Day 30: The Day Harry Became a Big Brother

Because Harry and Posey share a birthday, it also means that we became their guardians on the same calendar day, two days after birth for each of them, Nov. 21. The difference between the two stories of course is that with Harry we were getting the call, freaking out, throwing things in suitcases, and driving across the country. With Posey we were there, weaving in and out of her birthmom’s hospital room as she needed or wanted us, for two long, short days.

I went home the morning we were expecting B. and the baby to be discharged to shower (which I hadn’t done since I’d left my house Monday morning), to kiss Harry, to sweep and pick up, because I knew the next time I walked through the door I’d have a newborn with me.

Aaron and I went back to the hospital after grabbing sandwiches for lunch. I dropped one off in B’s room and went back to the waiting room. And we waited. Our social workers arrived, we signed paperwork, we waited.

We had gone to Caribou earlier, and I’d randomly purchased some little acorn ornaments for B. Our very first meeting ever had been at a Caribou, we got drinks often during her pregnancy; even stopping there on our way to the hospital the morning she was in labor. It seemed fitting to get her a little trinket.

We were sitting at a table right next to the coffee maker in the maternity ward waiting room, when a man approached me and asked me why I’d bought them. “Oh I just liked them,” I told him. He pushed me. No, why? Tell me why. I stammered something about birth and life and growth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag from the hospital gift shop and inside were acorn ornaments.

“These are a symbol of faith. The acorn is small, but grows into something mighty. This is a divine appointment, you know that right?” he asked me. He wanted to know why we were there—we’re adopting a baby. We’re waiting for her.

Tears sprang to his eyes and he told us that he was a pastor and asked if he could pray for us right there in that waiting room.

“Give them the strength to raise this baby Lord. Make her know You. Embolden this man to be a father who raises his children to love and fear You.”

He hugged us and then he was gone. Aaron and I stood there shell shocked, tears running down our faces.

And then it was time. Time to say hello and goodbye and thank you and see you soon.

We walked into her room and there she sat holding her baby. I sat down next to her and Aaron next to me. B’s social worker read some prayers and scriptures: prayers for B, for the baby, for us, for Harry. I nervously fastened a necklace around her neck; little silver charms bearing her initials, Posey’s initials. I tried to read her the letter I’d written, but I was crying so much I couldn’t get the words out. I swallowed hard, took deep breaths, and read them. I had to do this.

And then it was time.

The nurses were kind of hustling us out of there at that point, and when I looked up, B. was gone. I’d wanted to hug her again. I’d wanted to squeeze as much love into her as possible. Instead we fussed with the infant bucket and gathered as many formula samples as we could find. A nurse chaperoned us to the minivan and we clicked our baby in.

Aaron’s mom had kept Harry up, but he was in his room ready for bed by the time we got home.

We went upstairs, camera and baby in hand, and introduced them. Big brother. Baby sister.

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And just like that there were four of us. Life has never been the same.

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{This post is a part of a 31 Days series of telling our story. You can find an index of all the 31 days entries here.}

 

Comments

  1. says

    That’s so cool about the acorn. A few years ago when I was struggling with depression over miscarriage, infertility, and my husband’s health problems I went for a walk and came across a perfect acorn and for some reason it really made me happy. Ever since then I have loved them and I’m glad to know the symbolism behind them.

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