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Alex's Adoptive Mom Shares on the Birth Story

I often wondered what it was like to witness Alex's birth from Kayla's perspective.  I asked her to write about the birth story from the perspective of the Adoptive Mother. Here is her powerful and personally touching story:

"I laid in bed in a dark hotel room waiting for the alarm clock to signal it was time- time to go to the hospital, time to meet my daughter.  The thought made me giddy and anxious at the same time.  Was this really happening?? 

The events of the previous four years played in my mind, and I was reminded of the hope, pain, disappointment, joy, depression, and longing that had kept me on an emotional roller-coaster with no end in sight.  But there I was at the end, and it was only the beginning.

Before I knew it, I was in a pre-op room dressed from head-to-toe in blue scrubs and holding the hand of the most beautiful pregnant woman I had ever seen.  Just two months before, I met her for the first time feeling so blessed that she chose life for the baby girl growing inside her and chose us to be the parents.  That day she told us that she knew she was “the vessel that God was using to carry the answer to someone else’s prayers.” 

I will never forget those words.  Ever.

The nurses wheeled her into the operating room and told me they would come get me when it was time.  My husband and I held hands and prayed for a safe delivery, a healthy baby, and peace for our daughter’s birth mother. 

A few minutes later, a young nurse with an excited grin appeared in the doorway and led me toward the operating room.  We walked down the long, sterile hallway and tears welled up my eyes.  Surreal.

Not all adoptive mothers are in the delivery room.  Since Brittany was having a c-section, she was only allowed to have one person in the operating room with her.  Her mother?  Her best friend?  No, she selflessly invited me to witness the birth of my daughter.  Words cannot describe how grateful I will always be for that gift. 

When we entered the brightly lit room, Brittany was on the operating table and all I could see was her beautiful belly.  I quickly moved to the other side of the curtain where I found her face – calm and reassuring.  I felt so guilty that her demeanor was reassuring me when I wanted nothing more than to make sure she was okay.  I did the only thing I could possibly do to help bring her peace- I placed my head next to hers and whispered a prayer in her ear.  I knew our Heavenly Father orchestrated every step of this journey, and I knew He was there with us now. 

In keeping with the laid back vibe of the Florida Keys, the doctor and anesthesiologist made small talk and dished out clever jabs at each other, making the rest of us chuckle and wonder if they were focused enough on the task at hand.

 After a few minutes, the nurse told me I could move to the foot of the bed to have a clear view of the first moment of my baby girl’s life.  An intern had my camera, and I was armed with my cell phone camera – ready to capture the beauty and perfection of life.  Briefly, the mood in the room changed, the small talk and jabs subsided, and my heart sank.  The doctor asked for a vacuum and I prayed again. 

Then she was here.  There in front of me was a perfect, crying, pink, beautiful baby girl.  Tears flowed and the love that I already had for her multiplied infinitely in my heart. 

I wanted so badly to hold her, to kiss her nose, to snuggle her into the curve of my neck.  But the nurses took over and began cleaning, suctioning, and checking every inch of her little body.  I stuck my pointer finger out and let her wrap her tiny hand around it.  I was smitten.

I turned around and saw Brittany with a tear rolling down her cheek.  Was it joy?  Was is sorrow?  Was it fear?  I went to her, held her head in my hands and repeated the same words I had said to her many times before: “thank you.”  Those two words do not even come close to expressing the feeling in my heart.  You say “thank you” to the cashier at the grocery store, you say “thank you” to your hair dresser when you leave the salon, you say “thank you” to a stranger who holds the door open.  There should be something more significant to say to the woman who gave you the gift of motherhood- who, through the will of God, blessed you with a child.  But all I could say was, “Thank you!”

The nurses finished cleaning and examining the baby, wrapped her up like a burrito, and took her to Brittany’s face.  She said how beautiful she was and we exchanged smiles.  Then the nurse put the baby into an incubator and got ready to head out of the OR. 

I wanted to hold her.  My heart was aching, I wanted to hold her so badly. 

I followed as the nurse pushed the rolling incubator towards the door.  My heart was overjoyed at what was before me, but breaking with what was behind.  Brittany had cared for, talked to, and bonded with the child that grew in her womb.  How did she feel laying on the operating table, cord cut, and physically separated from her baby for the first time in nine months?  Lord, give her peace.  Please Lord, please fill her heart with peace.

I put my hand on the incubator and headed toward the waiting room where a new father was waiting to meet his baby girl.  After years or prayerful faith, we were finally a family of three."

My Video Testimony

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Now Arriving...

I was met in the lobby by two very wide-eyed people.   I am not sure that Kayla's mouth could have handled a wider smile.  Her pale blue eyes danced and twinkled as she beamed at me.  Brett, with his usual warm smile was a little quieter.  He always seemed like he was trying to be cautiously optimistic.   He wanted things to work out well for Kayla, I know.  The only thing it seemed that he ever wanted was for her to be happy.  Who could fault a guy for that?

We hugged and belly patted and I waddled over to registration with two impending parents in tow.  After a brief mix up over where I was supposed to register, the nurses got me into my room and settled me in my bed and Brett and Kayla found seats off to the side.  The maternity nurse did her usual.  I'd had a baby before so I knew what we'd be doing.  They hooked my belly up to the baby monitor so they could hear her heart beat.  Kayla made her way over to the machine.  She stood in front of the sound of her daughter's heart wooshing in a perfect rhythm.  I saw her face soften and become emotional over the sound.  It was the first time she'd heard Alex's heartbeat.  I fixed on her face and studied as she started to let out a giddy laugh and turn back to Brett who was standing at the foot of the bed watching this all happen.

Nurses, attendants, and doctors came in and out.  They greeted and checked things, blood pressures and such. We were periodically updated as to when I would be prepped for surgery.  We made some excited chit-chat between the three of us as we waited.  They were nervous with anticipation and I was trying not to focus on my impending abdominal surgery.  I wasn't looking forward to the recovery and I was especially on edge because my last epidural with my first daughter didn't take and I was miserable and doped up so full of morphine that I thought that I was going to shake off the table.  It was a harrowing and disappointing experience and I was hoping that this one would not be part two.

The talk came around to some other couples they met recently that had adopted within months.  They had kept in contact with other couples at the agency who had gone through prep courses at the same time.  I thought that was kind of neat.  Like a kinship.  I am sure the process and waiting can be agonizing. It must be nice to have others around you who can relate.  Last they brought up a couple who's birthmother changed her mind after the delivery.  There was a brief silence.  I was heartbroken to think about this amazing couple, awaiting the answer to prayer only to go home empty handed.  I assured them that I had made my decision and that I knew that this baby was meant for them and a blessing by God.  After that elephant left the room we could get back to settling in on Alex's arrival.

Kayla brought sweet little outfits for her and told me all about her baby shower back home.  She recounted the nice things that her family and friends had done for them and what they got.  She pulled things out of a bag to show me.  I patted my belly as I looked on. It wasn't just a couple adopting a baby.  It was a family welcoming a great gift into their midst and in their hearts.

Our last visit by a nurse was followed by two orderlies who'd be driving my bed down to the OR.  It was show time.  They got me all wrapped up for the travel and we said our good byes to Brett.  Kayla would be joining me in the operating room this morning.  An honor I was so glad to bestow on her.  I heard the release of the brake on the bed and we were wheeling toward the door.

Was the Gift Worth the Cost?

A birthday party for Jesus at my house this afternoon got me thinking about gifts.  We had a cake, sang 'Happy Birthday' and went around the table and told Jesus what we'd like to give Him.  I gave my plans.  I have lots of things going on and I like to think I can anticipate His next move in my life.  He keeps trying to let me know that He can outwit me with out so much as a blink of an eyelash but I like to frustrate myself by playing the game anyway.  This year, I'd like the plans to be solely His.  My 5 year old daughter wanted to give Jesus a telescope so He  could see all the stars.

"Don't you think He can see all the stars from Heaven, Honey?"

"Yes, if He closes one eye.", she replied squinting and contorting her little face to show me how.

As we wound down the party I started to think of who wasn't there. My late husband was one.  He would have liked the tradition.  Carli was too young when he died to start it but we did talk about it one night.  Next I thought of Alex.  I thought of what a gift she was to her parents and how much they must have realized that last year, which was their first Christmas with her.  I thought about what traditions that she would have with her parents and would they maybe have a birthday party for Jesus as well?  It's been a while since I've heard from Alex's parents.  Maybe 4 weeks or so. I've been so wrapped up in Christmas chaos that I hardly noticed, until today.  I've been evenly keeled about everything but emotions sneak up on me once in a while.  I run at too fast a pace for anything to catch up usually.

After everyone left I decided that I needed to head to the gym.  My brain was going too fast for comfort and a good workout always does the trick for me.  I loaded myself and Carli into the car and headed for the 'Y'.  As I drove, I noticed the twinkling Christmas lights adorning the neighborhood houses and shrubs.  My mind recalled a recent picture of Alex. She is 14 months now.  She was sitting on a hillside in the grass.  Her mother had dressed her a prim purple pleated skirt with grey knit tights and brown riding boots.  Her hair swept back and to the side by a matching plum colored bow.  I focused on her face.  Her round chubby face has the sweetest cheeks.  I thought of what it would be like to sit her on my lap like I used to do with Carli and kiss her baby little face over and over again.  As I continued to daydream, I could almost smell baby lotion and feel her skin on my lips.  Before I could bring myself around, I was sobbing in the driver's seat trying to contain myself so I didn't upset Carli.

How am I going to workout like this?  I wanted to turn the car around and come back tomorrow.  Thankfully my sensibility took over and I resigned to the fact that the workout may be just what I needed.  I could cry later.  I tried to get the images out of my mind as I checked Carli into KidWatch and walked onto the gym floor.  In my distraction and disorganization from being lost in thought, I put everything every where and just sat down in the stretching area to try to get myself warmed up.  As I leaned this way and that, I wandered through my social networking sites on my phone and glanced at posts.  I came across a post from a man that I highly respect.  It was shorter than most of his usual and it didn't look funny so I clicked to see what needed reflection.  "God...Your love makes it worth it all" came off of the screen at me.  I think I stopped breathing for a few seconds.  My mind started rifling through images of what 'it all' was to me.  Was His love worth it?  Yes!  I don't even recognize my relationship with God.  I thought I had God all figured out and stored in a tidy box before Greg died. My pregnancy and adoption journey with Alex was what drew me near to Him and got me to ask the one question He was waiting to hear from me, "Who are you, really?".  I could never have what I have in Christ today if not for those trials. I didn't choose this but I am strangely grateful for what I gained in the endurance.

I typed a reply but I heard myself say "and I lost a spouse and a child in the same life" most find it puzzling who don't know Jesus to hear me say that I would do it again to have what I have in Him.  I wanted to reply again when I was struck by a recollection of a conversation that he and I had in my car in the summer.  He had lost a child and a spouse too.  The events weren't the same but the pain was.  He knows what I mean.  I have some idea as to what makes makes him post that statement and know that he can stand behind what he said.  Because it's true.

The Final Countdown

Tests, final paperwork, phone calls to make arrangements and my mother's arrival signaled that I was really at the crest of this wave.  Save any early contractions, I had a date and a time for the arrival of Alex.  Her parents were deliriously happy.  Why wouldn't they be? The end of 5 years of waiting was almost over for them.  They were at a crest too.  For me, it wasn't as happy as I was waiting my wave to come in to shore.  I'd been riding this one for 9 months and I was frankly anxious to get off my board.

I picked up my mom at the airport. The Arrivals area at the Key West International Airport is about the size of a finished basement in a large split level house.  You can't miss the luggage carousel, it's the only one they have not mention, it is right next to the door as soon as you walk in from the tarmac.  I knew she wouldn't miss me.  I was the size of blue whale.  I sat and waited until I saw her come through the automatic doors.  We hugged and chatted about her trip but it wasn't a happy greeting.  We both knew what was coming.  It wasn't so much what was happening but the anticipation of the unknown when something big is about to go down.

I wanted to put it out of my mind and just focus on the fact that soon, Alex's father would be out of my life.  No more drunken phone calls, tirades, threats, sobbing pleads, and frustration.  The idea that I would never have to speak to him again should have made me giddy.  When ever I'd get sad, I'd talk out loud to my mom about how happy I was for Brett and Kayla.  It was a happy time.  Two people were going to become parents!  No one was forcing me to do anything, it was my decision so why was I so sad?  No matter what I tried to do to rationalize that being sad was selfish, my heart wouldn't have it.  I had to accept what I was feeling.

The morning came when it was time for me to go to the hospital.  I had to report at 5AM for my c-section.  Brett and Kayla would be meeting me there for the big arrival.  The plan went that my mom would stay home with my daughter until later and my wonderful miracle of a friend, Angel would drive me to the hospital.  I had my bags packed for the hospital from the night before.  I sat on my bed in the dark and waiting for Angel's text message to let me know that she'd be downstairs waiting for me.  I couldn't help but think of my first pregnancy.  The contrast was polar.  Carli was not only planned but prayed for.  My late husband and I were so thrilled to await her arrival.  My onset of contractions kept us up all night and the excitement was tangible between us as my body let us know that our little girl would be joining our family in a matter of hours.  It was such a special moment as we drove together in the car to the hospital.  He was by my side the whole time and his face let me know that he was elated to share in this and didn't want to miss a moment.  This morning, I never felt so alone.  I wasn't going  to welcome a new baby with her father and bring her home.  I wasn't fantasizing about what it would be like to take her into her new room and rock my new little precious as I placidly stared down at her.  I was going to deliver a child that would be leave with someone else.  The sadness and the reality covered over me like a canopy.

I lumbered down the stairs with my bag after briefly waking my mother to tell her that I was leaving.  I made my way into the car and we drove to the hospital.  It was still dark and and silent on the island.  The revelers and bar staff were all gone.  Just me, Angel and her car.

We pulled up to the front door and the bright lights of the main lobby beckoned us from the black of the empty parking lot.  I hugged Angel good bye and walked toward the light as the doors parted for me.

Waiting Room Jitters

After my trip to Disney the only thing left to do was wait.  I had to sit around for a whole three weeks and think about what was going to happen next.  My mother would be coming to stay with me in a few days. She wanted to be there to support me but also to help me care for my daughter.  I had an extraordinary church family at Fifth Street Baptist, but I needed more hands on deck than the occasional sitting.  More than that, I needed my mom like you do when you are sick in the middle of the night as a kid.  I remember my mom sitting next to me, right up close when I would wake with a fever.  She'd rub my back and help me get to sleep. The slow, rhythmic stroking, with a warm, light pressure that let you know that she cared. That is the kind of comfort only someone who loves you uncontrollably can give you.  I was desperate for soothing.

The days went on like months. I was sometimes counting days by the half day just so I could feel like I was accomplishing something in the waiting.  I did have a lot of appointments to keep me busy.  Those were also markers of progression.  Blood work, pre-registration, doctor's visit, all lined up for the countdown.  Out of curiosity I drove across the island to get a view of the hospital.  I drove down a long winding road that wrapped around a golf course until I reached a much-smaller-than-expected building that looked dated and lacking in expertise.  "I'm gonna die here", was what I surmised after my inspection.  My perspective of what a community hospital should be like was off.  I am from Boston where you can throw a rock in any direction in the city and hit a world-class medical facility.  It is a near impossibility to not get great health care and access to a renowned specialist there.  At this hospital, I would was certain that most of the staff had likely just passed their board certifications.  I drove home wrought with anxiety over what my care would be like.

My first one appointment on the list was the pre-registration.  I needed to go to the hospital and give them all the gory details of who I was and what was going to happen.  My counselor prepped me over the phone and sent along paperwork ahead of me so that, hopefully, they would have some semblance of what to do in my case.  I was pleasantly surprised at how the inside of the hospital differed from the outside.   The inside was clean and new.  The staff was smiley and helpful, cheerfully directing me to where I needed to go.  I got to the Maternity desk and found a nurse who sweetly directed me to the room that someone would do my interview in and asked me if I wanted something to drink.  "Water would be fine", I didn't know what else to ask for anyway.

I dark haired, well groomed nurse, about my age, announced herself and pulled the curtain back as she stated her name and sat down, promptly fluffing the papers and inspecting everything before she turned her eyes to me.  I sat blankly, wondering what she would say when she finally stopped her organizing.
She slowly read the information that my adoption counselor faxed over.  "Oh, you are going to give the baby up for adoption", she trailed off as she kept reading.  I hate that term, "give the baby up".  It sounds so much easier than it actually is and I wasn't giving a kitten away because I was moving into a new apartment, I was deciding the fate of a child!  Isn't there a better way of putting it than what most people would say?  I struggle with it still.  Sometimes I say, "processed for adoption" that just sounds so clerical.  I sometimes also say, "surrendered for adoption" but that sounds legal.  How do you state it in terms that people can understand the gravity but the love that was involved in the decision?  I tried to respond to confirm her realization but instead I heard myself gasp as the rushing heat of tears warmed cheeks.  My ears burned from embarrassment.  She made sympathetic faces as she reached over for tissues.  I didn't know what to say. I didn't owe her an explanation but I wanted to plead my case that I wasn't some aimless screw up that couldn't get her head on straight.  Instead, I rallied in silence as she patiently waited for me to compose.

Once we got over the adoption hump of the interview, it was a lot easier. The usual stuff, my medical history, the father's history.  "Will he be joining you?", I tried not to explode into laughter.  I did list his name as a potential visitor but with a caveat that if he showed up intoxicated that he'd need to be escorted out of the building and he would, under no circumstances, be allowed to be alone with the baby or leave my room with her.  I made her write it down.  I just couldn't underestimate the craziness of a raging, desperate alcoholic.  

The Pregnant Elephant In The Room

If you are expecting my story to be all smiles and smooth sailing, stop reading right now.  When you are in a situation like this, there are many facets to the problem.  I was lulled into a sense of isolated eutopia in Key West.  No one really knew what was happening outside of my family and a few scant church members from home.  I never ran into anyone unexpectedly.  There were no awkward meetings with people who hadn't seen me in a while.  I was anonymous on my southernmost island and I rather liked it that way, that is until I drove up to Orlando to see my friend and her family. 

She was very supportive, I had filled her in early on in my journey so there were no surprises.  It wasn't the conversation that I was hesitating on, it was the body language and the awkwardness of her seeing me face-to-face that I was dreading.  People can give away much more in their posturing and facial expressions than they can ever realize.  I spent 10 years in sales negotiations as a career.  I was paid to translate the unspoken conversation and I was exceptional at at it.  Most of my successes in business transactions were because I positioned against what was never said.  It was great for my commission checks but it can be a bummer in real life.  Sometimes, I lament that I notice so much more than everyone else.  This was one of those times I that wished my eccentric talent would vanish.

The time came for our meeting.  I drove to her parents' house and Carli and I piled out of the car after 9 long hours on the road.  There it came.  Not from my friend, from her husband.  The painted smile.  It was something more of a grimace.  That 'No, I don't notice anything' smile that lets you that they don't know what to do with the situation.  She greeted me with a warm smile and compassionate hug.  I'd later find out that her kids were verbally threatened against asking and questions or making comments.  The children said nothing but they avoided me like I had a scary disease they might catch.  I wasn't hoping for much more than that.  I settled in and hoped that the weekend would go by faster than I could wish it away.  I wanted to go home already. I longed for my island bubble that I could hide in until Alex was born.  It was safe there and free from judgement. 

Her parents arrived a few hours later from work. Everyone avoided the one topic that would usually garner it's own conversation, my giant belly.  Women who are great with child can usually command a room.  It is a nice jumping off point with a person whom you don't know.  Talk about the baby.  When are you due?  What are you having?  Do you have a name?  Easy things to start with but not if you know that the mother-to-be isn't keeping her child.  Where do you go from there?  You avoid the conversation all together.  It's kind of like pretending not to notice that someone has a prosthetic limb.  You know it's there, they know it's there.  You know it's diffferent, they know it's different.  Everyone tries to avoid looking at it or pointing it out.  I know how amputees feel now. 

I played along with the long pauses while everyone asked how my drive was and if I'd been to Orlando before.  I think we were all glad that I was staying at a hotel that weekend.  There was only so much you can say when you'd rather have another conversation instead.  Carli played with her long lost friends from home, completely unaware of the sorrow that I was enduring in order to make her birthday special.  I emailed Kayla to say that I'd made it safely.  I was desperate to hear from someone who was in my corner.  I became alarmingly aware of how alone I felt in all of this. 

The Second Meeting

Circumstances were going to bring me north of Key West again.  I was going to visit with a friend of mine and her family from my home town. They were traveling to Orlando for a trip to Disney and asked Carli and me if we'd like to join them.  I had to consider carefully.  I wanted to take advantage of my proximity to Disney World while I was in Florida.  I didn't know when I'd be able to take Carli again.  I wanted to bless her with this trip for her birthday.  When I asked her if she'd like to visit with Terri and her family instead of having a birthday party, she exploded into 'Hooray' and lept up and down with excitement.  My thoughts turned to my condition and whether or not it would be feasible for me to walk around an amusement park all day.  The trip would be three weeks from my delivery.  I wondered if the stress on my body, not to mention my size, would cause any complications.  I decided that Orlando probably had hospitals and chuckled a little about how funny a story it would be to deliver this little princess at the threshold of Cinderella's castle.  I wanted to make it happen for Carli.  I told Terri that we'd be joining her and her family for the trip. 

As I reviewed maps online to plot our trip, I realized that I would be passing within miles of Brett and Kayla.  We had made a promise on the last visit to make every attempt to see each other once more before Alex's delivery.  I wanted to make good on that.  I panged when I went to doctor's visits, knowing that Kayla would have loved to have been there but distance just made it impossible to really share in my pregnancy aside from emails.  I would have felt comforted by more of her presence.  Thinking of her always brought me so much peace.   I asked them in an email if they could meet me for lunch.  I thought it would be nice to get some personal time in, just the 5 of us.  We were about to embark on such an important union between our families.  It seemed a shame not to give it more effort if we could.  They quickly agreed and we settled on a shopping mall that we both could locate and that was not far from their home.

I think I was more excited about the lunch than I was Disney.  I wanted to see them again.  In my mind, every email or invite was assurance to them that I was as committed as they were and that I wasn't going to back out.  I needed them to feel safe in that I had made my decision and it was final. 

Carli and I entered the mall that day and walked toward the restaurant that we agreed on.  I waddled down the long, echoing hall towards the eatery with a blathering toddler, asking a question every second about why we were and what we were going to do.  I was trying to spot them and her yammering was distracting me.  As we got closer, they stood up from the bench that they were sitting on. I saw their heads pop up from behind the greenery of the planters.  I was grateful that they'd located me first.  Their beaming smiles made me emotional as I choked back tears and just tried to look happy.  It was another reminder of the realness of what I was taking on.  It could feel so heavy on my heart sometimes.  The burden seemed to weigh down at inappropriate times.  I didn't want them to think that I was sad.   We hugged and paused for them to make small talk with Carli.  We made our way into the Rainforest-themed eatery that we thought we could tolerate and that my daughter would enjoy.  We were wrong.  Carli recoiled at the mechanical animals that would suddenly come to life following thunder and a pretend rainstorm. She coward in my lap with each episode.  I felt sorry for us all, we tried to make this fun for her but to little avail.  Brett was able to mildly entertain her with his attention and her ruffled feathers seemed to smooth so we could continue our visit. 

We finished up our meals and Brett had to return to work.  Kayla and I could sit together and visit as Alex's mothers.  I felt like I was floating as we strolled the outdoor shopping concourses and talked about motherhood.  We reviewed our first meeting.  It was fun for us to recall our thoughts and feelings on what that was like.  It went better than either of us had dreamed it would.  I offered to see if we could get Alex to kick.  I was desperate to have her experience what it felt like to feel her move.  I tried walking, sitting, pushing, poking, ice cream, but alas our little bundle was content to relax.  I was disappointed.  I knew it would be my only opportunity to try. 

The time came and we both had to leave.  I needed to have Carli and me up to Orlando by sundown.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted more time with her.  I wondered what it would be like to be her friend.  I wished that I could hear what this journey was like before she met me.  I thought that it was probably a long and painful story.  I wanted to fully understand how joyful it to receive this gift. 

Decision Points

My first order of business was to tell my mom what was going on.  I had been away in Florida and Mother's ESP told her something was not right with me but she couldn't get me to tell her what.  I was ashamed.  Uttering the words would make it real and then I would have to map out a course of action.  The more I avoided being in a position to have to explain things the more heated it got with me and mom.  Calls were ending with hang-ups after screaming matches only to continue with a volley of text messages.  I tensed every time the phone rang, praying it wasn't her. 

I had somehow thought that since I was out of sight that perhaps I could just live out this pregnancy in secret, have this baby and come back like nothing happened but the pain of keeping the secret in addition to the prospect of no one supporting me felt like a worse hell than the one I was already in.  The worse place to be when you are in this situation is alone with no one to lean on and no one to talk to about it.  There were many sad days.  I just wanted to wake up, notice the time and say, "Wow!  What a dream!" but this was the real deal.  My growing belly didn't let me forget. 

I called my mom and calmly explained the situation and what my decision was.  She quietly respected my plan for the baby and asked how I planned to go about it.  I had done some casual internet searches for Christian adoption providers but I hadn't made any contacts.  Now that I was being asked, I had to reach out.  At first I was unsure of how to do that.  Email? How long would it take to hear back?  Call?  What was I going to say? 

"Hi, my name is Brittany.  I am a Widow, Mother of one, and pregnant.  I am a Christian, I really am, and I am not some half-baked loser who can't get her act together, no really..." 

I felt like I had lost my title of being a Christian mother by being in the mess I was in.  Christians get themselves into something like this?  Yes, they do.  We all fall down.  No one is immune to making bad decisions.  It is in how we reconcile and move forward that matters.  I got anxiety pangs over what would happen when my belly wouldn't allow me to be quiet any more and I'd have to share my plight with my church friends that I'd made in Key West.  Would they still accept me?  I'd have no choice but to find out.  The fear of rejection gripped me.  There was no return from here, I had to cling to the truth of my decision and stand behind that, no matter what people thought.

I spoke to someone at http://www.nightlight.org/ and she was very kind and helpful but the closest office was in South Carolina which was too far for me to travel back and forth from.  She recommended Bethany Christian Services http://www.bethany.org/ which was larger and had locations in Florida.  It took me two days to get up the nerve to try again.  I called one afternoon and got a lovely woman on the phone who took my information and told me that I would be assigned a counselor to walk me through the process.  The reassurance of a counselor, or better yet, angel in disguise to help me with this ordeal was like being wrapped in towel that has just come out of the dryer.  My shoulders relaxed and I waited to hear back.

There are many adoption agencies and services.  My advice is to research what you would like for your child and do your homework on which agencies in your area best match your ideals.  You don't have to work with the first one that calls you back.  Find one that feels right to you and is responsive to your needs.  Most importantly work with a counselor who listens.  Don't be afraid to ask for a new one if the person your working with isn't giving you the support you are looking for.