Until Sage
Page 47
“Um… how’s Ima?” Kim asks about the birth mom as we hand over IDs and sign in. At Kim’s question, Bethany turns to face us. “She’s okay, but she’s chosen not to have any contact with the baby since delivery.”
“What?” Kim whispers, squeezing my hand.
Ima and the agency told us about the birth plan weeks ago. The plan was that Ima would spend as much time as she could with the baby until she had to leave the hospital, so this news is a punch to the gut.
“These situations are always difficult, and sometimes the birth parents find it easier to deal with things if they don’t have one-on-one bonding with the child after the birth,” she explains quietly. My heart squeezes, not only for my son, who has been alone since the moment he was born, but for the mother of my child, who is somewhere in the hospital, fighting through what I can only imagine is excruciating pain. “She may change her mind, but then again, she may not.”
“Okay,” Kim says, and I know she’s just as worried about this new change of plan as I am.
Holding on to Kim after we get checked in, we head down a long hall, past an empty nursery, and into a simple room with a bathroom attached, a hospital bed, a chair, and a TV on the wall. “Wait here and I will be right back,” Bethany says, leaving the room.
“I’m worried,” Kim whispers, looking up at me as soon as she’s gone.
I turn her in my arms, resting my hands around her waist. “It will be okay.”
“I know. I… Ima just seemed so sure about wanting to spend time with him. What do you think it means that she changed her mind?”
“I don’t know but I do know that it will be okay, baby. One step at a time,” I tell her, and then the door is opened and Bethany walks in pushing a cart in front of her. Seeing the small bundle of blankets in the middle of the clear plastic bassinet, my heart beats hard against my ribcage.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mayson, I’d like to introduce you to your son.”
Swallowing down the lump that has lodged itself in my throat, I stand with my wife in my arms as she picks up our son and brings him to her chest. “He’s perfect,” she whispers, and I hear the tears in her voice. Curling her closer, I study our boy, Nash, and grin when he pouts out his lips.
“He’s probably hungry. The nurse was on her way to get you some supplies, so she should be here soon. You guys can move with him around Labor and Delivery as long as you have on your bands I gave you, but he can’t leave the hospital until you guys get checked out. And before that, all the paperwork with the birth mother needs to be completed. As I said before, Ima may at some point want to visit with him, but as of right now, he will be staying in here with you two. So plan for the nurses and doctors to be in and out throughout the night and the next few days to check on him.”
“Thank you,” Kim tells her quietly.
“I pray that everything works out for you guys. You make a beautiful family. Congratulations.” She smiles at us as the nurse comes into the room. “This is Minnie. She will be your nurse for the night,” she introduces us to the nurse, who looks like a bulldog but is so soft-spoken I have to lean in to hear her as she tells us hello. “You guys are in good hands. If you need anything at all, my number is on the board,” Bethany says, motioning to a whiteboard in the room in front of the bed.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.” She smiles before she leaves.
Once she’s gone, Minnie goes over the feeding and nighttime schedule with us. Then it’s all a blur of diaper changes, bottles, and countless doctors and nurses.
We spend the next two days in the hospital with Nash, only seeing Ima once before she is released to go home. During that short visit, she chose not to hold Nash. I could tell she was settled in her decision to give him up for adoption, but she was still hurting and trying to cope with that pain the only way she knew how.
The day after Ima was released, so were we, and I rented us a house close to the hospital, where we waited for our lawyer to call and give us the all-clear to go home. Four days later, we got that call and we headed home with our son.
Kim
One week later
HEARING NASH CRY, I blink my tired eyes open. “Sleep baby, I got him,” Sage whispers, touching his lips to my forehead then lips before he slides out of bed. Rolling to my side, I watch him walk across the room to the bassinet and pick up his boy and rest him against his chest with one hand on his back and one on his bottom. Seeing him hold our son so carefully, my heart warms in my chest. “How about you and I get a bottle and watch some TV?” he suggests, and I smile at that then watch the two of them leave the room thinking no fairy tale has ever been better than this.
Three weeks later
WALKING OUT OF the kitchen and into the living room with a fresh bottle for Nash, I smile when Nalia’s eyes meet mine. “I think he’s getting cuter by the day,” she tells me, looking down at my son, who is now wide awake and looking up at his auntie. The week after we got home, Nalia called and asked if she could come visit for a couple weeks to spend time with her nephew. Sage and I both immediately agreed. It’s been awesome having her around, and I know her being here is good for Sage. He misses his sister; everyone misses her, and we’re all glad she’s back for a while, even if it’s just temporary.
“He does get cuter by the day, doesn’t he?” I hand over the bottle to her, and she adjusts him in her arms, settles him against her chest, and then pops the bottle in his mouth like a pro.
“Totally. I sent my mom a couple pictures,” she says absently, and then her eyes fly up to meet mine as her face pales. “I—”
“It’s okay. I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, because I don’t have any kind of relationship with my birth mother, but I get why you want that.”
“Sage—”
“He’s dealing with it,” I cut her off then drop my voice. “Your brother loves you, and even though he doesn’t want to have a relationship with her, he respects that you do.”
“I wish he would talk to her and get to know her the way I have.”
“Don’t count on that happening,” I say, and sadness fills her eyes, making me feel guilty. But I’ve talked to my husband about this, and he is very firm in his decision. “Who knows what the future has in store for them, honey? But you can’t force that on him if he’s not ready.”
“You’re right, and on the plus side, since he’s been with you, he’s gotten better about talking to me about her. So maybe one day, right?”
“Right,” I agree, and then I look down at my boy and feel my face get soft when I see he’s already asleep.
I don’t know what kind of relationship Nash and Ima will have in the future, but I know she loved him beyond measure. And as he’s growing up, that’s exactly what Sage and I will tell him.
Sage
One year later
“DADA, DADA, DADA,” Nash sings as he waddles around the living room in a T-shirt and diaper, through the hundreds of toys that have gotten scattered across the floor since he got up this morning.
Pulling my eyes from my boy, I look at my wife, who is curled into the corner of the couch asleep, and I smile. She’s tired; it was a long night and an early morning. Since Nash started teething, his schedule has gotten jacked. Last night, he was up until three in the morning. The good thing about it is he’s happy when he’s up. The bad thing is neither of us gets much sleep.
Moving across the floor on my hands and knees toward my son, I watch his eyes light up as he grins. Crawling toward him slowly, he laughs then runs off with me chasing after him. I listen to his laughter fill the room and grin as I catch him and toss him up in the air, making him giggle and babble away. Holding him against my chest, I kiss the side of his head then let him go when he wiggles, wanting down.
As I lean back against the couch, I stretch my legs out in front of me and cross my ankles. Our wedding picture on the mantel catches my attention, and I smile as I study it. The photo wasn’t taken by a professional. My mom just so happened to take the perfect picture on her cell phone. In the photo, Kim and I are standing front-to-front, me looking down on her smiling, her head thrown back in laughter as a million dollars in Monopoly money flutters to the ground around us. She didn’t know I had that planned, so when it happened, her reaction was priceless.
“What?” Kim whispers, squeezing my hand.
Ima and the agency told us about the birth plan weeks ago. The plan was that Ima would spend as much time as she could with the baby until she had to leave the hospital, so this news is a punch to the gut.
“These situations are always difficult, and sometimes the birth parents find it easier to deal with things if they don’t have one-on-one bonding with the child after the birth,” she explains quietly. My heart squeezes, not only for my son, who has been alone since the moment he was born, but for the mother of my child, who is somewhere in the hospital, fighting through what I can only imagine is excruciating pain. “She may change her mind, but then again, she may not.”
“Okay,” Kim says, and I know she’s just as worried about this new change of plan as I am.
Holding on to Kim after we get checked in, we head down a long hall, past an empty nursery, and into a simple room with a bathroom attached, a hospital bed, a chair, and a TV on the wall. “Wait here and I will be right back,” Bethany says, leaving the room.
“I’m worried,” Kim whispers, looking up at me as soon as she’s gone.
I turn her in my arms, resting my hands around her waist. “It will be okay.”
“I know. I… Ima just seemed so sure about wanting to spend time with him. What do you think it means that she changed her mind?”
“I don’t know but I do know that it will be okay, baby. One step at a time,” I tell her, and then the door is opened and Bethany walks in pushing a cart in front of her. Seeing the small bundle of blankets in the middle of the clear plastic bassinet, my heart beats hard against my ribcage.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mayson, I’d like to introduce you to your son.”
Swallowing down the lump that has lodged itself in my throat, I stand with my wife in my arms as she picks up our son and brings him to her chest. “He’s perfect,” she whispers, and I hear the tears in her voice. Curling her closer, I study our boy, Nash, and grin when he pouts out his lips.
“He’s probably hungry. The nurse was on her way to get you some supplies, so she should be here soon. You guys can move with him around Labor and Delivery as long as you have on your bands I gave you, but he can’t leave the hospital until you guys get checked out. And before that, all the paperwork with the birth mother needs to be completed. As I said before, Ima may at some point want to visit with him, but as of right now, he will be staying in here with you two. So plan for the nurses and doctors to be in and out throughout the night and the next few days to check on him.”
“Thank you,” Kim tells her quietly.
“I pray that everything works out for you guys. You make a beautiful family. Congratulations.” She smiles at us as the nurse comes into the room. “This is Minnie. She will be your nurse for the night,” she introduces us to the nurse, who looks like a bulldog but is so soft-spoken I have to lean in to hear her as she tells us hello. “You guys are in good hands. If you need anything at all, my number is on the board,” Bethany says, motioning to a whiteboard in the room in front of the bed.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.” She smiles before she leaves.
Once she’s gone, Minnie goes over the feeding and nighttime schedule with us. Then it’s all a blur of diaper changes, bottles, and countless doctors and nurses.
We spend the next two days in the hospital with Nash, only seeing Ima once before she is released to go home. During that short visit, she chose not to hold Nash. I could tell she was settled in her decision to give him up for adoption, but she was still hurting and trying to cope with that pain the only way she knew how.
The day after Ima was released, so were we, and I rented us a house close to the hospital, where we waited for our lawyer to call and give us the all-clear to go home. Four days later, we got that call and we headed home with our son.
Kim
One week later
HEARING NASH CRY, I blink my tired eyes open. “Sleep baby, I got him,” Sage whispers, touching his lips to my forehead then lips before he slides out of bed. Rolling to my side, I watch him walk across the room to the bassinet and pick up his boy and rest him against his chest with one hand on his back and one on his bottom. Seeing him hold our son so carefully, my heart warms in my chest. “How about you and I get a bottle and watch some TV?” he suggests, and I smile at that then watch the two of them leave the room thinking no fairy tale has ever been better than this.
Three weeks later
WALKING OUT OF the kitchen and into the living room with a fresh bottle for Nash, I smile when Nalia’s eyes meet mine. “I think he’s getting cuter by the day,” she tells me, looking down at my son, who is now wide awake and looking up at his auntie. The week after we got home, Nalia called and asked if she could come visit for a couple weeks to spend time with her nephew. Sage and I both immediately agreed. It’s been awesome having her around, and I know her being here is good for Sage. He misses his sister; everyone misses her, and we’re all glad she’s back for a while, even if it’s just temporary.
“He does get cuter by the day, doesn’t he?” I hand over the bottle to her, and she adjusts him in her arms, settles him against her chest, and then pops the bottle in his mouth like a pro.
“Totally. I sent my mom a couple pictures,” she says absently, and then her eyes fly up to meet mine as her face pales. “I—”
“It’s okay. I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, because I don’t have any kind of relationship with my birth mother, but I get why you want that.”
“Sage—”
“He’s dealing with it,” I cut her off then drop my voice. “Your brother loves you, and even though he doesn’t want to have a relationship with her, he respects that you do.”
“I wish he would talk to her and get to know her the way I have.”
“Don’t count on that happening,” I say, and sadness fills her eyes, making me feel guilty. But I’ve talked to my husband about this, and he is very firm in his decision. “Who knows what the future has in store for them, honey? But you can’t force that on him if he’s not ready.”
“You’re right, and on the plus side, since he’s been with you, he’s gotten better about talking to me about her. So maybe one day, right?”
“Right,” I agree, and then I look down at my boy and feel my face get soft when I see he’s already asleep.
I don’t know what kind of relationship Nash and Ima will have in the future, but I know she loved him beyond measure. And as he’s growing up, that’s exactly what Sage and I will tell him.
Sage
One year later
“DADA, DADA, DADA,” Nash sings as he waddles around the living room in a T-shirt and diaper, through the hundreds of toys that have gotten scattered across the floor since he got up this morning.
Pulling my eyes from my boy, I look at my wife, who is curled into the corner of the couch asleep, and I smile. She’s tired; it was a long night and an early morning. Since Nash started teething, his schedule has gotten jacked. Last night, he was up until three in the morning. The good thing about it is he’s happy when he’s up. The bad thing is neither of us gets much sleep.
Moving across the floor on my hands and knees toward my son, I watch his eyes light up as he grins. Crawling toward him slowly, he laughs then runs off with me chasing after him. I listen to his laughter fill the room and grin as I catch him and toss him up in the air, making him giggle and babble away. Holding him against my chest, I kiss the side of his head then let him go when he wiggles, wanting down.
As I lean back against the couch, I stretch my legs out in front of me and cross my ankles. Our wedding picture on the mantel catches my attention, and I smile as I study it. The photo wasn’t taken by a professional. My mom just so happened to take the perfect picture on her cell phone. In the photo, Kim and I are standing front-to-front, me looking down on her smiling, her head thrown back in laughter as a million dollars in Monopoly money flutters to the ground around us. She didn’t know I had that planned, so when it happened, her reaction was priceless.
