This weekend felt like the first day of spring after a long hard winter.  The sun was high in the sky with a cool breeze blowing.  The air felt light and there was no humidity.  It was the first time I can recall that it was not cold and raining during the Cherry Blossom Festival.  While it would have been nice to go out and take pictures of the brilliant blooms at their peak, I did not relish the thought of competing with my fellow humans.  I prefer a solitary existence or at least an existence where there are no crowds. 

But, I had cabin fever and needed to get out of the house as much as a bear needs to get out after a long hibernation.  My son has been alive for five months now and had yet to experience the great outdoors.  I suppose that is the problem with being born in the winter.  On Saturday I had an appointment to get a haircut so I decided to pack the family into the car and take them along.  After the necessary grooming, we walked across the street to a restaurant for an equally necessary meal.  It seemed to me that every parent who’s child was born around the same time as ours had the same idea.  The dining room quickly filled with strollers, high chairs, car seats and infants from the age of three months to one year.   

After the sustenance and baby watching, we walked a block down to the park along the river.  This is the park where Jennifer and I would come on dates when we first started courting.  My goal was to enjoy some sun and fresh air and to take pictures of Andrew outside since all the pictures so far have not only been indoors, but most have been inside our house.

Andrew was a bit cranky and seemed a little warm as I held him.  He often feels warm to me and I assumed the runny nose and cough were the leftovers of the respiratory infection he had that put him in the hospital.

He was cranky all night long and awoke frequently.  Sunday morning, as we were getting ready for church, I picked him up and noticed that he felt warmer than the day before.  The thermometer had his temperature at 102 degrees.  We called the pediatrician, who fortunately has office hours on the weekends as well as weekdays and nights.  She asked us to come into the office.  We noticed he was also struggling to breathe.  The doctor proclaimed, and we agreed, that this was a new virus and not the one he had before.  The symptoms were completely different from the previous illness.  He had never had a fever or runny nose with the other infection.  The doctor was at a loss as to what to do because he had just finished 10 days of antibiotics so she told us to go home and watch him.  She said she would call in the evening to check on him.  As we were packing up to leave the office she remarked on a whim that maybe we should give him a flu test.  Five minutes later, Andrew was diagnosed with the flu.  The doctor was excited about this because now she had something she could treat.  We picked up a prescription of Tamiflu from the pharmacy on our way home.  So far he has not gotten any worse and his fever has gone down - all good signs.

Today, Andrew’s pre-school emailed to inform the parents that three people (not including Andrew) had contracted the flu.

Dear Son - 

I think I should explain to you why I call you Pop Tart. In our family, pop tarts are very special, but don’t ever eat one because they are very high in sugar and have very little nutritional value. The story of the pop tart is the story of how I met your mother. 

In late August 1995, I was a member of the local chapter of the Jaycees. They were having a conference in Roanoke. I had just broken up with a girl the month before so I wasn’t looking to get into a relationship. The Jaycees were a fun group of people so I thought this would be a good way to spend the weekend. 

That Friday, I got in my car and drove the four hours to the conference which was being held in a large outdoor area with pavilions. Everyone at the conference was paired up with two other people in the hotel room but I was lucky because I was only sharing the room with one other guy who’s name was Dave. 

That night, there was a cookout to welcome everyone. I was wondering around the lawn when I met your Aunt Alex (Troy’s mom) for the first time. We chatted for about 15 minutes when two of Aunt Alex’s friends walked up and she introduced me to a woman named Kim and another woman who would later turn out to be your mother. The three of them were sharing a hotel room together and had driven down with my roommate Dave. 

I remember your mother was wearing a pink polo shirt and beige shorts and her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. She had the biggest, friendliest smile I had ever seen. Your mother and I spent the rest of that evening talking. The next morning, I found your mother and we ended up sitting together at all the meetings. That night, the Jaycees were having a dinner at a restaurant but your mom and her roommates didn’t have a car because they had gotten a ride with Dave. So, I drove Aunt Alex, Kim, and your mom to the dinner. Your mother and I sat together at dinner and couldn’t stop talking to each other. We had a lot in common and enough things different that it made getting to know her very interesting. I knew from the moment I met your mother that I liked her, but I didn’t know how she felt about me. Later that night, the four of us were driving back from the long evening, and I mentioned that I was hungry and wanted to stop to grab something to eat. 

Your mother looked at me and said, “Oh, if you don’t want to stop, I have a pop tart back at the hotel.” 

I didn’t stop. The four of us went back to the hotel room where your mother and I shared her last pop tart. When she gave me that pop tart, I knew she liked me too because let’s face it son, you don’t give your last pop tart to just anybody. The next day it was time to pack up and go home so your mother gave me her phone number. 

A couple of days later I called her for a first date and she ended up standing me up. But that’s a story for another time. 

I love you Pop Tart!

Having a baby through adoption is different than having a biological baby. For one thing, you don’t have a baby growing inside your wife for nine months so you don’t get attached to the baby as it develops in the womb. How will you instantly love this little person right after birth when you have never even experienced so much as feeling a kick, hearing the heartbeat, watching your wife’s belly (and baby) grow or sensing the anxiety about what you will do when your wife’s water breaks.

It is also different because the baby is genetically different than you and will not have your nose or her eyes or anyone’s hair. To make matters worse, you have no insight or control over his inherited medical issues. People will be able to see that this is not your baby. He is not made up from parts of you and therefore you have no biological or natural claim to it. 

Although I knew that whatever baby came into our life, that was the baby we were meant to have and raise, I still had these fears and thoughts about adoption. I thought when a baby was born, that I would have a detached sense of responsibility towards him that would over time grow into love. I also wondered if I would ever feel like he was truly my son since I had not created him and he was not biologically part of me. 

When I met the birth parents five weeks before Andrew was born, I was surprised at the similar personalities, educational backgrounds, career paths and ethnic heritage. This proved to solidify my belief that Andrew truly was the baby that we were meant to raise. The ethnic similarities gave me confidence that he would have similar features to my wife and me and allayed my concerns that he would not be biologically or genetically ours. The parallel personalities, educational backgrounds and career paths were eerily alike and made me think that I might have it all wrong. In essence, it was as if God was saying to make you believe that I have selected this child for you, I will show you traits of yourself in the birth parents. 

Andrew at 1 Day Old

We were in the waiting room during the delivery. Once Andrew was born, the nurse brought us back to meet him. As I saw him through the glass of the window of the nursery, my heart dissolved. That was MY son I was looking at. Immediately, our futures flashed before my eyes and I saw pictures of him crawling, talking, cheerios and goldfish, pumpkin carvings, playing catch in the back yard, going camping, his first date, his first car (panic attack), graduation, Halloween costumes, Christmas, and him growing up to be an old man. I didn’t have to wait for the love to grow over time; I was already in love. 

We were fortunate in that, we were given our own private room at the hospital. Andrew stayed with us in our room and the doctors and nurses came to talk to us about whatever needed to be discussed or decisions needed to be made. It made us feel as if we were the ones who had given birth. 

Andrew at 10 Weeks Old

Now, 11 weeks later, I love him with all my heart and there is no question in my mind that he is MY son just as if I had created him.

After weighing all the options we decided that flying first class would be the best. We got up pretty early Tuesday morning to catch our 11:45 am flight because we suspected that the lines would be crazy and that with a baby it would take us longer to get ourselves out the door. I had the rental car packed by 8:45 and we were on our way to the airport by 9:00 am. I dropped the family off with the luggage at check-in while I drove to the car rental center and got rid of the car.

Because we had first class tickets, there was no line to check-in. We also saved about $200 in baggage fees because all the bags are free in first class. Navigating through security was not too much of a problem either. I had a baby in my arms so we were directed to go through a much shorter line. Once through security, we went to the American Airlines Club lounge to wait for our flight.

At the American Airlines Club

This was much more civilized than waiting at the gate. We all had our diapers changed and got something to eat; Andrew had formula while we shared a croissant and juice. The executive lounge is a quiet and relaxing place compared to the hustle and bustle of the rest of the airport, so when Andrew started crying I started to panic. Nobody seemed to mind though and a few people even commented as to how adorable he was. When people asked how old he was I felt like I had to explain why I was traveling with a 10 day old. It was as if I had to say, “No, I’m not insane traveling with a newborn! I’m taking my adopted baby home.”

We walked over to the gate a few minutes before boarding. A friend was going to pick us up at the airport and he was texting me with how bad the weather was. We boarded with ease and sat in our very roomy and comfortable seats for the three hour flight home. The captain said that it might be a bumpy flight because of the storm and we had to wait to take off. I was anticipating a delay but it didn’t bother me because I knew that we would all be comfortable and well taken care of.

Comforts of First Class

There ended up being no delay and we took off without a hitch. The flight attendants and passengers in first class were all cooing at our little boy. The fact that he is so adorably cute insured that no one gave us any odd looks. He didn’t cry once and slept most of the flight. We were served hot meals and all the beverages we wanted. We were so worked up about traveling and so far it had been easy and so for that we were very grateful.

To get the better airfare, we landed at the airport 50 minutes from our house (the closest one is 20 minutes away). Neil came and picked us up but because of the “storm” (rain) it took us two hours to get home. I cannot tell you the euphoria I felt that night as I lay in my own bed finally and thankful for my son, a comfortable home, and good friends.

We spent exactly two weeks in Dallas although at the time it seemed like an eternity. Legally speaking, we could not leave the Republic of Texas; practically speaking, we were confined to our two room suite for a fortnight. The building was old and the furniture was worn and depressing, and the television, with its limited selection of channels didn’t do much to help with the confinement. The worst thing was that the hotel’s internet connection was worthless. The weather was getting cold and Andrew was just a week old so we did not want to take him out unless we had to. I used my points and got the entire stay for free so I was not in a position to complain or change hotels. Plus, the staff at the hotel was very pleasant and made us feel welcome.

It was an unusual feeling spending four days in the hospital with people who until a few weeks ago you didn’t know. It’s also hard to describe the emotions of bonding with someone you don’t know very well over something as intimate as a child. During our time with them in the hospital, we got to better understand their relationship and their reasons for placing Andrew for adoption. This gave me confidence that they would go through with the adoption when the time came. They both also kept saying to us that we were the only people they would want raising Andrew, which made us feel like they saw in us what we see in ourselves as parents.

It was a good thing we were in Dallas because we had to print documents, have them notarized and mail them off to the attorney. I tried doing this at the hotel but I was unsuccessful because of the internet issues. We decided to go my Dallas office where I could have the office manager help me. She was great and took care of everything. All I had to do was sign on the dotted line. My staff in Dallas got to meet Andrew and promptly started to rub it in to my staff back home. Needless to say, my staff back home is now jealous and really wants to meet him. I also went into the office another couple of days just to do work. The rest of the time I worked from the hotel room.

We spent the rest of the time making trips to doctors and getting supplies at Target which was conveniently located across the highway. I was eager to start my new life and new routine back in my comfortable and familiar house.

As anyone could imagine, it has been a stressful and exciting two weeks since Andrew was born. We spent four days in the hospital with Andrew.

The nurses were very nice and went against hospital protocol and gave us our own room. We kept Andrew with us in our room. When the nurses came to check on him they talked to us as if we were his parents even though at that point, legally we were not. My wife says it made her feel as if she had given birth to Andrew herself and made the whole experience richer for the both of us.

On the second day in the hospital, we ran into a legal glitch that got me worried. The national adoption agency we are using contracted with a local agency to handle all the paperwork for the adoption and be the agency of record. This local agency didn’t like our paperwork and wanted us to have our home study re-done. Our adoption specialist made a few phone calls and then called me to tell me that we needed to change horses in the middle of the race. They said that instead of doing an agency adoption as planned, we would do a private adoption. They got us in touch with the lawyer who would handle everything. He explained the differences between agency and private adoptions. A private adoption has less rules which works in our favor but it also has more risk. We were planning on taking on that risk anyway so we agreed to go this route.

On the third day, the doctor told us that Andrew has a hole in his heart called a “VSD”. The cardiologist said that it will likely close up by itself but that it is something that should be monitored until it does. We also found out that he has two blockages in his arteries which are also common defects in newborns. These are also expected to improve as he grows. The cardiologist spent time making sure we understood that there was nothing to be concerned about. Naturally, I still worry, but I try to remind myself of the doctors words.

Everyone was released from the hospital on the fourth day. The birth parents signed over guardianship and custody of Andrew over to us. I got my camera out and took a few pictures of everyone and then we hugged and went our separate ways. Since then we have been living in a hotel in Dallas waiting for approval from the state to allow us to leave.

Living in a hotel, in particular this hotel, has been quite depressing. I am eager to get back home where we will all be more comfortable. I am also eager to get back to my routines so feel like I have my life back. This state of limbo has made me feel gloomy. I think some of the sadness also has to do with the stress of a new life change.

We made it to Dallas just fine. I am thinking that the Boeing 737 we flew might be too small for the return trip with a baby in our arms. I’ll investigate a plane that has three seats together. I’m hoping that will be more comfortable and less cramped.

Over the last two days we have spent a lot of time with the birth parents; so much so that I hope they still like us. I’m sure they do, but it is always a fear in the back of your mind.

The big news is that Andrew was born today! He weighs 7 lbs 11 ounces and is 19 inches tall. He has a full head of hair to the point that he looks a little shaggy – but in a cute way. He is everything I could hope. He is cute, adorable and every other word you can use to describe a baby. He spent most of the day sleeping, which I assume is expected; so not much crying but I suspect that will change very soon.

All the newborn tests have not been done yet, but there are no glaring issues so far and I’m keeping my fingers crossed. He is expected to be released from the hospital on Sunday so we made an appointment with a local pediatrician for Monday for his “newborn” checkup. We will make another appointment in two weeks for his “two-week” checkup. Hopefully after that, we will be able to take him home.

I can’t wait to get home. I’ve only spent two days in this hotel and I already hate it. I picked it because it is a suite with a separate bedroom and kitchen, but the building is old and makes me feel a bit depressed. I keep finding little issues with the room or hotel. I need to stop watching Hotel Impossible!

Emotionally, it does not seem real to me. I am very excited and scared at the same time.

For quite some time I have imagined what it would be like to have a child. As I read books or watch television I ponder how I would explain the world to my son; when I visit places I think about the wonder in his eyes for seeing something for the first time. I anticipate sharing my passions for history, travel, photography, food, and learning. I look forward to watching him play sports; participate in Boy Scouts and helping with homework. My greatest excitement comes when I think about playing with him; I want to build models of planes, trains, and automobiles; I want to build creativity with Legos; I want to finish jigsaw puzzles; I want to play basketball in the driveway. I want to do all the things my father never did with me. I am hoping that I will be a good father because of the emotionally absent father I grew up with.

There is something primal about becoming a father. Research shows that dads in early human species aided in children’s bathing, feeding, playing and teaching them the lessons of prehistoric life. I am developing this prehistoric biological sense of family. My mind is already beginning to bond with a baby that not only isn’t born yet, but is not even genetically mine. My inner caveman is walking around with his club looking for threats against my family while trying to figure out how to provide for them. Mentally I am preparing to be the person who will do anything for his family to survive and thrive. My inner caveman will kill, steal and deceive. I am looking forward to bathing, feeding, playing and teaching my boy. While I realize that there are many fathers who do not take their responsibilities seriously, for me it feels like a pre-programed genetic response.

Underneath this calm exterior my mind is racing. Mostly I am trying to think about all the things that need to get done at home and at work before the baby arrives. I just hope that I don’t forget anything. Twenty, even ten years ago, I would have been a bundle of nerves and my panic attacks would have been frequent and intense. I had a panic attack last week when I went to the Texas State Fair – it was sensory overload, but I was able to keep it together. Since then I have been able to be relatively calm.

I love buying t-shirts from everywhere I go. At the fair, I bought a Dallas Police Mounted Unit t-shirt for myself and then noticed they had child sizes too. I debated with myself as to whether I should buy one for our son. I felt like if I bought a shirt, I’d jinx the whole thing. I gave in and bought a shirt for him as well. I don’t know anything about sizes so I asked for the smallest one they had. It turns out, he will be three years old before he can wear it.

Last night I bought a firefighter one piece jumper. Again, a small fear crept into my head but I went ahead anyway. We have been looking at strollers and a few other times online. I am still trying to figure out the best way to fly with a newborn and where to stay and what we will need in the hotel.