By Heather

With the weather as beautiful as it’s been this week, we decided to create an organic bird feeder with some things we had around the house. This is such a fun and simple activity that you can do with children of all ages. I mean, really, we’ve all been making them since preschool, right?

First, attach string to the pinecone by winding it around the top fronds until it’s secure. Tie a knot at the top to make a loop.

Next, spread peanut butter all over the the pinecone with a spoon or butter knife.

And finally, roll the peanut butter pinecone in the birdseed, covering the whole thing. You may need to sprinkle it on some parts to get all the nooks and crannies covered.

Hang on a tree branch and watch the birds come and enjoy!

Many thanks to Michelle Waldron for sharing her story. It was written by her friend Jennifer Furber and photographed by her friend Sara Parsons (many more photos on the original post here).

This is the story of falling in love with a baby before we even met her, the story of witnessing two friends fall deeper in love and the joy of meeting someone you just know you’ll know a lifetime in their very first second of life. This experience brought me to my knees in the end, a wreck of being awake 39.5 hours after witnessing such beauty I thought my heart would explode.  I wailed in happiness, and entered a place where the only logical thing to do was roll around in the grass in the sun in full, tearful joy. I forever remain grateful to be a part of this.

It’s beautiful to document beauty, to witness beauty and just downright jump inside beauty.

I believe the greatest stories are waiting to be told, but it’s extraordinarily something altogether different to stand inside a moment within a story, to stand on the spine of what’s about to unfold. I could tell the story of two friends I love dearly who fell in love in their late teens.  I could describe what it’s like to watch love and the strength of a couple that fits so perfectly together and how it grows the heart just in witness.

On the very first few pages, I jumped into this story while Michelle stood at my kitchen’s counter colored unmistakably in soon-to-be-mama-to-three.  I guessed it as I’d done before with good friends.  I swelled beside her in happiness for nine months.  Whether filling ice water or delivering tasty treats, it was clear her baby was already loved.  Whether girl or boy, no one on the island could wait.  Our families connected the dots of play dates on beaches, at pools and atop ski trails while we all pictured what the tiniest one to join our tribe would be like.

I believe the body remembers, the womb swells to familiar directions.  The mind slows, the heart grows.  All of us mamas know these to be simple truths of pregnancy.  The uterus, either in exclamation of joy or in mirror of the tiny heartbeat it carries contracts both in regularity and severity.  For Michelle, early labor came early and left sudden, fooling many of us on ferry-less and foggy nights.

February 1, four o’clock in the morning brought unstopping regularity and an urgency to get stuff done.  Friends close, readied bags and canceled plans for the next day.  Michelle wasn’t so sure, but maybe because we wanted it to be so, we believed in a baby in the coming hours.

Labor is a force all its own and, in fact, stoppable once it starts, as she so easily reminded us.  While Michelle stood in my doorway sometime before dinner was ordered, my husband cracked jokes and we waited for hers to arrive.  With a new and silent intent, she planned for dinner together and a latest of boats off the island.  I sat beside her, whispered code into the telephone, it is time I told our friend.  Sometimes the laboring need to be lead to where they need to go.

A dark and empty evening ferry ride found us devouring Thai and Chinese takeout while Michelle walked laps around the boat. It was after ten o’clock when we pulled into the birth center; it was nearly eleven o’clock when the midwives pulled Michelle onto the bed to reveal she was only a few centimeters along, two to be exact.  Sadness can come when you learn you have not traveled as far as you only a moment or two believed.

It seemed that she was some ways before the edge of true labor and diagnosed Strep B positive, so at 11:11 pm antibiotics were administered, while her bag of waters was broken.

The pleas of a laboring woman pull on hearts and I was for the first time truly aware of what my own husband felt from the place he stood throughout all three of our labors.

In between contractions she tells of a baby (yet to be born) named Sawyer.  She isn’t the only one in the room convinced that babe is a boy.  I believe she’s a girl.  There’s so much power in not finding out, so much wonder and surprise.  It’s one of life’s last true surprises.

Nearing midnight, hard contractions mirror the twap twap twap of her nearly born newborn’s heartbeat.

1:20 am brings yawns and laps in the hall, slow horizontal wall sways in pauses on the long walk to look at her babies birthed eight years, five years earlier with pictures posted on the center’s birth wall.

Aside from the most efficiently packed baby bag you’ve ever seen, Michelle brought her mother-in-law, our sweet friend and fancy photographer Sara and our wonderfully loving Pilates instructor pal, Jen.

You’ve always had a lot of people at your births, Michelle, says one of the midwives .  But, this time, it seems different somehow.

This is how we do it in all our days, this is how we travel.  We move in a pack.  Whether we go to the beach or up to Whistler, we travel together.  I mean, right now, we’re eight adults and soon-to-be eleven children.  We are used to occupying a small space, we cram into places with tiny bedrooms.  We travel together, we’ve even shared dinner on the floor together.  This is my tribe, I guess, says Michelle.

During contraction in-betweens, Sara, Jen and I texted unwanting to make a sound.  Of course, on little sleep, everything seemed funny in the spaces of Michelle’s happy silence.  We told secrets, shared gossip and ate an incredible amount of candy we’d packed from her baby shower weeks earlier.  After minutes of laughter and girl talk, our conversation always traveled to the baby on a journey, our worry and eager feelings.

In talks of opening and the power of movement, 2:00 o’clock in the morning’s stretching found Jen on the ground beside our laboring friend.  A Pilate’s position called Cat-Cow, a little laughter over sexy cat and angry cat and which ever cat Michelle might at-that-moment connect most with.

Eyes closed and laughter fades into a harsh contraction.  Michelle crawls to a ball for a bounce between the peaks of pain, a chance to open the hips before a rest.

At 2:15, we’re all tucked in and lights are dim.  Asleep until 3:00 am, when couch shifting and racing minds wake us.  We whisper, wonder about the decision to break the bag of waters, the reasons for her slow and uncharging labor.  We hurt for the pain our friend is in, remembering the paths of our own collective eight births.  We decide we’re too stressed for sleep.  We wait.  We watch.

3:50 am and Michelle wakes from rest in breaths deep and low.  She slides out of bed, and into the pain that brings her bedside and to her knees.

When labor brings a mama low to the ground, I’ve always believed it to be a sort of invitation to transition.  In the midwife’s check, at ten to four in the morning, they revealed she was not quite halfway there all the while nearly up for twenty-four hours.

4:30 am and we all had movement on our minds.  Standing atop the bed, the midwife wrapped Michelle with a sheet around her torso.  It’s called, Shaking the Baby Out

Michelle: all hands and knees and a sheet, her body, stalled and sleepy.

Ben wakes, after a few hours of sleep.  It must have been the island cold, or a meal unsettled, but he’d been rather knocked out for a while.

Yawn, are you ok? Ben asks Michelle.

You might be stalling my labor, she says.  It’s true, we all labor best in full support, with full circle of love awake and attentive.  This she knows, and now, with rest and awareness he’s ready.

7:00 o’clock in the morning welcomes a second dose of antibiotics for the Strep B that came for only this birth and not her previous ones.  We all wonder how things go so differently and unplanned even when the outcome is the same.

Michelle is up and out with the sunshine for an alley walk, and back at once at a quarter to 8 in the morning.  After hours on the lower side of half way we’re amazed how there isn’t much change except her urge to be outside, walking and moving. 

There’s a baby at the end of this we all think, we all say, unaware of who says it first as Michelle walks out on a foggy morning, chilly sidewalk, 8:15.

There’s been movement and lots of it, a sheet pulled taut and bounces on a ball, long walks in the hall, out into the world and its cold sidewalk.  The sun has come and a new day is already underway.  So when she climbs onto the bed after hours of traveling to meet this baby and the midwife reveals she’s changed a half a centimeter, it’s no wonder words fall flat in the room.

9:30 am and a rise of contractions, a squeeze of hips for a baby traveling down, and the beat-phwap, beat-phwap of the breast pump keep us all on our toes.  In a hospital setting, our ears might ring from machines and the drip-drop of the pitocin IV, but here we tread on a more natural path.

In a labor that starts and stops, stalls and rests, loud laughter is hard to come by.  I would imagine every laboring woman says at least once what Michelle asked Ben, midmorning:

I wish for a minute you could feel what I feel right now.  Ben gave a sideways smile, a look of love and a hint of silliness we recognize from their son.  Gimme those, said Ben as he reached forward for the breast pump. Connected, his head arched back in the hilarity of pain and circumstance.  Let’s make it a bit more real, said Michelle as she turned it up, full force.  It was amazing to see her laugh so completely and return to herself, away from the feelings and stress of labor.  And then, she fell flat and onto the arch of another contraction.

Ben, I don’t want to do this, said Michelle.

You know what?  If you use this pump to keep your labor going like the midwives suggest, you can name our baby whatever you want, said Ben.

And with that, Michelle was smiling and fiercely determined.

10:00 am is the silence of the room, contractions about three minutes apart.  Michelle stands and sways into the peaks, deep inhales, more sway and light filtering in through cracks in the blinds. Her eyes are closed as Ben’s hand hovers over the shrouds of her shoulder.  In ten fast and intense minutes, she nears transition as she feels the arch of the baby traveling down, the gentle sway off in breath with eyes clenched tight. 10:30 am and tears and pain in the lower back, sways in the swing, more and more tears as the fingers cover the eyes.  It’s hard to watch as much as it feels it’s hard to help in the right way.  But we are here, all of us, looking on, pressing and holding as we can.

at exactly eleven o’clock she rises from the birth stool

traces a finger along the wall

to the bathroom

regular, low breaths

Ben at the edge of the tub in

rays of sun seeping through

cracks in the curtain

looks of love in a sideways smile

here, a

half way point

a solid five

the tears come

here,

halfway does not mean half full

a sound of defeat

unsure of a journey &

so tired

a  midwife leans low to check a heartbeat

your baby is awesome

is all she says

more sways in a swing, face buried in darkness

breast pump greets contraction’s frequency.

12:20 in the afternoon finds us

pacing

in ends on the bed

in a pile of blankets

& as she leans into her side

hey, baby, you’re fresh out of room, says Ben

hand on a belly

a quick check before the tub

a space where words mean less

than the moves of a body

yet we hang on the number

you, tip to the front

tub, drawn

stretched out on the bed, elbowed

arm & a closed eye

a rush of tub water &

mother-in-law speaks of stretching a sheep’s cervix

speaks to the satisfying movement of the cervix coming to full rest

truth told in her history on farms and in hospitals

1:50 pm, two minutes apart

2:05 pm with first steps in the tub

check of a heartbeat

low, swirls of water

loud, rush of the adding of warmer water

& sounds of bearing down

2:37 am Pearl

a tiny beauty

with the names of two islands, how ever unintentional

and the first words spoken from her Mama,

oh, she’s perfect

I love her so much already.

Pearl Marie Waldron

7 pounds, 20.5 inches

just perfect.

Every year we get pretty excited to fill our garden with seeds and small started plants, but we seem to struggle to harvest. This year I am hoping to do a little better than last.

Our first goal is to grow peas. We love peas. Even if the kids aren’t always great at eating them, they get a kick out of being able to pick them. So this year we decided to do a whole grow box. 

The night before, we put our peas in water to soak. We hoped this will encourage them to germinate more quickly once planted. In the morning we went out to plant them. My dad talked to the kids about how many, how far apart, and how deep. He showed them how to push them just a short way into the dirt, pushing each one down using our finger tips. B got a little excited and used more of a scatter approach, but they all had a great time.

We don’t all have a yard to plant in or the time to devote to a full-sized garden. But a plastic cup with a seed and a little love can be just as exciting. My son, just brought home some pumpkin seedlings home from kindergarten, and I have fond memories of a pretty bloom on a Morning Glory vine I planted in a cup when I was 12. Taking part in the wonder of spring is a great way to spend time with your little ones.

I grew up in the sticks, so I’m a little partial to dirt roads, broken fences, and some good demolition derby. The other day Cole and I came up with this activity and it was hours of fun! The pictures are pretty self explanatory.

*A little tip, the cars look better if you really press all of the details into the foil, especially the wheels.

Michelle is half of the husband and wife team behind Twig Creative, and we are happy to have her share her birth story.

My husband Steve and I knew that we didn’t want to wait too long into our marriage to begin trying for a family. However, when that trying turned into a quick reality, we were completely overwhelmed with fear. Everyone told us nine months would be a long time to prepare. It was and it wasn’t!

A few weeks before my due date, I was walking around 90% effaced and 3 centimeters dilated. I still had my baby shower to attend and a terrible cold to overcome, not to mention several weeks before my due date.  I snapped a picture of myself right after that baby shower–the last pregnant profile I would capture.

That evening, I began to feel cramping pains in my stomach. I didn’t think too much of them, but they continued for quite some time. One of my biggest fears in pregnancy was the unknown of contractions. Would I know what they were? How would I know if they were real or not? We were visiting with Steve’s family and I finally realized and expressed that I thought I was having contractions. I soon understood exactly what they were as they worsened. We went home and decided to make chocolate chip cookies. Seemed crazy to me at the time but I realize now how much of a waiting game labor is!  The night progressed and so did the contractions. Phone calls to my mom were made, final items were packed into the hospital bag, and our nervousness of it actually being THE night heightened. Once the contractions were about five minutes apart, we made the short trip over to the hospital.

It was just a little before midnight when they admitted me. It was surreal. I remember Steve saying to the nurse, “So there’s no turning back right?” We couldn’t believe that parenthood was on our docket for the night. Just as the head nurse began talking to me about my water breaking, it broke! There was meconium in it, which meant that I wouldn’t be able to hold her right away. As we tried to sleep and rest for the upcoming event, I listened to the hum of the baby’s heart beat. It started dropping. I began a silent prayer as the nurses ran in and out discussing a possible c-section. When my prayer finished, her heart rate stabilized. I looked at Steve across the room. We were grateful that the baby was okay.

At nearly 6 am, it was finally time for some action. The two nurses who had spent the whole night with me–chatting, patting my face with cold cloths, offering strength–were just about off shift. I absolutely loved them. Steve began a drawing for me on the wall hung dry erase board but he never got to finish, he was quickly called over to hold a leg and the pushing began. The 10 seconds of pushing that the nurse counted definitely didn’t match up with the counting going on in my head. Just as I had my fears throughout pregnancy, Steve had his fears about the labor process. But when it came right down to it, he was a rock. I loved having him by my side, coaching me on, playing a little Nora Jones for me, and doing all he could to comfort me. I continued pushing for 2 ½ hours. I couldn’t believe that my body could handle such a feat. I thought my head and stomach were going to explode. The baby’s head was low for such a long time but she just wouldn’t budge. I watched in a mirror how her head showed when I pushed. My doctor then came in and it was go time. Pushing became completely exhausting and they decided to use a vacuum to help her out. I remember Steve’s coaching so strongly in the end. It was finally time.  At 8:54 am, a week and a half before her due date, our little Jordan Lucy was here.

My emotions overcame me. I couldn’t believe I did it, I couldn’t believe that that was our little girl. We were in awe. Steve snapped pictures as they weighed her and prepared her for me to hold. I will never forget the way she looked when they handed her to me. She had one hand on her right cheek and her eyes were so big and gentle. She was beautiful. Everyone thought she looked just like me, probably because of her round chubby cheeks. My mom was in the waiting room, and we both cried as she saw me–her only girl holding her own little girl.

Becoming a mom is definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced and will forever be a learning game. But the more moms I talk to, the more I realize we can all relate. And the more I stop and notice the grandeur of my child, the more I appreciate and love her. Now with our second girl due this Summer, I don’t feel so panicked and confused as I did nearly 4 years ago; I feel excitement to see this new little child and to see Jordan with a friend of her very own.

By Millie

This project started in a moment of chaos. I’d finally sat down to play Legos with one child while holding the baby and trying to keep another child from undoing everything the first one was building, and then my little girl wanted to do a project. I was a overwhelmed and maybe responded with an annoyed tone. But I could see she had been waiting too. She had the idea that she wanted to make puppets, so I tried to regroup, take a deep breath, and think of a way to do make it all happen. The first ideas that came into my head were too complicated and I would need to be too involved, which wasn’t really possible in the moment. She loves coloring, cutting and gluing. So we decided to make little paper people to go on the top of some craft sticks we had around. I tried to tell her to just cut out a head, then a body, color it and glue it on. She didn’t go for it and still appeared a little confused.  Finally, I thought to cut out a small pile of paper people that she could color and glue on for herself. It seemed we could all be happy. She got to work on her puppets, and I could color and glue a bit here and there, while still finding the next Lego piece for her brother and keeping B busy with a few Legos of her own.

The real magic was the next morning. On their own, the kids had finished the puppets that hadn’t been put together from the day before and wanted to make more. They really liked making them look like themselves and their friends. That’s when I decided to step back even further and trace the people for them to cut out themselves.

The supplies are simple and can be altered to fit what you have laying around. There are also a million ways to make them a little more detailed or use more exciting materials. But for now they are simple and my kids loved making them and playing with them. Even little B loved them….or at least she loved tearing the people off of the sticks. Hey, everyone’s creative process is a little different, right?

Today’s summer picks are from our friend Lisa who makes beautiful stained glass and the coolest tree print that she made from a real stump!

1>> Bodega Bird House from Digs :: For the robin in our back yard. Seeing her nest fall to the ground broke my heart. I plan to give her an upgrade.

2>> Takenaka Picnic Bento Box :: It has always bothered me that my picnic basket couldn’t fit under the stroller. With couple of picnic bento boxes, my problem is solved.

3>> Spruce Wood Toy Boat :: Our family has a secret spot by a stream up the canyon. I’m certain this awesome boat wants to take its maiden voyage on that stream.

4>> If Rocks Could Sing: A Discovered Alphabet ::  This book seems like the perfect way to inspire kids to see the world in creative ways.

5>> Sunography Photo Kit :: Spending time outdoors is important to me. If I’m able to spend time outdoors with my boys AND make art at the same time, well, you just can’t beat that.

Welp, Mother’s Day came early to my house. When Remedez HairSpa (a full-service Aveda salon and spa in Orem) asked if we’d like to do a review of their Stress Fix massage and pedicure, I was all PLEASE AND THANK YOU AND MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME.

I went yesterday, and you guys….I don’t want to sound like an overly gushy review, but it was seriously amazing. Great atmosphere, the sweetest staff, and thanks to that massage, my back isn’t sore for the first time in forever.

They have a bunch of Mother’s Day specials going on right now, so waiting would be silly. I might have already signed up for a monthly membership….

Buying my own gift is fine, right? Me and my pink shellacked toes think so.

Thanks, Remedez!

There are two giveaways across the web today.

First up, Lindsay Roberts is giving away a bundle of goodies on her instagram account. You can see all of the goodies, RIGHT HERE.

Secondly, the amazing Aarean of the great blog The Color Issue is giving away two pairs on her blog, RIGHT HERE.

I hope you win!

Many thanks to Lindsey Redfern for sharing this real-time account of her son’s birth and placement.

Sunday, 8:16 pm

As I write this, I am sitting at my kitchen table waiting for the call for us to come to the hospital to meet our hopeful third son.

I’m hopeful.

And excited.

I’m nervous and relieved that this day has finally arrived. If I am being totally honest with myself, I am scared. We’ve been to this point before but experienced a reversed adoption after placement.

My heart is racing, my neck muscles are tight, my toes are tapping and I am grateful to have something to keep my fingers busy while we wait. Tears are close to the surface–not sad tears, more sacred tears …if that even makes sense.

I cried tears of joy and relief for her last night when she told me her contractions were getting closer and closer together and that the baby was coming soon. She is a dear friend and has been so miserable. Although so anxious, my heart and home have been filled with peace.

Right now my house is full of my husband’s siblings who will be holding down the fort here while we are blessed to experience this miracle. My shoes are on and I have a bag packed–camera, lenses, book, phone charger and candy.

We started talking to this expectant mom early this summer. She is the sister-in-law of one of my oldest friends and college roommates. I’ve known her family for a decade and they are such great people, fun people, loving people.

Ahhh. So anxious. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Checking my phone every 15 seconds. I can’t believe this is really, finally happening.

Monday, 2:46 am

We got the call about 40 minutes ago that Baby was arriving soon and were invited to come to the hospital. We shot out of bed where we were trying our hardest to catch a few last minutes winks (I did eventually give in and take my shoes off) and drove to the hospital downtown in record time.

Utah has just had it’s first big snow storm of the season and the trees and ground were blanketed with a covering that reminds me of frosting on gingerbread houses. The sky was clear boasting a deep plum and the stars were visible over the Wasatch Mountains. What a beautiful city to be born in.

I caught myself in the car daydreaming of how I will react when I see Cammi and him for the first time since her delivery. My emotions run deep. Will tears stream down my face like they did with my oldest? Will my smile stretch from ear to ear like when we saw our second son? I wonder what his hair will look like! I hope he is chubby so I can kiss on his fat neck from Day One. That really is my favorite place to kiss on babies …okay, and on toddlers too.

Right now I write from the Labor and Deliver Waiting room. We feel peaceful and tears acknowledging the miracle of life are close to the surface. Can this really be happening again?

We just got a text message that he is here and cute …and a boy–something we had already known, but it made us giggle. We told her and her family to take their time. Although anxious to see her and him, we are in no rush. We know how precious this time is.

Finally able to relax a little bit, I now realize that I forgot my glasses/contacts. Ha! I also forgot to wear the special jewelry I had picked out that will have more meaning along with the gift we got her and her family for placement time. Oh well, if that’s our biggest concerns right now then I think we are sitting pretty.

What a miracle it is to be invited into this tender time. We have no right to be here, just blessed with a generous family who opted to include us. I don’t know how we got so lucky.

My thoughts are turned to Cammi. I hope this experience is everything she wants it to be. As we chatted about this last weekend when we hung out, I hope she will do everything just the way she wants so she can look back with no regrets.

Cammi and my mutual friend just arrived. She’s a professional photographer and Cammi asked her to document this whole event with some photos for her.

Monday, 5:30 am

I write now from the comfort of my home right before I crawl into bed to catch up on some sleep. It’s going to be a big week.

We had the beautiful experience of being invited into her room after what she said was a really easy delivery. Good for her! Due to an infection that he was born with, he was rushed off for an antibiotic treatment right after delivery and she didn’t get to spend any time with him. It breaks my heart. The hospital is aware of her adoption plan–I wish they would communicate better with her and make sure she has as much time with him as possible.

After what seemed like forever, he was finally wheeled into her room. She grinned from ear to ear. I love seeing how proud she is of him. The nurse seemed to be in slow motion and in my mind I was seriously yelling at her, “Get that baby to his mama! She hasn’t even held him yet!”

My husband and I tried to sit out of the way and just watch her hold him and love on him–memories we will for sure share with him as he grows. He is so loved by his birth mother and they look exactly alike! Cammi looked radiant and is a natural. She dove right into the loving and snuggling. I loved seeing it.

Tears stung my eyes as she held him, kissed him, inspected him. She is amazing. He is amazing. We are so blessed to be part of this experience.

We didn’t stay long and only held him for a few minutes before getting him back into the arms of his mother. My heart swelled as she teared up watching my husband hold her baby. She had told me weeks previous that she chose us to be the family of her baby because of my husband. Interestingly enough, it is something that all of my boys’ birth mothers have expressed. After all, they are/were/could be amazing mothers, but they couldn’t be a dad. I love hearing that he was reason–after all, I picked him to be my husband. I think all three of them have great taste.

Tuesday, 5:01 pm

I just got a text message from Cammi from the hospital. I have been worried sick about her as we haven’t heard from her since we left the hospital. My heart beats wildly as she tells us how much she loves us and how cute Baby Jackson is getting.  She adores him. We chose his name together with his middle name being Cameron after her (Cammi) and my great grandfather (a hardworking, good looking blacksmith).

It was hard to not hear from her, to wonder what she is thinking, but this time is so sacred and I would hate to impose on it. If she invites us back to the hospital, then we will go and support her. If not, then we will respect the space that she needs. We would do anything for her …including wait patiently for her to be ready.

Tuesday, Midnight.

I am praying for Cammi tonight—like I have done since the early summer. An overwhelming feeling of love and peace radiate in my heart and I drift off to sleep with a calmness that I have come to recognize in all the adoptions we have had that have worked out. There is clarity.

Wednesday, 9:34 am

Today is my day to volunteer in my oldest son’s classroom. I wake up early and get ready. Placement is scheduled for shortly after I get home at the hospital. Placement gifts, car seat, diaper bag and camera are ready to go.

I was teary on the way home from the elementary school. I cannot wait to see Cammi. I miss her! I think I will walk right into the room and give her a huge hug.

I excitedly walk into our house with a huge smile on my face and see my husband’s countenance. It does not match mine.

“What?” I say. I know by the look in his eyes that it is serious.

“Placement is cancelled for today. She needs more time with him. She wants to try again tomorrow,” he replies with a forced smile.

I shed some tears and lay down on the couch. Of course we wanted placement to happen today, but her feeling good with her decision is more important. If she needs more time, she needs more time and we can give that to her. We would do anything for her.

Just like our second son, his birth mother is taking him home from the hospital. Although disappointed and worried, I am glad that she was able to express what she needed. Again, good for her!

Wednesday, 11:20 am

I get a text from Cammi thanking us for being patient and understanding and that she just needs more time. I tell her to please take all the time she needs and that she is brave.

My husband and I pull ourselves together and pick up the kids from a neighbor’s house and school. Today we will celebrate them–the family that we do have. We head to lunch, to a movie, to a cupcake shop, take a train ride, eat dinner, play at the Apple store and head to Disney On Ice. There is just something so healing about Disney magic. It was just what we needed.

Thursday, Placement Day

Placement has already been pushed back 2 hours today. I am grateful for my mother-in-law who flew in from the East Coast last night to spend time with my big boys–ages 4 and 5. I head to the gym and over-do it trying to work out some nerves.

I jump in the shower and after blow drying my hair, run into our home office to ask my husband how long he needs to get ready. Not long.

“Let’s get ready as fast as we can and go out to a fancy lunch.” Done.

I am a ball of nerves and need the distraction. We put the car seat, placement gifts, diaper bag and camera into and car and head to one of our favorite steak houses. I think of all the times I have been this nervous–driving to our oldest son’s birth mother’s house to meet her for the first time, driving to the courthouse to hear the judge’s decision during our second son’s contested adoption …and now. I think it’s just because I don’t know what to expect and we haven’t really heard from Cammi.

We have a beautiful and tender lunch together. I thank my husband for being the rock of our family this year. In January we had a failed adoption where the expectant mom changed her mind about an adoption plan for her baby girl. In August we experienced a reversed adoption where we had to bring the baby boy back to his mother after spending 3 perfect days with him. Both events rocked me to my core.

“I could never have made it through this year without you,” I confess.

“I could never make it through any year without you,” he replies. I love that man.

We finish our lunch and head to the agency where she has chosen to have placement. My nerves did not settle until we turned onto the agency’s road …and then peace enveloped me. Whatever happens we can handle and we will never stop loving Cammi.

We wait in another room for her to sign papers and spend some time with her baby. She is surrounded by her wonderful family. My heart breaks for her.

Thursday, 3:00 pm

We are invited into the room where Cammi is with her son and her family. There is a reverent feeling and lots of tears. I sit down and then think better of it and rush over to give her the biggest hug. This girl, there are no words to express our love and gratitude.

I finally take a seat next to my husband. With Cammi, her family and our caseworkers we chat and laugh and tell stories. Cammi’s sister mentions something about my husband wearing flip flops (there’s snow outside!) and we all chuckle at how his footwear was actually a major hurdle in Cammi wanting to choose us to be her baby’s family. It all seems so silly now. I can’t wait to give her a pair of his favorite flip flops for Christmas.

After awhile, Cammi stands up and makes her way to our side of the room. She literally took 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. With each retreat she snuggled her baby’s little face, kissed his perpetually cold nose and whimpered. I have only seen bravery like this 2 other times and that was with the placement of my oldest 2 sons.

It takes courage to break your own heart for that of your child. Hers was a hope of a family with a mom and a dad that were married and loved each other. We were blessed to be recognized as that family, that longing family.

Eventually she made her way over to us and placed her baby in my husband’s arms. We stood, wept together and I hugged her with every ounce of love I could give. Together we are motherhood for this little baby.

She then pulled all 4 of us–me, my husband, herself and her baby into a hug that I will always cherish. It was a hug of hope, of trust and unconditional love.

My husband kissed her on the forehead and said, “This is not goodbye.”

I took her face in my hands and whispered, “I love you.”

And then, after hugging everyone in the room one more time, she and her family left the room.

There is a bittersweet feeling at placement. The bitter is knowing and seeing the cost that such an act of bravery requires. The sacrifice is deep. The sweet is being trusted with a new perfect little life. In our case, a blessing we have been anxious to kiss on for the last 16 months through other adoption plans that didn’t work out.

We leave the agency and my husband walks ahead of me holding a new baby in a baby carrier. Tears come. It feels more real now.

I sit in the back of the car next to Jackson Cameron and stare at him. I text our family and friends, “Finally a family of five.” There are tears of joy.

After having experienced a failed adoption and a reversed adoption, we know better than to tell our oldest two children about the possibility of a new sibling for them. They had planned for 6 months for a baby sister when that adoption unraveled in January. It’s a scar we all carry although we respect her choice. But, we live and learn and in this moment that meant two things: 1) We did not prepare our home for this baby. No crib is set up. There’s no formula at the house. Our next stop is the store. 2) Our oldest two children do not know that they are now big brothers to this darling baby. It’s about to get crazy at our house.

We pick up formula and head home. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law keep the oldest two upstairs while we come in and get the video camera ready. I sit on the couch with Baby Jackson. My husband records the older boys’ reaction as they walk down the stairs and see their baby for the first time.

“A new baby?!” They scream and joy instantly covers their faces.

There was kissing and feeling of soft baby hair. There was talk of sharing their favorite TV shows with their new baby brother. There were declarations of love, adoration and protection by these two big brothers.

And then, my oldest–a wise 5 year old–said something that seemed to sear into the hearts of everyone in the room.

While loving his new brother he proclaimed, “We didn’t get to keep the other baby, but this one is ours forever.”

I choke out a “That’s right, Buddy” and give him a squeeze. This is what Heaven feels like.

Friday.

There is a such a profound feeling of peace and contentment in our home. My 4 and 5 year olds are calmer. Love permeates the walls of our home. This is the miracle of a newborn baby. They change everything.

Sunday, 12:27 pm.

Sitting on the couch with my three boys all snuggling into me. This is Mommy Heaven.

Monday, 6:10 pm.

My phone rings. It’s Cammi. She wants to come over. Right now. Dishes fill the sink, the older boys’ art project for their birth mothers covers the kitchen table and my reaction is, “OF COURSE!”

About an hour later she knocks on our door with her best friend and her mother. Lots of hugs. Lots of smiles. It’s so good to see her.

he stays for 4 hours or so–snuggles Jackson, feeds him, changes him, takes some pictures, wonders about his furry ears, gets him in his jammies and all ready for bed. We sit on the couch and tell stories. With tears we talk about placement, the hospital and our emotions. We laugh. We tease. We stare this amazing little life she created. It’s perfect.

This is what open adoption is to me. It makes my heart soar.

Monday, 11:14 pm.

I walk Cammi and her family out to her car. We hug in my driveway and she whispers a tender, “Thank you.” I squeeze her tighter. She tells me that the hug I gave her at placement was the best hug she’s ever gotten. I tell her I wanted her to remember it.

“Come back soon!” I yell from across the street.

“Oh I will!” She answers.

“You better!”

I lay in bed that night with this feeling of complete adoration for Cammi, her family, my children, all their birth mothers, open adoption and this incredible life I have been given.

This, right here, is the good stuff.