How I Came to Braden (Adoption Story)

Adoption is painful and beautiful. It is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and a weird experience. But it is also unbelievably exciting and rewarding, the deepest and most important thing I have ever done, and full of so much hope and joy. Inescapably, it is both. I felt for a long time that children should remain with their birth parent. That is right. That is good. It was simply wrong in my mind that one would opt out of caring for your own child. Buck up; deal with the responsibility that comes with your irresponsibility. Do the right thing. That’s what I thought. What I think and feel now is much different.

Adoption is bigger and wider than I could have ever imagined. I think that it’s something most people just don’t know much about and most don’t have to. I certainly never did. One of the most frustrating things I hear people say is “After we finish having our kids we want to adopt”. Like its some noble, right thing one does…after they have had the joy of having their families. Then they choose the add-on, 2nd best; throw in, needs a home child, look at me I care about needy children. And the world can look at the woman who gave up her child and say “at least she didn’t abort”. At least that’s how my heart hears it. I’m sure in years to come and I know the stories of families who have finished their family with adoption, my perspective will be different. But for the sake of my processing here I will say - adoption is more than whether or not a birth mother parents her child…much more.

I have 2 uterus's. I found out when I was 15 yrs old that there was a mass the size of a cantaloupe in my uterus and they thought it was cancer. They told me I would need to have a hysterectomy to remove it, and everything attached to it. The doctors and my family looked scared and I remember sitting in my bedroom in my butterfly chair (remember the ones with the frame made of metal and the fabric cover came in wondrous colors and they were terribly uncomfortable to sit in?) wondering if I was going to die. Everyone was wondering that. It was a very traumatic year for my whole family - and me. Weeks and months of doctor appointments, tests, ultrasounds, 1 exploratory/septum removal surgery and an emergency surgery later (due to hemorrhaging)…it ends up I did not have cancer.

I had 2 uterus's, and apparently 2 vagina's…but one of them did not have an opening. I had 3 years of menstruation built up in one of the vagina & uterus's, and it was growing out of control. Apparently after all the prodding and many men doctors investigating my 15 yr old body, the mass ruptured and a doctor who was on call at the ER that day figured out what in the world was going on. When he announced, “I can feel your cervix”, my mom and I looked at each other in disbelief as apparently the mass was simply…disappearing! A relief for sure that the cancer scare was over, but it was the beginning of being a scientific fascination, having a surgery to take out the vaginal septum giving me a “regular V” (as I called it), having doctors not know any answers about my fertility, and wondering for the next 15 years if I would ever be able to have a baby.

I was told that one uterus was quite a bit larger than the other and that I might be able to carry a baby to term. They suggested a fusion surgery but said that technology could change so much in the next 10 years that I should wait.

I held onto that information all the way through college thinking that if I ever met a man that wanted to marry me, I would go get a surgery to fuse the 2 uterus's. I remember the night I told Kevin about my uterus's (and all the story and trauma that involved finding out about them). He cried. We both did. It was a fragile moment, as we knew we were dating seriously and this was the big thing I had to be honest about before he could ever decide to marry me. I may not be able to have a baby.

I was supposed to just have an issue carrying a baby to term. I spent years trying to find an Ob/Gyn or specialist that would tell me how it would all work and what to expect when I got pregnant. They all said something different, and the truth was no one was exactly sure how it would work out. After 4 years, I finally found a high risk pregnancy specialist after I’d gotten married and Kevin and I moved to Oregon that assured me they would care for me when I got pregnant and all should be well and good, as they’d seen this type of thing before. Though apparently, no one did fusion sugeries anymore. I would just have to get pregnant and see what happened. This was a huge relief, and we’d been “trying” for a while already so I finally felt prepared and that someone would know what to do when we got pregnant.

But we just never got pregnant. We had the usual talks that people do about starting a family; I remember the moment we decided we’d like to start trying (we were on top of the CN tower in Toronto, Canada drinking milk shakes ☺). I got off birth control, started dreaming about it all, and planning which room of the house the nursery would be in. And months started ticking by. My little sister got pregnant, I threw her a shower, and she had the baby……nothing. My parents at the preschool I taught at kept getting pregnant and having babies…nothing. We moved to Oregon and met more friends at our new church who were getting pregnant and having babies, and still nothing.

Finally that spring, after we’d tried for a year and a half and I was using all kinds of ovulation tracking devices…I got pregnant. It was the most amazing thrill. There’s really nothing like it. I felt like I had a great secret…and everyone looked at us like “yep, you’ve had sex and made a baby!” I was glowing. I had Kevin’s boyhood rocking chair set up in our office that would soon be a nursery, the gifts and cards started coming - we were just thrilled. I knew it’d be a hard pregnancy and there would be drama in the end due to my issues…but I had the ultrasound appointment at the high-risk place scheduled, was perfectly following everything that the book “What to expect when you’re expecting” said, and I was ready for whatever came.

Except for the part in the ultrasound tech room when the technician said, “there’s a problem”…I just thought “oh sure of course there is, it’s MY body…just tell me and we’ll deal with it”. But she said there was no heartbeat. It took a good 30 seconds or so to let that sink in. My first response was “well…let me know when you find it”. But she said she was very sorry and put a box of Kleenex on my belly and left the room. So there Kevin and I were…staring at our little fetus on the monitor which only moments before we were teary eyed celebrating that it really was in there (you could see the head, the outline, everything)…which was now dead. And we just sobbed. Kevin stroked my hair over and over and I just kept looking at our little baby on the screen through the tears.

We left in silence and as I walked down the hall I realized I still held the water bottle to remind me to drink lots. I told Kevin "I guess I don't need to drink this anymore!" We got in the car and realized we had no idea where to go. It didn't make sense for Kevin to go back to work and just leave me. But we didn't want to go home to the room where all the baby stuff had started gathering. So went and prayed with our church staff, and then we drove to my parents house where they and my sister awaited and sat with me the rest of the day and night. I remember when we were with our staff they cried with us. I mostly yelled and swore through my tears as I told them what happened, but when I'd look up - they were crying too. My friend and our HR director, Beth, told me that right after we left she went into Jeff's office (our pastor of worship) to give him a message and she found him on the floor, kneeling in deep prayer. Who does that? People that love us I guess. I'll never forget our friends and pastors grieving with us that day, and in so many days to come.

It took an entire month before the miscarriage came. 4 weeks of carrying a dead baby inside. I was a mess. I’ve since cried over every miscarriage I’ve had (we have had 4), but none was like the first. It is the most unexplainable loss. I’d spent weeks touching my belly and talking to that little baby. Kevin and I looked at each other differently and knew our love had created something. And now it was gone. And I did not know how to say goodbye. I was grieving over a child that was hoped for but never known, never experienced. And I hated my body for not being able to keep the baby safe. I remember going to the store and buying anything that was bad for me and NOT on the What To Expect When You're Expecting diet. I wanted to harm my body, punish it for being so pathetic. And after I'd finished all the chocolate donuts I could eat I'd starve my body and not feed it. I've never been prone to eating disorders in my life, but that miscarriage, my body and I were not friends.

At the end of that month my doctor said I would need to come in for a DNC that week or it could be harmful to my body (this is a procedure that surgically scrapes out the remains of a fetus in your uterus). But relief came when the bleeding started, at least I didn't have to have another surgery. The bleeding was long and painful, and then tissue started passing. They told me this would happen, but I was scared - they said a miscarriage happens differently for every woman. Someone wonderful had given me a book called Empty Arms that I was reading intently during this time. It went through every type of miscarriage, stillbirth and tubal pregnancy that a woman can have, which was so comforting and educational for me. The doctors pretty much would tell me when I miscarried that I'll bleed a little more than usual. That was never the experience of miscarriage for me - give this book to anyone you know losing a baby!

The miscarriage heightened one morning in the shower. I had particularly bad cramps that day that came on fast. So bad that I knelt over in pain and then...a sharper pain came and i stood up. And there on the shower floor was the faint outline of an embryo. My baby had come - and gone. I froze as I watched it go down the drain. ...Emptiness is all I felt for days after that. Relief though that I could now grieve and move forward. Something about a dead baby inside of you for a month just messes with you at your core. I felt like I was dead spiritually and emotionally as well. So as empty as I felt that morning in the shower, I also felt alive again. The color was returning to my life.

But the damn thing wouldn't end...I kept bleeding! Until one night it was so bad I cried and cried the cramps were so severe and sharp and painful. And at last I screamed out (scaring Kevin half to death) as I gasped in shock...I was hemorrhaging! We rushed to the ER and spent 5 hours of the night there. The bleeding stopped soon after we arrived and I ended up passing a large mass at the end of the night. After that I didn't have anymore pain and the bleeding went away entirely a few days later. I slept for days. Death is a dark thing. It is still and quiet and there are no answers or much consolation in the midst.

This all was just the beginning of a very hard journey to becoming a mother. And the beginning of me wondering if adoption was more of a reality than a good works dream. This was scary.

It was an extremely emotional time for me. I was sad almost all the time and absolutely heart broken and grieved that we did not have a child. In my job here at Imago Dei I am around children and families all the time. I threw 5 or 6 baby showers one year. Led baby dedications every 3 months, brought meals to families with newborns, and talked with parents who were having a hard time parenting. It was torturous.

A year later I finally got pregnant again, and the same thing happened. Well, not exactly the same thank goodness! It actually was quite different this time. We started ultrasounds at 5 weeks and saw a heartbeat - for several weeks. Until it died. In fact I had 2 more pregnancies after that one that ended the same way. One time we had gotten through an 8 week appointment (which is 4 ultrasounds if you're counting) where they saw IMPROVEMENT in the embryo's development and we thought we were in the clear as I drove to the 9-week appointment. That week there was no heartbeat. No explanations. I was on progesterone and aspirin for each of the pregnancies. But the doctors could not give me an answer. I was so scared. I never believed that I would not be able to have a baby. My body failed at doing the one thing it is supposed to do as designed by God. I fought for a long time between hating my body and feeling separate from it, and then hating myself because I am part of my body.

People ask me often if I hated God. But I never did. I knew God cried with me. Everything I knew about God was of love; there was no way he caused this. I leaned heavily into Him during this time. I had no answers and He had none to give either. But I didn't hate Him, I needed Him.

I remember one night I got up and read the entire book of Job and then all of Paul’s life. I desperately needed to identify with someone else in the world that had gone through pain the same or worse than I had. My God, how healing and true scripture is. It was so obvious through Job and Paul’s stories that God makes great stories that bring glory to Himself through pain. That alone gave me great courage to get up everyday and keep going. If others with harder crisis could do it, so could I. I had not been beaten or imprisoned. I had not watched a dear friend or my family die brutally. I had not lost everything. Perspective carried me through. God’s story was bigger than my dark circumstance.

At some point along the road of grief when you have been in it deeply and for a long time, there is a choice to be made if you know Christ. You can get up and walk and live for the sake of others. Or you can isolate and be about yourself. I remember being really angry about that choice. The first time our pastor, Rick, confronted me on this I yelled at him. I felt like he didn’t understand my loss and was asking more than I could give. I wondered if I had anything inside to give to others other than my personal grief. But I remembered Job and Paul again and knew that deep down in my soul, Christ was there and His story was bigger than my own. Rick encouraged me to have joy in the midst of this all and to care about other people's pain, joys and stories. I remember feeling like he just asked me to do something really really hard.

That night I went to a birthday party for some friends. I felt exactly the same as I had for months when I knocked on the door. But the moment the door opened and all eyes fell to see who had arrived, the choice was upon me. I breathed. And then I forced out the smile. It surprised me that I could not remember the last time I smiled (it actually hurt a little). And then I thanked the host for inviting me and came in anxious to see how everyone was doing and what was going on in THEIR life. It was fascinating to me that other people had pain and difficulties going on in their life. I thought I was the only one! And even more fascinating was that I felt my sadness ebbing away at every word that someone said about their life. It was powerful. There was this sense that God was there and with all of us, and that none outweighed the other.

Our journey into adoption was not easy as is the case with so many friends I now know who have adopted in some way (international, etc). After our 2nd miscarriage (over a year later) the realization hit that something was wrong and that we may not be able to have a viable pregnancy. Because it was taking us a year or more to get pregnant each time, the years were ticking by and we were really hurting and ready for a child to parent. We decided to start investigating adoption. We’d heard it could be quite a process so we thought we’d start. We didn’t have any $ and adoption is ridiculously expensive, so we found this start up agency in Washington that was Christian owned and operated and was ½ the price of other agencies.

I spent a month or two making our album and writing a dear birth mother letter and the whole thing was just very emotional for me. The album included pictures of our pets, our home, our families, our activities, a taste of us. And then a letter titled “Dear birth mother” in whom I was supposed to write a note to her empathizing with her situation and telling her a bit about mine. It’s really hard to still be grieving the babies you’ve lost and now try to explain to an unknown woman why you think she should give you her baby. I didn’t feel worthy of anything, and yet I felt over-worthy and angry at the same time. The whole thing was unfair and painful I thought.

When we drove up to the agency to show the director our album and to have our interview…it was awful. She looked at our album and then slid it across back to me (as if rejecting it) and said “you know, we didn’t used to let people put pictures of themselves in albums…it’s just not fair. You guys are really…an ideal couple. Young, and cute, and no kids. It’s not fair to other couples, but… I’m sure you’ll have no problem getting picked”. I thought I was going to throw up. There I was in this dress I'd carefully picked out (that I thought looked nice, motherly, and yet complimentary) trying to impress this woman, and she made me feel more fragile and judged than ever before. I felt so silly. So uncared for. I just wanted her to like me and tell me everything was going to be OK…to acknowledge the pain I’d been going through. But she would not even make eye contact with me! She seemingly loved Kevin, talked to him about lots of things...but was weird with me.

Then she tells us they really don’t have any birth mothers and it could take YEARS. She actually laughed at my album, as I’d mistakenly put a picture of our house with the address on it clear as day in it. It never occurred to me that a birth parent would want to come stalk us at our house, I was proud of our address and thought they’d want to see our street so she could know us better. It seemed like the woman was trying to make me feel stupid. Maybe that’s how I interpreted it, I’ll never fully know. What I do know is that there was no care, no empathy for our situation, and ultimately, no real agency going on there. They had our application and non-refundable $100, but I took my album home. I was done.

Ironically though, that director is the one that put us in touch with an agency in Portland where a big last minute hope came up. She of course got me confused with another woman when she called and seemed unaware of how awkward that was. To add to it, the woman she got me confused with was another woman in our church who was also trying to adopt and was also receiving the same phone call! Awesome.

But nevertheless I got a call out of the blue one day and was told that there was a young high school couple (which was my hope … to have the birth mother be in high school as we’d worked with high school students for a lot of years previously and I loved them) that are “ideal” (there was that annoying word again). They were going to be giving birth to a baby boy in a month!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The race was on. They were looking for more adoptive families to be in the pool. So I rushed over my album and met with the gal overseeing the case. I loved HER. She was this extremely obese red haired woman and she LISTENED to me. I cried, and she seemed to really feel with me. She even gave me a book Adopting After Infertility. Which I found really helpful and even healing - in a way where I could start to move forward into the world of adoption more.

So…the process began. Though strangely, since we’d never gone through a home study (required set of paper work and interviews before any adoption can go through) or filled out an application at their agency, she kept saying, “oh we can get to that later if this goes through”. Which was fine with me, I just wanted to get that baby. The case worker seemed really excited about us coming as she seemed to feel we'd be a great match for this couple.

Long four weeks short, the couple narrowed it down to two adoptive couples. Us and someone else. And they couldn’t make up their minds. They emailed us questions about what we like to eat, where we like to go out, what movies we like to watch, what kind of school we want our kids to go to, etc…it was ridiculous. They’d never met us, but just kept asking us more questions through email. A lot of questions I noticed centered around our spirituality. Which was hard for me. I had pictures of a baptism at our church in our album and a page about our children's ministry. It's who we are - but it occurred to me that another girl who doesn't know Jesus or hated the spirituality in her family upbringing would be really turned off by it.

The agency didn’t seem to know what to do and just kept letting the couple email questions. Twice it came down to the day they were supposed to make a decision…and we’d get a call hours later than the agency said they’d call, saying the couple still wasn’t sure whom to choose. Finally the birth mother was due…the adoption agency made plans to take the baby home with one of their staff until the couple could make up their mind. And again we were given a date and time of when she’d decide for sure. The call never came.

We had everyone waiting to hear if we were going to go get our baby (which I hadn’t even started preparing mentally or physically for one). Hours and days to run out and buy a car seat and prepare a nursery. And they never called. I called their office and asked for the caseworker but they said, “She’s gone for the day”. I was floored and yelled and said “We are waiting to hear whether or not the birth parents chose us today or not – can you put me through to her cell?!!!” They just put me to her voice mail. I didn’t hear from our caseworker until 2pm the next day! Who does that? We of course did not get chosen, nor did we choose to go through that agency for adoption. I remember I was in the mall when the caseworker finally called and informed me that the couple had chosen someone else. I was buying a dress for a wedding I was to sing in the next day (the first wedding I’d ever sang in so I was nervous, what timing!). After I hung up I felt like someone punched me. I was thrown. Way thrown.

I could almost hear the cheers and joy of the couple that got the good call in my head. And how excited they were to rush out and pick out baby clothes and diapers. And yet there I was standing in a dressing room in a mall all by myself feeling quite alone and foolish. How can you be that close to being a mommy and yet look in the mirror and see a non-pregnant dressed up version of yourself whom looks and feels nothing like a mommy all in one moment? The Nordstrom gals sold me jewelry and all kinds of unnecessary stuff to go with my dress and I didn’t care. I just needed to get out of the building. I was on the phone with a friend after the call came…and trying to make it to the doors and I told my friend “I don’t think I’m going to make it”...and I remember busting through the doors just in time to let out the loudest sob and I threw my bags down and sprawled on the sidewalk of the parking garage! What in the world??????? I am not normally that dramatic. I could not believe how devastated I was.

Losing babies due to miscarriage was hell. But being rejected from trying to adopt is like…well…ultimate rejection. I told my friends “Not only can I not make a baby; I can’t even get someone to choose me to take their baby!” The rejection was almost unbearable. All the feelings of being a failure, hating my body, and wishing I was more of a blessing to my husband returned. It’s interesting as a woman how I never once thought we got rejected over any personality, career or physical flaw of Kevin’s. I always assumed it was me that was the reason we weren’t getting a baby. Oh the journey of faith is so long!

But the darkest days were over. We had already decided despair would not reign here. The decision to get up and walk had been made. And so I established a theme in my life, which was that no matter how hard the stuff that life could throw at me came, I would stand faithful and proclaim to God “Is that all you got?” You know, like the scene in Forest Gump where Lieutenant Dan is on the top of the mast of the boat out in the storm on the sea – yelling at God. Arms flailing, chest heaving, tears uncontrollable. He is in the process of accepting his lot in life and even goes so far as to ask if there isn’t more difficultly awaiting! It is the life of faith that seems to be calling out of the pages of scripture and out of the lives of Christ followers that I respect the most. Faith, joy and love for others no matter what the pain and hardship in your own life. Being about something bigger than my own personal drama. A bigger story - please God remind me of your bigger story.

One of the best displays of friendship happened on that day I got rejected though. My friend, Aminta, called me to see what the news was and when she heard my voice she told me to get off the road, as I was too emotional to drive. She picked the closest house to my location for me to get to and then all my friends just came, in the middle of the day, to be with me. I cried and told the story, and we ended up trying on dresses and laughing, and they bought me a milk shake. ☺ I don’t know what I would’ve done that day without my friends coming around me. I was so hurt. I needed to know someone cared about me and that I was allowed to feel what I was feeling.

Another pregnancy and miscarriage later (again, over a year later) we found ourselves at the door of Catholic Charities. Kevin took over decision making from here on out. I was a wreck. I felt that if we were going to adopt I wanted to want that option the most and think it the best. But I didn’t. I still dreamt of a little baby that looked like Kev and I. I wonder what she’d look like, or how tall he’d be. I’ve dreamt for years with tears about the moment at the hospital when I hold my baby for the first time and our pastor comes to bless it and Kev and I gaze at each other and kiss. It’s what I want. I can’t imagine topping a little life that is the ultimate union of Kevin and I as one. I cannot imagine….

Catholic charities allowed us to go through our home study w/o having to sign anything promising that we’d go through their agency (all the agencies seemed to do that…make you pledge to only use their agency). We just weren’t ready to go through an agency, been too burned. So we started hearing of people at church who knew someone that wanted to give us their baby…all of them were dead end trails…but we were just keeping our options open hoping to avoid going through another agency.

One Sunday, after our Christmas service, a friend came up to me and told me that one of our drug rehab moms (who had been attending our church) recently had a baby and decided she couldn’t raise him. And that she wanted to talk to me about adopting him. So there I was in the middle of running our children and family ministry on a Sunday, and I walk over to this woman who is holding her baby and she holds him out to me, as if he were an offering. I took the baby in my arms and she watched me hold him and told me she thought I’d make a great mother. She told me his name and all about him. And I just stood there staring into this babies face wondering if he was going to be my son. It was so surreal!

Kevin and I did the work of calling her social worker to see about legalizing the adoption, and sure enough, as soon as the birth mother found out that we’d called she got cold feet and decided to raise him herself. She told me that on a Sunday, in the hallway with all kinds of people around. And I did my best to compose myself and gracefully tell her that was a great decision and that I knew she could do it. Even though I’d just spent the last week or two imaging that little guy was part of our life.

Another time a few months later, during one of my miscarriages, I got a call from someone in our church who knew of a 1 ½ year old girl that was living with a family in our church and they were looking for an immediate home for her. I was informed that apparently “everyone” was talking about us wondering why we weren’t offering to take her in. I was shocked. We’d never even heard about it, and I was thrown that everyone expected us to jump on it when we were in the middle of another miscarriage. Fortunately, I heard later that our pastor caught wind of that one and interceded for us (hence the reason we didn't know about it). He went out and met with the family and informed them that the last thing we needed was an unsure thing right now (she was not free to adopt yet, the birth father hadn’t signed off and didn’t intend to) with a child that had a rough upbringing already. It was awkward though seeing the faces pass on Sundays and the comments we’d here of people not understanding why we wouldn’t take the first child that was available to us since we wanted to be parents so badly. It was confusing.

So we went to an infertility specialist during this time of trying to figure out how to have a child. The infertility specialist put us through a myriad of tests, and found…that there was nothing wrong with us. They could find no reason why we couldn’t carry a baby to at least mostly term (due to my 2 uteruses) or why we weren't getting pregnant in a timely manner (it took a year everytime for me to get pregnant). It was relieving and also extremely confusing. What were we supposed to do with that info?

The specialist gave us a date that if we didn’t get pregnant again…to come back…and do In Vitro. He felt that something must be wrong with our genes or my eggs if we weren't getting pregnant, and the only way he'd know is to get in there and do In Vitro.

I can’t really describe why we didn’t do that. I wonder now whether we’ll go back and try that sometime in the future. I remember feeling that we were going to spend a whole bunch of $ on something that had no guarantee of producing us a child, was very invasive, and on top of that…there was nothing wrong with us (at least that they could tell)! And of course then there was the trauma I had from childhood that made me detest having any more surgeries or procedures in my body. I still freak out when I have a pap smear nowadays. Every time they want to do a DNC after I miscarry I say “No more surgeries”. I just don’t want anything else messing with me up there. It seemed like maybe we just needed to wait and let God decide when our bodies would work and produce a baby. But…deciding that meant another year without becoming parents. A devastating thought. With no guarentee on that end either.

So…we decided to put the $ we would’ve spent there toward adoption. Both of our families had offered by this point to pay for the whole bill of an adoption anyway (it never occurred to us to ask). Catholic Charities had impressed us thus far, so we signed on with them. They were the only agency we’d come across that cared more for the birth mother making the best choice for her, than they were in fixing an infertile couple’s problem. They said they coach their girls from start to finish of their time with them (regardless of whether they’ve chosen a couple to adopt their baby or not) that if they want to keep their baby, they’ll help them do that. I respected that. It was honest. It was scary…but it was honoring. They also...just seemed to have their crap together. They had a system for how to get chosen, even in last minute situations. And they had lots and lots of birth mothers coming through, as well as adoptive families.

It seemed God was moving our hearts toward adoption. We knew we would get a baby through this option. It also helped me be OK with the decision because Kevin reminded me it wasn’t that we were choosing one or the other. He said we’d always be trying for a baby of our own. And if one came, then we’d be thrilled to have 2!!!! This helped me a TON. You know, keeping your options open - trying for both. That was way more palatable than choosing one or the other.

The other key thing that helped me decide to adopt was defining what parenting meant. When it came time to sign with catholic charities after we finished our home study…I was scared. I was paralyzed and couldn’t make a decision. I felt it was time to choose. Nothing else was an open door, I felt like adoption was upon me, and I was scared. So…we went over to our pastor’s house and they made us dinner and we sat around the summertime pool while I cried and told them how I was feeling. At the end of listening to me, Rick said “Do you know what you want more… a child of your own, or do you want to parent?”.

My answer came faster than I expected. I wanted to parent. I’ve always wanted to parent a child. I desperately wanted to be somebody’s mommy. I’ve been a teacher for years with lots of other kids and as I thought about taking one home…I realized that would be fine!! I just wanted to parent! But even though I knew I wanted to parent a child…I still couldn’t decide to go adopt. It was too scary, too unknown. So Rick looked at us and said “Kevin, I think this is one of those times when you need to decide what is best for your family, are you OK with that Karen?” And I was. I was relieved.

Tons of pressure and turmoil came rolling off of me as Kevin took the wheel from there on out. I just needed someone to make the decision. For most of my friends, God makes the decision when they “oops” get pregnant. For me there wasn’t going to be an “oops”, and I was so afraid of playing God by DECIDING how to get a child. So…Kevin decided. And we signed on with Catholic Charities and began the process of adoption. I made another album (the other one was outdated now and I wanted a new start) and birth mother letter. Again, hard to do this. It takes time and heart. It’s painful, but yet…heart warming to find why you really believe in who you are as a couple and why you want to be parents.

Then we entered the home study process. And everything…the interviews, the album making, the 8 references we had to ask people for, brought up some weird and hard emotions for me. Partly anger. I felt judged and that we had to have everything figured out and was outraged at the injustice of it all amidst clueless friends and young kids having “oops” babies that never thought once about what kind of school they wanted to send their child to, how do they want to discipline, how is their marriage relationship, what do they like to do for fun?

I also (as if all that wasn’t enough) had to decide what kind of child I wanted. I guess I just assumed one that looks like me. But that ended up feeling like an immature, uneducated viewpoint. We had to decide which races we would be willing to parent and that meant conversations with their staff about how to raise a child of another ethnicity. We had to decide if we were ok with a child of varying disabilities. Infant or older child? How much drugs or alcohol were we willing to have the parent taken? It took us 2 weeks to get back to catholic charities with our decision on these matters (which was a lot considering we were trying to roll through the home study process). We decided that any race would be fine (even though I was concerned about the effect our whiteness would have on our child...we agreed that we weren’t going to say NO to a child because it was of another ethnicity), we could not handle a severe disability as it was our first child…but a mild one would be fine as we wouldn’t know what we were getting if we had our own either. And Kevin really wanted an infant. Funny now all the time it took to make that decision and we ended up getting a healthy white baby boy whom people still tell us “he looks just like you guys!”. We laugh and say “I guess he does...but we actually adopted him…he looks more like his birth mother”. We LOVE seeing people’s faces after that. ☺

On the night before our home study interview (this is when a case worker comes to your house to see if it’s fit for a baby, and interviews you as a couple) we stayed up half the night - cleaning. Cleaning everything. I’m serious; we went nuts on our house. We were on some kind of adrenaline high until about 2am. I told friends it was the only thing I had control over. How my house looked and how I looked, everything else was up in the air!

Once we were through that stuff and officially in the “waiting pool” (a group of families waiting to get picked by a birth mother), it was easier…then we just waited, we didn’t have to do anything. We did have to go to one of the agencies orientations though (which are long and not so engaging) but one thing that we both agreed was fabulous was getting to meet some birth mothers and adoptive parents that actually had their baby. Wow. We were just in awe, reeled in, and intent on every word. Real people…that did it. How are they…Do they like it? How’s that baby doing? Does he miss his real mom?

And that’s where we learned all the appropriate terminology and the reason why it exists. We saw relationship between a birth mother and adoptive mother (mom) right before our eyes. And it was deep…and perhaps more beautiful (or just different beautiful) than any relationship I’d seen just with mother and child. I was sold. As scary…and I mean SCARY as it was to wait and hope for some young gal to choose us to parent her unborn baby…. I wanted to know what that relationship was like. I felt up to the task. It’s like the ultimate mentoring experience…except it’s way more beautiful than that…because she is giving me more than I could ever ever ever give her.

There really is nothing to do during the waiting time except wait. You just wait until the phone rings and you spend your whole day making your body as perfect as you could possibly know how when you get the call that someone wants to meet you. There’s nothing like sitting at a table with a young girl and her family across from you, as you’re getting interviewed for whether you are suitable enough for her to give you her child. It’s the most intense thing…way bigger than any other interview I’ve ever gone to. Suggestion: Convince husband NOT to have any meetings or anything after that interview. There’s no way to prepare for the grief of getting rejected. And there’s no way to even try to prepare for the ride and shock and thrill of getting chosen. I was alone for part of both of those phone calls. Not easy! Though...when you've been almost chosen as many times as we have, it's hard to take each meeting seriously. I've had to give grace to my man. This whole thing was hard on him too.

We ended up getting rejected for adoption one more time before we met Erin. The first girl that interviewed us at Catholic Charities didn’t choose us. Though the interview went great and we thought we nailed our answers and were just really comfortably us – they called us only 30 minutes after we left and asked me if I was sitting down. I was alone in my office at the time. The caseworker let me know that the girl had chosen another family. She said she chose another family that she felt more compassion for, as they were apparently “considerably” older than us. I hung up feeling breathless and kind of hopeless. I remember crying into my friend Beth’s arms at the office telling her I was never going to be a mommy. I tell you, I’ve sure had enough of the “ideal” terminology from adoption agencies. Sure didn’t serve us well, apparently we were not that ideal after all! Well…until we met Erin.

Erin is my dream birth mother. I love high school girls, and have been involved in high school ministry with Kevin for years. So I really hoped for a young girl to know and go through life with. The night we met Erin and her family her eyes twinkled and it was just a magical connection. You could tell she loved us. We were her dream, and she was mine.

Catholic Charities called me twice to confirm that we were coming to meet Erin on the planned night and also making sure I was excited to meet her. That made me mad and I felt really protective of my heart. The case worker actually said "she is SO excited to meet you". Really? I tucked that info away somewhere in my heart - it just seemed weird after what happened the last time.

Our interview with her and her entire family and the birth father was long. There were 6 people looking at us to answer all kinds of questions about us, our life, how we would discipline a child, etc. But something was different this time. When they walked into Catholic Charities conference room Erin’s mom hugged Kevin and said “I know YOU...Kevin!” Kevin looked at me confused as if to say “have I met her?” and I glanced back with the look of “not that I know of!” And Erin’s eyes danced and she said, “Yeah, we saw you. We came to your church and watched you”. What!!???? They CAME TO OUR CHURCH?? Tingles came over me. The place where our closest friends are and our faith community. Both Kevin and I are pastors at our church so it makes sense that they would want to see where that was and observe that it wasn’t crazy or anything. And…they said they loved it, loved us. They didn’t think we were over spiritual, they loved who we were. Could this be real?

I wanted to believe Erin’s eyes as we finished the almost 2 hours of interview – but I thought the last girls’ eyes said the same thing and I was being protective. We finished the interview and it was almost hard to leave because it felt like we had already started a relationship. Within just 20 minutes of us leaving the Catholic Charities office that night though - they called us. The caseworker didn't ask if I was sitting down this time. Instead she asked if Kevin was with me. And that’s when I knew it would be the call that would forever change my life.

The night Erin chose us was if not THE happiest, one of the top happiest moments of my life. I screamed and cried and yelled in joy for I think 4-5 hours. My voice was hoarse afterward, my body exhausted. I couldn’t eat, sleep, or sit the whole time. I just jumped, walked, ran, and screamed some more! I will NEVER forget the sound of Erin’s voice on the phone that night from catholic charities. The case worker just told me "Erin would like to talk to you". And then I heard her voice... “Karen? Hi it’s Erin. I want you to be the mother of my baby.” Even now…I’m just sitting here crying!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I remember I just fell on the floor and bawled on the phone. Totally freaked Erin out! Kevin didn’t know what to do with me; he just kept rubbing my back. It’s like years of disappointment and emotion and grief and hopes…all coming to head…to a release…at these 16yr old girls words. And THAT…is the beginning of the beauty I spoke of before about adoption. NONE of my big family fertile friends have had that experience. They all watched as Kevin and I walked through the unknown door of adoption that none of us knew what would be on the other side. People are fascinated to watch us go through this … and see it be so tender and beautiful on the other end. It’s insanely hard to be one to have to walk through the door. Sometimes I think I'd rather watch someone else and I know for sure I'd love to be fertile and have babies easily. It’s very very scary, and lonely. But it’s also THE MOST AMAZING FEELING in the world to have a 16-year-old girl tell you those words. And to build relationship with her thereafter.

The next day was a major downer. I know, who knew it could be like that? The rush of the choosing was over and reality set in. We were having a baby in 3 months (ended up being 2 ½). Seriously affected my job and role at the church, our home life, my friendships, everything. Everything was now about baby. My life as I knew it the day before was over. It’s hard. Weird to say I know. It’s all I ever wanted was for it to be over and my new life with baby to begin…but it was so fast. For so many years I was in that perfect season of life to have a baby. I hadn’t been in any type of career or ministry that I was all that passionate about, and actually had been looking forward to being done with the jobs I was doing. But as the years tick by with infertility…so does life. I was now passionately involved in a ministry that God had called me to and passing it off was a lot of work in a short amount of time. And registering for baby stuff and engaging with that reality - was suprisingly impossible. I was really confused at how I was reacting.

I was in my pastor’s office that next day working out maternity leave details and restructure of my ministry for my upcoming absence. Kev and I couldn’t talk to each other. We didn’t even know where to start. Our pastor had to remind us that this was a HAPPY time. I think I cried off and on all day. It’s like you wait so long, and you finally get chosen and then all of a sudden…your life is changing forever…really really soon. Adoption is so much faster than pregnancy. Once you find out…it’s go time. Most women have about 3 months just to get used to the idea before they start showing or even need to think of maternity leaves, shopping for baby stuff, etc. I had like 2 days. It’s really hard to change course that fast…and really…the thing that we finally realized was making it hard is that … it’s risky. There was no guarantee that Erin wouldn’t change her mind. All that celebrating the night before and it felt like a miscarriage all over again every time the phone didn’t ring. My office decorated in baby stuff, the phone calls, the cards - made me nervous. I mean I was so so thankful for the celebration, all of that was long time coming and what I'd hoped for. But, I was worried...what if this isn't real? She just SAID she wanted me to be the mother of her baby. That doesn't mean she will really DO it! Right?

The days waiting for that first call from Erin to pick a time to meet up to get to know us were agonizing. I remember I was in the mall with my mom (why do all my adoption gnarly calls happen in the mall?) and she was trying to buy me a purse. She got sidetracked and ended up buying me a $200 Kate Spade diaper bag. I froze and couldn’t make decisions. I didn’t know what kind of bag I wanted…I didn’t know anything, because IT WASN’T REAL. I couldn’t explain this enough to people. It wasn’t really real…there was hope. I big big chance at hope, but it wasn’t real until that baby was home in my arms and papers signed.

So that 2 ½ months were hard for me in a whole new way. I had to act excited and say thank you when people congratulated me, and go shopping for stuff, and set up a nursery, and think of what to name him, and pass off my job to some other young gal to run the ministry…all the while wondering if Erin was going to change her mind. But I will tell you. Every single time I talked to Erin on the phone, or saw her, or emailed her…I was at peace. I was OK, I was fine. And I’d live off that rush for a few days and then I’d freak out again.

Being with Erin was the only thing that made anything real. I had to restructure my time to spend more time with her. I just couldn’t afford NOT to. I needed that connection, I needed to know her. I felt the more I knew her the more I knew the baby. I got to pray over him and her one-day at her house. She let me touch her pregnant belly and I just prayed over them both (time stood still that day, that moment). I journaled several times TO the baby. That was very very hard. I was sooooooo afraid of getting disappointed. This was way worse than any of my pregnancies because I HAD to engage and plan and journal. With my pregnancies I just pretended it wasn’t real until it wasn’t. But with this…Erin needed me to engage. I couldn’t believe how hard that was. She was so eager to see me be excited! She wanted to SEE the nursery, see the albums, the journals, and the fabric I’d chosen, and hear about the name choices. Everything. It made it real for her I think. What a delicate delicate dance it was. We both had to risk our hearts…to believe in the other. Both hoping not to get let down. It’s an amazing bond…and an incredible tension.

One day when Erin and I were hanging out at her house she told me the story of how she chose us. She thought she had told me before and I said "No, I never knew why". She told me about when she first got pregnant and how sad and confused she was. She knew she didn't want to abort but also knew she couldn't raise him. She and her mom talked about who she would want to parent her baby. And she told her mom about a boy that they knew at the church they grew up in. He was this great kid who was full of character and people just loved him and he was turning into a man she really respected. Her mom told her that if she wanted her baby to be like that she was going to need to choose a pastor.

She also told me about when the agency gave her a stack of 20 albums to look at when she first came to them. She said ours was on top and the first one she looked at. She read it cover to cover and fell in love with us immediately. She told her Mom, Dad & brother, "This is my family". They dismissed her and told her to read the other albums that it was just the first one. But she said when she finished all the other albums we were still by far the only family she wanted. They asked her to choose one more family to interview just to be sure. But the whole time she said she knew we were it. She said she even talked to Ben (our birth father) after our interview and told him "Please please Ben, choose them!". And then apparently kept bugging Catholic Charities to meet us now so she could choose us. But they insisted on her waiting until she was 6 months pregnant as was their policy. Wow! I loved her stories and felt chills come over me as I realized, maybe this was real after all. Maybe God had been bringing us together for quite awhile.

The ultrasound came next and we were invited to come. That was pretty tough for me too. All those ultrasounds of dying babies I’d seen…only now to sit with a teenager and her entire family looking at this healthy big baby and everyone looking to us to see how excited we were. Ultrasounds aren’t fun for me. They bring back terrible memories and hurt. And looking at this baby I felt I was expected to feel something. And beyond that…I knew I needed to feel something just for my own health. I knew I had to engage so that I could know this baby better…but it was so hard! So I watched. I watched him move in her womb and see his long hair move to and fro. I saw his hand reach out and touch his face. I just watched him.

Erin gave us the pictures to take home and I had them on my refrigerator just like a regular mommy and that was so helpful. The Baston’s (Erin’s family) are so gracious. Absolutely every step of the way they were so thoughtful. How did I get that lucky I’d wonder? And then I’d just feel God’s hand over me as if to say, “Hush. This is all my promise to you being played out moment by moment”. There hasn’t been one glitch with Erin or her family ever. They are like the gift before the gift. Or I guess they are just part of the package of Braden. Part of the gift. They bless us all of the time…over and over. Even now.

Then came the baby shower. And this was another opportunity for the beauty of adoption to show through. I knew I couldn’t go to the shower without Erin. I so hoped it wouldn’t weird her out to come. It occurred to me that it might…and I knew I was going to have to understand. But I hoped and hoped that she’d want to come. And really…I wanted Louise (her mom) and everyone they knew to come. But I knew this wasn’t fair or realistic…but it’s what I hoped for. I was noticing my heart change. And this is again where adoption is just BOTH. I was partly bummed at the unfairness that I couldn’t enjoy my OWN shower for ME. As every other friend I have has had. And yet, the bigger feeling I had was that of course Erin needed to be there. It was OUR shower. Everyone in their lives…and everyone in mine. This baby was to be welcomed in style jointly. And I loved that. I loved that I believed that and that I wanted that more than I wanted my own fan fare. It wasn’t about me anymore. Perhaps it was about God getting glory and Him blessing the life giver of this baby and I in the midst.

And suddenly…it occurred to me that this baby was growing in anticipation amongst us all. I wasn’t being handed a 2nd choice, a infertile couple’s hand me down, another woman’s reject…I was about to receive a mighty gift that everyone was waiting to see who he would be. It gave me chills. Those last few weeks before he came; I realized it was a bit like Mary (just a bit mind you). She knew she was about to have a mighty savior. I knew I was about to be given a mighty man. The shower was a celebration of 2 women who had been through a lot of pain, who now had found hope in each other. And it was about this baby…this unknown baby that through just the craziness of circumstances was getting a TON of attention and anticipation. 2 women who had been through so much…were about to be surprised by the beauty of relationship and healing they found in each other…and an incredible gift given just to prove to the world that they weren’t forgotten or rejected.

I loved that day. I cried after opening each and every gift. It was ridiculous and even embarrassing. But I just was so overwhelmed that I was going to have a baby to play with and dress and lotion. Each gift represented care and love for us and made me imagine this little guy using the stuff. Erin was right there with him in her belly through it all. And all my community was blessing her and loving her with flowers and cards and words and hugs (as I opened presents, my friends were lavishing her with cards and flowers!). And that my mom and her best friend, and Louise and Louise’s best friend were sitting at the same table. And Erin and I were holding hands through it all. And my mom and Erin’s mom were holding hands through it all. It was the most emooooootional day!!!!!!!!!!!!

At the end of the shower Erin gave me a letter she had written to me. It was her gift to me. Of course she had bought the cutest stuff for the baby too - but this, she passed across the table and looked at me like she did the first night I met her. In this letter it describes to me what she is doing and why and how she feels and how she believes I am the best person to raise her baby. That she is so excited for me and can't wait to give him to me. If you are ever at my house to look at Braden's baby album you can read this letter as it is very well preserved there. This letter was her heart and the maturity beyond her years that it showed was...breathtaking. Erin is an amazing woman. I don't know anyone like her.

The rest was just preparation and waiting. Deciding on the nursery theme and the car seat and the positioning of the rocker in his room. Each decision was important to me and each one needed to be decided soon. And suddenly, as if the waiting were only a second - the day was upon us. Thank you Jesus for a cesarean date! It wasn’t ideal for a lot of other things, but boy was it nice for my planning personality. I needed a firm date! ☺ And I got one.

Kevin and I left our house at 6am and the place was spotless. The baby’s room perfect. We didn’t say a word the entire hour to Salem. There just wasn’t anything to say. We listened to my favorite bands’ (Over the Rhine) new album the whole way down which is ironically a love album about their marriage. It was a hard drive. I don’t think I moved an inch in my seat I was so tense. I was also perfectly dressed. This seemed just a bit crazy as I knew I’d be the only woman I know holding my baby for the first time dressed to the tee with make up on! But hey…I had an entire family to convince that I was ready for motherhood…was I supposed to come in sweats, no make up and my hair in a scrunchee???? I don’t THINK so!

When we arrived at the hospital we were quickly ushered into the surgery prep room that Erin and her family were in. We all hugged and Erin and I held hands. She looked brave, and a little scared. The nurse came in and said it was time and they all just seemed to kick into adrenaline mode. Erin’s brother kept telling her she was going to do great and not to worry and her mom was giving her last minute advice and talking her through it. And there Kevin and I stood. Awkward and ready and weird.

They wheeled Erin down to the surgery room and had Kevin and I put on hospital gowns and caps and masks as were about to enter into the surgical area as soon as the baby was born. All of us were taken to a private waiting room area that was right next to the operating room. We were waiting while they prepped Erin and took the baby out. It was crazy movie-like drama. Was this even happening? Erin's best friend and her mom were there. All of Erin’s family. Everyone excited, and nervous.

Watching Les (Erin’s dad) and Louise worry over their daughter as she had the spinal injection before the surgery was painful. They were crying and holding each other. I was so torn between the love I had for their family and their story…and my own excitement over seeing our baby for the first time. They were crying about their baby, I was anticipating mine. I’ve never had to wear 2 hats that were so completely different! The whole hour before Braden was born was just hard. I guess the sense that it wasn’t really my feelings that mattered. It was theirs. And I realized that it was the beginning of a very difficult and long weekend for me. This was their weekend…just a small part ours.

Finally the moment came as all moments do…it’s so surreal. I don’t know if I can ever fully process it. A nurse came and got Kevin and I (while the whole family watched us) and said, “Would you like to meet your baby?” I was so nervous. I was about to meet MY BABY for the first time – how do you get ready for that? If I were pushing and screaming maybe it would be a little more of a reality check! But nope, I’m all dressed up and anxious as anything.

Suddenly we’re walking down a hallway and Kevin said “I can hear him” (the baby was crying) and the nurse said, “If you look through the window you’ll see him….” And Kevin and I looked at each other, and suddenly it’s like we know each other again (we still hadn’t talked since the car ride!). And then we gave each other a look that was just like “I do” (as at our wedding) and we looked through the window. God the strength that has to occur through it all! Oh wow!!!!!!!!!!!!! There he was. I heard him before I even looked in the window. He was crying. He sounded healthy. And as soon as I saw him I went numb.

Kevin was all chatty and pointing out all the things about him and I think I was too…but I FELT numb. I couldn’t believe it…I was like “c’mon…once in a lifetime moment here…kick in!” So I breathed. And focused. And felt peace. And then I just started going through the motions of caring for an infant in a motherly sort of way. It was for sure the “fake it till you mean it” type of way though. For sure. I knew I knew what to do…experientially (w/ other infants), educationally, and I suppose instinctively. So I did that. But I did NOT know how to be a mommy. I put my trembling cold hand on his warm chest (and we have the picture of the moment) and I just wanted to calm him and tell him that I was there…but I had to hold back. There were nurses fussing over him everywhere…and I felt watched and I knew and they knew he wasn’t mine till we left the hospital.

So I had to do this weird in-between care for him. Like hey I’m caring for you, but oh isn’t Erin nice too. I remember feeling very much like it still wasn’t real. Like I still had to fake even this...even this amazing precious moment…wasn’t really mine. It was just partially mine, until the day came when we signed and took him home. That’s a major bummer about adoption. And a major thing I covet over other friend’s normal births. That moment is theirs forever and it’s their baby. They know it from first glance. Well…they know it from first kick…from first good ultrasound. But here I was all dressed up and had to fake all the tenderness that I so desperately wanted to poor out on this little guy…or is fake even the right word? I think rather I was HOLDING BACK. I couldn’t truly feel or display my feelings. And I had so much I wanted to say.

That is another example of the hard part about adoption. I won’t get that back. Those first 3 days in the hospital were not mine. Braden was not ours until we walked out of that hospital room that last day and put him in our car. So all my doting, my feelings, my love…had to wait. And I wish that didn’t have to have been that way. But it is adoption. It is not giving birth to your own. Oh no, there’s really very few comparison’s. I’ve spent many weekends in hospitals with friends who have babies…and this was NOTHING like it.

The best moment of that weekend for us was the ½ hour after his birth. They swaddled him up and took us across the hall to an empty waiting area that the lights were turned out in. There was no one there and it was quiet. Just a nurse to check in on us. But she was so gracious...she really just left us alone. She even took pictures of us of those first moments with our little baby and I will always treasure those pictures! We just didn’t get the usual stuff people get you know? All our family was in a waiting room somewhere...we were lucky enough to even get to be there so fast after his birth. It was just a sweet time. We held him and I still marvel at the pictures as I was glowing and grinning. I remember only feeling numb. I just stared and stared at him. And Kevin and I tried to land on a name…and it finally came. And we called him his name. Braden Andrew Rogers. Andrew is Kevin’s middle name. And it’s just the craziest thing!

The nurse gave me a bottle and I brought it to his lips and did the thing I knew to do to help him know to suck…and he just opened his little tiny mouth and started doing the sucking motion!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And just stared at me. He sucked the whole bottle down! It was the most amazing thing. And I remember thinking…wow…THAT didn’t get stolen. I was so worried and sad about not being able to breastfeed. Because I knew how good it is for babies and for bonding. And yet there I was, and we were having THE most intimate moment. He just stared at me, locked eyes on my face and sucked away. And Kevin kept saying hello to him and calling him his name. It was one of the happiest moments of our life.

It was then time to go show him to Erin and the families. Erin was in recovery now and starting to wake up more. This new named baby in my arms (actually they made us put him in the rolling nursery case as a hospital rule we couldn’t carry him in motion) we were already onto the introductions, social time and pictures. It would be crazy from here on out and we knew it. As we entered the room where everyone was we gave each other a look that was just like the look Kevin gave me 3 days before our wedding when all the families arrived in town. I remember he told me that night…”Karen, this is the last time we’ll be alone before the wedding. I just want to make sure you know that and that I love you.” The look was the same as we entered the room. And sure enough, we were not alone again for 3 more days.

As soon as we came in all kinds of feelings and insecurities flooded me. I thought, “this is so unfair, most people get to ___(fill in the blank)”. And I had those thoughts about every 5 minutes for the entire rest of the weekend. There just was nothing about anything that happened after that which could be compared to what most people experience after the birth of a baby. I worried that my parents thought he was ugly. Because I wasn’t sure I thought he wasn’t yet. I felt nothing about him. So I didn’t know if he was cute or ugly. I was so scared to see what my family thought of him. And when they delighted over him I thought they were faking it. I thought there was no way they’d feel for him what they feel for their “real” grandson (which my sister was holding right there in front on everyone…just 11 days older than Braden).

And when I showed Erin the baby from that moment on I worried the whole weekend that she’d change her mind. And I didn’t blame her. I felt a little weird about being the primary caretaker of him. I had this serious sense that Braden would rather be with her. Want to smell her smell, want to hear her voice. I’m a child development major for crying out loud I KNOW what babies want! But this is where God’s grace and the Baston’s grace showed up again. There is no explanation as to why Braden never once that entire weekend moved toward Erin. Never turned toward her voice. Didn’t seem to prefer her one way or the other when she held him, slept with him, snuggled him. And believe me I was watching. I watched for any sign I could find that he wanted her…I was ready to give him up to her. Even as I was forming my own attachments to him and knew it might kill me. I knew he was straight from her and if she wanted him, he was hers.

It was this horribly awkward dance Erin and I had all weekend. Of me just waiting to give her the baby at any moment, and her insisting that he wanted his “Mom” as she called me. It took me like 5 times of her saying that till I could get over my shock. His “Mom”???? Is HER! But she was adamant…that I was his Mom. She told all the nurses that I was his Mom, she wouldn’t take him for the first day, didn’t even look at him much. This graciousness, whether intentional or not (which I am now convinced was her dealing with many of her own emotions and trying to get through this experience), ended up being super helpful to me. It freed me up to try the Mom thing out. So I talked to him in my heart. Since I couldn’t out loud. I talked to him all weekend long in my heart and told him things while I looked at him and touched him. Sigh……………………..

That afternoon my friend Michelle came down from Portland to see us, mostly to see me, we’d told all our friends this was not our weekend and to please wait till we came home. But I told her if she was coming to see ME that would be OK. So she took me to the cafeteria (just one minute of introducing her in the room with everyone was awkward, I felt like I was intruding on sacred time by bringing our world there). I left Braden to be passed around some more, and it was the only time I got to process anything. I’m so grateful for that time. It was just less than an hour…but it was so helpful. She mentioned a couple times how cute he was and I leaned over the table and said in a quiet voice, “Do you really think so? I don’t feel anything; I think he might be ugly”. And she just laughed and got very serious and told me that he was probably the cutest baby she’d ever seen (she still tells me that…and we see a lot of babies!). I was just shocked. And pleasantly so. Relieved even! Wow!!!! He’s cute?????

From that moment on, I allowed myself to fall in love with him. I smelled him on my hands…I smelled his smell. I felt him in my arms (my arm already hurt from holding him all day…and for 2 weeks after I would soon find out!). I heard his breathing, his sounds…and I MISSED him. I wanted to go back up there and be with him. In fact, I cut our time short and said “I need to go be with him”. Oh…what a wonderful feeling. I realized that in those short hours I WAS bonding with him, I was falling in love with him, I WAS getting to know him. What a relief and joy. Not all is stolen with adoption. It’s just both. At all times during the beginning. It’s both tender and terrible.

That night Erin wanted to hold the baby really for the first time seriously while we all watched a movie. The room was full; she had a couple of her high school friends there. Her mom and dad, their best friends, and us. I was tired I’m sure, but I melted down. I excused myself (which I think freaked everyone out) and called my Mom and bawled in my room (the hospital gave us a room but we couldn’t have the baby alone in it) with her. The clock was ticking on where the baby would spend the night and I was a wreck. We had agreed that Braden would spend the night in the nursery (which was already hard for me, but I knew that I could at least have them wake me to feed him every few hours), but now it was past 11pm and I wondered if she was going to want to sleep with him. And it just broke my heart at the thought of it. And was killing me that I was SO torn between wanting him and knowing that he still might not be mine. Its just sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo hard! The strength required is just unbelievable. But it comes.

I hung up with my mom. Wiped my eyes, took a breath, and got grounded again. I rejoined the group. By the time I got back they had bought me dinner (which I realized then that I hadn’t eaten in hours and was starving…the hospital of course regularly made sure Erin was with meals.) And they let Kev and I take the baby to the nursery. He felt more like ours then…it was pretty sweet. But horrible leaving him after I’d been with him all day. He even looked at me when I left like “where are you going?” Ugh. It was sad! They called to wake me up every 2 hours or less. I got hardly any sleep. Especially because after I’d come back from feeding him I’d just think of him for an hour instead of sleeping. I loved feeding him that first night in the middle of the night though…even though I was wasted. I don't think I'll ever forget those moments with him.

I think it was the 2am feeding that really struck me. Wow. He just was so bright eyed and just checked me out, and it was like he recognized me. Like “There you are…I missed you, I’m hungry…I wanted to see you.” Wow. It was something. The bonding was certainly in full swing. I honestly never felt I missed out on any bonding despite the difficult circumstances of the hospital. The Baston’s just allowed me so much time and care of the baby. I can never thank them enough. At 6am I was feeding Braden in the nursery again and I heard Erin’s voice, “We’re here to see Braden Rogers”. I was delighted to see her already walking and she looked great. It was great to see she and her Mom and I surprised myself as I immediately got up and gave them Braden and told them I was going to sleep. Of course I was beyond exhausted, but I noticed this was the beginning of me realizing I trusted them and I wanted them to be with Braden as much as they wanted to.

The next day was long. I just wanted to go home with him. Both Kev and I did. But it was really the celebration day for Erin and the family. EVERYONE they knew came to visit. At one point we had 25 people in or around the room, and a constant flow all day. And then my family came back again (and I kind of wished they hadn’t…it was just awkward…it wasn’t our day. Which made me feel terrible for my parents, even though I knew our time was coming.). It became so clear to me that day that this was it for the Baston’s. They got 3 days in the hospital and then it was all over. Again, the 2-hat thing was hard for me. I empathized so much with them and wanted them to fully have Braden and soak it all up. But I also was exhausted and missed Kevin and wanted to go home and play with Braden and I missed my community (none of them had even met him yet!). Very long weekend.

The coolest thing happened that night though. Erin was bummed that I missed the baby so much the night before so she let me sleep on the couch in her room with Braden!!!!! Braden slept 5 hours straight that night all snuggled up next to me. ☺ ☺ ☺ It was heaven. And it felt good to be with Erin so we could experience it together. At some point late in the night though she really was going through some emotions and she and her Mom got in a fight. Her Dad helped calm her down and so did her Mom's best friend. The whole thing was so hard on them, something I am only now really able to engage with. I'm sure Erin and her family have an entire story of their own to write about THEIR experience in the hospital and afterwards. But I watched and absorbed what I could, and what I saw was a lot of love, sacrifice, joy and some pain.

The next day was leaving day. Catholic Charities showed up sometime that morning with the paperwork and to talk with Erin one last time about whether or not she wanted to keep the baby. We all knew it was coming and no one seemed nervous or even gave it much thought. Except for me. I didn't even realize I was worried about it until they came and they wanted Erin to hold the baby. And then they asked Kevin and I to leave the room so they could talk with Erin and her family. I put him in her arms all dressed up in the outfit my Mom had bought for him (that matched his newborn cousin's recieving outfit). They shut the door and after all we'd been through and my baby bag sitting in the room with his feeding schedule next to it and me looking at the clock timing his next feeding, diaper change and care - suddenly it's Kevin and I in a waiting area wondering if he's really going to be our son again.

The waiting was short, they came out only 5 minutes later with the good news that all is as we thought and we would be taking Braden home today. He was going to be ours! I signed the documents and I remember thinking as I read the writing about taking full responsibility of this child, that I was signing on to be a Mommy. It was actually a really wonderful and weighty feeling. As I signed my "K" and the rest of my name followed I thought - Yes, yes I sign on the dotted line to the world that I will care for this baby in full responsibility of motherhood. Welcome to motherhood.

The leaving the hospital was the most heart wrenching part of our adoption I think. I remember at the orientation and in reading the book, The Spirit of Open Adoption, they talked about coming face to face with the grief of adoption being the thing that really makes an open adoption successful. You really have to live it to understand it. I didn't get it at all before - reading it was just awareness. The reality of coming face to face with their grief was entirely different. Wow. I will never doubt how much she and her family love Braden. And if he ever ever ever questions that with me…I will gladly get teary eyed and show him the pictures and have him read the letter I wrote her, and the letter she wrote me and gave me at the shower, there’s just no question of love. It was an unbelievably hard thing for her to do. For them to do.

Before going to the hospital I had decided I wanted to write Erin a letter and give her a gift before we left with the baby. I stressed for days trying to think of the perfect gift. There just isn’t one. How are you supposed to appropriately THANK the woman who gave you your first child? That was the hardest letter I’ve ever written…and the most sentimental gift I’ve ever bought. And we were now down to the hour that I would give it to her. Would I know when the right moment would be? I was getting nervous.

Anyway, the time came when the nurse snipped the bracelets off of Braden and Erin (thank you Jesus that she got to home at the same time, I can’t imagine her having to stay there w/o us and Braden, we had all slumber partied for 3 days together). And so I went and sat next to her and slowly pulled out the letter I wrote to her and the gift. I'm kind've a sap for moments OK? So this one overwhelmed us all and made me wonder for a few seconds whether I should've just secretly stuck the gift in her bag or something and not made such a thing of it. But you know...this happens only once. Only once will either of us or any of their family ever do this again. And goodbye's and acknowledgement of what has just went on here is important to me.

So, I went for the moment and managed to get everyone's attention and the room quieted just in the pause and my own tentativeness of offering my gift. Oh man…it was intense. EVERYONE was crying! The letter had the affect I had hoped, but it was difficult to watch her read it and for her to stomach each paragraph. I explained in this letter how grateful I was for our son and for her. And how we would always be here for her in years to come no matter what happened. And I shared about how we would share about her and her family with him joyfully all the days of his life.

She LOVED the gift! Oh, what a relief………. I was so nervous about it. She wears the necklace all the time. She wore it in her senior pictures even. It’s so special to us both. So we hugged and cried (there are pictures of us both with mascara running down our faces) for a long time. She kept looking at Braden so tenderly. That look, a moment in time we have captured on film. This soft, sad, loving, almost regretful look. She gave him to me and I held him while we cried some more. Kevin took Braden and she and I just held each other. There were no more words to say.

And then as if with no warning, Kevin strapped Braden into the carseat. This was such a bittersweet moment! It was our first time strapping him into the darn thing. We were so excited that it worked, that he fit, that it was REAL! But it was also saying goodbye to the most sacred weekend with the Baston’s.

At the last click you could’ve heard a pin drop in the room. Everyone stopped and just looked at each other. Ugh…it was just awful. I didn’t know what to do next. Kev was all packed up ready to go so I just looked at Louise like “help” and she said “You just better go; it’s not going to get any easier”. Man, I love that woman. She just says it like it is! So, we hugged everyone and they all kissed the baby, and we walked out. Very very slowly. As soon as we rounded the frame of the door I heard Erin cry again and her whole family collapsed on the bed with her to hold her. And I just sobbed all the way down the hallway, all the way down the elevator to the car. Just boo hooing. What else could I do?

I mean WOW. I’m free – right? I got the baby…they’re letting me have him. And for kickers…I even KNOW him…I got to spend 3 days with him and be the primary caretaker. I’m already in love with the little guy. And don’t get me wrong…I can’t wait to go home and start our life with him. But it hits me…I really get the open adoption deal. I don’t WANT to run anymore. I love them so much. I love Erin so much and my heart bleeds for her. I see her in every facial feature and personality trait of Braden. And I LOVE that I see her in him. I feel like I recognize him all the time...and I realize…oh its Erin I see in him. And that brings me such joy. ☺ So as we walked through the halls of the hospital leaving our friends and life givers of Braden upstairs I cried deeply and gasped for air.

We packed up in our car that day and the hospital staff approved of our car seat situation and left us…alone. A family. For the first time since the ½ hour after his birth. I wiped the tears from my eyes. We were a family. And yet my heart was broken and in love with the people upstairs. They weren’t just the people that gave me a baby. They were part of my family now. And always will be. They are just like extended family. I can’t wait for Braden to know all about them and whose traits he gets from whom. I think they are the best family we could have added to our lives, and I trust them. We’ve been through this much with them; I can’t imagine why I would fear anything else. The most vulnerable moments of both of our lives…we lived out in slumber party fashion in front of each other. We all know we can trust each other now. Braden is a lucky lucky little man for having such great roots in his life. I don’t imagine everyone has the same experience I have. But I sure thank God for caring for me in this way. We’ve trusted Him with all of this mess and He’s just turned it out so amazing. I not only have Braden now, but I have another family that is in my life and that is priceless.

The car ride home was fantastic! We grinned and talked the whole way home. We both made phone calls and left messages letting people know we were coming home with our baby and to meet us there! Kevin wanted play by play updates on how Braden was doing in his car seat and so I was in the back with him, playing with all the stuff in the diaper bag, and planning our first feeding at home in just 1 short hour. We played our music and this time it wasn't so somber and heart wrenching...it was joyful! That Over The Rhine album has become a rich part of our life with Braden over the years. As Karin Bergquist so compellingly sings: "I was born to laugh, gonna learn to laugh...through my tears. I was born to love, gonna learn to love..without fear." And so it goes.

The homecoming was as sweet as you can imagine. Before all our family and friends arrived I had time to feed Braden and show him his room. Oh I've waited my whole life for that moment! We showed him the pictures Kevin took at the San Diego zoo the week before he was born that hung on his wall. We showed him his crib and the great fabric that I spent forever choosing that my Mom and my friend, Shanti, helped me sew. We showed him his first stuffed animal, his frog. And then, I sat in the rocker to feed him!! It fit just as I'd hoped and I still can't believe that I got to experience that moment. A once in a lifetime thing for sure, and one that I'd dreamt of since I was a little girl. A baby in my arms who was mine - rocking him, rocking him, and singing.

Ben (Braden's birth father) was the first one to arrive. He looked so scared. He sat in the rocker with Braden for over an hour I think. Braden was so sweaty after he gave him back to me! I think the guy was so nervous to be staring into the face of the life he helped to create. I can't remember if he brought a friend with him or not that night, all I remember is that Ben never looked away from Braden's face. That must be an incredible thing for a 18 year old kid to look upon the face of a child you created.

Everyone flooded our house with flowers and greetings. It was perfect. My parents got to really hold Braden and spend some time with him. Our friends each held him and met him and we all just grinned and talked and laughed. Braden...was home. And then we closed the doors for a week and just enjoyed our little guy. We gave him his first bath, put on his new clothes, took him outside for the first time, introduced him to Kody (our dog) and I took a nap with he and Jasper (my cat) all snuggled close to me. The firsts of everything. How sweet it is.

Honestly, from homecoming on…I feel like it’s EXACTLY like any other woman who takes home a baby. Of course over the years I've come to realize it really isn't exactly like having a baby of your own. But it's close. It's parenting and that was the thing I've hoped for and dreamed for...well forever. The hardest part of adoption is the beginning; the waiting, and the whole hospital experience. But once that’s over…its just bliss. All of it. Every visit we’ve had with the Baston’s (and Ben and his family) has been great. We are always all glad to see each other and Braden absolutely loves having so many people that love him in his life.

During our blissful first 2 weeks of being home with Braden, we heard that Erin had her hardest 2 weeks ever. And it killed me. There was nothing I could do to help her or fix it. Her milk even came in. It was horrible. And Louise wouldn’t talk to me. And then I knew it was bad because Les was the one calling us. That was hard. Very hard. But at that point we had to separate ourselves and let them deal with their pain while we enjoyed our son. And I found that...a maturing experience. The truth was there wasn't anything I could do and her grieving was absolutely necessary for her health and heart. And yet, my watching bits of her going through that helped me to see again the sacrifice their family had made, the gift that was given to us, and the love that they have for Braden all over again. And that's important. But it was hard - all I wanted in the world was to soak up all my thousands of firsts with my new son, but adoption is about more than me. I think that's a good thing, but it hurts. And what hurts perhaps worse is the feeling that you received a gift that was more painful to give than anyone should have to bare.

We were so anxious to hook up with Erin again when she was ready. I was so sad at the thought that anything could mess up our relationship. And I didn’t want her to miss anything about how Braden was changing. But at the end of the 2 weeks she was OK again, and has been since. We had a great talk about it all when we hooked up and it was good to hear her heart. It’s different though, our relationship…it’ll never be as intimate as the hospital time. You just see the most intimate part of people’s lives there. It just never gets closer than that. But I think that’s just part of the weirdness of adoption. I really miss our relationship before the baby was born. But as with any birth, a baby changes everything. Now we have a new relationship and this one is less about us, and all about Braden. We'll see how our relationship grows and changes through the years.

It took only 6 hours for me to fall completely in love with Braden (probably would have been much less if there wasn’t 2 rooms full of people with us the entire time!) and I’ve never stopped sniffing his hair, kissing his cheeks, or gazing into his big brown eyes ever since. After years of grief, sadness and disappointment – I now have a little bubba to hold and play with and whom I am Mommy to. God loves to redeem broken things.

So as I said before, adoption is both painful and beautiful. It has overall been a good experience for me. But certainly is not a great option for the weak hearted. It takes a great amount of strength…but I believe strength comes. I had not enough on my own, many times on my knees crying out for help. God has always been there though and each time my head has lifted, peace dwelled and joy broke in. Against all odds.

Braden is so much a Roger’s now. He has really become our own even amidst the traits he has from his roots. In many ways he acts like us, talks like us, has the same expressions as us. Though in other ways, as he gets older, he is so much like Erin and Ben. But when he does something silly that reminds me so much of Erin, or someone points out that he looks like her…it honestly just makes me feel wonderful inside. And I can hear her voice all over again in my head saying “Hi Karen? Its Erin. I want you to be the mother of my baby.”