Two years ago today, I watched my daughter enter this world.
I was not the one laying in the bed giving birth, but through the graciousness of Tracy, I was there. I heard Little Bug’s first cry and, after she was held by her birth mother and birth grandmother, Little Bug was place in my arms.
And I was instantly in love.
Although, it is funny to me to now think about the love I felt for Little Bug on the day of her birth.
It is funny to me, because now, 730 days later, my love for Little Bug has only grown deeper and stronger in ways that I never dreamed were possible as I stood in that delivery room holding her for the first time.
As I stood in that delivery room realizing my dream of motherhood was right within my reach.
I loved Little Bug on that day, but I was not naive to the events that had to still occur for me to officially become her mother.
If there is one thread of pregnancy and giving birth that I still hold on to, it would be the forty-eight hours after birth.
I do not know what it is like to give birth to a baby knowing they are wholly completely mine from the moment they draw their first breath. I do not know what it is like to lay in the hospital bed with my tiny newborn cradled in my arms knowing this tiny miracle is all mine.
Instead, for forty-eight hours (that eventually turned into eighty-one hours) I battled emotions in my head that are totally not natural. I loved Little Bug from the moment I first laid eyes on her, but it was a cautious love, a reserved love, because ultimately I knew in order for Little Bug to be my daughter, her birth mother had to make a sacrificial decision to sever her rights as Little Bug’s mother and pass those along to me.
Those 81 hours were the longest hours of my life thus far!
But…back to the delivery room and the events of May 27, 2009.
I held Little Bug and then passed her to Dave. He held her but I was itching to get her back in my arms so Dave gave her back to me. Dave was wanting to hold her too, so back to Dave she went until the hospital had to take her away to do all they do to newborns after birth.
Little Bug was born at 7:11am and by 9am (I think) Dave and I were camped out at the nursery window, eyes glued on Little Bug. And this is where we stayed for HOURS until one of the nurses closed the blinds on the curtain window.
As I think back on it, we stood there for hours and they were probably concerned of a possible kidnapping in the works? Who knows. But they eventually closed the curtains and that was the end of watching Little Bug through the nursery window.
It wasn’t long and we were invited to Tracy’s hospital room where we spent the remainder of the day holding and caring for Little Bug.
I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t awkward, though. Here we were in Tracy’s room, holding this baby we so desired to become our daughter. I had changed a million diapers before changing my first diaper on Little Bug, but I was a ball of nerves having Tracy staring at me as I changed Little Bug!
Tracy was very gracious to allow us this time with Little Bug, but again I was reminded that it was not just me, my husband and our baby in that hospital room.
There was an element of oddness, and yet an element of miracle. An element of serenity and an element of nerves.
Tracy changed her mind about me spending that first night with her and Little Bug in the hospital room. I still chuckle at the way Tracy told me to leave. As interesting as my relationship is with Tracy, this is no exception. Tracy had the lawyer call me on my cell because she just didn’t have the heart to tell me to my face that she wanted me to leave.
I, of course, left in tears (as any adoptive mother would) with thoughts of Tracy changing her mind on the forefront of my mind.
Right before I left Little Bug, not knowing if I would ever see her again or really become her mother, I shot this video:
(video won’t upload, I will have to try again later)
And that was the end of Little Bug’s first day.
Even though I say how nice it would be to actually give birth to my children for the simple fact that I would avoid those first forty-eight hours of living in limbo, I would not choose pregnancy over adoption any day.
I set out four years ago to build my family the typical way. My journey has become anything but typical and I would not change it for anything.
This girl is not flesh of my flesh or bone of my bone, but she is my daughter.
And although I never thought it possible, I love her more than I did on the day of her birth two years ago.
And I know, tomorrow I will love her just a little bit more than I do today.