Empty Arms No Longer, part 1

After 8 years of heartbreaking waiting, Dana and I can finally say the words we have wanted to say more than any others: We Are Parents!

The story would take a very long time to tell in its entirety, but I want to share the finer points here, both as a way to share the story with those who have expressed interest, and also as a way to record the events before they fade from memory. I am a miserably bad journal writer, so if I don't get this in black and white now, I may not get around to it until I have forgotten or confused the realities of anything that really happened.

Way back in October 2012, a wonderful young woman in Utah selected us to be the adoptive parents of the baby she was expecting. She was the daughter of a friend of the family, and when she found out that she was pregnant with a baby that she didn't want and was not ready for, she said that her first thoughts were; "better me than someone else." She thought this because she knew that she was "going to do the right thing" where other girls her age might not. For her, the right thing was to give this child a chance to have a complete family, with a mother and a father who were both ready and able to raise a child.

When we got the news, we were overjoyed but also cautious, since it had not yet been a year after our first failed adoption. We didn't want to risk going through the pain of retracting good news again, and even though every indication told us that our new angel birthmom was sincere and dedicated to her intention, we did not let anyone know what was going on until it had actually happened. We had already learned the hard way not to count our chickens before they were hatched.

The months passed, and things just got better and better. We had a great correspondence with the birth-grandma, and birth mom, as well as with the family member, who was helping birth-mom deal with all the emotional impact of her situation and her decision. All the concerns that we had with our other adoptions just never surfaced, and every good sign we could have hoped for was there in plenty. Her whole family was on board, and engaged in the adoption. They supported her and helped her follow through with her decision. The peace of mind that this gave us was already nothing short of a miracle.

In December we got an invitation to come to Utah and visit with our angel and her family over Christmas. We still had not made the adoption known to the world, so it was lucky that my family is in Utah, so no one grew suspicious. We met with our angel and her wonderful family on Christmas Eve for the first time, and that meeting went really well. Our birth-mom was shy at first, but very sweet, and completely beautiful. Her whole family was warm and welcoming to us. While their own emotional pain and heartache was also plain to see, so too was their conviction that this adoption was the right choice. We used that time to ask questions and get to know each other better, and to break the ice for our relationship going forward. Our angel had one main worry - that the baby would hate her for not keeping him. We reassured her in every way that we could that the baby would only ever be told that she was an angel and one of the most wonderful people in the world, who gave us a chance to be a family.

After that meeting, we were invited to celebrate Christmas Eve with the family at their home. It was so gracious of them to accept us into their family this way, in spite of all the conflicted emotions they were experiencing. They supported the adoption decision, but they were already grieving the loss of the child, worried about the birth mom's feelings, and in general just unsure how everything would really work out. They were putting an immense amount of trust in us that we would not hurt their family when they were already vulnerable, so for them to bring us into their Christmas was another huge sign that they really were intent on doing this, and that they were getting themselves ready for it.

While in Utah, we also had the wonderful opportunity to join our angel for an ultrasound. We "saw" our son for the first time, which was amazing. Our angel was so sweet the whole time, telling us what it felt like when he moved, laughing and smiling in spite of her shyness. We just wanted to shower her with hugs and kisses and love, but made do with a few squeezed hands and shoulders and a lot of smiles.

After the Christmas break was over, we settled down at home to get things ready for the arrival of our son. We already had most of the baby things we needed from our earlier failed placement, so there was not much to do, but we sorted out all the girl clothes, bought a crib and a playpen, and generally just made a plan for bringing the little guy into our home. And then it was back to waiting, writing emails and Facebook messages on a nearly daily basis, and building the relationship and trust with our angel and her family. Where with the other adoptions we had been nervous and anxious, with this adoption we felt encouraged and hopeful. We could definitely see the light at the end of the tunnel, and this time it did not look at all like an oncoming train.

In early January, I had to leave for a major, 3-week Army training exercise in Louisiana. It was a major undertaking, something that my brigade had been building towards for over a year. We were on the bus headed down there for 16 hours. It was pure misery. When we finally got to our destination on 9 Jan, I was completely exhausted from the drive, but still had to put in a full day of work with no rest until that night. It was rainy, cold and otherwise completely horrible. The next day, however, was when things changed for me forever.

I was in the process of setting up the Behavioral Health Clinic at the practice base, around 10:30 on 10 Jan, when I got a phone call from our angel's mother, saying that she was going into labor, and that they were rushing her to the hospital. Of course, my heart sank into my stomach. The little guy was not supposed to arrive until March 3, so he was almost two months early. I knew many of the complications that could arise from such an early birth, and tried to prevent myself from prediction the worst. The remainder of that day was spent glued to my phone, sending texts and phone calls to Dana or to the birth family in Utah, trying to get information and figure things out.

The news trickled slowly out, in fits and starts. I got the news that she was in the hospital and that she was still in labor. Then heard that she was pushing. Then the word that she had delivered, but that the baby would need to be life-flighted to the NICU, since that hospital didn't have one. Then that the helicopter had arrived, and baby was being flown off, and that mom was doing OK.

Meanwhile, Dana and I had very different challenges to overcome. Dana had to pack up the house, the dog, and all her clothes, make two months worth of arrangements and get to the airport in less than 5 hours all by herself. If anyone can handle that kind of a deadline, it is Dana, but she still was not enjoying it. Her voice on the phone was so stressed and anxious, and I could do virtually nothing to help from where I was, stuck in the middle of the woods in an Army training camp. I was just happy that there were pockets where I could get cell-phone reception so I could stay at least a little connected to the events happening hundreds of miles away. Dana was somehow able to make all the arrangements needed, and was on a plane to Utah by 5 in the evening. By that time, my end of the drama had only reached half-time.

The nature of the training I was at was to simulate deployment. In other words, nobody who went down was allowed to leave except in the most dire of emergencies. My circumstances certainly counted as emergent, but the adoption situation clouded up the waters significantly. Everyone knows that having a child in the NICU is a big deal, but if that child isn't actually yours yet, and might still never be yours, the need and urgency is diluted significantly in the minds of others. So I had to sell my chain of command on my need to be there. I talked with my company and battalion commander, explained the situation to them as best I could, and tried to impress on them the need for me to be there in person. Their initial response was sympathetic but not encouraging - they didn't want to set a precedent that everyone who had a family issue would be allowed to go home. But they did assure me that they would take the issue to my Brigade Commander, who would make the ultimate decision. They would take it to him that night around 2100. I had a long time to wait and worry.

As I waited I prayed. I prayed over and over again that somehow these men could be made to know the urgency of my situation, and the need for me to be there to both support my wife, and to ensure that the adoption plan did not fall through because we did not both make it out to Utah. I called some very good friends and asked for their help and advice, which they freely gave. I was humbled by the amount of support that was freely sent our way by people I respect and admire. Even as far away from home as I was, I felt very protected and cared-for as I paced around the base with a phone glued to my ear. I continued to pray that somehow the urgency of the situation could be communicated to my chain of command. I got new pieces of information from our case-worker, that indicated a legal need for me to be present in order for the adoption to go through. I somehow needed to get that information through to my commanders, but they were all busy and out of my reach. As I stood in the dark wondering how to get a message across, our battalion chaplain "just happened" to walk up to me and ask me how I was doing. I told him about the situation, and he immediately got it. He understood the urgency and the need, and automatically volunteered to go find the battalion commander and tell him the new developments, impress on him the importance of the situation, and do whatever else he could do to ensure that I was able to leave the training and go be with my family.

I do not know what was said to my chain of command members that night, but I do know the end result. Around 2030, I was called into the command center, and my company CO told me that I was being granted emergency leave to go and be with my family. I was to find a flight out tomorrow, and there was a van already headed to the airport that would have a seat on it for me.

I instantly felt a huge wave of relief come over me. I knew that the adoption still had a few very crucial and difficult hurdles to clear, but my being able to be there at least ensured that I could actually do something useful, and did not have to sit helplessly on my hands. After feeling helpless for 8 years, it was torturous to think that in the final crucial moments, I would have to look helplessly on again. I am so thankful to my Heavenly Father that He blessed me so that I could leave the training, get a timely flight home, and be there with Dana as our little family finally started to grow.