Home- in Florida

Yesterday we were able to take Elijah out of the hospital and home- well at least to our temporary home here in Florida, until the interstate adoption paperwork is approved.

"It could be 10 days plus before anyone even opens the file", Mark said, never much for bedside manner. Yet we'd rather have it straight and prepare for the worst. We're already investigating additional extended lodging accomodations. Our rented beach-access, shotgun style house has seen better days. Plus the frequent multi-legged and/or slimy native visitors are wearing out their welcome- and ours.

Katherine spent the night with Katrina to "help" while I had Jack and Ella at the rental house. I convinced the two of them to get up early to catch the sunrise over the ocean with me on a 5 miler double jogger stroller run along the beach. The beauty of the sun poking up into the horizon coupled with a few stops for Jack and Ella to collect sea shells in their pajamas made the early rising worth it. By the time we arrived at the hospital, our band of sunrise catchers was tired enough to match Kat and Katherine- who had a long night with the new baby. Elijah looked refreshed.

Mark hovered around in what was now our mother-baby suite. Another dark suit on, but no stenographer this time. He was there to help us work through the paperwork needed so that Elijah could be released to us- and with us- from the hospital. He's ours (technically he is Mark's until the final hearing this summer).

We took our first official family photo outside the hospital. Here we go, I thought. This is real now.

When we arrived back at the rental house I attempted to steal the kids away to the beach to give Kat and Elijah a break to nap. As soon as we found our spots in the sand, Kat called. Mark needs paperwork for Florida Department of Child Services filled out. They had to approve our adoption as well. Off to FedEx to do some printing and scanning in our mobile minivan office.

Now that the dust had settled from all the excitment of the induction and birth, we learned the real reason Connie wanted to delay the induction for 4 days. It was not cold feet. She was hoping to avoid a positive drug test and the ensuing wrath of Florida authorities. Her plan failed. It is hard not to be angry at her. We thought we had formed a bond. An understanding. Clearly her addiction was more powerful than that. I had dealt with my own addiction and wanted to emphathize, yet I just couldn't understand it. That -in a nutshell- is the frustrating, mysterious part about addiction and addicts, for that matter. To those on the outside, it makes no sense. Why would someone throw their life away for that? Why would they risk it all? And while my addiction to alcohol may not have been as physiologically strong as an addiction to cocaine, it gripped me and controlled me just the same.

Our future interactions with Connie are going to be hard- for us and also now, for Connie. She plans to turn herself into authorities on Monday in hopes that will curb the impact on her ability to see her daughter JoJo, and allow her mother to retain custody.

We have plans to spend time with Connie this weekend before she turns herself in. We felt it was important that we speak into her in as loving of a way as we can now, while we still have the opportunity. We've held back on this so that we can build the relationship with her, but now that Kat has witnessed a 7 pound human come out of Connie's womb, now feels like as good a time as any.

To prepare our hearts and counter the feelings of anger, resentment and frustration, we recorded as many positive things about Connie that we know are true. 100% true. The list was small at first. Hard to write. Then as the day went on the list grew. We wrote it out on the beachhouse whiteboard and sent her the image tonight, asking her to read it in hopes that it may open doors to some meaningful, fruitful conversation during our visit tomorrow. Here is what we fit so far onto the whiteboard:

 

I would be shocked if Connie has ever heard any words like these spoken to her (or about her) in her 28 years on earth. She's faced many challenges we cannot begin to fathom. Her father died when she was 12, "and it all went downhill from there," she told us when we first met her back in November. Sidebar: it immediately hit us that Kat's Father died when she was 13. Why the different paths? Simply put: Kat was raised by a strong mother and surrounded with a support network of friends and families that kept her on a path. She thrived. Became a leader and one kick-ass wife and mother - if I may say so. Oh yeah, and the Holy Spirit came into her life and took hold. Faith in the ultimate Dad.

By contrast the outlook for Connie is grim. One year from now there is a high likelihood she will be in one of these conditions: pregnant (again), incarcerated, or dead. Connie will not overcome her addiction unless an outside force intervenes. State-mandated programs probably won't do it. Neither will more prison time. Her plans and her power are futile. I know this. I think she knows it, too. She will require the help of a professional Rescuer. A Hero. Right, Jesus- the risen son of God. No way around this One. She doesn't (yet) believe this Hero is truly available to her, how could there be a hero that could possibly redeem a hopeless situation. If she can somehow hear (and comprehend) the truth about who she really is, maybe, just maybe she'll believe she's worth it, and that there is in fact a Rescuer who is furiously chasing her and won't give up on her. He offers hope for her, as he does for all of us. If we just stop long enough to recognize Him and surrender to Him.

We're still waiting on the magic hour to pass when the symtoms of infant drug withdrawl can be ruled out. We're not there yet. Maybe another day. Maybe longer? As we prepare for what will likely be a restless, fitful night for Elijah, our prayer tonight is that Connie receives our list- and hears the Truth- in her heart. As my friend Bill prayed: "May she be blindsided by the Holy Spirit."

Our prayer is that she will stop and turn toward her ultimate Father. (Mark 1:15) The Dad she never had- but always wanted. This Daddy stands by, ready to adopt her right now. No paperwork. No stenographers. The Rescuer will open Connie's file with no bureaucratic delay, wipe her record clean, and welcome her into His arms. Abba, Father. May it be so.

 

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He is here.

He is here.

 

I couldn't believe the text I just read. I just let Kat know that I was two minutes away from the hospital and she responded with "He is here." What? (followed by a couple f-bombs. Luckily the kids weren't in the car with me.) How could I have missed it? We thought we have one or two more hours until the pushing so I left the room to drive to the rental house and bring the kids and Uncle Kevin to the hospital. Halfway into the 10 minute drive Kat texted to let me know the pushing had begun, so I knew I had to turn around. Surely I'd make it in time, I thought. I missed the birth by about 5 minutes.

 

As frustrating as the miscalculation seemed at the time, upon further reflection we were glad it was just Kat and Connie in there together. They had bonded all morning since the 4:30 am pick up time and red eye drive to the hospital. And even though Connie said she was ok with me being in the room, I sensed it was better for all of us that I missed a few minutes of details.

 

My absence also ensured Kat would cut the cord- an experience she has never had, having been slightly preoccupied during the birth of our first three children.

I ran into the room just after they placed the baby in the giant combined basinette, warmer, and scale contraption. It looked as if this device could make a mean expresso for all I knew.

But there he was! Our baby boy! And the most important thing is that this baby was safe and healthy, and crying. Crying! Good, healthy crying. Connie looked relieved and Kat was smiling. Joy. Relief. Wonder. Amazement. Was he ok? Was everyone ok? I think so.

My reaction was similar to when I met our first three children. Tears of joy. Hugging Kat- except we were both standing up this time. That was a new feeling.

I was able to hold him almost immediately. I forgot how light babies are. And the whole neck support thing- better get used to that again, I thought. We took pictures. So did Connie. The flow of text messages, emails, and social media posts began.

 

 

His scores were good and he appeared healthy. What's the catch? I thought. It will be 72 hours until the withdrawl symptoms manifest. Still a long road to go.

It only took one look to confirm we had the right name picked out. Elijah Luke Kanary. It fit him. I just couldn't bring myself to write it, or say it, until I actually met him. I have developed a reputation amongst our friends for my superstitious nature here- refusing to talk about baby names "until I meet the baby." Well I finally I met him. And he is definitely, most fittingly, Elijah.

My sister pointed out that his initials spell out the name ELK, a "majestic" animal in its own right.

Elijah Luke Kanary, born 1:37 pm Eastern time on April 22, 2014. Weighing 7 pounds, 6 ounces. 19 and a half inches in length. A majestic little boy, indeed!

Connie couldn't wait to get out of there- and since her 5 am arrival had been ensuring every staff member- including housekeeping- knew of her desire to leave early. She had been down the adoption road before and wanted to get out of the hospital as quickly as possible. We couldn't be certain if it was to seek comfort of familiar surroundings, people (and possibly substances), or to avoid the painful feelings and emotions she would (once again) feel after offering a child to another family for adoption. Maybe it was all of the above. Or none of the above. It didn't matter. We understood.

Later on while the baby was in the nursery for his bath I went to check on Connie. She spoke briefly about the birth father- who had refused his parental rights long ago. He specifically requested that she not send him pictures. He didn't want to see them. Or him. "I want to send him a picture, just so he'll see," she said. Then she broke down. "What kind of person....doesn't want to see their baby? He doesn't even care. He doesn't care. Doesn't care about anyone, but himself" she sobbed.

I tried to comfort her. Reminding her that she cares. And that mattered. That means something. She loves and cares for this baby. And she's a good person. I didn't know what else to say.

We convinced our adoption attorney Mark to get to the hospital as quickly as possible to get the signings and witnessings done so the parental rights paperwork can be finalized. Once that's done we can have "custody" of the child in the hospital- especially with Connie wanting the early departure. There's a risk we won't or can't all get back into the same location again tomorrow.

Strutting into the delivery room in a dark window pane-patterned suit, Mark brought a stack of papers, a ball point pen, and a full-fledged live court reporter with a rollerbag suitcase full of gear. In less than one hour the initial round of paperwork was done. Connie wanted to be certain her four months of post-partum living expenses (in cash) would come along with Mark. It did.

The epidural had worn off just enough that Connie could begin to feel her legs and walk. So "AMA" (Against Medical Advice) she decided she was ready to leave. Less than 5 hours after giving birth. A record time for any birth mother, according to Mark.

In a whirlwind of hugs and kisses, Connie, her mother who came to drive her home, and Jojo (who had just met her biological little brother) were gone. We'll see them again at least once before we leave for Kansas- as we had agreed upon.

Kat couldn't wait to get her hands, or rather, two other specific body parts, on this baby. We planned and hoped to have the opportunity to breastfeed this child- as we have been blessed to do successfully with our first three. Kat had been studying, pumping and preparing for this day for weeks. We held on loosely to the hope that nurturing our child in this way would be possible. While my request to publish pictures was denied by my "editor," I am happy to report that Elijah is latching on and feeding well thus far in his first few hours with us. In fact just tonight one of the nurses complimented him on his "excellent latch." Well done, son. Well done.

Mark shared some slightly discouraging yet not surprising news- the ICPC (acronym for Interstate Beauracracy for adoptions) for the state of Florida is backed up- and the approvals are taking longer than usual for other adoptive familes. In some cases paperwork that was sent in over a week ago hasn't even been opened yet. We should expect the worse, which could put us in Florida for another two weeks. Maybe more.

The hospital staff graciously offered us our own recovery room so that we could care for Elijah until his discharge- which could be as soon as tomorrow, maybe the next day. The room was ready, and now that our kids were there, Mark suggested we roll Elijah into the new room so they could meet their new baby brother for the first time. After greetings of wonder, amazement and cooing, a round of supervised baby holding, and plenty of sheilding our new son from the sneezes and coughs of our youngest daughter, we settled into our new room. Mark said goodnight, knowing he'll see us tomorrow or the next day for more paperwork. Later on I would take the kids back to the rental house so that Kat could spend the night with Elijah.

But for the moment, the first moment ever, it's just us in the room. The new us. Kanarys: Party of 6.

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Renewed Purpose

We felt like a ship without a heading for a couple of months.  We had the basic information.  We thought we knew what we wanted to do.  We thought we knew what God wanted us to do...sort of.  We just didn't know where to go from there with no map to guide us.  I am a detail-oriented person.  I need a specific set of instructions or a specific plan in place to accomplish a goal.  Starting or growing a family is not like that.  Fortunately, when starting or growing your family biologically once you are pregnant, backing out isn't much of an option.  Once you see the two pink lines, the plus sign, or the digital readout indicating "pregnant," you can't back off and say, "I'm not so sure about this, lets wait a while."  With adoption you have to make decisions at each stage and take purposeful steps forward in order for things to progress.  Without a positive test and a due date to determine your general course and a growing belly to show your progress, it can be a little discouraging.  Second-guessing your decision to have a baby doesn't really matter when you are pregnant, you are all in.  Second-guessing your decision to adopt a baby or merely wondering if this is really what God wants for your family can be a major roadblock, bringing your journey to a screeching halt until you get yourself back on track and take the next intentional step.
We were stuck at a roadblock for a couple of months.  Then a few weeks ago, after a lot of prayer, we decided to take the next purposeful step.  We applied to begin the Home Study process and signed up for the first required class.  We were approved to begin the Home Study process, got babysitters (we have some amazing friends) for the three kiddos, and attended the adoption class at our home study agency.  The class was an opportunity to walk through the process with a social worker, ask questions, and interact with other couples/families also hoping to adopt.  What became glaringly obvious as we went around the room to introduce ourselves and tell where we were in the process was that we needed to get our buns in gear!  We hadn't touched the home study packet (read: 2-inch thick, 3-ring binder full of paperwork to fill out, and tasks to accomplish).
So, I am happy to say that we are now well into the packet (thanks to my wonderful husband who hung out with the kids all day yesterday while I filled out forms, answered questions, stuffed envelopes, and prepared items for submission).  We still have quite a bit to do, but we are approaching the journey with renewed purpose.  We may not know exactly what the journey will look like, but we are making intentional strides in the direction of growing our family.

And the journey begins...

We have had the issue of adoption on our hearts for years.  It was just always something we were interested in.  James' brother Paul is adopted, his cousin adopted a beautiful little girl to add another smiling face to their family, we have watched many friends struggle with infertility, James' sister and her family have fostered kids...the list goes on.  Adoption just always remained something in the back of our minds.  Thanks to God, we were able to conceive with no trouble at all.  We were staggered a bit by a miscarriage in the midst of bringing home three wonderful children.  Aside from that we were blessed and content.
That is, we were content until a few months ago.  We hadn't really ever thought that much about adoption from the Biblical perspective and had only really started thinking about it from the environmental sustainability perspective.  But sometime in November/December, God gave us the kick in the pants that got us on our journey to adoption.  Within the span of a single weekend the concept of adoption came at us on just about every level in our life.  From friends talking about it, to the topic coming up in plot lines of movies or TV we were watching, to a seemingly out-of-the-blue message about it from our pastor at church that Sunday, we got the message.  We needed to look more into adoption as it related to our family.  Before we left church on Sunday James actually told a friend, "God has done everything but take out a billboard to tell us we need to investigate adoption further."  Our friend's response..."You haven't driven home yet."
One of the things mentioned that Sunday as part of the sermon was a class that some members of our church were hosting about adoption.  It was a one-day, all-day class about adoption from a Biblical perspective.  So we signed up, and a few weeks later we took part in the class and learned a lot more about adoption.  We got plugged into the adoption community at our church.  We started reading books, talking to friends and family, doing research online..anything we could to learn more. 
With all that initial momentum you would think we were off to a running start, but after the holidays we just felt stuck.  We had a lot more information, but didn't really know what to do with it.  We prayed about it a lot.  We asked others to pray with and for us.  We talked about it, then we avoided talking about it, then we started talking about it again.  We set up a meeting with a local agency that does home studies and also facilitates local adoptions.  We met with the wonderful owner of Adoption & Beyond here in Overland Park.  She was a font of information and exerted no pressure on us to sign up for anything we weren't ready for.
We solicited information from several local and national agencies, including an adoption facilitation agency (different from a traditional adoption agency).  The people I spoke to at the facilitation agency were extremely gracious and honest.  They ultimately decided that our family dynamic didn't fit with any of the birth mothers currently on their list so politely declined to take us on as clients.  More on that in another post...
After all that, we were still stuck.