We met our youngest son the way most extended family members do:

Looking through a glass window in the hospital nursery.

It was a surreal, out-of-body kind of experience and to make matters even worse, at that moment we did not know if he would actually become our son or not.

At that moment, we were walking in the dark with blind faith. Couldn’t go back, couldn’t see forward. Just constantly praying: “Lord, please show us the way”.

Our adoption happened at lightning speed. At the time we were parents of one kindergarten aged son and had recently sold our home in order to move to another state. We were looking to adopt, but not pursing it actively because it made more sense to wait until we were settled in our new home and state. Adoption was in our minds and hearts, but we weren’t doing anything to make it happen.

After learning about an adoption situation and a week of crazy phone calls, here my husband and I were, standing in the hallway, looking into a hospital nursery window at a baby who may or not become our son. We had walked into the hospital with great hope, but  suddenly everything was on hold, there were second thoughts and we were gently told nothing final had been decided yet.

My husband quietly suggested we go.

I asked if we could at least see him through the nursery window.

Do you think that’s a good idea?  he wondered out loud.

Yes, I said, Yes, I do.  I want just have a glimpse of his little face, so I can know who we will be praying for the rest of our lives should he not come home with us.

All the beautiful babies were lined up in a row with pink and blue cards. Everyone except the one we were looking for.

None of them had our potential son’s birth name.

Where was he?

Our eyes adjusted to the back of the room where there was one last bassinet, tucked in the corner. Sleeping inside was a dark haired baby, facing away from the window.

What was he doing over there?  Why was he facing away and not next to the other babies?

Our nerves were stretched tight and I could feel my blood pressure rising.

A giant wave of indignation came over me and I furiously thought “OUR baby is NOT going to spend his life AWAY from the window as if there is something WRONG with him!”

My next thought was: Wow. I am already this baby’s mother.

It was Instant Love. And Worry. And Protectiveness.

(Apparently, newly adoptive moms get hormonal, too.)

A minute later, the nurse walked over and lifted him up. She slowly unwrapped the blanket and held him up so we could see him in the distance. I couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not. Did she know we might be his new Mommy and Daddy? My heart stopped beating and I couldn’t breathe. He was so incredible. I wanted to leap through the glass to hold him. She was hesitant, not knowing what to do. It was as if she was saying “See, he is ok. He is beautiful and perfect and will be here waiting for you when it is time  to come get him.”

And so he was.

We came back the next morning and joyfully took our new son home.