On the Monday after we spoke to the aunt, we emailed the birth mom our letter of introduction and she decided she wanted to meet us in person. Her lesbian aunt, who had agreed to help her through the process of giving birth in the Bay Area, and finding adoptive parents, arranged a meeting.

There was definitely a sense of urgency – and things moved very fast.  We met the birth mom that Wednesday night at a restaurant.  She wore a pair of baggy overalls and we could barely tell that she was pregnant. Over dinner she interviewed us.  She had a series of questions to ask us.  Here’s what they were.

“What are your beliefs about religion?  How would you raise the child?

The birth mom explained that she did not believe in organized religion, though she attended a cell group of teenagers who met to explore their spirituality.  My partner, an ex-Catholic, noted her disaffection from religion, and affirmed her belief in higher powers, nature, and spirituality.  I spoke about my Jewish identification -- my cultural roots and ethnic affinity.  We told the birth mom that we would expose the child to a variety of religions, celebrate all kinds of holidays, and let her or him find her or his own spiritual way.

“What about creativity?  How important is that to you and how would you encourage creativity?”

The birth mom loved art and music. Both she and the birth dad painted and drew.  We talked about how we met doing theatre.  My partner directed and I wrote plays.  We both pursued creative projects -- we had just finished working on a screenplay together. We assured her that creativity was a high priority.
 
 “What kind of education would you seek out for the child.”

The birth mom told us how committed she was to her own education, to excelling in school, and pursuing under graduate and graduate school.  My partner identified with the birth mom’s working class background and explained that obtaining a top-notch education was what made the difference in her life.  We would provide our child with the best education opportunities possible.

“What would your child care situation be like? Would you both work, or would one of you stay home?”

I explained that I would stay at home for the first year and possibly longer. I had pursued a fast-paced career in technology for the past 15 years, and spending time and energy parenting was something I looked forward to doing. 

Things went well.  We all had a strong affinity towards each other, shared many values, and we all felt remarkably comfortable. We asked if the birth mom and aunt would like to come over to our house on the weekend. They visited us on Sunday, and by the end of that visit the birth mom told us that she wanted us to be the baby’s parents.

The next morning she was going to her first gynecological exam (EVER).  My partner was leaving on Monday for a business trip in upstate New York and we decided she should go, since in a month or so, after the baby was born, she wouldn’t want to be traveling.  I asked to go along to the Dr.’s appointment. 

That night we didn’t sleep very well. My partner is a worrier.  No pre-natal care.  What if something was wrong with the baby?  And then, what if the birth mom changed her mind. At the time in California, the birth mom had up to six months to change her mind and get the baby back if she so desired.  Our lesbian attorney told us, “You have to understand this risk.  If she changes her mind, there is absolutely nothing that can be done.”  (The law in California has now changed to a 3 month waiting period and in some states it’s only 48-hours).  I am not a worrier. I trusted my intuition, and I was convinced throughout the whole process that it was going to work out.

The next morning I got a call from the aunt, who asked if I wouldn’t mind coming over a little early before the appointment.  The birth mom had had a rough night and the aunt thought it would help if I just hung out with them.  We went to the appointment at around 1 p.m.. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to be in the room during her exam, but the birth mom was okay with my being there.  She was on the table(with a speculum in her) when the Dr. announced, “Honey, you’re dialated and beginning your labor.  We better get you checked into the hospital right away. You’re going to have the baby today.”

We went back to the aunt’s house, got the birth mom’s stuff (including a little teddy bear), and checked into the hospital.  My partner had a stop-over in Pittsburgh, so I called the airline and had her paged. (We didn’t have cell phones back in 98).  As she got off the plane she heard her name mentioned in that obnoxious “…Come to the white courtesy phone” message.  She called me.  I told her the news.  “The birth mom is in labor and we’re at the hospital checking her in. The Dr. thinks she’ll give birth tonight. Oh, and guess what?  It’s a girl.” 

As I participated in Sophie’s birth (I watched her be born at 10 p.m. and held her in my arms as soon as the Dr. caught her and handed her to me), my partner tried to get a flight back to San Francisco.  She ended up being stuck in a hotel overnight and took the first plane out in the morning. She spent the night placing frantic phone calls for help to our friends in the Bay Area (some of whom were new parents themselves, so were able to help us out since we had not a diaper to our name).  I spent the night in the hospital nursery with Sophie and a good friend of ours who came to the hospital to meet her.  I went home at around 5 a.m., got an infant car seat and by 6 p.m. that evening a number of our close friends descended on our house bearing baby supplies and food.

We brought home with Sophie at around 7 p.m. on Monday night. The birth mom had signed a legal waiver that allowed us to take Sophie.  It would be six months before the birth mom could sign off on her legal rights. The birth dad also had to sign off on his rights within a 6 month time period. 

My next post will be about how our Open Adoption has progressed over the past 9 years.