Just shy of three weeks ago, Josh and I were invited to be in the delivery room for the birth of our daughter.
Today I felt this undeniable prompting to share the miracle of my experience. In fact, I was doing the dishes and the feeling came to my heart to “put the scrub brush down and go write while the littles are napping.” It was music to my ears. Sage, our daughter’s birth mother, and I have been talking about this post for weeks but it just wasn’t coming together until now.
But how do you share the experience of someone else’s labor and delivery? I can only share how I felt and what Kim Orlandini photographed by Sage’s invitation. All of this was shared with Sage’s blessing and urging. So here we go …raw emotions and all.
First of all, I was nervous. In my experience, adoptive parents don’t really fit in at the hospital.
I felt helpless watching Sage suffer.
I felt guilty.
I felt worthless.
And yet, here is this beautiful vibrant woman who is literally entrusting a piece of her heart to me. I would do anything for her and not just because of her sacrifice but because I loved her deeply and recognized her soul. She trusted me. And I trusted her. This experience wasn’t about me. It was about her and her daughter. It was about what we would share together in this sacred space. I had no idea what I was about to experience.
I would laugh with her.
I would dance with her. (Badly.)
I would walk with her.
I would rub her feet until I passed out.
I would worry over her.
I would listen to her. Both what was said and what didn’t need to be spoken.
I would weep with her.
I would pray with her.
We would feel the veil between heaven and earth tear away as this perfect spirit took her first breath.
We would feel the humbling presence of angels.
I would cherish the honor of being chosen to be her mother. Sacred.
I would write these precious moments on my heart so I could whisper her story to her again and again. “My sweet Norah Hope. This is a story of how you went from love to love…”