A Domestic Birth Story, Overwhelmed with Joy

Because this month is National Adoption Month I have asked some of my favorite bloggers to Guest Post here and tell their adoption stories. You all know my story; an international one. I thought you might want to hear from Foster Mothers, First Moms, Adoptees, and Moms who have adopted domestically. So, all month I will be bringing their stories to you.

Today we have our first Guest Post from Overwhelmed with Joy, a mother who adopted domestically. On her blog she calls him Snuggle Bug. You can also read about their foster daughter, Boo, whom they would like to adopt. This Guest Post is about her son’s birth.

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My husband and I were one of the lucky adoptive couples that were allowed to be present the day our son was born, in December of 2004.  His birth parents called us as they were heading to the hospital and told us, “Get over here, quick!”   We raced to the car, our stomachs swirling with excitement and anxiety, and stamped down the urge to speed as we drove to the hospital.  We arrived before our son’s birth mother was taken to her birthing room.

We spent several hours chatting in the birthing room, trying to pass the time as we all waited.  Then, when the delivery began, we paced outside the door, listening for our son’s arrival.  We heard silence, and then suddenly the sound of tiny cries reached our ears.  Tears of joy began to fall down my cheeks!

Our son was placed in my arms at exactly 2 minutes old.  I was in a daze as the nurse hustled me to the private room they had set aside for us.  The warmth of the blanket that our son was wrapped in felt comforting.  I was so worried that I’d drop this precious, squirming bundle.  I looked down and saw a shock of dark brown hair sticking up every which way.  My first impressions of our son were, “So much hair” and “he’s so light!”

Our son was taken from my arms and, as the nurse attended to him and cleaned him up, my husband and I watched in stunned silence.  I counted his perfect fingers and toes to be assured that he had just the right number.  I soaked in every detail of him, from his dark hair, little button nose, healthy colored skin, and bright red lips.  He was breathtakingly beautiful, even in his fury at being poked and prodded by the nurse.

Our son’s first day with us was a whirlwind of activity, with frequent visits from his birth family and the nursing staff.  The hours flew by quickly and my husband and I were afraid to miss a single minute of time with him.   We treasured his tiny presence as we snuggled him close, rocked him, and fed him a bottle.  We fumbled a bit as we changed his diaper and dressed him in his tiny little clothes.  Even watching him sleep was a treat.

At some point during the day, my husband suggested we go to the hospital cafeteria and get a bit to eat.  I reluctantly wheeled our son in his bassinet from our private room to the nursery and turned him over to the nurses.  “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him,” one of the nurses promised us.  My husband and I ate quickly in the cafeteria because we both wanted to get back to our son.

Upon entering the nursery to pick up our son, I was met with the confusion of several crying babies.  My heart raced with amazement as I was able to pick our son’s cry out of all the other babies.  I followed the sound to his bassinet, which had been moved during our absence.  A nurse had our son striped naked and was changing his diaper.  He was expressing his displeasure.   I leaned over his bassinet and murmured, “It’s okay, baby.  Mama’s here.” 

At the sound of my voice, he instantly stopped crying and turned to look intently at me.  I was astounded that he recognized my voice and, without even a touch, was comforted by it!  It was then that I was reminded of his birth mother’s request, during her pregnancy, that we give her a CD recording of us reading children’s stories so she could play it to him while he was in her womb.  She wanted him to get to know our voices.  Apparently this effort made all the difference in the world! 

I gently lifted my son to cradle him close, breathed in my fill of his sweet baby smell, and softly stroked his cheek and face.   As we gazed at each other, a powerfully miraculous mother-son bond began to develop between the two of us. Three and a half years later, this bond has only gotten stronger with each passing day!