayden to Blaine’s uncle’s church a few hours away and have her dedicated with all our family there to watch. It was a little stressful, sure, because we were staying at my mom and dad’s house and didn’t have all the “things” you normally need for a newborn. We had a fully stocked, fully furnished nursery back in California, but since we were only going to be in OK for ten days, we didn’t worry too much about what we would need there. We had a car seat, of course, for our rental car, and borrowed a bassinette and baby tub from my sister. Diapers, wipes, a diaper bag, a few outfits, a few bottles, some formula, and the gifts we got at the showers. That was pretty much all we had. And it was a little hectic, newborns always are, but mainly it was enjoyable to spend that time with family, and let them get to know Brayden, especially since we knew it would be a while before we would see them again.

After the ten days went by, M signed the papers. And the birthfather contested the adoption.

*** Here is that disclaimer again about how despite the song I normally play on this site, this story is not JUST about me, it’s about M, too. And at this point, it’s Brayden’s story as well, so even more, I feel I am not at liberty to give details. Especially legal details. Partly because quite frankly, they’re private, and partly because Brayden doesn’t even know the whole story yet. So I won’t get into things here, on the internet, like I might normally, and I won’t discuss the legal hoops through which we all had to jump, and the specific timeline during which these things happened. I’ll go over it from my point of view, because that's really all I have .... as thoroughly as I can without breaching any confidence, but suffice it to say, despite all the details I am leaving out, you'll just have to believe it was nerve-racking. ***

The gist of our situation is that a contested adoption is not something that can be handled in a week. Or two. Or a month. We had a great attorney, and trusted him very much. And understood why it was necessary that this situation be handled properly, and thoroughly, and correctly, so there could be no problems or ramifications down the road. But we had no idea what was going to happen.

After a few weeks, Blaine had to return to work. He only had so much time he could take off, even with FLMA, even with an understanding boss. So, he flew back to California and I stayed behind with Brayden. Because, here’s the kicker: I was *technically* the foster mother. And Brayden was *technically* in foster care. Which meant I was not allowed to cross the state line with her. So for as long as this situation was being handled legally, that meant I had to stay with Brayden in Oklahoma. Or put her in a real foster home and go to California to be with Blaine. Um, yep. You can pretty much guess that THAT wasn’t happening!

And thus began our odyssey of “Being a Parent Like THIS was Not Quite What I Had Planned” (See? See how I did that? Just tied right into the title of the blog? Because I’m clever like that and all…..)

And one month turned into two, and two turned into three. And I realized that with what I had already paid for the rental car, I could have just BOUGHT a used car. I had come to Oklahoma in mid-January with two weeks worth of winter clothes in a suitcase, and it was now almost May. And the novelty of the situation had worn off, and I was starting to get a little stressed out.

I love my parents dearly. I was so blessed that I could stay with them during this time, and not have to stay in a motel, or rent a furnished apartment. And it was nice to get to spend more time with M, and my sister and my nephew, and to show Brayden off to all our friends back home.

But I was definitely veering towards frazzled. Blaine would fly in once a month to visit us for three or four days; a long weekend. He was very unhappy, because Brayden was getting bigger and older and he was missing it. And although my parents were good about helping me, I was basically doing the single-parent thing, which was exhausting. So when Blaine would come home, I would hand him the baby and just mentally check out for two or three days. He did all the bottles and diaper changes and baths while he was there. It was good for all of us, but it still wasn’t what we wanted; it wasn’t being in our own home, with our own baby, as our own family.

I was starting to resent the living situation, as well. I had flown back to California by now, and driven my car back to Oklahoma (my parents watched Brayden for the four days it took me to do this---see what I mean by how lucky I was?) so at least I had some of our things. But still, learning to be a parent, and getting to know my baby, out of a suitcase in the spare bedroom at my folks house, was NOT what I had in mind. I had been daydreaming and fantasizing about being a mom for six years, and this was not what I had pictured, to say the least.

My dad was retired and disabled, so pretty much sat in the living room all day. Although he did nothing to make me feel this way, I still felt like I had an audience all the time. I just wanted to be alone with my baby, and there was no real way to make that happen. So I would put her in the car and drive around for hours, letting her nap in her carseat. I took her to the mall, two or three times a week, and pushed her around in her stroller. My mom and dad were great, but I knew having us there was an imposition on them, and they missed their quiet life, as well. Brayden and I had a standing Thursday night outing with a friend for dinner out, then back over to his house to watch the Must-See TV shows. I had another friend who had a baby six weeks after Brayden was born, and I hung out at her house a lot. Mainly, I just tried to find ways to fill up our days, and get Brayden and me out of the house.

What I wanted, was to be ALONE, with MY BABY, in MY HOUSE, with MY THINGS. That probably makes me sound like a spoiled brat, but I was very much accustomed to privacy, and having my own space, and doing my own thing. My parents were kind and loving and hospitable, but I was a guest in their home, and I felt like I was stuck on “pause” in a movie about my life. And as grateful as I was for my parents help, the bottom line was, THIS WASN’T HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE, and I started to get frustrated and resentful. My very favorite time of the day, or night, as it was, were Brayden’s middle-of-the-night feedings. That was the only time I was ever alone with her; just the two of us, peaceful and quiet. I would give her the bottle, and sing “You Are My Sunshine” to her over and over. And I would actually feel sad when she would go back to sleep, because our alone-time was over. And daylight would roll around and once again I would get upset because there was no privacy, no where I could go that was my own, no way to be with Brayden, just the two of us, that didn't involve hanging out at a park or driving in my car.

I’m sure anyone with half a semester of freshman psychology can guess that my anger and resentment was nothing more than fear. Fear that the adoption would fall through. Fear that despite what our attorney said about our iron-clad case, he would be wrong and I’d have to give her back. Fear that this baby, this wonderful baby, who I had waited so long to hold in my arms and love and cherish …… who I knew, beyond anything I had ever known before, was MY OWN DAUGHTER, would be taken from me.

I kept saying to Blaine, every month when he would fly from California to visit, “This is just crazy. We have a great relationship with M. Everything is perfect; everything went textbook. Good grief, as far as the three of us go, we could be the POSTER CHILDREN for open adoption!” Yet we were still mired down in the court system.

Three months turned into four.

Four months turned into five.

By the six month point, I was crazy. Our case hadn't even made it through court yet. I was sick and damn tired of living with my parents. I was frustrated and anxious all the time, and rude to my parents, who had done nothing but try and help. I was terrified the adoption wouldn’t work out. I was bitchy to everyone, and paranoid and defensive and felt like life was out to get me. I had waited six years to be a parent, and I couldn't even enjoy it. And I hated myself for being such a hag, when I had been given this beautiful, amazing gift. I was perturbed and discouraged, and all the other adjectives you can think of to describe someone who is pretty much on the edge. The very far edge. The edge where your tippy-toes can feel the open air underneath them and you start to think you should back up a little in case heaven forbid you lose your balance and something really bad happens.

And then? I'LL BE DAMNED if I didn’t find out I was pregnant.