A few weeks after meeting the biological parents, emotions were running high. The idea of becoming parents again felt more real, more tangible. During those weeks, we focused on preparing the new house and getting ready to move. Somehow, I knew the baby’s arrival was closer than the doctors were saying.
I remember that during those last few weeks, between house repairs, work, the move, being a mom to a three-year-old, and waiting for the baby, I found comfort in McDonald’s ice cream. I’d go through the drive-thru, just me, order my cone, and enjoy it in silence. That ice cream always reminds me of my childhood and gives me the feeling that everything will be okay.
Also, to feel a bit more prepared, I took my sister’s advice. In the middle of all the moving boxes, I set aside the baby’s things and packed our hospital bag. That brought me some peace too.
That week, we finally moved. No kitchen, no air conditioning, sleeping on an inflatable mattress… but we decided to move into the new house anyway. That life of coming home from work only to do repairs had left us exhausted. It made more sense to just live there and finish things little by little.
Once we moved in, we settled into a routine. I always wake up before everyone else, and that day was no exception. By 6:00 a.m., I was already in the kitchen, coffee in hand, making lunch and breakfast. My phone was somewhere in the house, as usual on vibrate, so I hadn’t noticed the missed calls.
Suddenly, I heard my husband’s voice coming from our bedroom. I thought he was talking to me, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying, so I walked over. It was barely 6:45 a.m., the sun hadn’t even come up yet, and I found him on the phone, more listening than talking. His face was a mix of sleepy and confused. The only thing he said was:
“I’m going to hand the phone to my wife.”
He gave me the phone without a word, no explanation. I answered, and realized it was our social worker. With her sweet and calm voice, she said:
“The biological mother’s water just broke, and she’s on her way to the hospital. Please try to leave as soon as possible, because she has reiterated that she wants you in the delivery room with her. See you at the hospital.”
My heart was racing. I suddenly understood my husband’s face. We had to leave immediately. We were four hours away by car from the hospital, and we didn’t want to miss the birth.
We woke up our daughter, finished getting ready, and dropped her off at school. Even though we were in a rush, I wanted to give her that one last moment of being an only child. I’m sure she won’t remember it, but that morning, we both took her to school. I recall her teacher looked surprised and said: “Don’t tell me… is the baby coming?” I couldn’t hold back my tears. It was a mix of excitement and nostalgia because I knew I was on my way to becoming a mom of two.
The drive felt long. Just thinking we might not make it on time, like what happened with our daughter made us anxious. We went straight to the hospital and met our social worker at the entrance. She walked us to the biological mother’s room.
Walking into that room felt surreal, a mix of nerves and joy. It felt like we were visiting a couple of friends who were expecting a baby, but at the same time, we were also waiting for our baby. Two couples, waiting with so much love for the same child.
A couple of hours later, the doctor came in. She did the dilation check and confirmed it was time. My husband stepped out to wait, and I stayed with the biological parents, the doctor, and several nurses.
The biological parents and the social worker had already informed the nurses and doctors that we were in an adoption process. So when they came into the room, they already knew who we were and included us in all relevant medical updates about the baby.
The labor began, and from that moment on, I felt like I was living an out-of-body experience. I had been present at the births of my nieces and nephews, so I was familiar with the process, but this was different.
I was physically present, but I felt like I was floating above, watching everything from above. I wanted to record every second in my memory, but I also fought the urge to fully surrender to my emotions, out of fear that something could change.
After a few pushes, the doctor said:
“Congratulations, mom... meet your son.”
I couldn’t believe it. I was literally speechless, holding back tears. I fully understood that while this was a moment of complete happiness for me, it was a delicate one for the biological parents, emotional, yes, but also deeply difficult.
Once both the baby and the biological mother were checked and stable, they told me my husband could come into the room to meet him.
And just like that, the 48-hour wait began , with four parents, overflowing with love for the most beautiful baby.
Grateful to have you here, heart to heart.
Melli
