Waiting on William...
Growing up, while other kids were dreaming of being firefighters, dancers, and astronauts, I was dreaming about being a “Momma.” When Jeff and I got married, we agreed that our family would not be complete without children and started trying right away. As the weeks turned into months, I tried not to get discouraged because, like everyone says, “it takes time.”
At the one year mark, I called my doctor right away and the testing began. She discovered that some of my hormone levels weren’t exactly where they should be and put me on the medicine that she thought would do the job. We were referred to a local fertility specialist, then sent to a urologist for more testing. The bottom line was that our chances of conceiving naturally were zip, nada, nothing.
At this particular point in our journey, there was no question in my mind about the direction we would be turning. I was born to be a momma, God put me on this Earth to be a momma, and if biology was going to prevent that from happening, we would find another way to make it happen.
Jeff and I immediately started looking into the local adoption options. We enrolled in the local Diocesan program and got the ball rolling. A family friend that had adopted several children gave me one piece of advice: she said “tell everyone, scream it from the rooftops.” So even though we were going through Catholic Social Services, we told everyone we knew that we wanted to adopt a child. I even told my students at school.
Again, the weeks turned into months, and this time, the months turned into years. This was the hardest stretch for us. Friends had babies, sisters had babies, it seemed like every single person on Facebook had a baby. Then there was that age old comment, “Oh you’ll get a baby soon, and as soon as you do, you’ll get pregnant!” While it was said with good intentions, that’s really not what anyone struggling with infertility wants to hear!
Then one very normal Friday in September, my Principal walked into my classroom. I’ll never forget the look on her face. I couldn’t figure out if something terrible or great was happening. She told me to call the mother of one of my current students. I told her that I’d have to do it later because I only had a few minutes left in my planning period. She offered to take my class and said that this was about a baby and I needed to go NOW.
The rest of that day is a bit of a blur for me. I called the mother of my student. She owns a local hair salon and was cutting hair while two ladies were talking about looking through the profiles of perspective parents. She said something like, “Wait, you’re giving that baby up for adoption? I know a great couple.”
Fast forward a few hours and I am sitting in my principal’s office staring at the name and phone number of a woman that is a complete stranger to me, but I know in my heart that I have to make this phone call. Jeff and I have already discussed it and we both feel like we have to pursue this; the risk of broken hearts is worth the possibility of this being OUR child. Somehow, I mustered up the courage to press that call button. I honestly don’t remember a whole bunch of the conversation but I know that God was guiding me through it.
By the end of that Friday, we had hired an attorney and lined up a doctor’s appointment for her with my doctor (who was so wonderful and agreed to take her on as a patient) for the following week. At this point, she was already six months pregnant.
The following week, we went to our first appointment. I was a nervous wreck. But when the ultrasound tech showed us that image and said, “Op, it’s a boy!” I felt the world stop momentarily. This baby might not be growing in my belly but God had just implanted him into my heart.
I went home that night and wrapped up a little blue LSU onesie for Jeff to open. We both were so excited and nervous, but scared out of our minds at the same time. The question that kept us up at night, that ran through our heads all day long, what if she changes her mind?
I went with her to every doctor appointment. We spoke often about her progress and his movements. Everytime a decision needed to be made, she turned to me. Our birth mom really was heaven sent.
On the Monday that I was to return to school after Christmas break, January 5, we went to our scheduled appointment. Everything seemed normal, but at this visit, the doctor said there was no more fluid and we needed to go straight to the hospital to be induced. My heart was pounding, I called Jeff, drove straight to the hospital and waited.
I went into the delivery room with our birth mom and her family. Jeff stayed in the waiting room. We didn’t want our family to be there until after the baby was born because we weren’t exactly sure how everything was going to play out. There was so much uncertainty. But you know how Moms are – Jeff’s Mom works at the hospital so she had a good excuse to be there, but only stopped by the waiting room to check on Jeff occasionally. We found out later that my Mom was in the parking lot the whole time waiting, “just in case.”
Labor took a long time. The baby was born at 12:38 am on January 6. I was in the room the entire time and was even able to cut the cord. I was the first to hold him, and as soon as everyone was cleaned up, Jeff was invited into the room. We spent one night in the hospital, then took our son home!
The next 6 days were the longest of my life. I was so nervous about being a new Mom, but more than that, we couldn’t stop wondering – is she going to change her mind? When the day finally came to go to the attorney’s office, I was a wreck. We had fallen completely in love with this child, our child.
We drove as a family of three to the office and walked inside. When he laid the signed paperwork in front of us, a wave of emotions passed over us. Heartbreak for our birth mother, because we knew that she made a decision that was the most difficult of her life. Gratitude, because without her, we would not be parents. Excitement, thinking about everything that we would get to experience as a parents of this beautiful boy. And love, our family was whole and hearts were full.
By: Emmy Broussard, Local Mom