When the baby isn’t due for another 8 weeks, a Sunday morning call from your adoption agency can’t be good news.
It wasn’t.
“Unfortunately, she fell at work yesterday and lost the baby.”
I couldn’t even process it. I managed to say, “Oh my God. Is she okay?” All I could think was that a fall bad enough to end the life of a baby would be a fall bad enough to hurt the mom.
I’ve wanted to adopt children since I was a small child, so I feel more than prepared for the adoption process. What I wasn’t prepared for—what I couldn’t ever imagine—was having to decline the adoption of a child.
Unfortunately, we’ve had to make that choice three times in this process, once about a month ago, once about 3 months ago, and once about 6 months ago. All—for different reasons—were the most heartbreaking decisions we’ve ever had to make, however this last one took me out at the knees for about a month; I was definitely in mourning and just unable to even talk about it for a while. I shut myself off from all my online presences to just try to give myself time to get through it.
She explained that our match was a woman, who I will call "Sarah," who was in rehab for opiate use, who didn’t know that she was pregnant for 24 weeks, and was clean as of the moment. Sarah's mom also wanted a partially open adoption and wanted to talk with me via phone that day. The baby was a boy, she was here in the state (as opposed to China), and she was due in just 8 weeks!
