Since FOREVER, I wanted to be a mama. To call this story bittersweet is an understatement; but that’s really the best word to describe it. For a long time, I put off writing this post because it was hard for me to put it into words. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I have so much to say, and so many happy and sad tears that go right along with it.
Before I get into it though, I want to talk about one other special mom and that’s my husband’s younger sister, and my sister-in-law, Gina. I didn’t get the opportunity to know her. We saw her occasionally and my interaction with her was always positive but I never got the chance to really know her. I wish so much that I had.
Tragically our family lost Gina in 2016 to what’s called an abdominal aortic aneurysm. I’ve learned so many things about her since then, which makes me sad because in a lot of ways it sounds like we had similar personality traits and maybe we could have been good friends. She was the life of the party and she loved to laugh. Her full smile brought the sunshine to any room, and her smile makes me smile when I see it in pictures. The other day I shared some great things about my mother-in-law and how she’s always taking care of people, and how she passed those traits on to her kids; Gina definitely inherited it too. If you were her people, she had your back. She lived with my mom-in-law, a few hours away from us, and I remember Nick and I going to visit for a Holiday one year. He and I went to check out a casino one night about twenty minutes away, but when we were ready to head back, our GPS wasn’t working and we couldn’t figure out how to get back to the house. It was late, but Nick called Gina and she tried to give him directions but the phone reception wasn’t great and it was dark and hard to see (street signs, etc…). She told him to stay put and she would come find us and we could follow her back to the house. She hopped in her car and that’s just what she did. We had a lot of laughs that visit. She was a good friend. She was thoughtful and caring. She had six beautiful children and although she had her own personal struggles, and ups and downs with them, she loved them beyond unconditionally. The reason that makes me the saddest about not having had the chance to really know Gina, is because she is the momma that birthed our baby girl; and she died less than 48 hours after Emily was born.
She only got to hold Emily once or twice, because shortly after she was born, Emily had some complications and they ended up airlifting her to the nearest Children’s Hospital. The next day when things took a turn for the worse with Gina, she had my mother-in-law call the hospital to check in on how everything was going with Emily, and she was able to listen on speakerphone to the nurse confirm things were going well. She loved that baby and one of the last things she’s told her mom was that no matter what happened to her, make sure Emily was taken care of. And that’s exactly what my mother-in-law did.
When Nick and I found out what happened, we were devastated and also concerned with what was going to happen with Emily. Her birth father was very young and not quite able to provide sufficient care for a newborn, so we were informed she wouldn’t be able to go home with him. My mother-in-law was completely ready to care for her new granddaughter, but as much as her heart and mind wanted to do it, it had been 10+ years since there was a newborn in the house and her age and some new health matters were going to make things a little bit challenging. And because the law is so complicated in these situations, no one knew exactly who or where the hospital was going to be required to release Emily to. The only thing that was certain, before the conversation ever came up, and before either of us even verbalized it to each other, was that Nick and I knew we needed to be the ones to take Emily in, while things were worked out through the County.
The day following Gina’s passing, Nick and I met my mother-in-law at the Children’s Hospital to see Emily. She was still in the NICU but they allowed a few people at a time to visit her. She was doing much better but she had a case of jaundice and they still needed to monitor her. They also needed to keep her there until it was decided where she would be going home. Nick wasn’t ready to see her and develop any attachment just yet, but I wanted nothing more than to see her. For whatever reason, before ever meeting Emily, I felt protective of her and like I wanted to make sure she was going to be OK. I’m sure everyone in my family felt that way too but it was such a strong feeling for me, I’ll never forget it. After we had our visit with the baby, we went down to the cafeteria to have some lunch. It was then that the conversation came up about where Emily was going to go, and it was Nick that immediately said we would be honored to take her if it came to be, and I agreed. Still we hadn’t actually talked about it with each other, but that’s what I love so much about my relationship with my husband is that 99% percent of the time we’re on the same page without even speaking. My mother-in-law told us how happy it made her that we would be willing to do it, and that she wanted to ask us from the start but it’s kind of a big responsibility and she didn’t want us to feel pressured. That night Nick and I went home and sat outside on our patio with a couple bottles of wine, and we talked and cried about Gina and went back and forth on the decision to take in Emily (if it came up), but even though we may have had some doubts talking about it, deep down we knew it had to be us, and we wanted it to be us.
The next day, Nick went to spend the day and night with his mom, to help her with some things for Gina, and the day following that (it was a Tuesday) my sister-in-law, Lisa, and I went to the hospital and we spent the entire day with Emily. Holding her, loving her, laughing, and crying. We got to change her and dress her and feed her and sit with her, and it was a very special auntie moment for both of us. While we were there, a social worker called me and put me on speaker phone with my husband and mother-in-law (who were at the county child welfare office). She asked us a lot of questions and then told us it looked like we would be the ones bringing Emily home, but they weren’t sure when. There was a social worker at the hospital who was going to be meeting me and not too long after I hung up the phone, that social worker was there. She talked to both Lisa and I, and asked a lot of questions, and then told us someone would be in touch as soon as they knew what was going to happen.
The following day was Wednesday and Nick got a call late in the afternoon from the first social worker who said Emily was cleared to go home to us on Thursday, and that someone from the State Child Welfare Licensing Department (the people that license homes to do foster care and run daycare) would be coming out in the late morning to inspect our home so we needed to be ready (gulp!). We spent the rest of that night scrubbing every inch of our house, and baby proofing (as required by law), then the following morning we rushed to a nearby baby goods store to buy virtually EVERYTHING you could possibly need for a baby. Fortunately, one of my close mom friends was available to sit on the phone with me and act as my checklist while we shopped. Shortly after we got back from the store, the licensing people showed up, took a ton of pictures of our home, had us fill out a stack of paperwork, and told us someone would be bringing Emily to us that afternoon. A few hours later we received another call from our social worker who asked us if we could go to the hospital to pick up Emily instead, so we hopped in the truck, full of excitement and fear, and went to get that sweet little girl. We brought Emily home when she was just one week old (and her adoption was finalized a year-and-a-half later).
I always wanted to be a mommy. I‘ve always been a maternal person and loved babies and kids, even from a very young age. Actually, when I was young, I wanted ten kids. And believe me I definitely wasn’t thinking about everything that would come with having TEN kids, but I wanted a big family and big holidays. Today, I can honestly tell you I am so glad I didn’t live out that “dream”. When I was 20 years old, I got pregnant and although the situation wasn’t ideal, I was so excited. When I was about 4 months along, I had a horrible miscarriage. And it took me a long time to heal from it. A few years later I met a man that I married and we tried to have kids with no success (thankfully, because that marriage didn’t last long). And years after that, I met Nick. Before we even got engaged, we talked about having kids and how we were getting older, and knew we would be together forever, so why not start trying now. We tried for a few years before finally going to see a fertility doctor, and we then found out due to a few reasons, we had about a 2% chance of getting pregnant naturally (but of course there were other options available). All I can hear whenever I say that is the actor Jim Carey’s voice, in whatever movie it was saying “So you’re telling me there’s a chance?!?!”. All silliness aside though, it was a hard pill to swallow but Nick and I both, being firm believers in things happen for a reason, thought that maybe we just weren’t meant to have kids. We went back and forth for a while after that, with different emotions on the matter and talking about going through treatment, but then not really wanting to go through treatment, and so on. I think it was more difficult for me because I realized that as much as I wanted to be a mom and have a baby, I really wanted to experience pregnancy. Be it shitty and miserable or great and smooth, I just wanted to feel it. I’ve since learned that my body kinda got the best deal becoming a mom without going through a pregnancy at all (I used to receive a TON of compliments when Emily was a newborn about how amazing I looked!).
A few months before Gina passed away, Nick and I had finally come to the decision that we weren’t going to do anything further to have a child. If it happened naturally great, but if not, great. We had an active, fun, easy-going care-free lifestyle. We both worked high demand, stressful (at times), full-time jobs. And we had a couple of cats and a big overgrown puppy dog, who needed our constant attention, so it was much easier not having kids at all. But as content with my life as I was, I don’t think the yearn for having a baby ever went away. When Emily came into the picture, I realized she was the reason why we couldn’t have kids. Because I believe someone, somewhere, was going to need a strong, loving couple to be fully available and committed to raise their baby and as heartbreaking as it is, I love that the baby we were meant for is from my husband’s own blood.
Emily has one interesting family tree for sure. Not just because her uncle and aunt are her dad and mom, but she also has five siblings. Four sisters and a brother. Her oldest sister is about 22 years older than her and the youngest sister is about 9 years older than her. Her other siblings’ range in age between there and even through some pretty major ups and downs in their lives, they all have an extremely close-knit bond with each other, that is also important for them to have with Emily. They make time to see her often and she gets so excited to see them. She is so special to them, and I think in many ways she’s one thing that’s brought them all even closer. She’s the thing that’s brought the entire family closer. I know it wasn’t easy for them when Nick and I brought Emily home. We lived hours away, and they knew they weren’t going to see her as frequently as they had planned. They also didn’t know a thing about me. Of course, they knew their Uncle Nick, but I was just his wife and their aunt through marriage; they never spent any real time with me. I’m pretty sure they felt like I was this woman stranger, who came in to try to be their baby sister’s “new mom”, when she already had a mom, and they had to try to cope with and process that; all while grieving the loss of their mother, and going through the motions of that. It’s been hard for me too, similar to how a step-parent must feel when they come into a family with older kids, except I am only becoming a parent to one of the kids and not the others. I think they’ve also felt worried that for some reason we won’t, or don’t, talk about their mother with Emily, but I hope that they know, we do. I might not be able to talk about her like her children, mother, or siblings can, but we do talk about her (to the extent that a 2-year-old can comprehend), and as Emily grows, I know she will learn so many wonderful things about their mother. We call her Momma G. I said in Post #3 about my Grandma Sonya that when a butterfly will appear randomly, I know it’s her visiting us. Well ever since we’ve had Emily, there’s always two butterflies; I know one is Grandma Sonya and I definitely know the other one is Momma G.
I recently found the above picture of Gina which I’m framing to hang in Emily’s room because the resemblance between the two of them is incredible (and I love Gina’s full, happy smile). It’s interesting because as much as Emily looks like both her birth father and Gina (and all of her siblings, it’s actually amazing how much they all look alike), she also looks a lot like Nick, and people frequently say that she looks like ME, too. I think most of the time it’s because people associate our light eyes or loud personalities, but before I was comfortable just responding with a quick “thank you”, I felt the need to go into our full story and how she actually looks just like her “real mom”. It wasn’t until I read an article by an adoptive mom one day that I stopped doing that. She mentioned in her article to not refer to a birth parent as a “real” parent, but instead call them birth mom/dad or bio mom/dad, because in reality, the author was her kid’s real mom. That article really hit me because I struggled for a long time with being called Emily’s mom and even when Emily first started calling me mom. Deep down it’s what I wanted to be called more than anything, but I knew it was awkward for Emily’s siblings to hear it. Above anyone, my mother-in-law was the main person who always called me Emily’s mom and she said it confidently, because Emily needed someone to call “mom”. Not Auntie. Not Bre. Mom.
Emily didn’t get the opportunity to know her Momma G. I’m the only one she’s ever known as her mother figure. I spent hours holding her and talking to her in the NICU of the hospital, where she was attached to machines and cords, and looked like a glow worm wrapped in this strange blanket thing they now use to help treat jaundice. I sat with her in the backseat of the car on our way home from the hospital so I could make sure she didn’t get lost in the carseat (and to take a million pictures of her). I stayed up all night watching her to make sure she didn’t stop breathing, and I still stay up some nights just to watch her sleep. I stressed over her eating habits and weight chart and spent hundreds of dollars to find the right formulas and bottles she would take, then came up with creative ways to get her to eat. I’ve worried about her and I’ve cried over her. I’ve spent many sleepless nights up with her because she didn’t want to go to sleep, only for her to finally fall asleep when it was time for me to get up to go to work. I’ve had food thrown at me. I’ve been hit, bitten, kicked, scratched, kissed and hugged. I’ve been up close and personal with more bodily fluids than should even be allowed. I’ve hurt for her when she’s been sick because I can’t make her feel better. I’ve been at every doctors appointment. I cook for her, clean up after her, and bathe her. I comfort her and protect her. I laugh with her, yell with her (sometimes at her), cry with her, talk with her, sing with her and read to her. I watch her grow more every day and wish I could freeze time. I’ve been there, and will be there, for all of her “firsts”. I will be her biggest cheerleader while she becomes whoever she’s meant to be. And I will be there for her to fall back on when things don’t work out as she planned. I will wipe her tears when she gets her heart broken. I will be there for a warm, tight hug just because she needs one. I fought for her and will always fight for her, and likely with her. And I will love her, and call her my child, and be her real mom.
Emily does a lot of things they say are just like Gina used to. I smile because they are things that I do, or did as a child, too, and I know a lot of how Emily acts and the things she does, she gets from me as well. I take comfort in knowing Gina and I were similar and that I’m teaching Emily some of the same things she may have, too.
She didn’t know me, and she may or may not have picked me in a random line-up of women to be a mother for her baby girl. But Gina, I hope you hear me each and every morning when I thank you for giving me the gift of something I always longed for; the gift to be somebody’s Mom. There’s no one else I could be prouder to be than Emily’s mommy, and I hope you’re up there feeling proud of that, too.
To Emily: Thank you for bringing out things in me that I never knew were there. For helping me slow down and enjoy the moments. For your free-spirit, hilarious personality, and teaching me how to live life through my FEET. For those big, strong hugs that I know you get from your Auntie (and your Momma G). But most importantly, thank you for calling me Mommy. Some days you drive me bat-shit crazy, but you always know how to make me smile, and you have no idea how big of a gift you are to me every day; especially on Mother’s Day. I love you my little Nugget.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥