Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss

Nobody tells you how hard this day is.

At 6:30 in the morning, years ago, I was in the garage putting on my shoes, almost in the car on my second to last day of substitute teaching.  I stopped because the phone rang. I answered.  "Kim, she's in labor.  Baby is coming today!!"

I paced and paced and called and cleaned and sat and then stood up again....didn't even bother with teaching that day.  It was a day of pure elation.  Today was the day.  The day I never knew if it would exist.  The day that would make me a mom because of someone else's decision.

And so on the way to the hospital, we stopped for flowers and held hands and smiled as we searched out the room and there she was. Perfect.  Wrapped tightly in those hospital blankets with a little pink hat probably knit by some random, charitable grandma.  She wasn't even one of those babies that is cute simply because she was a baby.  She was beautiful. No squished up little face just round and pink and lovely.

This day was amazing.  I would live it again and again.  But no one prepared me for the other feelings.  The one's that came when I saw a teenage mom with swollen eyes and my heart checked.  The one where a would-be grandma was consoled in the corner as she answered phone calls from friends and family who would never come to the hospital for a reunion.  I felt her loss, too.  Maybe even more because she knew what the word "mother" meant.   The feelings of jealousy as I watched someone else change her and feed her and hold her and kiss her.  The desperate unspoken fears of "What if she changes her mind??

Or when I walked into the hospital with an empty car seat, watched this young woman/girl slowly ride in a wheelchair to the front door, red-faced and crying, cherishing those last moments, handing her baby over, getting in a car, driving away....as I stood their holding HER baby and an empty car seat.

No one told me to expect this to be so hard.  No one said that this day, THE day, would also be one of the hardest.  It wouldn't feel like a Gotcha Day, but more like I Stole Ya Day.

I have lived this day now four times.

I was emotional even in the anticipation of today, knowing the duality of feelings was coming.

We did the norms...photos, laughs, visiting, playing, holding the babies, drinking the strong coffee.  But I knew it was coming.

We sat on pink couches and it slowly, quietly creeped in.  A woman I have come to respect for her devotion, her commitment, her LOVE for these children who come in and out of her life like a revolving door.  A women who loves these babies knowing it will be painful to say goodbye.  And she sat holding my Judah and the tears came freely.  "Rabirra, I know you will have a bright future.  You will live good life.  You will grow to be strong boy.  Goodbye, Rabi." Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss. And once again, a baby is placed in my arms and I am his mother with the blessing of another.  Her pain is palapable.  She apologizes for being emotional because, "we just become so attached to these babies."

Today Judah lost his family.  Again.  And although I know he WILL have a bright future, today my heart just hurts for those women who love tirelessly knowing that their attachment will result in sadness.  Today they lost four members of their makeshift family.  And yet tomorrow they will all show up again and keep on loving and caring.

Thank you, dear women.  For being a mama to my boy.  For picking him up when he cries, getting him to smile, snuggling him to your chest, feeding him in the night, sitting on the floor and encouraging him to crawl and roll over and share his toy.  You are precious.  You are amazing.  You are women of great strength.  And I am so grateful that you become attached knowing it is only for a short time. Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.