Life in the Tension

Sometimes I like to imagine what my kids will remember me teaching them throughout their childhood. What will stick? Will they remember all the "I love you's?" Will the "you're so brave's" and "tell me about your day's" be the words that become fastened to their memory? Or will something else overshadow the sweet and encouraging sentiments? One thing I frequently tell them that they find less favorable (but I am certain they will remember me saying) is "that is not a real problem." Let's run this down so we are all clear on what a real problem is in our house.

Scenario 1: You are four years old and you have no food to eat. At all. Ever.

Correct, that's a real problem. 

Scenario 2: You are four years old and you do not like "beet taste." 

Not even close to a real problem. (Also, beets are delicious.)  

Scenario 3: You must spend a half a day walking to a source of (questionably) drinkable water. 

Yes, this. This is a real problem. 

Scenario 4: Your food touches.  

No. Having your hot, nutritious food touch other bits of hot, nutritious food? That is - comically - not a real problem. 

You can see how they might remember me saying this. Because it is said frequently. And trust me, we are a big 'feelings' house. We talk about our feelings, we validate each others feelings, we use lots of expressive feeling words. There is no shutting down how they might feel about beets. This is a safe space to feel strong dislike for "beet taste." While I strive to always hear and even affirm their feelings, I don't pretend for a second that this is a real problem. 

I was discussing this with my friend Megan the other day. (Some of you might remember her from previous #AdamsActs posts about the heartbreaking loss of one of their sweet little twin girls, Zoey.) Megan and I were discussing our very low threshold for problems-that-aren't-really-problems. I think that low threshold is directly correlated with experiencing great and tragic loss. It changes you. It changes your perspective on what suffering is. It changes your capacity to tolerate complaints about that which is not a real problem. 

When facing challenges of various kinds, the leaders at our church will often use this phrase, "This is a tension to manage, not a problem to solve." Ugh... I love this, and oh how I wish that this concept would go ahead and just embed itself in my memory already! There are some challenges in my life that I have viewed as problems I desperately need to solve. Or avoid. Or feel sorry for myself about. These "problems" are not really problems to solve, they are simple tensions to manage. 

Instead of graciously managing the tensions, I have tried to control the tensions. I have tried solving the tensions. I have attempted to escape or avoid or blame the tensions. Shoot, I'd punch the tensions in the face if I could. Yet, nothing changes... the tension remains.

I recently shifted my definition of a problem to something more like this: a problem is only a problem if there is an actionable step one can take to work toward a solution. If no actionable step can be taken, there can be a lot of tension. That tension needs to be managed in a healthy way.

Parenting a child with a pretty severe behavioral disorder can feel a heck of a lot like a life-consuming problem. Except for one thing... there is no actionable step that I can possibly take to work toward a solution.

I must live in the tension. 

I can pray in the tension. I can cry in the tension. I can seek wise counsel in the tension. I can adjust my attitude about the tension. But I cannot solve it. I must accept it. 

The focus then is not on how to "solve" my son's disorder, but on how I can remain emotionally, physically and spiritually healthy enough to manage the tension that surfaces in light of my son's disorder.   

You may be wondering, "Who cares? What's the difference?" But the difference is everything. It's the difference between overwhelming shame that I cannot heal my child, and accepting him where he's at in his process. It's the difference between feeling exhausted and infuriated by the sheer volume of time spent supervising every little move, and recognizing our family's need for respite in order to prevent that fury and exhaustion. 

The difference is the understanding that I cannot play the Holy Spirit in my child's life. In the tension, I can only manage my own reactions, my own health, my relationships. But in the tension, I can know that I did not cause my child to have Reactive Attachment Disorder any more than I can cause my child's aversion to the glorious taste of a perfectly roasted sugarbeet. 

I did not cause either of these phenomena, and I cannot "cure" them either. I can only manage myself in the tension. 

It's hard to suffer well. And the greatest suffering occurs when there is no actionable step to take, because we cannot solve our way out of our pain. We cannot bring back the child that died. Or the parent who left. We cannot heal the primal wound that is left within the child who is separated from his first mother. 

We must simply learn to live, and accept, and love, in the tension.

So, when my five little ones are all grown and they reflect back upon their childhood, I hope that what they remember most is all the expressions of love, encouragement and adoration. Yet, I don't mind if they also remember me clarifying the difference between a real problem - real suffering - and something that is simply a tension to manage. Not only do I hope they remember hearing me speak these truths into their life, but I hope they remember me living, and loving, in the tensions... and teaching them to someday do the same. 

Jay, age four, confronting his greatest fear, a beet.  

Hearing

Today we had Jaylen's ABR test (audio brainstem response) which is a natural sleep test that took about 3 hours to complete. We were not surprised to discover that Jaylen is, in fact, hearing impaired. The bottom line is that Jaylen has mild/moderate hearing loss in both ears and will be fitted for his first pair of hearing aids in June.

We were very surprised to learn that his hearing loss was not considered more profound, since he rarely (if ever) responds to any sound, even very loud noises close to his ears. What is difficult about this is that he SHOULD technically be able to hear conversational speech, but is not responding to it. At this point, this means that the concern is less about his ears now and more about the brain. Basically hearing aids should make the full spectrum of sound available to him, but that won't necessarily mean he can process/receive sound properly. The audiologist confirmed that the hearing loss was likely caused by gentamicin poisoning (toxic levels of the antibiotics he was given at birth.)

We are still processing this new information since, as I already said, we can clap or shout right next to Jaylen's ears, and he usually won't even blink. We are also trying to wrap our minds around what it means to receive sound, but not be able to respond to it. This new discovery puts significantly more stock into the brain MRI. We were originally undecided about whether or not we were going to do pursue that test,the but after today, I would have them to the MRI tomorrow if they would let us.

Without a good look at his brain, there is no way of knowing what is causing the disconnect between receiving some sound and his ability to startle when appropriate, or turn toward a loud sound or voice.

I am exhausted and confused. I had prepared myself for the "worst case scenario" and was feeling excited about
moving forward with some answers and a plan, no matter what the diagnosis was. I felt confident that we would be able to work with any challenges that we faced, and that there were going to be awesome and exciting things that we wouldn't get to experience with a hearing child. I felt prepared to tackle the challenges and move in a clear direction. The only thing I was really unwilling to tolerate was more unknowns... Surprise! We know less now than when we started. Well, it feels that way at least.

The good news is that none of this surprises the One who created Jaylen. Each of Jay's days has been written out since the beginning of time, so I am praising the Lord that He is neither shocked by this (nor as irritated) as I am. For anyone willing to fall on your faces in prayer, we would ask that you pray specifically for quick answers. I don't think there is anything wrong with asking God to do a miracle... I'll take one for sure! More than anything though, I am asking God for provision no matter what his health situation is. I don't ever want anyone to think that God failed if He doesn't choose to make Jaylen hear or process sound the way you and I do. Perhaps the true miracle would be loving him just the way he is and enjoying all that he will teach us through the way HE hears and processes.

That being said, I am praying for sheer speed in receiving answers. I can take whatever they tell us. God will provide all the Jaylen (and we) need. I can let God stretch me, and I can trust that He loves Jay even more than we do. But Mama needs some fast answers, because I can do a lot of things, but waitin' ain't one.

in the NAME of love.

After going back and forth about the risks vs. benefits of sharing baby boy's name and picture before the 30 day window closes, I have decided to share his name. I will not be posting a photograph until the 30 days pass, out of respect for his biological family, but his name is the same whether she changes her mind or not, as we have decided to keep the name Miss N. gave him at birth. So, wether she ultimately chooses to parent, or we continue to... his name will remain the same.

I know his face will also remain the same no matter who has the privilege of parenting him, but the difference is that it would no longer be our right to share his photograph publicly.

Throughout our two and a half year adoption process, we have been planning on using the name Judah, should we have a baby boy. We wanted to remain open to any given names though, and were pleased to hear that Miss N. chose such a sweet and lovable name for him, one that was very meaningful to her. Knowing this, and loving the name, we decided to keep it, but to add in a little meaning of our own.

So, we are pleased to announce that on January 28, 2013 at 6:02pm our sweet Jaylen Jonathan Khalil Capuano was born in Bronx, NY... Weighing in at 7 pounds 13 ounces.

Khalil is to honor N's beloved uncle, and Jonathan is to honor one of Tom's brothers... Jaylen's beloved uncle Jonny, who has played a very large role in helping us raise some funding for adoption fees. Jonathan spent countless hours designing beautiful and unique t-shirts and dresses that he screen-prints by hand, out of the goodness of his heart. His work has helped take the edge off of the huge financial burden of paying for a second adoption.

Jaylen's name means "calm" and "tranquil" which is a perfect description of his demeanor so far, as well as his birthmama's. Something else that was kind of special to us was discovering that the alternatively spelled Jalon was a descendant of Judah - our intended first name for him.

So, there you have it... Little Jaylen, the name of a very special boy, who we pray will live a life that brings glory and fame to the name of Christ, no matter who ends up being his mommy and daddy. The bottom line is that while we see no reasonable indication that our parental status would be revoked, we simply cannot go another day without acknowledging and naming such a miraculous gift we have been given... even if it were only for a time.

The Good, the Bad, the Inedible

We have some very exciting news regarding our brave little guy!! He is improving so much that it looks like the NICU doc is comfortable just doing the ten day antibiotic treatment!!! He is ten days old today, but did not start antibiotics until late at night on his second day.... But still, that means that tomorrow, I can walk out of this hospital with a baby boy who is NOT ATTACHED to a single tube, wire, machine nor any other beeping thing belonging to a man. (See what I did there? Shakespeare don't mind.)

I really cannot believe this. It feels like I have been here for months. I have so many ups and downs along the way, as many of you have probably noticed, but this time in the hospital has been the happiest and crappiest of all. In review:

Happy- they let me ride along in the ambulance as they transferred his incubator to a different hospital.

Crappy- my baby was in an incubator.

Happy- they allow one person to stay with him at all times, that got to be me!

Crappy- I did not know this was going to happen so I had absolutely nothing with me... Not a purse, clothes, toiletries, nothing. I have been here for a week relying on my husband to bring me clothes and toiletries. While I appreciate it so very much, I just gotta say, boyfriend don't know a mineral powder from a liquid foundation to save his life. I feel like I am at a junior high lock-in without my overnight bag. And then the leaders were all like "Yeah, change of plans... we're locking you in here forever, and instead of your belonging we will provide you with a sick newborn, and inexplicable amounts of beeping at all hours, and we'll wait 'til you are all finally asleep, and then we will yell in a Jamaican accent and put a thermometer in your baby's butt. Hope you brought a bag for that!"

Happy- I have been bonding with my son. I have gotten to know him and care for him and he has gotten to know me. We take turns telling each other our secret hopes and dreams and let me tell you, this kid is going places. We are really very fond of each other.

Crappy- seeing miss N. struggle over the decision to pick him up or not, knowing that if she does she will have to put him back down.

Happy- seeing N. laugh and joke and relax into herself with us. I could only have dreamed that we would develop a relationship like this, playful and close, and sisterly. I am as wild about her as I him.

Crappy- this has, hands down, been the worst food experience of my life... And I grew up eating Spam on camping trips. I would kill for a can of Spam right now. Spoiler alert: The picture below is NOT furniture stuffing, but is a stack of rock hard, petrified waffles.

Happy- we will be leaving tomorrow with no major health concerns. After all this, he is in perfect condition! Okay, he may have one bum ear... but even that isn't decided. We have to retest his hearing when we return home.

Crappy- even though he is discharged, he is still just a little pumpkin baby and the doctors recommend we not fly with him until he is a little older. Two weeks would be the absolute minimum... So we are looking at early next week, or later.

Happy- he has a clean bill of health. So i can't complain!

Crappy- but if I were to complain I would say that I have been finding myself feeling very sad about the way some of this transpired, mostly as it relates to the kids. I had no idea we would be adopting a baby in February... so I thought nothing of taking a trip to Portland in January. Looking back, I realize that I missed the last days of normalcy with my family as I know it. I am overjoyed to have my family now complete, but I am sad that the last days with my family of six were spent separately, first because I had traveled, then because I ended up at the hospital lock-in. Not the end of the world, but it's a little crappy.

Happy: I have felt so lifted up by all the prayers and support. Baby boy is making a remarkable recovery and I am so pleased to say that he is joining our family.

Crappy: there is still this 30 day window of time left where N. can revoke her consent if she should choose to. I do not foresee this as a big likelihood, but crazier things have happened to better people than us. It makes it very challenging... Do we post pictures? Send birth announcements? The reality is that I can't keep calling him baby boy for 30 days, but adoption etiquette suggests you hold off on the big announcements until it is official.

So, there you have it. A few of my highs and lows to date. But as I lay here snuggled up with this babe of my heart, finally able to call him my own... I can't feel anything other than supremely blessed by a God who loves adoption, and led by example when He chose to adopt you and I into His own forever family.

Surrender & Soul Food

When a child is placed for adoption, his biological parents must sign a series of documents giving consent for another couple to parent their child. The documents basically confirm that they are choosing to transfer or relinquish their parental rights. The papers, in the adoption community, are typically known as "surrenders."

Yesterday, was a day of surrender for us all. Miss N. had to sort through a lot of grief and emotion in order to process this decision. Ultimately, she chose to surrender. We have had to sort through a lot of fear and worry, and have been holding our breath and waiting for a definitive yes or no, and finally, we were able to surrender all that and fell into the bittersweet relief of placement day.

We met in Harlem, Tom, the kids, my mom and his parents all came together, and I met them there because I was coming from the hospital in the Bronx. We signed all the paperwork and went into a conference room where Miss N. and her boyfriend met our whole family for the first time.

After such an emotional morning for N. we were surprised to find that while he was pretty quiet, the mood was relatively light. She enjoyed seeing the kids, and really got a kick out of London.

Perhaps this was because she was the only one who did not heed my pep talk beforehand about being sensitive to how Aunt N. might be feeling. That speech went in one ear and out the other for London, and she was just as bossy and insensitive as ever. I couldn't help but cringe when she shout-asked N. across the table "Wayuh's yoy baby!?" Only by the grace of God himself did N. seem to find her endearing in the moment.

After the placement ceremony we all went out to eat at Sylvia's in Harlem. It was so special to go through this whole experience together - the beautiful, the gritty, the painful... and then walk away and eat together as a family, Aunt N. included. A lot of people can say that they have eaten soul food with their baby mama, but very few people mean it the way I do. I felt completely blessed in that moment, it was food for the soul indeed.

Stuck on the Details

These past six days have delivered blow after blow, and I am afraid that this little guy has gotten the worst of it. We got the disappointing news yesterday that he will need switch to the 14 day antibiotic treatment. What started as seven days became ten, and now, we are up to fourteen days.

The emotional ups and down have kept me pretty preoccupied from the logistics of what is going on. Tom, on the other hand has stayed very much focused on the logistics. (My thinking: Nothing is more important at this time than being here to focus on the adoption. Tom's thinking: There WON'T be an adoption if he has no job, and therefore, no house.)

Details, details...

Until now. Now, we are at a point where I can no longer ignore the logistics. The reality of the "details" is that Tom only has one more vacation day off of work (we used a lot of his time off in October when we traveled out for the other possible adoption.) The girls have missed more than enough school and they are all having a hard time understanding why kids under ten are not allowed to visit the NICU.

They met the baby yesterday for the first time, very briefly, after an emotional appeal to the day nurse. It was a shock to see how many "five kids" really looks like. But, it was such a relief to have all my babies in one place for the first time.

This poor baby boy just continues to have new medical issues arise daily. It is very hard because on top of the legal and emotional piece with the actual adoption, and the logistical issues with Tom's vacation time being up and the kids getting back to school... We have this thick, underlying layer of the baby's health. Even if all the other layers are peeled back, we still need to be here another ten days at the minimum.

They are now concerned with his kidney function. His hearing seems fine to me, so I think that concern can be checked off. They are still treating the infection and the main focus is his eyes and kidneys now.

We just received news that the we got the required signature to take care of the legal matter of the birthfather. Tomorrow, N. is scheduled to meet with a legal team to sign surrenders and at that point we will do a special placement ceremony where she will finally meet all of our kids. Marlie in particular has most wanted to meet miss N. or Aunt N---- as they will call her.

Tom picked up N. and is on his way to the hospital now. This will be the first time she has seen the baby since she was discharged, as she felt that having less contact with him would be best for her to start processing it all. We will have a brief reunion together and then the social worker will me to discuss all the plans.

I expect these next few days to be beyond emotional. Between tests and test results, signing papers, meeting our family, the placement ceremony, then sending my family home without me so I can stay at the NICU.... I expect to cry and swell up to the point that I am unrecognizable. (This has happened before and, trust me, it's terribly unattractive.)

If all goes according to plan, Tom, Annalee and Marlie are going home on Tuesday to return to regular schedule of work and school. My mom will take the Harper and London to Michigan, where my sister (Kristin) will watch them and they can get back to their regular schedule of bossing each other and peeing the bed. My other sister (BethAnn) is flying to NYC on Thursday to be with me here, so I can have occasional breaks from the NICU.

I know this post is not deep or flowery, but logistics never are. I want to thank so many of you who have offered support, encouragement and prayers. I wish I had time to update people individually... But there is simply no time. Reception is spotty and texts am pictures seem to only go through to iPhones.

Regarding the name and pictures so many have requested, we are just waiting until thing are a little more official, just to be respectful. I promise, nobody wants to pump you with pictures of his sweet face more than me!

Thanks again to all of you who have lifted our family in your prayers. Please keep them coming. Having faith the the Lord's will will be done here is really all we have going for us here.

Feeling For Him

Day 4:

I am lying on a cot with a baby on my chest.

I feel like I have been in labor for four days straight, and I have finally given birth. I am tired and sore and drained emotionally... And I think I am finally holding my son.

Today was day four. We got to the hospital and spent time with N. and visited the baby in the NICU. We met another family member, which was very intimidating because he was a totally bad mamma jamma and is notoriously protective of miss N. I think we ended up winning him over though, because by the end he was insisting that Tom come to his house to watch the Super Bowl with him and his friends. This might be a word for word description of Tom's worst anxiety nightmare, but I think that is the seal of approval we were all hoping for.

The hospital had baby boy transferred to a different NICU because of over crowding. It felt nerve wracking to see them transport his incubator by ambulance... but I was able to go with him, and they were transporting lower risk babies, so I felt really reassured that he was able to travel.

Before he was transferred one of the NICU nurses was asking me about adoption and my family. A few minutes in to the conversation we made the connection that she was working at the same hospital in New Jersey where Harper was after he was born. There is no way of knowing whether or not she ever cared for him, but it was really neat that these two brothers may have had the same nurse.

The ambulance took us to the new hospital and N. arrived shortly after. We both knew that this was going to be a really hard night, her first night apart from him. It felt so unfair that the baby got sent to the NICU and she was sort of robbed of the time that she should have had with him in her room.

The new hospital was loud, chaotic and in pretty rough shape, but the good part was that the babe had his own private room and one of his mommies is allowed to stay over night with him while he is here.

N. graciously insisted that I be the one to stay overnight, which was the first mom thing I have been able to do. It was very bittersweet knowing that I would be stepping in as mama, probably for the rest of his life.

Passing the torch, so to speak, was another one of those beautiful, sweet, heart wrenching moments that I will never forget, I will always be thankful for, and never want to experience again.

I keep trying to imagine watching another woman hold the baby I built from scratch and carried for the better part of a year, knowing she will get to experience all of the snuggles, and the kisses and the triumphs in my child's life. I try to imagine how I would feel as I sit and watch this just days after my belly had been sliced open, my skin stretched beyond repair, my body forever marred.

I can imagine all the things I might feel: envy, bitterness, sorrow, grief, relief, regret, worry... I don't know if I could smile through my tears and also have the courage and grace to show genuine joy as well as sorrow. I don't know if I could muster it. But, she did. Miss N. This girl who I have come to love as my own rubbed her nose against his and gave him to me.

Day 5:

I spent my first night as an almost-mother of five with this sweet little guy snuggled up to my side. He is such a little fighter.

The pediatrician said that he has to be here at least five more days. We still have no idea what has caused the infection, but he is also not passing his hearing test in one side, and is having some complication with his eyes. I really believe that all of these things are going to be perfectly fine, but I will be very relieved when they just ARE fine.

We have spent the last 24 hours just getting acquainted; our smells, our voices, our touch are all unfamiliar to this baby who will eventually come to know those smells, feelings and sounds as the most familiar things in the world.

There is a strange span of time from when a baby that might be yours is born until the moment somebody officially says he is yours. I am in that span of time now, and I keep catching myself closing my eyes and feeling for him. Not with my hands, but with my heart. I don't even mean to, but it's like my deep subconscious knows I am starting to feel maternal love for something my biology isn't registering as my offspring.

I keep catching myself touching base with my heart, as if I am asking it "do you feel like his mama yet?" I think that in some way I am trying to reassure myself that once I feel like his, than he will really be mine and I can finally breath.

Just saying that feels so selfish in the midst if everything N. has gone through. Because as hard as it is to exist in this in between time where anything could happen, my biggest problem is whether or not I feel enough like a mommy for this baby that I will likely get to keep.

That, my friends, is nothing compared to the one who is closing her eyes and feels nothing BUT him.

And so, my prayer for us all is that when we close our eyes, on purpose or just as a reflex... And we touch base with our hearts, I pray that we find them open and full. And I would pray that when this baby's moms are wondering if they did right or are doing enough, that we can feel him, our son, and he can feel us. But I long for the day when miss N and I touch base with our hearts and, more than anything else, we can feel Him, our God, and are sustained by the grace and peace His promises bring.

The Happy & Crappy of Adoption

Today was, again, a total emotional roller coaster. I always refer to both sides of adoption - the beauty and the tragic separation of mom and baby.

We had our second visit with the the birthmother today, who I am going to call N. for the remainder of the blog. I am tired of figuring out a politically correct term for "lady who had a baby and is planning for you to adopt said baby, but everyone knows that she has a window of time where she can change her mind, in which case she'd just be a mom, you don't need to say birth." Until there is a good word for that, miss N. it is.

Visit #2 happies and crappies:

Happy: This visit was exponentially better than the first one. For starters the social worker actually joined us and was able to facilitate just enough to get conversations going, but not enough to make us feel mediated. Our conversation and rapport is very natural and comfortable. This girl has blown my mind with how kind and respectful and others-focused she is.

Crappy: We did not get to see the baby during this visit. He had been taken to the NICU for IV antibiotics. The infection is either at risk of moving toward the brain, or is possibly already on the brain... But after two unsuccessful spinal taps, they have yet to find answers. When London was sick, I knew how to be there and advocate for her because she was my daughter. It was exhausting and challenging, but my role was clear. It is very difficult to have your child sick in the hospital, when nobody but the child's other mama is acknowledging us as his parents! We have no right to speak with his doctor or ask questions or even be in the room while things are discussed. Even though N. wants us to be involved, we have zero understanding of how to navigate this situation as maybe-parents.

Happy: We got to meet another one of N's family members... and it was still very emotional, but with her there was obvious love and support along with genuine grief. She was not pressuring N. to change her mind, there was no guilt or manipulation. She was accepting of the decision and we spent a good amount of time alone with her, and letting her know us more. She said that this made her feel much better about the adoption.

Crappy: We have found that a lot of people involved (miss N. EXcluded) are confusing adoption with foster care. Some have not understood that adoption would be long term, and others have concerns about whether or not the baby would be properly cared for. Yesterday, the family member said she was just scared because she had heard horrible stories of kids being beaten and even burned. What on earth do you say to that?? We were shocked and horrified that THAT was what we had to address to make her feel at ease.

Happy: We are not criminals, so we could actually reassure her that we will love and care for this baby well. We described all of the fun things we take our kids to do, in Rochester and on our cross country road trips. We described a typical day in our home, which involves neither neglect nor abuse. We also mentioned that we would never burn a child. It made me sick to even have to say that out loud. In the end, she felt very positive and reassured and wants to remain involved.

Crappy: During this discussion, the family member mentioned that she has a box at home that she has been keeping for N. when she had the baby. It is full of diapers and clothes and little things she would need as a young, single mom. She said she still wants to send it for the baby, which is so sweet and should be a happy, but when I pictured her saving away little baby items to make sort of starter kit, I couldn't help but feel like it was just a straight. up. crappy.

Happy: In the exact moment that Tom and I were deciding how often we could realistically afford to travel to New York City to see N., we got a message from a long ago acquaintance who offered us the use of buddy passes available to her as an airline employee, as well as a stay in her Queens apartment if/when we would need. This was such an overwhelmingly generous offer, which would allow us to travel back and forth so cheaply that we can actually agree to all of N's visitation requests!! It felt like more than a happy, it felt like God's perfect providence... and timing!

Crappy: There is still a major piece of the puzzle missing in order for things to move forward. We need the signature of the birthfather. Whether or not he would be willing to sign is still a little wishy washy. Whether he has any real interest in parenting or not, remains uncertain. The not knowing is craptastic.

So, we keep waiting. We head back to the hospital shortly and if I don't get my hands on that baby today, miss N. and I are storming the NICU. I think that the best way to connect as two mom's is to have a good caper on the books.

N. may be discharged today, so I am dreading what this goodbye will look like. I don't know how to do this. I have decided that I love too much for my OWN good, but I think it might be good for her. And as we face a possible goodbye today, I would be lying if I said that I didn't want to adopt her too.

First Meeting

It's very hard to blog about our meeting because it was such a personal experience for everyone involved. As much as my desire is to share my story, my heart, my life... an even stronger desire is to honor the family involved.

So, in vague and general terms... Here is how it all went down. On the car ride we were notified that the baby has some sort of infection and was having a spinal tap done. We know nothing more than this at this time. We are praying it is not any of the scary stuff, but something simply treatable. We would ask for every prayer you can muster for God's healing touch on his tiny body. And for calm hearts for all his family, both biological and maybe.

We arrived at the hospital about 2 solid hours late. We got stuck in traffic, then took a couple wrong turns, and it literally made us two hours late.

By the time we actually arrived, London had said "this is NOT how we get to New Yoyk Thity" a minimum of one zillion times and we were all kind of on our last shred of patience (or for me in particular, sanity.)

My mom got dinner for the kids while Tom and I went up to the hospital room. It was such a surreal feeling taking the elevator up. We truly had no idea how on earth this was going to go.

The room was very small, absurdly warm, and full of family members, (mostly disapproving). Our interaction with Mom and baby was very brief, but positive. I think she was happy to see us and she happily passed the baby to me to hold. I got told hold the sweet baby boy and hug his mommy a time or two. We did not discuss much or stay long, as the emotional climate in the room was very charged.

I did not expect a fairy tale visit where we all sang worship songs together, and I did not expect anyone to yell out "leave, white devil!" I expected something in between. And this visit was definitely somewhere in between... but a little closer to one end than I would like.

Nobody called us white devil. Nobody called us anything really. I think we just represented a horrible outcome in their minds, and I really cannot blame them for feeling that way.

We stayed only a short time and said our goodbyes. We took flowers and a card and a book called A Mother's Legacy: Your Life Story in Your Own Words. It is sort of a journal with guided questions about your life and your upbringing, who you are and what you want your legacy to be. Whether she parents or we do, I think that it will be important for this little guy to really know who is mother is, in her own words.

We decided to leave and allow the family time to continue processing her decision. We assured her that there is absolutely no pressure on our end, and that she can take the time she needs to think through everything. She was lovely and pleasant toward us, and invited us back this morning.

This time, the social worker will be there, which will be very helpful I think. We got to the apartment that some stranger/friends have allowed us to (once again) utilize. We were exhausted and drained and emotional. My head felt empty and tinny and everything hurt. My head, my body, my heart and soul.

I hoped to sleep until we had to get on the train to go back... But a machine is rhythmically making that impossible. So, today we go back, we meet to discuss things... I don't even know what things. I am too exhausted to try to prep for conversations and I am just praying this baby is fine and that his mom can make the right decision... and I mean it when I say that I have no idea what that is.

I know she loves this baby, and I know that I will too if she asks me to. I know I already love her no matter what she decides, and I am pretty sure that she loves Tom and I too.

Nothing white or devily about it.

NYC: Meeting Mom & Baby

Last night, the baby was born. I had hoped/planned on being at the hospital when he was born... But he came a few days early and he came pretty quickly. Both mom and baby are doing fine and we have spoken with birthmom/first mom/ new mom with a decision to make. Our contact with her remains really positive and when we spoke this morning she reiterated that she still wanted us to come to the hospital today.

Sooo... We are about 3.5 hours away from the hospital. My mom is with us and will sit with the kids while we meet them for the first time.

In the interest of saving time, here are the answers to the FAQ's:

- No, we have no idea what to say or do when we get there.
- Yes, I am disappointed that we missed the birth.
- Yes, it is looking like this adoption may actually take place.
- Yes, anything could change at any time.
- Yes, there is a window of time where she can revoke consent, it is 30-45 days I believe.
- Yes, that is terrifying.
- Yes, we actually signed up for this roller coaster on purpose.
- Yes, she named the baby.
- Yes, we are considering keeping the name she chose.
- No, we aren't announcing anything or posting pictures until we are certain this is our guy.
- No, we don't know how long we will be there.
- Yes, our blood pressure is through the roof.
- No, the kids are not calmly anticipating both possible outcomes.
- Yes, they are, instead, using sibling aggression and excessive questions to manage their conflicting feelings.
- Yes, Tom's driving has gotten worse.
- Yes, he's still a better driver than me.

We should arrive in a few hours, fly by the seat of our pants as we meet this girl and her babe for the first time, and discuss plans. I do not know how to prepare for the emotions that are coming, but I have decided its probably a bad idea to arrive sobbing. So, I am gonna try to hold that for the parking lot. Tom, however, doesn't care what anyone says... he's just committed to sobbing the whole time. Ain't no stoppin' Tom once he starts.

Capuano Adoption Update: Open to Love

Many have asked us how our phone meeting went with the expectant mom on Wednesday. I have had a really hard time figuring out a good way to answer that question. It seems that adoption is full of so many conflicting and paradoxical emotions that it is hard to describe.

Really, the conversation went a million times better than I could ever could have dreamed. From our end, we seemed to have a very natural connection. She asked us a lot of great questions, and had great answers for the questions we asked her. Considering the fact that we were getting to know (over the phone) a young woman with whom we may end up having a lifelong relationship, and doing so under such awkward and high pressure circumstances... It all went remarkably well!

The conflict is this: how in the world do we love this girl, support her, root for her, and then walk away with her baby?? Don't get me wrong, it's not at all that I don't want to parent this child if she continues with her adoption plan... I just don't know how to not be heartbroken about it all.

Adoption is like that though... It's beautiful, yes, but also messy. From something being taken from one, it is given to another. The moment a baby transfers from one mama to the next it is both tragic and joyful, an end and a beginning, a loss and also a gift.

I don't even know how to process these feelings I have that vacillate from excitement to fear to guilt to sadness. I have been accused of being an empath. (You know who you are Abby Hanson) and I am realizing more and more how very, very true that is about me. I absolutely cannot separate the paradoxes. I can't just feel excited about the possibility that we will welcome a baby boy into our family in the next couple of weeks, without also acknowledging what that means for his first mommy. The grief and sorrow she would most assuredly endure, while we are celebrating him joining our family.

This is why I am so thankful that Bethany Christian Services does such an awesome job counseling and advocating for expectant parents. I am thankful for the awesome ladies that we are working with to navigate all of these conflicting emotions and all the ups and downs. I am thankful for the heart these women have for protecting these little lives and all the people who are willing to love them.

More than anything though, I am thankful that none of this is up to me! I am thankful for a very sovereign God who loves this baby more than either of his potential moms! I am thankful that He loves me and that He is absolutely wild about this young woman... And that He will not abandon her for one single second. I am thankful that this decision is hers to make, and that while she seems sure now... God is still good and He's still enough if she changes her mind.

The desire of my heart is to have an open adoption. I want to spend this life taking the risk of loving others well and pouring myself out instead of always trying to figure out how to fill myself up. I would risk pain if it meant I would grow through suffering rather than stay small in the safety of my own self-protection. I know that navigating an open adoption is tricky and can be downright miserable at times... But I can't imagine the opportunities it would create, to love, serve and minister to this girl. And after just one conversation with her, I realized that I want to see her succeed just as much as my heart longs to parent another child.

If she continues to move forward with this adoption plan, I will brave all the paradoxes of fear, blessing, loss, grief and rejoicing... And I will choose to love not only this baby, but his mother, his first mother, the one who gave him life.

Capuano Adoption Journey: Meet a Maybe Mama

Tomorrow we have a phone meeting with a young woman who is interested in the possibility of us adopting her baby, who is due in just a couple of weeks.

We have never met with an expectant mom (potential birthmom) like this before, and it is both promising and very nerve-wracking. Or is it racking? I never really did learn the proper spelling, or what it actually means to wrack/rack ones nerves.

Either way, it is currently happening to my nerves. Tom and I are not feeling super prepared for the call because I have been in Portland for the past week visiting friends and welcoming their baby, Ava, into the world.

So, I am cramming for the oddest adoption experience to date. I wrote out some questions I anticipate she may ask, and some questions we will ask her. The idea for us will be to ask the same type of questions I would ask any woman who is expecting a child, some light ones that are easy to answer so she doesn't feel overwhelmed... along with some deeper questions to help us get to know her better, in case she does choose to entrust this child into our care.

I am listing the questions below, and answering some of the heavier ones she may ask us. This is mostly for me to process and prepare, but also a great opportunity to share our heart for adoption and answer some questions people often have, but don't always feel comfortable asking us.

Q's for expectant mom:
-How has your pregnancy been? (Any cravings, difficulty sleeping, complications, etc.)
-What are your hobbies? What do you like to do for fun/to relax?
-What kind of support do you have, friends/family/church/community?
-How can we support/be praying for you during this time?
-Why are you considering making an adoption plan?
-What personality trait, talent, or characteristic would you like your child to inherit from you?
-What are your hopes for your child's life?
-Is there anything you would like to know about us?
-If you chose to make an adoption plan, how much openness would you like? What would you prefer as far as visits/calls/pictures/letters?

Q's she may ask us:
-How did we meet?
-What is our parenting style?
-Why do we want to adopt?
A: We knew from the beginning that we wanted to adopt more than one child. We feel that it is really important for Harper (and our next child) to have a common experience with someone in his family. While he has plenty of sisters to go through life with, we think it will be very beneficial for them to have a common adoptive experience, as well as similar racial experience, etc. Life for a child who was adopted transracially is unique and challenging at times, the extra support and understanding of a sibling will be a really special and helpful experience.
-How will we answer adoption questions?
A: We are open, honest and straightforward when answering adoption questions from outsiders or from the children. We try to share how special and wonderful adoption is, but also that it can be devastatingly painful at times. We stress two basic things: that his first mom gave him life and and she gave him a family, two remarkable and sacrificial gifts. We talk about adoption frequently and casually so that the kids feel like they can talk about it whenever it pops in their mind, and that there are no "taboo" topics that will hurt our feelings to discuss.
-What is our primary hope for our children?
A: Our primary goal would be that all the kids become the men and women God created them to be. We want to give them a solid foundation in which they can grow to trust and follow Christ and strive to glorify Him always. We feel that (in addition to a solid biblical foundation) this is best achieved by giving the kids a variety of life experiences (traveling, camping, serving others, sports, art, school, dance, play, music, etc) all of which help develop the kids into their unique, individual selves. Often in large families, kids personalities start to blend together a bit... We try to be really mindful that people serve the Lord most effectively when they are free to be the unique person God designed them to be, using their individual gifts, passions and skill set. If they all started to look too much alike, I would be worried!
-What kind of support/community do we have?
-What are our hobbies/interests?
-What are our thoughts about openness?
A: We are very open to being open! We desire to have a relationship with our child's biological family, but will respect and honor the desire for space and privacy if that is preferred. We view our role to be that of facilitators of whatever relationship is best for our child. It is our belief that a relationship with positive and loving family members (both biological and adoptive) are very important and we will work very hard to facilitate these relationships if that is desired.

Okay... That's about all I can think of. Been through this? Then tell me: what am I missing? Haven't been through this? Then just imagine, what would YOU want to know if you were in her position?