*Please note, this was written a year ago. I just revisited this story as a gift for my friend as her daughter celebrated her first birthday. I KNOW I don't write on this blog much, but all was status quo for a while. There have been some big changes and I feel the urge to write again... so let this begin it as this happened chronologically next in our lives after the previous post.
February 25,
2016
It’s almost 1 a.m. on February 26, 2016, and I’ve almost
been awake for a whole day. I am
positively buzzing! Everything about
today is coursing through me and I don’t think I can even write it down
properly. It is my daughter’s birthday
(or was, since it’s the 26th) and we were excited to bits about
that. The most beautiful gift was given
to me today though.
My daughter was adopted.
I didn’t know when she was born, how it happened, or what her birth
sounded/looked/smelled/felt like. I
didn’t know she existed until 13 months later when I got a phone call at
work. I know what you’re thinking – that should be the best gift I have ever
received, right? I don’t look at that as
a gift though. She was fate. So much about her and us was meant to be that
it rattles me to my core sometimes. No,
she wasn’t a gift. She was ours from the
moment she was born, I just didn’t know it.
Flash forward, four years later, the subsequent leap year as another
coincidence, a best friend is going into labour with her first baby. A little girl.
Now, I never saw myself as pregnant until I met my
husband. He rocked the foundations of
my own wants and needs like I never could have imagined. When we couldn’t get pregnant, I was more
worried what he and others would think as opposed to feeling disappointed in
any way. I just didn’t want to
disappoint anyone else! Long story short
(and it is the BEST story, and still ongoing) we became parents the summer
after our girl turned 1.
When I found out my friend was pregnant? It was beautiful news. I was afraid of over selling my enthusiasm or
sounding underwhelmed but the instant I found out I had thought, “I want to be
there.”
I understand how private making a family is. I understand how much an outsider could NEVER
understand about your current situation.
I also know that no situation is as hard as that current situation. It’s hard to talk about troubles. It’s hard to sound excited if people you know
are having difficulties. It’s hard to
know what to feel until it happens so it’s always best to not ask! Best lesson ever for adults? Don’t ask specifics of family planning! Still, the moment I heard of my friend’s
impending labour, I was yearning to live vicariously (and then I’m sure I turned
and told my kid to stop screeching, begged her to eat something, demand she
stop jumping on the furniture, threaten to leave where we were, and finally,
silently wish I had a glass of wine), and be part of their most private
experience.
We watched my friend’s baby grow. I loved watching my daughter start to
understand what was happening and want to interact with the baby. I was torn about feeling the baby move around
as I was so afraid to sound too eager or sad about it. I was thrilled when she asked me to accompany
her to an ultrasound. I told her that I
was there for them the day-of no matter what they needed, and I was ecstatic
when she said that they both thought I would be a good person to have in the
room (cue heart bursting!). I had said,
in a long ramble, that if they wanted me there to hold back hair, take photos,
run to get things, walk their dog, ward off demons, build a bridge over the
possible sinkhole that could open and expose the mouth to the underworld that
might prevent the doctor from being in their room, then I would do it – dreaming
I would be asked to accompany them on this day.
She was given her due date – it was my daughter’s
birthday! A birthday sister! Amazing!
The next ultrasound amended the date to earlier. Oh well, I thought, that’s still awesome
that it’s happening!
As I said earlier, it’s the morning of the 26th. A slowly rotating, shiny, red, helium-filled
number 4 is threatening to hypnotize me, but I must share this tale!
My friend had started contractions on the 24th. I was so excited. My daughter and husband were excited
too. I felt a twinge of hope that she
could wait until the 25th to have her baby, and then I felt guilty
for wanting to leave my daughter on her birthday to watch another baby being
born. Ugh! The inner torment! I resolved to deal with it as it comes.
On the 25th, I was woken up much earlier than
usual with the phone call that the water had broken and my friend was being
admitted. Amazing! Could I fall back asleep knowing this AND that
I had a full day of activities planned for my daughter? Of course not. I laid there until I got my customary,
“Mama? It’s just cloudy, not dark, can I
go downstairs and have breakfast in my pajamas?” We had birthday presents, a family coffee
date, lunch out, a trip to the museum, and the whole time I got periodic
updates that nothing was progressing for my friend, but she was
comfortable. My husband and I decided
that our new 4-year-old needed a nap and we headed home. As she was asleep, I get the message that
suddenly my friend is 9.5 cm dilated and the baby is expected in the next 2 to
3 hours! I immediately typed: Should I come now? If you don’t want me to come, that’s
completely okay!
I put my coat on and grab my bag and tell my husband. I stand in the kitchen ready to hit ‘send’ on
that message when I get the message it should still be a couple hours but if I
wanted to come now, I could grab a coffee with him while my friend has a
nap.
It hits me while I drive to the hospital that this is a leap
year and my daughter was born on a leap year, the last leap year, and this
exact day. I never knew her birth, but I
am about to hopefully be part of the birth of another little girl on the same
day, on the subsequent leap year, and this is going to be my insight into what
I completely missed out on in my daughter’s life.
I arrive at the hospital and get a message that the formerly
reported 2 to 3 hours is now 20 minutes.
I get directions to their room, get off the elevator on their floor and
am met by Dad-to-be. I exclaim that this
is amazing! He says that the 20 minutes
was said to them about 15 minutes ago.
We push through the door of their room and I see my friend on the bed
and the crown of a baby head right there!
I tear up. I instantly look to
see that she looks okay, and she is smirking.
I gather she had gone from 4 cm dilation to 9.5 with a baby head right
there so suddenly that neither of my friends really had time to process that
her presence is imminent! The nurse
tells her to push and baby continues to enter our world. Four contractions later and I can tell I am
about to see a face. The big push is
done. Less than 10 minutes of me
standing there and I can see her face.
The nurse tilts and pulls the baby out and then her arrival time is
declared. She lets out a precious little
mew, is given a hasty wipe down and placed on my friend’s chest and both are
draped in a blanket. I am snapping
pictures on a continuous basis but I am not looking through the lens at all (I
look back at the photos and it is not the perspective I remember seeing, that’s
how I know. Well, that and my eyes were
full of tears). I just saw essentially what
happened 4 years ago unbeknownst to me on the other side of the world. Wow!
I am struck by how fast baby is calmed by the touch of mom
and how she turns toward the sound of dad’s voice. I strikes me that my daughter never had
that. I do know she was birthed in the
hospital and never touched by her deliverer.
She was simply being dropped off for me to pick up at a later date. I got rather choked up looking at how
instinctively this new baby groped for her mother’s breast and nestled against
the warmth of her parents’ skin. My
daughter unfortunately wasn’t afforded that comfort. My heart broke a little more with a new
understanding to my daughter’s beginnings.
No, she does not have a formal memory of this, it was never there, and
she has had so much upset in the beginning of her life. You would most likely never believe me if I
told you, but I know this upset is inherently a part of her core being. I just hope that this is a part of her
foundation we have built upon and will be overshadowed and triumphed over, but
it is there and it will always be important for me to recognize it is
there.
If I had not been witness to today, this would be an
understanding I would not have. I saw
the love passing between mom and dad as they welcomed and comforted baby, and I
appreciated so much more how survival without this and self-defence is
ingrained in my own daughter. I wanted
to witness the events of today for purely selfish reasons, but I am leaving
today feeling borderline euphoric to be enlightened about my daughter on a
level that I didn’t know I could be. After
my friends were comfortably in their room, I drove home thinking solely of how
little baby’s hand looked against mama’s chest and how much bigger my
4-year-old’s hands would look if she let me cuddle her that way. When I got home, I did go right to her and
thank her for letting mama run away for a little bit, and I then lay down next
to her and listen to her mile-a-minute mind tell me what I missed. She let me be close to her and asks me to
stay with her but the cuddling isn’t the same instinctive burrowing that I saw
today – and that’s okay. I did get a
completely unprompted “I love you,” and those have only just recently
begun. She was clearly thankful and
buzzing from her day as well. She will
always be the MOST amazing, complex, brave, resourceful, creative, feisty girl
I know and no matter how much preparation and reading I did to prepare me for
her background and development, I was just blessed to witness so much more
about it than I could have ever imagined.
And to my friends: I will never be able to thank you enough for
the experience today.
