Good morning, friends! Today I’m trying something a little different. I’m joining a blog link-up (nothing new there) but this time it’s at Crystal Stine’s place, and it’s a behind the scenes look. You know how we’ve all got those photos-the ones that make our lives seem picture perfect? Facebook be warned, my life is not as pretty as the pictures make it. 🙂 Sometimes the true story behind the photo, or the explanation shows something that is far from the grand reality it portrays. That’s what I love about this link-up-you get the real story. It may be funny, or frustrating, or just down right silly, but that’s real life, isn’t it? So join me today as I take you behind the scenes for just a minute. I hope you enjoy the show!
Ah, the infamous balloon hand. It has made it’s appearance in doctor’s offices, emergency rooms and hospital sweets around the world. It has calmed the fears of children, made little monsters laugh, and been a comic reprieve after the chaos of trying to save lives. It is the universal sign of medical silliness. It is the first thing my children ask for when visiting their practitioner. It is well loved.
And this particular glove person, well she had a wild night! One of the things I had never thought I’d experience with this whole infertility deal is the drama of the delivery room. I had kissed those thoughts goodbye years ago, and never did I think that I would find myself back in the OB ward not as a nurse, but as the expectant mother. Now, if you’ve been here for awhile you’ll know that there’s no way I was actually carrying the babe. That would be a miracle right up there with the immaculate conception. But by a miracle of miracles I am now, for the first time, three children later, the momma of a brand new babe. And I was there, in the delivery room. (To check out that story, click here for the whole story) Obviously, I wasn’t alone. And fortunately, I had some pretty stellar girls with me.
If you’ve never experienced the magic of adoption, you’ll not have likely had experience with interacting with birthparents. In all reality, until now I hadn’t had much either, even with the adoptions of my older babes, because it was all carried through within the foster care system. But this one, this little story is a whole new deal. Our little man is technically a private adoption and this time, I know his biological mother. Over the last few months we’ve gotten to know each other and with the help of those stellar girls I was telling you about, we made it to the delivery room. Those lovely ladies came with us. Because they are the amazing women they are, they stayed as support for my little man’s birth mom, to help her through the post-partum stage, in case she needed it. Not because they have a history with her. Not because they know her well. Because they know the decision she made is a difficult one. Because they know that it is life changing. Because they know she may just need a friend. I know, pretty amazing women, right?
So these girls and I, and my baby-mamma spent quite a bit of time in the delivery room. And we may have gotten a little punchy. And we then may have gotten a little silly. The hospital never knew what hit them. Our OB nurse, she was awesome. She laughed right along with us. It started when one of my girls got a little tired of sitting and thought she’d check out the supplies on the self. Which happened to include a box of gloves. Before we knew it, our little friend was created. Complete with sharpy hair. Because it wasn’t enough that we were tossing around a hand balloon in the delivery room, and it was about midnight, and like I said-we may have been a little punchy, it was decided that my baby-mamma should have a focal point. And what better focal point than our newest member of the delivery team? And what better place than on the overhead pull-down light? So I rummaged through supplies and found us some tape, and there she went, for all the world to see. Our doctor wasn’t nearly as impressed as we were. But that’s all right. Because we were in a difficult/beautiful/stressful/emotional situation. And sometimes what all you need is a laugh. And a glove woman.