With the papers signed and me on the mend there was no place to go but home, that afternoon Dr.A signed my discharge papers. I was given some prescriptions and some instructions (things to keep my eye out for to help me determine if I needed to seek medical attention or if it was normal healing stuff going on) and then it was time to pack my bag and get on my way. Moments before the wheel chair arrived to take me out (hospital policy, groan) – my cell phone rang.

One of my best and oldest friends Elizabeth had been at school in Montgomery through most of my pregnancy. She had been a wonderful long distance lifeline and she was calling to tell me she was headed home to see Michael. I didn’t know what to tell her, was she too late?

I knew that Michael wouldn’t be discharged until the next day, so I went down to the room next to the nursery where I knew Beth and John were spending their time. (You know I still don’t really know what that room is for, but it’s still very vivid in my mind with it’s neutral walls and warm dusty pink rocking chair.) I felt so awkward and uncomfortable to go them and ask if I could come back with Elizabeth to see Michael. The lines were still blurry between “birthparents” and “adopted” parents.

Beth and John were where I expected to find them, Michael was not. Apparently he had just been taken back to the nursery and they were trying to decide where to go for lunch. Beth’s face was a completely open book and I could see the concern in her eyes as soon as she saw me, but it was not concern for Michael, but concern for me because she could tell that I was agitated about something. I could tell because as I explained about Elizabeth driving her way to town, as we spoke, her expression changed from one of concern to one of happiness.

“Of course, that would be fine, we would love to meet your friend.” She said, and we chatted for a few minutes, ironing out the details.

“We’ll see you later,” John said with an encouraging smile and a pat on my shoulder.

I felt the tight ball of anxiety in my chest relax a little bit, and I called Elizabeth to go over the plans.

About half an hour later, I was wheeled out of the hospital. I was a bit of an emotional wreck again, I had walked through these doors just a couple of days ago, with a son, and I was leaving without one. My Mom had tears in her eyes as well, and I knew she was thinking of the grandson we were leaving behind. Though logically the adoption was done and over with, and I still believed I had done the best thing for Michael, I still felt the pang of his loss.

My Mom and I went to pick up my prescriptions, some odds and ends to keep me entertained while I was on the mend, and then to pick up Ben. My beautiful brindle boy was literally dancing with joy when he saw me, and it lifted my heart to run my fingers through his soft fur and look in his soulful eyes. Then we were home, back in the apartment, where everything was the same as I left it but still seemed a little bit different somehow.

While I waited for Elizabeth, I took a shower in my own bathroom, which was nice. I tried on an assortment of clothes and realized it was going to have to be maternity clothes or sweats, I was not ready for “pre-maternity clothes” yet. (I admit I had fantasies that the baby and most of the baby weight all came off at once.) I took Ben for a walk around the apartment complex, and I could tell how happy he was to have me home, and I had to admit that I was happy to be home too.

The problem that I was grappling with is that in some ways it was “finally over” – Michael was born, I had done what I knew I needed to do. The next step was that I needed to get my life together and move forward. In other ways it was far from over, I knew that I would mourn losing my son, because I had lost my son; I knew it was a choice I had made not something that happened to me, but it was still a very real loss nonetheless.

It’s hard to put into words all the thoughts I had and all the feelings I was feeling, but ultimately I decided what was best for me was to focus on the positives in this situation. I felt really good about Beth and John, I really believed that they cared about me as a person and that even though there wasn’t time for updates – I felt like I knew that they would follow through with their end. There was never any doubt that they would love Michael, but that adoptive parent and birth parent relationship sometimes seems a tentative relationship. I knew that Michael would not only be loved, but there would be nothing that he needed to help him achieve his dreams and goals that he wouldn’t have. I had loving friends and a good support system in place and while I knew that there were going to be bumps in the road ahead, I knew that I would get past them.

I was in pretty good head space by the time Elizabeth got there to pick me up, and I hugged her warmly and was glad at the easy shorthand that only good friends can share as we drove back to the hospital.

The only thing I know for certain that changed from the my stay in the hospital to my visit that afternoon was me, my personal revelations about the situation. I was happy when Beth and John welcomed me like a good friend into the room where Beth was just finishing feeding Michael. We all sat down and we talked, and in that moment, that visit with Beth and John is everything that I wished the earlier part of our hospital visit could’ve been. We passed Michael around, taking turns holding him and fussing over him. While we passed him around we talked, we really talked, about how we felt about the whole adoption process.

I told them everything I had held back, I told them about the horrible up’s and down’s with Rob and about our quick (albeit painful) standoff over who would get to adopt Michael. They told me about well meaning friends who kept telling them not to get their hopes up as I could still change my mind – “it happens all the time” people told them. We laughed even cried a little together, and there in that room and in that moment I knew I was really at peace with my decision and that in time my heart would heal and catch up.

Elizabeth gave me the greatest gift that afternoon, not just in making this magical moment happen, but after almost an hour and a half of talking before we left, she offered to take a picture of the four of us together – Beth, John, Michael, and Me. They let me hold Michael for the picture and we all leaned in close, we look so happy in that picture and I really believe in my heart it’s because in that moment we were.

This time when we hugged good-bye, there were no tears, and as I hugged John he told me – “this isn’t good bye, we’ll see you again” and I believe not only that he meant it but that it was absolutely true.

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