Love and Loss {Part Three}

Read our story of Love and Loss from the beginning here

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"C" and I continued to talk almost every day, she sent me long messages about how she knew that she had made the right choice in selecting us to parent her child, that we came into her life at the exact right moment when she was hopeless and saw no way out.  She gave me parenting advice.  She told me she was reading books to her belly so that the baby would like to read.  She constantly referred to us as her answers to prayer.

A few weeks later, "C" and I went to the doctor's again.  It was time for her second ultrasound.  She let me sit in the dark room with her while the technician poured clear gel on her swollen belly and used that magic wand to show us pictures of the sweet baby growing inside her.  He was perfect.  He was growing just right, developing exactly like he should.  

"C" told the technician of our chance meeting in the waiting room.  She introduced me to everyone at the office as "the baby's mom."  I was floating, a perma-smile plastered across my face.  "C" didn't hesitate to hand me the ultrasound pictures, telling me that they were mine, because he was mine.  I met her Obstetrician, he seemed confused at first but was very supportive once we explained our situation.  

The doctor let me use the Doppler to find baby's heartbeat.  I stepped into the hallway to give "C" some privacy during her exam.  As she was getting dressed, the doctor came out and gave me an update - that everything looked great! Baby was due in early July and things were progressing just as they should.  Because "C" had started her prenatal care a little late, they would monitor her closely but he didn't anticipate any complications.  

Neither did I.

On a Wednesday morning I sent "C" a text to check on her.  This was totally normal, we talked almost every day.  I asked her how she was doing.  Her response was, 

"Not good.  Me and my kids got kicked out of our house and my phone is getting turned off.  We have to find somewhere to go now" 

That was the last time I ever heard from "C".  I sent her message after message asking what she meant, if she was safe, if there was anything I could do.  I wanted to tell her that if she called her adoption attorney, she had access to moneys from us for living expenses.  I wanted to tell her that if nothing else, she and her kids could come over and camp in our living room until she sorted everything out.  I wanted to tell her to please tell the baby I loved him.  I wanted to hear from her.

The next morning was our home study.  I got through the meeting with the thought that maybe her phone had in fact gotten turned off and she would text me again once she had gotten a replacement.  I tried to ignore the nagging gnawing feeling in my belly that said something had gone awry.  

We finished our home study meeting without incident.  Our social worker was sweet and energetic.  She asked us questions, toured our home, and gave us a tree's worth of paperwork to work on.  We would meet again in a few weeks for a second meeting and finalization would happen after that.  Home study, check.

That night I got a message from someone claiming to be "C's" cousin . She told me that "C" had moved to West Virginia to live with her grandma, that she had decided to keep her baby and start a new life with her other kids.  I asked if I could call her? Text her? Contact her in any way?  No.  Grandma's house had no phone and there was no cell service there.  I was cut off.  

It took a few days for it all to settle in.  Our baby was gone and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.  I wept, I threw things, I screamed at God.  I slid into depression, deep and dark and endless.  All I wanted was him.  All I wanted was to see his sweet face.  I carried a picture of him with me, taking it out in private moments to study his features again.  

I had been so sure, I had been so confident.  I had been so foolish.

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