That Unforgettable Moment

We sit in the car driving east on I-94. Driving towards this little man, this child who would become a part of our family. Usually during the drive, I would read or chat with Josh or wonder if you would be awake when we arrived. Not this day. This day, I pray for you and for this woman who is on her way to court. This day, I think about the things in my life for which I am grateful, even before everything is said and done and official. This day, I hope and wait for one last phone call.

We pull up to the house at the same time as our case worker and your foster mom is at the door. She panics because she thinks the birth mom is supposed to visit before we arrive. To say goodbye to you. She doesn't want to see us, doesn't want to have to articulate how she is feeling about this day to us. I don't blame her. There had been a change of plans, though, which hasn't been communicated to your foster mom. She is sick and not coming. Part of my heart breaks for you- I so wanted to be able to tell you she saw you this once, that she came and held you and kissed you goodbye. I wanted that for your story.

We finally come inside and there you are. One hour away from knowing if this is going to happen or not.
There is an enormous pile of paperwork, our job to fill out while we waite for a call from the courthouse. We hold you for a bit but let your foster mom soak you in one last time while we sign. You did live with her for 6 weeks, after all. This is a hard day of goodbyes all around. You will miss each other.

After all is signed, our case worker leaves to go to the court house and get the news. It is just one more wait. The final one, we hope. We feed you and burp you and cuddle you. We chat with your foster mom and stare repeatedly at the phone, willing it to ring. Josh plays quietly in the corner, unsure totally on what it is we are waiting but knowing this is a huge day for our family.

And then that unforgettable moment. You ae in daddy's arms when the phone rings. I pick it up, hands shaking. Everyone in the room inhales.

The case worker on the other end. Everything went well, he is yours, congratulations. One crazy phone call. One big collective exhale.

I hang up the phone, tears streaming down my face. I turn to daddy and we hug and cry together, squishing you in between us. Your foster mom is laughing and crying and Josh keeps asking, "What? What? Why is everybody crying? Is he my brother now?"

"Yes, darling boy, he is your brother now. And always will be." We are a family.

It's safe now to exchange gifts and take pictures as we celebrate. Your foster mom gives us an amazing book, filled with pictures and milestones recorded during your time with her- we get to see our first pictures of you in the hospital. I can't wait to show it to you one day!

We change you into your clothes to bring you home and get a bottle ready for the drive. Then there is this surreal moment when we just stand around. Do we really just leave with you now? After all this?

Yes, yes we do.

We go home. Finally.