A Mother's Love

I just read my cousin's story of finally getting their baby girl in her arms after an adoption half way across the world (see MotleyCrew.com).  I am lying in bed, crying like a toddler myself. It is an ugly cry that is requiring me to sit up because all the tears and snot are not allowing me to breath. 

Heather, my cousin,  has been in knots for months because she just wanted her baby home. She and all of her family wanted their new family member to join us.  She just wanted her baby girl.  

In following their story,  my mind was transported back to when Boone was in the NICU.  Obviously, it is not the same thing but bear with me.  I remember getting the call that despite his nurses saying he may be able to come home just the day before that Boone needed another night with them.   This happened more than once. The NICU staff was top notch but they cannot control a hormonal, emotional new mother. Especially one that just spent over 4 weeks on strict bed rest to get him here safely. No, there is really no match for those emotions. At least I did not think so til I read Heathers story. 

It seems to come down to this:  our babies really are pieces of our heart that walk around outside of our bodies.  We, as mothers, are never really whole again after we love a baby whether we physically birthed that child or prayed for their arrival from across the globe.   We are made whole again only in the brief moments when they let us hold them in our arms. 

When I got that call on that day, that B was not coming home,I broke. I had stayed so strong throughout the bed rest, his emergency birth, the initial stages of my recovery but in that moment I was broken. 

I wanted my baby home. I wanted him with me, home, not in a bed that was not his own, not in a room that wasn't in my family's home.  I wanted him for all selfish reasons because obviously he needed to stay and get stronger.  I can't argue that breathing on your own is overrated.  But the thought of one more night of not smelling his baby head or studying his little hands and feet for hours on end was a lot for me to take. Not too much but a lot.  

Weeks ago Heather finally got her call to come get her baby.  Their journey was a bit more involved than 20 minutes up Mopac but the emotions the same.  

Yesterday Heather and her family got to bring Amelia "home".  Not yet toAmerica but one step closer.  The pics and videos of the "final scoop up" amid Amelia's cry is a lot to take in especially when there is an emotional connection. But the smile on Heather's face and the worry/exhilaration in her eyes is that of a mother plain in simple. I know it well.  Our babies are home. 

Welcome to the family, Amelia!