A Miracle No One Even Knew Existed
Written by Courtney Frey, as told to by the including non-fiction characters. Author has taken editorial freedoms and expanded corresponding interviews over several weeks time in order to cultivate the final draft.
*Julia knew by her doctor's face, before he spoke the words, she had lost another baby. Unlike the time before, her body slowly numbed as if rejecting the grief it knew was soon to ravage her. She whispered, without tears, "No more … no more."
Julia told me, "I wanted to black out, to force it all away, almost wishing I would pass out, wake up, and hear the doctor tell me the opposite of what had really happened. I couldn't accept it. I just went numb. That's what I felt like when I lost my second baby."
Julia and her husband of eleven years, *Paul, had waited to have children until Paul was further along in his career as an attorney in a well-respected law firm. They had planned it to perfection, their marriage, their career's, their home, their friends and families, everything they'd worked for was, in the back of their minds, all for the moment in which they brought their first born home.
When Julia first became pregnant in 1994 they immediately planned a party with friends and family, thrilled to share the good news. The party was set to happen the day of Julia's first ultrasound. After dinner, Julia brought out a cake she'd baked for dessert. Inside the cake she'd placed a pink piece of paper with the words … "It's a girl." She asked her mother to cut and serve the cake and after placing it in front of her, stepped aside. As her mother cut into the cake, she noticed the paper. Pulling it out, she said to her daughter, "Julia, what in the world is in here?" Julia laughed and replied, "Mom, I don't know … it looks like it has words on it."
Julia's mother read the words and immediately everyone began rejoicing and crying with excitement. Five months later, little Sarah came into the world, but did not go into her mother's arms. She was born with a rare heart disease and was whisked away to the NICU for what would be the longest, yet shortest, four months of her life.
Sarah died in her mother's arms ten hours after her fourth surgery. When she took her last breath, Julia remembers, "It was as if she took mine as well."
Julia and Paul grieved the loss of their first child for two years before they could even imagine trying to get pregnant again. Paul says, "I felt like I'd lost Julia, those two years nearly ruined our marriage. She stopped working and every night I came home to find her sitting in the nursery we'd made for little Sarah. I never could find the right words to console her. It literally broke me."
Friends and family slowly separated from Julia and Paul, not because they didn't love them or even want to support them through such a terrible loss, but more so because they didn't know how. Finding the right words to say, the correct things to do and give, seemed an impossible task. One of the couples closest friends had tried to be consoling by telling them, "Don't worry … you can have another baby." It was the last time they saw that friend. Julia and Paul were alone for a long time.
One evening, Julia tells me, she was rocking in the white wicker rocking chair in Sarah's nursery as usual when Paul came home from work in 1996. Their routine had become normal, a silent acceptance of the grief that seemed to have taken reign over their lives. Julia expected Paul to change clothes, start dinner, and wait for her to come down stairs. Paul expected to hear the floor's quiet creaking from Julia's rhythmic rocking, her slow pace down the stairs, the long sigh she released before sitting down to dinner. The silent hour while they forced themselves to eat, never making eye contact with one another. The long, painful, cold nights.
Yet this night changed everything, and Julia tells me the story with a tearful sob in her throat. "I didn't hear the bedroom door open, and I listened for the dresser drawers to slide, but again, nothing. I continued to rock. Before I knew it, there was Paul, standing in the doorway of the nursery. His faced was stained with tears, his eyes swollen and red. He slowly walked towards me … kneeling near my feet. He laid his head in my lap, and took my right hand and placed it on his head. And then he cried. I was in shock. Paul had never cried in front of me before. I just sat there, my hand limp on his head. I didn't know how to re-act. So I just let him cry. Pretty soon, he looked up at me, not even wiping the tears from his face, and he said, "Julia, I need you."
That night, Paul and Julia found one another again after a long two years of grieving. Finally able to share the pain together, they once more connected to everything important in their lives. That same night, Julia became pregnant again.
This time, things were different. Julia spent weeks taking apart Sarah's nursery, stripping it down to four white walls. They did not tell anyone, and rarely did they talk about her pregnancy. The fear of what might happen was too great. So when Julia felt that something was not quite right, she did not even tell Paul that she was going to the doctor. She went alone.
"In my heart, I knew I'd lost our second child. I couldn't bare for Paul to have to hear the words again," Julia says. "This time, I was caught between hating God and being mad at myself. I didn't know if I was being punished by something greater than me, or if it was my fault. Either case left me feeling devastated, helpless, and empty."
Friends and family were unaware of Julia and Paul's second loss, yet even if they had known, things would not have changed. Julia says to me, "It's strange, when you suffer a loss that no one else has, it's like you have a disease and everyone around you is afraid they'll catch it if they come too close. We had everything we were supposed to have, the house, the cars, the vacation home, great careers, everything. Yet because we'd lost a child … people feared us. We felt like nothing we'd done so far, nothing we'd accomplished mattered as much as what we'd lost."
Another difficult two years passed, but Julia and Paul only seemed to become closer through it all. Having lost so much seemed to make them stronger together, as if an un-known force willed them to become one united front. Paul says, "I knew then, that without Julia I would not survive."
In February of 1998, Julia was at a women's luncheon put on by a local charity trying to raise funds for the children's hospital near-by. She says, "I did not want to go. One of my co-workers had convinced me that it would be good for me, that maybe it was time I started coming out of my shell. Part of me knew she was right, and the other part of me was just grateful that someone cared enough, finally, to reach me."
The keynote speaker during the charity event was a woman who had adopted a little girl after her young mother had relinquished her rights due to circumstances beyond her control. The little baby had been born with heart problems, and the young mother, on welfare at the time and homeless, knew that the best thing for her baby was to surrender her with the hope that a couple could take care of her better. The keynote speaker was just visiting a friend of hers at the hospital when she saw the infant in the nursery. Curious about the tiny baby all hooked up to tubes and wires, she asked one of the nurses about her situation. The nurse had told her that the baby was waiting to be adopted, and that if she even survived the next heart surgery, she'd be placed into Foster Care, where the chances of her being adopted into a home were slim.
Needless to say, the woman continued visiting the small infant for weeks after. She was in the waiting room after every surgery, and soon enough the nurses began allowing her into the NICU where she would sing to the little baby girl, read, and pray whenever she could. Nine months later, the adoption papers were final and the woman took her precious baby home.
Julia says, "I was supposed to be at that charity that day to hear what that woman had to say. She was speaking right to me, and I knew it. I left that day and ran to Paul's office, tearing through his door I nearly collapsed on his lap as I told him everything I'd heard. He just stared at me, for the longest time. I asked him, "Well? What do you think? Isn't it a miracle?" I began to worry, he stood up from his chair and paced the room for a moment or two until he finally sat back down, crossed his legs, picked up his silver pen, smiled and asked me, "Where do we sign?"
That day changed our lives forever. It was like we were given a second chance, as if everything we'd gone through had led us to this moment. I began to believe that maybe Sarah's life, and the life of our second un-born child, wasn't in vain. That they had lived just long enough for us to learn how to love, to sacrifice, to experience the true heart and soul of what parenting was. I felt like they were both still very much with me, and in a lot of ways, trying to tell me that it was okay."
Five months later Julia received the call. There was a baby waiting for a family. Julia was shocked that it had happened so fast, as they'd been told it would take no less than one to two years. They hadn't even finished all the paperwork or the home study visits. Her caseworker assured her, "Don't worry, we'll make you Cradle Care Parents until you finish up all the paperwork and then once you're approved we'll move right into the adoption process."
On instinct, Julia ached to pick up the phone and call her mother to share the news. A sadness emerged as Julia was again faced with her parents lack of understanding. "They outright said, when Paul and I told them we were looking into adoption, "No way Julia. That's just not right." I knew then, that once again, Paul and I were on our own."
But that didn't stop Julia from rushing to the gift shop near Paul's office to purchase him "It's a boy!" cigars. She stopped at his secretary's desk and they created a plan to surprise Paul. Paul says, "I was working with a client on a pretty tough case when my secretary buzzed me. I'd told her to hold all calls, so I was a little annoyed and I replied back to her, "Not now Carolyn, I'm busy." A moment later, she buzzed me again and said, "Paul, you really need to come out here." I must have looked hilarious when I came charging out of my office! But once I looked up … the entire firm was standing around smoking these cheap looking cigars with the weirdest smiles on their faces. Then there was Julia … she said, "You're going to be a daddy!" I about passed out. I was excited, but at the same time, it brought up a lot of pain that I didn't expect it to. I just walked to her, put my arms around her, and I sobbed like a baby."
The next day Paul and Julia went to meet their baby for the first time. Inside the adoption agency, Julia hesitated to pick up the precious little boy, no more than three days old. Julia remembers asking, "Are you sure it's okay?" She says to me, "I felt like at any minute some woman was going to come charging in, yelling at me, saying, "How dare you take my baby?" I was petrified."
Julia says that despite all the classes she and Paul had to take, the frightened feeling of someone taking the baby still loomed above their heads. She says, "I knew that feeling … better than anyone. At any moment a life can be taken from you … even as prepared for that as I should have been, I became defensive. I still feared God's punishment, or my wrong-doing, and regardless of all the counseling sessions I'd taken, nothing had prepared me for the overwhelming emotion of holding that little boy in my arms."
Several months passed, Julia and Paul re-decorated the nursery in moons and stars, their families began to come around again, though there still seemed to be a silent question no one wanted to ask outloud. Julia told me, "I really wish that the book, "Adoption is a Family Affair," (written by Patricia Johnson, Perspectives Press, Inc.) had been written during that time … man, we were like deaf mutes trying to communicate about the situation. Despite some difficult issues, life seemed to take on an entirely new direction for them. Their home began to fill with laughter, joy, and peace once more. The finalization ceremony was to take place in September of that year … just months away.
They'd survived the grief of loosing two children, and the humiliation of having to reveal all to strangers through home studies, classes, and the countless interviews. They finally had a child, *Michael, who was thriving under their adoration and loving care.
"Then the phone rang one day, just like any other day, until I heard our caseworker say, "The birthmother is having second thoughts and thinks she'd like to meet both you and Paul," says Julia. She thinks she dropped the phone, but can't remember. "I think I screamed too, just before I hung up on her. Then I ran to Michael's room where he was sleeping, and I picked him up and held him as close as I could. He started crying, and then I lost it. I sat down in the new rocking chair and just rocked … for hours."
When Julia hung up on the caseworker, Paul's phone rang at work. He was told the same thing, and also was informed that Julia may not be handling it well. Paul raced home from work to find Julia sobbing, and rocking, Michael crying in her arms.
Paul remembers, "I took Michael, went to make him a bottle, fed him and laid him back down in his crib. Then I picked Julia up in my arms and carried her to our bedroom. She curled up like an infant, and I felt helpless again. I couldn't loose her to grief … I'd come too close to that before."
Julia would not meet with the birthmother. She says, "I didn't want a face to remember. I didn't want to see her and have to look at the woman that gave birth to my son. It wasn't that I hated her, it was the opposite. I knew loss … and I also knew I couldn't bear to see hers too. Yes, I was angry. Angry that I'd bonded with my son and became his mother only to have to think about having it stolen from me again. But not angry at her."
Paul took Michael and the two of them went to the adoption agency where they met *Christine. Paul says, "It was awkward and frightening at the same time. I had this urge to start telling her all my accomplishments, to tell her how great a father I was, how wonderful Julia was, to tell her how Michael had learned to roll over, and how he loved to take baths in the sink, but not the bathtub, and that Julia and I thought it was because in the bathtub the running water was too loud and it frightened him. I felt panicked, like I had to prove my case, like I was in court, she was the judge … and I was failing miserably with so very much at stake."
They all took seats around the small worn coffee table. There was an uncomfortable pause as the caseworker introduced them. And then Christine asked Paul if she could hold the baby. Paul recalls, "I wanted to tell her no! I felt my face getting red, my heart was pounding hard enough to hurt my chest … but I just nodded my head yes."
Christine took Michael out of his car seat with ease, as if she'd done it a hundred times before. She brought him to her chest and looking down softly at his face whispered, "Hey baby .. it's me." Paul was overcome with pain and left the room quickly.
He stayed in the bathroom for nearly half an hour, until finally the tears had run dry. He had prepared himself to leave empty handed that day as he made his way back to the little meeting room, almost expecting his son to be already gone. Instead, when he walked through the door Michael was peacefully drinking from one of the bottles he'd prepared for him, Christine was smiling and talking about how Michaels chin had the same little dimple as her own. When she glanced up and saw Paul, without hesitation she pulled herself up from where she sat, walked towards him, and very gently placed Michael back into his father's arms.
Paul tells me through a choked voice, "She said to me, "I can see this is where he belongs."" Christine reached out and embraced Paul, Michael curled safely in between them. Paul says, "I never imagined I'd meet Michaels birthmother, much less have so much love and respect for her. We'd made it clear to the agency that we wanted only a closed adoption … but after that first encounter I was grateful they messed up."
Julia remembers that day, "I screamed at Paul when he left with Michael. I fell at his feet and grabbed onto his legs, begging him not to go. He was crying against my pleas, and I knew it was killing him to take the baby. He finally broke loose of my hold and sobbing just as hard as I, he left. I think I laid on the floor in our entryway screaming and crying for nearly two hours. I'd cried so hard I'd gotten sick all over the floor, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered to me anymore."
After Paul left that afternoon, once Julia had cried all she could, she went upstairs, closed the door to Michaels nursery, went into her room and simply laid on her bed staring at the ceiling until her eyes hurt so badly that everything went blurry. And that is how Paul found her when he carried Michael up the stairs, into their bedroom, and placed her son on her belly, his most favorite place in the world.
Julia says, "I couldn't see him, but I felt him. My eyes stung still from the tears, and because I'd forced myself to stare so long at the ceiling, I couldn't even make him out. I thought I had died. I honestly thought I'd cried and grieved myself to death."
Paul says, "She opened her eyes for a second, and then closed them again. I didn't know what she was doing. I expected her to be thrilled, but she just laid there! My first thought was total fear, honestly, I thought she'd taken some pills or something and was so out of it that she didn't know Michael was home. So I left both of them there and ran to the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet. But she hadn't taken anything. I walked back into the room and she had pulled Michael up to her chest, and it appeared that they were both sleeping peacefully."
Julia admits she did fall asleep in those moments. Holding onto Michael, she finally embraced everything that had brought her to that moment, and her heart and spirit so weak from loss, fear, and grief, simply needed a good rest.
Paul waited several days before telling Julia about the meeting with Christine. He knew that his wife was still soaking it all in, and he couldn't bear to tell her everything until she had fully enjoyed, and accepted, being mommy again.
But Paul knew that time was running short, and he had set up a meeting with Christine to meet Julia just a short week away. So Paul decided, one day, to come home from lunch with a bouquet of roses and to force himself to tell his wife the whole situation.
He found her playing with Michael in the backyard. He says, "Julia has always been so adult-like with Michael. She never talked in baby talk, and she had Michael sitting up in the garden, telling him in extreme detail which flowers were which and how the entire germination process worked. I couldn't help but laugh, Michael was eating dirt and Julia was just going on about stems and seeds."
Paul handed Julia the roses, for which she glowed over, and he knelt in the garden next to wife and son. Paul says, "I don't remember exactly how I began telling her, but I do know that about half way through my measly attempt at it, she reached up to touch my cheek and she said, "I know honey, I know."
Julia tells me, "Maybe it's a mothers instinct, but as soon as Paul brought Michael home to me, I knew that his birthmother would be a part of his life. I didn't know how, or when, but I just knew. He'd seen his biological mother again … and I'd seen her too, through his eyes."
It's now 2002 and Julia, Paul, Michael, and Christine now consider themselves a family. Once every two months Julia prepares a huge dinner while Christine entertains Michael. They sit around and share life's precious details, pausing often to praise and adore Michael. Julia says, "Christine has become one of my closest friends. She is the one person, besides Paul, who can truly understand what grief and loss is. It took me a long time to be able to open up to her, as I so feared her taking Michael from me. I often felt utterly guilty for the pleasure I'd been given to mother a son, and there were times I had to cancel visits with her because of this. Yet Christine, in her own unique way, is a healing force in my life. It's as if, through her loving Michael, despite the loss she's endured, allows me the freedom to accept my own losses in a way that allows me to embrace all I've gained."
Julia and Paul admit that the last thing they ever wanted was an open adoption. Yet Paul says, "I've realized that the greatest things in life are those we don't even hope for. They just sort of happen to us, and if we're paying attention to them and to ourselves as they come … we end up with more than what we expected."
Julia tells me, as her story comes to an end, at least here, "I am still grieving the fact that I will not bear a child. I still cry when I think about Sarah and the baby I lost after her. I will never forget the days and weeks I had with my precious little girl, and it will continue to be a struggle to mother Michael without the pain of loosing my other children. The relationship we have with Christine is not always easy either, and I find that it's much like the grieving process itself. Some days are good, and some are bad. But when I get real honest with myself, when I'm at my most vulnerable, I can't deny what's most important. Michael. He will never have to wonder, he will never struggle with the what if's, and he will always know from where he came, where he is, and that wherever he goes … he has the three of us right behind him all the way."
Christine and I spoke a week after I did this story with Julia and Paul. I wanted to give her the opportunity to tell me how she remembered things in the beginning and how she feels about how things are now. Christine's voice is soft over the telephone and I have to press the receiver tight up against my ear to hear her. I am taken aback by what she says to me, and afterwards I realize, I need not ask her anything more.
She tells me, "Michael has a purpose in life that I'll never fully understand. But it was my job two years ago to honor it, and it's my job now to help fulfill it in any way I can. I knew when I gave birth to my son, the second I looked at him, that his life would go in a different direction than I could provide. It was so painful at that moment that I simply walked away. I couldn't even look back … the loss was so great. But then I remembered a charity dinner I'd attended for a local children's hospital in town … where I heard this woman talking about the little girl she adopted … and I knew in my heart that even though I let my baby go, I would always be a part of him. Even as painful as the loss was … I owed it to my son to be there whenever, or if ever, he needed to know me. And just as wonderful as that was the fact that Julia and Paul needed to know me as well."
This story was an intensely emotional story for me to write. The losses suffered are so great that in my humanness I can barely comprehend them. Especially in speaking with Julia and Paul, the story became an entity on it's own, a symbol for human strength and courage. I didn't think the story could get any better, any more inspirational, until I then had the opportunity to speak with Christine. After the interview I asked her where the charity dinner she'd gone to had been held. When she told me the dates and the place I immediately began to sob. I'm sure she thought I was crazy. She asked if I was all right. That's when I asked her … "Didn't you know that Julia was at that very same charity dinner and it was that same keynote speaker who inspired her to look into adoption?" Christine very calmly replied, "I wouldn't be surprised if that were true … when there's a greater purpose at hand in our lives … things just connect, even when we aren't aware of it." It turned out, little did Julia and Paul know that when Julia came storming into Paul's office that February day after attending the charity lunch to ask him, "Isn't it a miracle?" it really, truly, in every way … was.
*The names have all been changed to protect family members. Julia and Paul feel that they have shared such intimate details during a very trying time in their lives and wish that to remain anonymous. They also expressed their concern for family and friends who though Julia and Paul know loved them, were un-able to support them during the years of their losses and grief. Christine's family is still dealing with the relinquishment of Michael, and Christine felt it necessary to protect them from exposure to those who may not even be aware of the grandchild given to adoption. They have given me permission to write: If you have read this story and would like to send a letter or ask questions to Julia or Paul, please send them to Courtney_adopt_org@msn.com and in the subject line write: To Julia and Paul.
Copyright by Courtney Frey, 2002
