This weekend has been one of the emotional roller coaster kind. That is pretty much guaranteed in the field of Adoptive Momhood. Whata-ya do? Well, you just hang on tight and trust that you don’t throw up on somebody’s head when you’re upside down.
We were invited by the birth mom–let’s call her Anna–to be at the first ultrasound, the one where you can find out the sex of the baby. We had been looking forward to this for over a month. I had also been praying that I wouldn’t do or say anything dumb when we met Anna”s family so as not to change their minds about us. So we traveled to Idaho on Friday. Alan and I were also looking forward to the road trip since we haven’t been anywhere in months.
It was a bittersweet event. I was impressed with the relationship Anna has with her family, her father especially-who also came to the ultrasound. The baby is a girl, by all 80% of the tech’s guess. We spent lunch with Anna and her parents and then went to her home where we met her siblings. Anna gave us the ultrasound pictures. Seeing the baby moving was a difficult thing for her, as you might imagine. And I hurt for her. We have been cherishing these pictures and sharing them with family that has visited this weekend.
It was all, honestly, very surreal. Seeing an ultrasound of my own baby has been such a long awaited moment that it was hard to really know how to behave. In this case, what do you say to the birthmom? What do you say to her parents? How do you be yourself? All I knew to do was to pray and thank her. I’m not sure I thanked her enough. I don’t think I could have.
Sadly, we received a phone call this afternoon from Anna. She has decided to interview other couples. She wouldn’t admit to anything we’ve done that has led her to this decision, probably for fear of hurting our feelings. Looking back, we saw signs (before the ultrasound) that something like this might be coming. But it still hurt. Badly. I just wish she would have said something before we went to the ultrasound.
After she called I threw my little tantrum and spent several hours going over the whole visit in my mind and what we might have said or done that made her question us. But it doesn’t matter. I know it’s her decision.
I’ve been on this roller coaster before and survived. I can do it again. But there’s no promising I won’t lose my cookies.