Chapter 20
The day finally came. Mary would be driving up from down the hill, bringing the paperwork with her. Pam would be relinquishing her rights before we even left the hospital; this was a new experience for us. We had scheduled for two close friends to witness the presentation and subsequent signing of documents, per Mary’s request.
“We can always have a couple nurses step into the room, but it is so much nicer with people you know.” We had to choose wisely. It had to be someone we trusted impeccably, as they would be stepping into a very volatile situation – we had to trust that they would not say the wrong thing. It also had to be someone who was available at a moment’s notice, someone who would be able to show up without fail when we called.
Though it was scary for us to have to make this sort of decision, in the end it was nice to have people we knew. Brad and Tracy agreed to the weighted task, showed up promptly and alleviated concern with their calm demeanors. It was a fresh breeze in our stuffy situation, a break from the crazy I had grown accustomed to. Tracy penned a letter to Pam and gave it to her, with a reassuring hug, before the signing. She had asked for my permission, and while a bit hesitant, I trusted her with my heart. In the end, I figured it could only help.
We had never been a part of the paperwork before. Mary sat and read aloud the document in its entirety, pausing to emphasize key points, and have Pam initial each line as she progressed. Phrases like, “You will not be able to change your mind,” and “All rights to this child will be henceforth terminated” plummeted my mind like battering rams. The decision would be final, binding, and irreversible. At that moment, I could only imagine how Pam must have been feeling.
I could barely breathe as the words of the document droned on and filled the room. I sat in a chair close to the bedside and had only a box of tissue to offer. A pile of snot-filled rags covered Pam’s bed and I wondered if I had brought enough. I stood there, again at a cross-road of hope and intense grief. My heart broke as I sat silently hoping Pam would find the strength to make it through. I wanted more than anything to reach out and comfort her, but also knew this was a path she had to walk alone.
As I cradled Naomi in my arms, I would not yet allow myself the pleasure of dreaming. This was a somber moment, filled with heartache, leaving not a spot for joy. With each caressing of the pen to paper, I began to wonder if it was even real. It could have been the lack of sleep or the spent emotions, but it seemed allusive. Would she be coming home with us today? No matter how hard my mind tried, I could not emotionally bring myself to step past this moment. My heart hurt, for Pam, for Naomi, for Mary who had walked it so many times before.
She had brought a stuffed white lamb with her. When she first entered the room, she handed it to Pam. “You should not have to leave with your arms empty.” I know that Mary meant for this gesture to be supportive, but it felt empty in the moment – even to me. I am not sure if bringing nothing would have been a more suitable alternative, but the white lamb seemed to sit and mock the weight of this next step. Pam graciously accepted it and set it to the side, on a ledge near her bed.
Reality was a heavy burden and we all felt it: Pam most of all. Today she would leave, a sorry white lamb in her arms reminding her of the beautiful little girl that should have been there. I hoped it would suffice, that it would stave the loss just enough to bring us all securely to our vehicles, even if it could not comfort her all the way home. Most of all I secretly hoped it would buy us time to drive away before she changed her mind. Distance might make it easier.
The day I left the hospital was one of the most heart wrenching days I have ever experienced. As much as I feel like I had prepared myself and grieved in advance to a degree, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I sobbed uncontrollably as I signed the adoption paperwork. I didn’t care how crazy I sounded or what other people thought. I bordered on hysterical.
It sounds clichéd but the pain pierced my heart like a sword. My baby, no longer the baby, wasn’t coming home with me. She was going home with them. What did I get in return? Mary gave me a stuffed lamb so I wouldn’t leave the hospital empty handed. Seriously? I get pushed out in a wheelchair with an idiotic child’s toy and they get to leave the hospital all happy and joyous and sickeningly perfect with MY child.
Where is the justice? What happened to knowing, truly knowing, I was making the right decision? What happened to the love I had for Renee? What happened to all the pre-grieving I had done? What happened to doing the right thing for the right reason despite how it felt? I’ll tell you what happened; things became real and reality began setting up. Raw emotions, hormones, grief, sorrow, doubt, fear, anger, resentment, jealousy, and embarrassment flooded my entire being.
