He Will Be Called....

This is a much anticipated blog post.  I know because I received more text messages, emails, private messages and phone calls in the past week and a half than all the other contact I've had combined.  My phone has been on the brink of death twice a day since we arrived, simply by the sheer number of messages I've received.  It is all appreciated, but I apologize to those who have not heard a response from me and I hope you will accept this post as my answer to requests for updates and as my official announcement that Jim and I are now a family of three.

We are able to announce this because the state required revocation period of the birth mother signature just expired-- meaning the biggest scare of the process (that she might change her mind), has drastically decreased!  Tons of praise right there!

I know that stories tend to be in the details so this might not be as riveting as some might be hoping for, but I won't be telling you every detail of our story, simply because it is no longer mine to tell-- it's his.  I can share the basic overview and some of my feelings on it (because my feelings are still my story), but we feel it's important that our son have the opportunity to tell his story to others instead of hearing it from someone else, even if that person is well meaning.

We received a late night phone call and left the house by 1 AM on Thursday morning after contacting our travel agent on her cell phone.  Though we would have gladly exceeded the speed limit the entire drive to the Denver Airport, a dense fog kept us below the 75 MPH for a part of the way, and an unfortunate run in with a bolt in the road further hindered our progress (though, this experience confirmed that Jim could qualify to be a member of a professional pit crew, his tire changing skills are that fast).

We made it to our flight, however, and made it to the hospital with plenty of time.  S was sitting on an exercise ball when we arrived.  We met her sister and spent the rest of the day nervously hanging around her room.  Progress was slow and watching her in labor was painful.  I have never knowingly asked someone to do something for me that would cause them personal pain-- I struggle with asking people for things that might inconvenience them, even slightly-- so sitting in that room I would have given anything to be in her position and while her decision was her own and wasn't for me but for the child she was having, I wrestled with that throughout the day.

When the time came it came quickly and our son arrived with just a few moments notice.  S had Jim cut the cord (an awesome privilage he does not take lightly) and after I stood in stunned silence in the corner for a few moments, she looked at me and said "Kristin, go see your son".   I'm not entirely sure when I broke down, but I know that when I reached her bed I was a mess, something I'm sure she didn't appreciate when I kissed her forehead and mumbled something like "thank you" and "I love you".

Looking over the tiny, flailing baby on the medical bassinet, I admitted to the nurse cleaning him, "I'm scared".  She smiled, and the first person to officially call me by my new title said, "Mama, he is not as breakable as you think".  And with that, she popped the little man under my shirt for some skin to skin contact, right there in the room with S and the other nurses.

The next 40 hours are a blur.  The hospital gave us a room so we could stay with our son.  S held him a few times while we were in the hospital.  Jim couldn't stop staring at him and I couldn't stop holding him.   With the exception of being forgotten for 8 hours at one point and just a couple of nurses who were a little less understanding of the adoption situation, our hospital stay was as pleasant as a hospital stay can be.

When we were released with our little man we drove up to Monica's apartment, our home away from home for the next two weeks.  The apartment is decorated brightly and we were relieved to walk into a place that didn't smell sterile.  She had provided some basic groceries to get us started for our stay and gave us a quick tour before she left us, at the time virtually strangers, in her home.

Over the next week and a half we spent most of our time in the apartment, though we did go visit S and her family a few times, little guy had a follow up appointment and S' sister took his newborn photos (something I never expected to have done, but I am so, so glad we did and what a special memory that his biological aunt took them for us).  At his check up appointment,  Jim got to write "Father" for the first time in reference to himself and the gravity of that moment wasn't lost on us.

For those concerned (so, basically no one), I got my first run in three days after his birth and ran every day after that while we were in Michigan, with the exception of the day Jim had the flu (which was my first glimpse into single parenthood).  I even got a couple of longer runs in (because my husband is awesome and our baby, as far as we can tell, is pretty easy tempered).

Emotionally, this week has seen the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  Parenting has been everything we thought it would be and more.  Jim and I often feel closer than ever, giving and taking to accommodate our new baby-centered schedules.   Our little man has been nothing but a joy to us from the moment we first laid eyes on him, even when we discovered his hatred of diaper changes.
But the overwhelming fear that comes with holding the newest love of your life and realizing that he isn't yours to claim and that at any moment he might not remain yours is hard to explain.  While we respect S so much and we accept her as part of our family and our future by her selfless decision to give our (collective) son a life with us, she lives in a different world than us and sometimes surprises us with her actions.  There were times during our stay where my stress level was so high my core temperature would drop and I would be shivering almost uncontrollably, crying and clinging to my son. 

If I needed to explain it in one word it would be overwhelming.  Overwhelming gratitude, fear, love, everything.

In any case, on Friday, January 8, our little boy was born at 4 pounds, 14 ounces and 18 inches long.  He was 5 weeks early, but very healthy.  We have loved every moment with him and look forward to bringing him home later this week (the minute the paperwork is delivered to our attorney from the Nebraska ICPC office, we are free to return home and we'll take a flight out the next morning).

We have so appreciated all of the encouragement and prayers we have received during this intense time.  We know that it could have gone a lot differently and we are convinced the volume of prayer on our behalf did wonders and we know God had his hand in everything.

We very much look forward to introducing many of you in person to our son,

Josiah Samuel Parrish.