Healthvues

We can differentiate the local TV news anchors by name. We’re developing accents. We don’t need the road map anymore. We know the TV channel line up by heart. The Walmart Greeter says “Hey Spike!” every time we go there. We washed the rental car. Our biggest thrill today was going through our mail from home and paying bills.

Boredom and waiting. Of course, we know that once we get “the call,” the pendulum swings the other way and the birds will sing again. The amazing thing to us is that these 18 days have really flown by - it’s hard to imagine we’ve been here almost 3 weeks already. Of course, we’ll be here for another 2 weeks once the baby is born, but that will be an entirely different story. We’re also reminded of all that can still go wrong and that nothing is a done deal until the 11th day (or close to it). There is a finite amount of time we’ll spend here - it’s just hard not knowing what that time will be yet. Like anyone, when you’re sick, discouraged and thrown out of your comfort zone, all you want to do is go home. We also miss our dog, Jersey, incredibly - we wish we could’ve brought her with us as she would be a huge comfort. But she’s apparently doing very well at Camp Smokey/Nancy. This will all be worth it. We’ve said it many times though - things could be a lot less comfortable - we could be spending this time in a Holiday Inn rather than the home-away-from-home we’ve found here.

There are many things we’ve witnessed on this adoption journey we never thought existed. This one definitely goes down as “you don’t see that everyday.” While parked at a gas station for a quick pit stop, we noticed how lifelike the rendering of a beautiful catfish was on the Coke machine standing outside the convenience store. Then, we begin to wonder how Coca-Cola would come to the image of a catfish to be the perfect representation of the “pause that refreshes.” Then we see the “live bait” graphic. This is no ordinary soda machine, but an honest-to-goodness live bait vending machine! Not a rinky dink, handmade contraption - but a high end, electronic wonder of crawly delights! If that weren’t enough - you had SIX different types of bait to choose from! Hate to be around that thing when the power goes out…

Enough of this cold/flu already. After a rather scary downturn in Andy’s condition, we finally go to the doctors to get this flushed out. Sure enough, a severe sinus/ear infection has been running amok. Nothing much else happens today other than hunkering down on the sofa between work and sleeping it off. Finally, the birthmother calls at 6:30 pm and announces that she has officially begun labor. This is it - or so we think. We’ve been packed and ready to go for 20 days! We hardly get any sleep as we run around repacking and unpacking and repacking. Oh happy day! Even Maryland spanks Wake! “Terpin’Tine” as ESPN put it! Expecting the phone to ring at any minute…it doesn’t.

No phone calls by 7am. It’s a bright, sunny morning and the antibiotics are already taking effect! What a day for a birthin’! Finally, we hear from the birthmother. Her labor is progressing, but not as quickly as she had thought. We speak with her several times throughout the day - getting updates. She still cannot believe that she has not popped yet. She, and we, were convinced that Alex would have been born last night or early this morning. Oh well, nothing to do but wait and get a lot of work done before we take off at any moment. After the most dazzling sunset we’ve witnessed in a long time (a sign, perhaps?), we finally go to bed after talking with the birthmother again - but there is little slumber to be had.

A bright pink sky greets us in the morning. The birthmother calls again at about 8:30 am and tells us she’s going to the hospital in about 2 hours. Her contractions are about 90 minutes apart now and she wants this over with NOW! This is it - we’re off. It will take us about 2 hours to get to Harrison, AR where the hospital is located. It’ll only take the birthmother about 30 minutes to get there. It’s an absolutely glorious day - not a cloud in the sky and about 60 degrees. We hardly say anything on the ride up - not really knowing what to expect. We didn’t know for sure if the hospital staff would be receptive to an adoptive couple (we’ve been told that not many hospitals are adoption-friendly). We didn’t know how the birthparents would be about all this - after all, this is crunch time. Now, not only are we kicked out of our comfort zone of home, but also our new-found comfort zone of Siloam Springs. We get to the hospital before the birthparents and decide to go check in to a hotel for the duration (some hospitals will let the adoptive couple stay in the hospital just like a birthmother, but we could not here). When we came back, we met the birthparents in the parking lot. After some nervousness, things start falling into place. The birthmother seems to be getting more comfortable as each thing falls into place - where we’re staying; that we’ll be allowed to care for the baby; that the legalities are in place; etc. Every nurse who comes in contact with us knows all about us and could not be any warmer and friendlier. They say that they do not get many adoptive situations, so we’re kind of an interesting adventure for them! This is a fairly small hospital serving a largely rural area and this doesn’t come up everyday. We meet the birthmother’s doctor and she is wonderful. She tells us she has been looking forward to meeting us. And she’s also fascinated by our choice to preserve Alex’s cord blood - they’ve never done that before either! (BTW, we talked about this with the birthmother months ago and she agreed it was a great idea. We contacted a cord blood bank in Boston and have the kit already with us - it’s incredibly easy to do.) She goes over Alex’s stats and tells us everything is looking great. All the nurses know about us and are so welcoming and include us in everything. They make sure they know how to get a hold of us when the magic moment arrives. The birthmother’s contractions are about 20 minutes apart, but she could still have a long way to go, so her doctor begins to induce. We’re told that we might as well go back to the hotel and wait for their phone call. We leave with an incredulous feeling - we’ve heard so many horror stories about rural hospitals and unfriendly nurses and policies towards adoption - but we have not experienced any of that. And the coolest thing about this so far? We hear Alex’s heartbeat for the first time!!! But for now, we head back to the hotel after saying a short “see ya in a few hours, hopefully!” to the birthmother. We go back to the hotel room and call over to the hospital every few hours to see what’s happening - progressing, but not very quickly.

After a few hours sleep, I rolled over and looked at the clock - 3:08am. I start to wake Spike up to call the hospital when the phone rings - she’s in hard labor! Talk about timing. We arrive on the maternity ward and hear a baby crying down the hall (we are the only ones on the floor) - it’s Alex and we missed the delivery by 30 seconds! Spike was supposed to be in the room but the birthmother went from 7cm to birth in 11 minutes - she didn’t even push; she said she walked down to the delivery room, sat down and Alex literally slipped out! Even the doctor didn’t make it - the nurse delivered! After a few minutes, I (AJ) was called into the room to meet my new daughter. The three of us went off to the nursery for her routine tests (all went good), first bottle, etc. Partly because there were no other patients on the floor - and we were told that because the nursing staff loved seeing this adoption process (and they all were very complimentary of us) - they gave us our own private room for the duration (we still could not sleep there) - they admitted that since they don’t do many adoptions, there are no policies - so the nurses said they’ll make it up as they see fit! And since they all liked us (Spike and Alex and I), we were treated like royalty. They were so supportive, constantly coming in just to talk and show us the ropes - we could not have asked for better treatment if we were patients ourselves. We will always be grateful for our treatment there - they truly made a stressful time much easier for us.

The birthparents signed off that morning and our official waiting period began. We are by no means out of the woods yet. Emotions run high at times like these and preplanned wishes change and it’s easy for insignficant things to blow up into serious misunderstandings. For example, the plan was for Spike to be present during the birth and I (Andy) would be invited into the delivery room once the birthmother was comfortable - more for privacy and respect for her than anything. This is one of those things that we talked about so many months ago in Branson. But the best laid plans usually go south during the confusion and excitement of a birth. It’s so difficult to guage or plan reactions - on the one hand, we wanted to embrace the birthmother and thank her so much for this gift, and on the other, we want rush to this baby, and at the same time be respectful of the birthmother (she was actually still in the birthing position when I was invited in - a bit awkward for all of us, in hindsight) and shield her from this newborn in case she didn’t want to make an attachment. Tough calls when things are happening so fast.

The rest of the early morning was taken up by the numerous newborn tests, first photo, getting the cord blood shipped off, etc. Events happen to us on a daily basis that affect our lives moving forward - most are trivial and go unnoticed, like deciding to take a different route home from work, and some are monumental, like deciding when college to apply to or which job to accept. But it’s a rare gift to witness an event that you know is profoundly and forever changing your life as you watch it unfold. This was one of those times. As we stood there watching these tests being administered, at 4:00 am in a little hospital in norther Arkansas, I marveled at how our future has been forever altered from what it was only an hour ago. An hour ago, we were just two people who embarked on a journey to try to start our family. Now, she was here - we were parents - and we have all the responsibilities, joys, worries, hurdles and all that comes with the territory that we didn’t have an hour ago. The funny thing is though, all of this really won’t become legally real for another 10 days, but we give ourselves our this sweet moment for now nonetheless.

Suffice it to say that while we are still confident at this point that they don’t want this baby back, we’re not so confident things will go smoothly for the next 10 days. We have an incredible legal team behind us and the hospital, nursing and doctors staff are all on our side. But for now, we are Alex’s legal custodians - let the countdown begin. Between getting legal papers filed, insurance companies notified and tests run, the day is a blur. It hasn’t hit us yet - but today we became parents. To top it off - Maryland literally spanked the pants off NC State. Since Alex’s birth, the Terps are batting a thousand!

We meet Dr. Moffitt (The birthmother’s doc and Alex’s hospital pediatrician - a bit unusual, the delivery doc also being the baby’s pediatrician, but we like it - Dr. Moffitt has been, unbeknownst to us until now, a very strong advocate of adopting this baby to us for quite some time) to discuss test results and progress reports. All is well so far - the next 24 hours should be telling of how Alex will do, not having had regular prenatal care. But it looks promising. After returning to the hospital after quick showers and a few more phone calls, we get a message that we had to call the birthparents. We don’t need to get into details, but again, suffice it to say these next 9 days will not be a walk in the park. Talk about stress - trying not to get too excited about holding our daughter because the very possibility exists that it could still all blow up (memories of Atlanta still haunt us), while at the same time giving her the love, attention and bonding she needs. After spending the whole day with her, leaving her that night (given the events of the day as a result of that phone call) was one of the hardest things we ever had to do. Not much sleep this night.

Despite not having some test results back yet, Dr. Moffitt feels things will be all right and releases Alex. While we certainly have been treated incredibly well, and we know that the staff is on our side, we still feel vulnerable. We want to get back to the relative protective comfort of Siloam Springs (and nearer to our lawyer). Leaving the hospital feels more like an escape than a homecoming! We get all her paperwork together, sign the releases and get hugs from the nurses. Some of them even wanted us to go through Harrison on our way to Little Rock when we fly home so we could stop in and see them again. They were all really sweet. Getting Alex into the car seat was an ordeal - we should’ve first practiced on a sack of flour or a small dog - poor Alex didn’t appreciate our learning curve. But the ride home to SS was uneventful - she slept the whole way (about 2 hours). Of course, we had to show her off so our first stop was Dena’s office. Then on to “home” to be greeted by the dogs. Jamie (Dena’s sister) had already put a bassinet, clean linens and a bottle of champagne in our “home” waiting for us - these people are just incredible. It’s weird though - we’ve been here over 3 weeks and now finally we have in our arms what we came here for. For the past 2 and half days, Alex has been living off hospital provisions and we’ve been practicing our babyin’ skills. But Spike has to go out for supplies and it’s just Alex and me - I’m up for the task. Now…I’ve put together high-end graphics computer systems. I can do basic household wiring. I’ve even pulled the engine out of my ‘49 Chevy, rebuilt it, put it back and drove it away. One would think that the immediate needs of a sleeping baby would be an easy task to execute. As soon as Spike left, sounds - the particular frequency and depth of which I have not heard since my first viewing of the movie “Alien” - started eminating from this tiny body. Pretty soon, the water- and fudge-works started flowing like sap out of a tree during a forest fire. As soon as one diaper was removed, another wave came. I think she actually enjoyed kicking through all this, well, you get the picture. 4 diapers later, we finally have dryness and cleanliness. Now comes the task of changing clothes - never mind getting the dirty one off, getting the clean layette on is like putting a bite-size baggie on a greasy,
wriggling sausage. And the kicking and screaming…Alex seemed to tolerate me, though. All was back to normal by the time Spike got back. In reality, I’m actually pretty cool about it. Someone once said that a baby cries for one of three things: when they’re hungry; when their diaper needs changing; and when they want to be held. Keeping that in mind, clothes and diaper changes consist of Alex screaming and me saying “yeah, yeah - I’m moving as fast as I can” - some things you just can’t get too upset about. She’ll stop crying…eventually. Tonight was our first night together - and everything they said about not getting sleep is true. I took the 11:00 - 3:00am shift and Spike took the 4:00am to 8:00am shift. We both were able to get some sleep though - while not
plentiful, at least quality.

Alexandra Rose got her name thus: “Rose” because that was Spike’s godmother’s name, but more importantly, it reminds her of the special memories of Marge’s (her mom) rose garden. “Alex” because that was the only female name we both could agree on. Today was fairly uneventful for
us, except Spike spoke with the birthmother today and things are a little better. Anything can still happen, and we oscillate between confidence and downright fright that when the phone rings, it’ll be them with a reclaim. All indications still point towards a successful adoption, but we can’t let our guard down quite yet. We’re thinking of putting some kind of phone chain in place for next Friday at 4:30pm CST (5:30 EST) - that’ll be the time it becomes official - some kind of national happy hour would be a great release! On a good note, Mike and Gloria finally came home from Tulsa. His surgery/cat scans were successful and now he’s home to recuperate. It’s a big relief for them to be home and he’s expected to make a full recovery. Tonight, we have our first bout of an inconsolable infant - crying and crapping and screaming and puking - these are the things worth fighting for!

Just when we think we’re getting this parenting thing down pat, something always trips us up. Actually, this feels so natural - we’re not panicking about anything related to Alex’s care. With the other huge worry looming over us (the revocation), crying bouts and dirty diapers are actually pretty trivial. Today consists mostly of work while watching Alex sleep and making all sorts of gurgling and chirping sounds. Being first time parents, we are naturally a little concerned when she sleeps too soundly (ironic, yeah we know). So we’re always poking her to startle her or get some reaction. Can’t imagine what future deviate behavior we’re instilling in her by doing this. Oh well, we figure we’re all embarking on a life of mutual torture anyway - so now it’s our turn. She’ll get her chance in her teenage years. We’re also falling into a night shift plan - I (Andy) take the the early shift (to about 2am or 3am) and Spike takes over from there. This night, Spike went to bed with visions of a content daughter in a new layette and a content husband in warm, flannel pajamas. She missed the transformation. She woke up to me in sweats, my PJs strewn about the place along with Alex’s now rumpled and very wet layette and her in another outfit. Total mayhem ensued during the night. All due to a leaking diaper - not defective, just not properly installed. Note to self: Get duct tape. I’ve been preparing Alex since her birth for a very special event, which was to occur at 1:00pm CST on CBS - Oklahoma vs Maryland at Cole. The countdown began and I prepared her in the subtleties of the 1-2-2 defense and the fast break offense. She mostly slept during the game on my stomach -
which, despite being a close game for a while, calmed me down. Now Spike says that Alex must be present during all Terrapin games in order to keep me under wraps. I say, “Uh, OK!” And, of course,
Maryland won. When Brent Musburger theorized that Maryland may be a bubble team, Alex promptly crapped her pants! You tell him! While to the untrained ear, her grunts and gurgles may sound just like that, I swore she pronounced “the Terps are in the Big Dance, you Herman Munster wannabe!” That’s my girl!