A Tiny Hole in My Heart

Here starts the beginning of the post I can barely bring myself to write, but not doing so would be to deny the existence of one of the most significant lives I have every been touched by.

When Sam and I had been considering a "Plan B" to be matched perhaps a little faster I had called this lawyer.  From the beginning they had been referred to me by two people.  When I called I told them I was hoping to adopt an African American little boy.  I told her that I had been told by another agency that no African American mother would ever choose a white family with three kids.  She was kind, upbeat, and reassuring- telling me that people are individuals and make decisions for lots of different reasons.  She emailed me some information but I never called back or emailed back.

A month ago my sister and I attended a fundraising dinner and were seated next to another lawyer from the same local law firm.  We hit it off and I mentioned that I had talked to someone in the office about adopting.  Evidently she went back and mentioned our meeting to the adoption lawyer.

This must have made me fresh in her mind because a little over two weeks ago I received an email and call from the adoption lawyer saying there was a bi-racial baby boy that was going to born in July that needed a family.  She asked if we were interested and wanted our profile shown.  We said yes and signed a few papers.

For the next two and a half days I prayed and fasted-praying that the mom would choose us if this was Isaiah, that she would say "No" if it wasn't, or that another situation would come up before she could say "Yes."  We had waited 6 months with nothing, so the idea of another situation coming up seemed improbable.  The whole time I was praying I had a very uneasy feeling about the match.  We of course were going to move ahead with it but there was a fear and overall reservation I felt.

A few hours after ending my fast I got another call from the lawyer.  I was sure she was going to have an answer for us- it was only supposed to take a day or two.  Instead she told me that a baby had been born a few days earlier at 25 weeks and 6 days gestation.  She texted me a picture, a video, and the medical records.  He was African American and weighed 1lb 15oz.  I was instantly in love.  I called Sam who was in shock.  Was this the "other situation" I had prayed for?  When I prayed that what I think I meant was "A perfectly healthy full term baby with no risk involved."

Sam was working overnight shifts for the next two days so we couldn't even talk about it.  During the next days I called my friend who is a NICU nurse, my pediatrician, and two friends whose children were born very prematurely.  When I talked to the medical professionals I heard nothing but fear and warning.  They told me the statistics were bad and besides the chance of death the disabilities could be devastating.  All my friends had hopeful stories. 

The baby was thousands of miles away so I decided to call the neonatologist and see if he could give me some information about this specific child.  I  didn't want statistics... I wanted to know how he, as an individual, was doing.  The doctor was kind and answered all my questions but he mainly told me statistics.  He referred to the baby as being a "24 weeker" and said that he had a 80%-90% chance of dying or being mildly to severely disabled.  As an individual though he said the baby was exceeding their expectations- breathing without a ventalator, tolerating some feedings...

Sam and I talked and prayed and decided to wait.  We figured that as long as we didn't close the doors then if this was our child, then God wouldn't close the doors either.  A few days passed and I could think of nothing but Baby C_ _ _, as we called him.  I decided to call the doctor again and see how he was doing. This time I talked to the Nurse Practitioner that was actually giving most of the care to Baby C.  She told me his brain scans had come back totally fine.  This was a HUGE relief.  Brain bleeds, which happen often in preemies, are one of the main causes of brain damage.  I asked her at what point he would "need a mom" to hold him and bond with him.  She said "right away!"  I couldn't believe it.  I thought he was too frail and weak.  She said he was totally stable and he really needed to be adopted as soon as possible.

I called Sam and told him this and he said he wanted to make a decision about adopting him in the next 24-72 hours so I could fly out there to be with him a soon as possible if that is what we decided to do.  We had no idea if we could even pull it all off- me moving to Arizona with my three kids, without him for months.  Sam had another few night shifts in a row so I used those days to do some research.  I called 5 different people about our insurance coverage before I got an answer- it was a pretty decent answer.  I found out I have more friends in Arizona than I knew and was able to find places to stay during our  2-3 month stay.  Pretty much all of our obstacles about getting there and being there were worked out in a few hours.

 The decision was in Sam's hands.  We had our pastor, our family, and the friends that had been with us when we got the calls praying for us.  The crazy thing is is that despite the horrible statistics and the scary research we felt stronger and less afraid as time went on.  When we started the journey we had said no to any special needs children- we didn't feel we could add that to our already busy family.  Words like blindness, deafness, ADHD, and Cerebal Palsy now seemed somehow manageable.  This baby wasn't theoretical- he was here and he needed a family.  More than that we were in love with him- he already felt like our child.

Sam and I talked.  He wanted us to write down and discuss all the "costs."  I figured out the financials and we talked about being apart, the stress, the emostional toll.  In the end he said "let's do this."  I called our lawyer and told her we were in and to move things ahead.

I found a flight, packed our bags, and waited in agony.  My heart hurt.  It felt like there was a tiny piece missing.  My heart hurt so bad (literally) that I had a dream doctors had discovered a bleeding hole in my heart.  By Monday afternoon I couldn't take it anymore.  I called my lawyer and asked if she could check how Baby C did over the weekend and if she had heard anything.  I told her I had a flight picked out and I was ready as soon as they could move the process along and give me a "go".

She called back an hour later and told me Baby C had an infection in his gut and would need surgery and a blood transfusion.  The news took my breath away.  I knew this was bad but also knew that there was still a big chance he'd be fine.  I got depressed.  I was helpless. I had no way of finding out details or checking in.  In my heart he was mine but legally I was nobody to him. I put the kids in bed early that night and cried and laid in bed.  It was too early to sleep but tv sounded ridiculous.  I didn't want to talk to anyone so I turned on my Bible App on my phone and played the audio recording of the book of John.  I listened to it until I fell asleep.  It gave me peace and reminded me that I serve a God that walked on this earth and suffered too.

Sam got home later and we had late night interview with an adoption grant comittee to hopefully receive financial help towards the adoption.  The interview had been set for this time a month ago.  It must have been a divine appointment.  On the other end of the phone was a godly couple who asked us how we were.  We shared our story with them and cried. The were compassionate and wise.  They spent the rest of the time praying for us.  The wife quoted Isaiah 43.  As she prayed.  Sam looked at me- "Isaiah!"  We felt uplifted and at peace.  We were sure this was our child and our story would be one of hope and beating all odds.

The next morning my lawyer called- "Ash, he didn't make it."  I was in shock.  My baby- the child that I felt so sure of and loved so much- was dead?  As I type this my heart starts hurting again.  She assured me that he didn't die alone.  The other lawyer- that was appointed to his birth mom, held him as he passed away.

He died without a name.  He died without a momma.  I wanted to be his mom.  I was ready.  I was ready to hold him and love him.  Why did things have to take so long to move along?  Why couldn't I have been the one there?

It's like he never existed.  No name, no birth certificate, no funeral... But he did exist.  And he changed me.  His life did matter.  I know it's not my right but I'd like to name him Thaddeus.  In Aramaic it means "heart."  When I first starting having the vision of the little boy that lead me to adoption I for some reason kept having the name "Thaddeus" come into my head over and over.  So much that I wrote it in my journal along with the meaning.  Because there will always be a tiny piece of my heart missing I want to name him Thaddeus.

Thaddeus, in your 12 days of life, this is how you changed me:

- You showed me a glimpse of the agony that mother's of sick and dying children go through.  Chest pains, waking up at 4am praying, crying.  You gave me the gift of compassion.

- You made me think about hard things.  You showed me I could choose love even if it meant my life ended up harder than I had wanted originally.

- You taught me that people with disabilities weren't "handicap people," they were somebody's baby boy.

- You taught me about a lot of disorders and disabilities: autism, ADD, bipolar, cerebal palsy... You showed me that maybe I could be a good mom to a child like this.

- You reminded me that adoption and parenthood is not about the child being perfect for the parent- it's about the parent uncoditionally loving the child.

- You taught me that life is fragile and precious.

- You taught me to stop worrying about money.

- You showed me that if I don't work as much as usual the world keeps spinning.

- You brought Sam and I closer together.

-You taught my children to pray.

- You gave us the opportunity to say "Yes" to something really hard.

- You showed me the power of prayer.

- You brought me closer to God.

- You made me appreciate my life.

- You reminded me to hold each of my children, everyday, quietly for no reason.

I love you baby boy.  You will always be part of our family.  I hope we know each other in heaven one day.  I hope God has told you that we loved you and wanted you and that your life had profound purpose.