Failure to launch….

Many of you have been following us on our Facebook Adoption page, and thus you know what all happened during the last few weeks to us. But we’ve kept the information to a minimum and gave just the basic information. Frankly, I won’t be going into the deepest information here, but I wanted to address some of the basics and how Stephanie and I are getting through it all.

Leading up to August 20th, the birth day, we were in contact with our Expectant mom (EM), and had good conversations after meeting her in person, as well as her children, and her boyfriend (the father).  We felt close to her, we worried about her health, and her well-being, and did what we could to help her and her family. Stephanie and I have never struggled like our EM has/was/is, and seeing it first hand, was tough for me. Eye opening for sure, which for me made it much easier to lend a helping hand. The hardest thing for me to see was the children struggling. She has her hands full with very little support.

One hurdle during all of this was her lifestyle of only focusing on one moment at a time. She doesn’t look at the future, she looks at today. Whether that is society or personal, it was hard for Stephanie and I to deal with. Stephanie is a planner to the T; by default, I have become more structured, and scheduled. We know what is happening and when. There were times when she needed things from us, and waited until it was last second, which put tremendous pressure on us to deliver and made it more difficult to help since our options at the last minute were limited.

As we neared the arrival date, we started hearing less and less from her. We didn’t see that sign, and chalked it up to her getting things ready for her other kids to be settled while she delivers. We texted Wednesday night that we’d see her in the morning at the hospital… and then nothing.

At 5am Thursday, Stephanie and I arrived at the hospital we were told she would be delivering at (from her, and the paperwork filed with the agency) but she was not registered. We were literally the only two people at the hospital who weren’t patients/staff, with no understanding of what to do.  By 7am,  we were driving back to Stephanie’s sister’s house to gather our thoughts. While I drove, we stared at each other not believing what was going on. Totally unsure what to even say to one another. The phone rings. It’s Stephanie’s mom. It was 2 hours after the “birth” and she was looking for some good news update. There was none. I filled her in that we were heading back to the house (Stephanie was not in a good place to talk to her mom, which I get, because I didn’t talk to my mom on the phone for 2 days, I couldn’t get through that conversation, so I texted).

That day all we heard was that they couldn’t find her or get in touch with her. The agency was trying to figure out what happened, but when the EM doesn’t answer, it’s kind of hard to do that. We all waited to hear something, anything from her. Friday and Saturday went by with no contact, and it became apparent that this was just not going to happen. That child, whether born or not, was not ours, she wasn’t going to be Zoe. We spent Friday and Saturday recovering with family, and that was a great distraction. Saturday afternoon, we announced to everyone that if we hadn’t heard anything by the end of that evening then we were getting up early Sunday and driving home. There was nothing we could do there.

Sunday’s drive allowed us to really delve into the situation as a couple. To hash things out. We realized that our EM was never a good communicator and looking back signs were there, but we never saw this coming. We thought she cared about us, like we did for her. She was always thanking us for whatever help we gave and said she cared about us and was so happy to have matched with us. Was it real and she just changed her mind with the adoption? We’ll never know. That is what we don’t understand. I think what hurts the most is she just didn’t tell us how she was feeling. All we needed was a “I can’t do this, I want to move in a different direction etc”. Maybe she just couldn’t face saying it to us or the agency. It became apparent that we would never get answers to these questions. So what do you do?

You cut the rope. The silver lining in all of this was because of how things went down that weekend, it actually became pretty simple to move forward in our own different direction. We mourned the idea of Zoe Thursday, by end of day Friday I think we knew it wasn’t meant to be and by Saturday we were already talking about the aftermath what-ifs. Sunday was the start of recovery. We knew we needed to move on, sure we’d been through a terrible situation, and we acknowledge that, but we also know that the best thing we could do was get home, and get back on the waiting list. We didn’t want to put it off and potentially miss something that would turn out to be the right adoption plan for us.

So we are back live on our adoption website. We’re back to our lives, back to “normal”, pushing forward. We are both emotionally exhausted, but are slowly recovering. We’ll find our child someday. He/She is out there. We even decided that we would not let go of the name Zoe. To us, she was never born, we never met her, never held her. So, the name stands. Just like we do.

Andrew & Stephanie

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