It’s National Rainbow Baby Day. It’s a day to celebrate the babies that came after the storm. We have three in our family. Three boys that came after three went to Heaven.
In the summer of 2010 we said goodbye to our triplet sons. We had our beautiful 2-year-old son, and tried to deal with the news that he would most likely be our one and only. But our story didn’t end there. Through the power of prayer and medical intervention I was holding a beautiful baby boy again in the summer of 2012. I looked into his eyes and felt pure joy and unimaginable pain in the same moment. I have grieved that moment over and over for the last eleven years.
I never want Gavin to feel that I experienced anything but pure love and thankfulness for his life. But it was so complicated for me. Welcoming him was a kind of hard I never expected. I knew I was suppose to be so happy to have him in my arms, but the grief knocked the breath right out of me.
I missed the three babies that came before him. He was beautiful and amazing, but there I was sobbing and hurting so very much.
I haven’t shared much about the weeks following his birth, but I can admit now that I shut down. I sobbed while I nursed him, I cried alone in my closet, and I sat on the edge of the bed at night wondering what was wrong with me. Wasn’t this exactly what I had prayed for every single day since the boys passed away? I was given the chance to carry a baby and to hear his cries at birth instead of deafening silence. I had been given a rainbow baby and everyone said that was going to be magical. Instead I was depressed, anxious, and felt disconnected from my sweet baby.
Having a rainbow baby isn’t, well, sunshine and rainbows at all. It’s more like a tornado that brings every emotion at the same time. I realized in the weeks that followed Gavin’s birth that I was almost paralyzed with the fear that I would lose him too and that was what was causing so much of the emotional turmoil I was feeling.
I realized I was living in a different world than most people I know. In my world sometimes a mother’s love isn’t enough. In my world, babies don’t always come home from the hospital. In my world sometimes grief sneaks into the most beautiful moments.
When I realized it was normal to experience the grief alongside the joy, everything changed. I could honor our loss without taking anything away from the deep love and joy I was feeling for my beautiful, new son.
In the summer 2015 we welcomed another rainbow baby and I was better prepared. Pregnancy and birth still brought the big feelings, but I was in a place where I better understood what it meant to be parenting after loss.
In the summer of 2018 we once again welcomed a healthy baby boy into our family. This time through adoption. It was July 25th, the exact day that we welcomed our first rainbow baby six years earlier. Our double rainbow day. That first rainbow baby moment back in 2012 had come full circle. I was in an entirely different place and was no longer battling the delicate balance of our loss. I was confident in the way I was parenting our boys and actually thankful for the perspective our loss has provided. I truly appreciate so many seemingly insignificant moments with my children because I will never get to experience them with three of my boys.
I love that parents like myself can celebrate our rainbow babies, but I feel it’s important to share about the tougher parts of falling into this category of parenthood too. It’s okay to remember the ones we lost and celebrate the ones we hold at the same time.
I will forever be Mom to seven. Four in my arms and three in Heaven.
I look over at the couch and see a typical “oh my gosh they are so adorable” parent moment until I think about it for a second longer. Three more seconds and the tears pool at the corners of my eyes. The delicate path that lead them to be brothers could have turned another direction. The hundreds of hugs, kisses, and belly laughs they’ve shared over the last almost three years might have never happened at all.
It’s hard to think about adoption and say it was “meant to be.” A child losing his birth family is never the way it is suppose to be.
But a child finding a forever family to love and cherish them is a pretty amazing thing. Out of all the families in the world, God led him to us. And sometimes that knocks the breath right out of this mama.
Three years ago we walked into a little Mexican restaurant with hearts pounding and butterflies in our stomachs. In a booth in the back corner sat a young girl with a beautiful smile. Her pink hoodie sweatshirt carefully covered the bump under her shirt. My husband and I shared our hearts, hopes, and dreams with her as an hour flew by in an instant.
She told us about her absolute determination to place her baby for adoption, and we hoped she’d choose us to be the baby’s forever family. It was gut-wrenching when I became aware that this was the hardest conversation I would ever have in my life. As we said our goodbyes I asked if I could hug her because I knew that no matter what happened, she had changed our lives.
30 minutes later we got word that she knew with certainty that we were her baby’s parents. A little over two months later we took a beautiful baby boy in our arms and welcomed him as our son when he was one hour old. For the third time, I took Jensen back to sit outside the restaurant that brought him into our lives that evening three years ago.
I don’t really know why I do this, but it just feels like an important part of his story that I want to share with him. One day, not long from now, I picture myself sitting next to him on this little bench while I tell him the most beautiful story about the power of unconditional love, sacrifice, and family.
It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when four little boys didn’t fill our house with noise and laughter. There was a time when the silence was deafening, a time when the worry of never having children sat like a dark cloud overhead. There was a time when we had finally given life to a child, but couldn’t give him a sibling. Then came a time when three little miracles grew inside my womb together, but came far too soon and slipped away. There was a time when one was going to have to be ‘good enough’ because trying for more might not be safe. There was a time before two little brothers came along after years of seeing only one pink line on the stick while trying for each of them. A time before another woman gave birth to our last baby. Those times were grueling. They were filled with defeat, dread, and the kind of heartache that changes you. I turn away from the hurt and sadness we once knew, but it will always be a part of us.
In April of 2008 I looked into his eyes and I knew I had been right all along. I was put on this Earth to be a mommy. Our son, Josey, was a beautiful, healthy baby that had been carefully placed into our lives. My husband, Mike, and I married at 18 years old and although I had my ‘I need a baby’ moments, we waited to begin trying until almost 4 years later, after I graduated college and landed my first teaching job. Struggling for years to get pregnant caught us by surprise. By the grace of God and a little medical intervention, we welcomed our first son into our family.
Around the time of Josey’s first birthday, we decided we wanted to try for another baby. Our plan was always to have more than one child. Once again, my body just couldn’t do what I wanted most. The process was even more difficult and heartbreaking this time, but we finally found ourselves expecting once again.
In June of 2010, at eleven weeks pregnant, we had an appointment to have our first ultrasound to make sure the pregnancy was going well. When the doctor started the ultrasound, I instantly knew I saw more than one baby on the giant flat-screen. As I tried to speak, nothing came out. Finally, I said, “Is there more than one?” The doctor looked up and said, “Yes, It’s TRIPLETS.” I cannot describe the thoughts and feelings I was flooded with at that moment. My mind was racing. I reached for my husband’s hand and he just held on as we waited to see if we had three viable babies. We returned for another ultrasound a few weeks later. We saw three healthy and active babies safe inside. To say we were relieved was an understatement.
The very next day at 8:39 a.m., our second-born son, Johnny, was born at home. As I write this a decade later, it still doesn’t seem real. I woke up with some discomfort at 15 weeks along with our precious triplets. I called the doctor’s office and waited for a callback. I delivered Johnny at home about 30 minutes later. We were transported by ambulance to the hospital. I cannot describe the fear I felt as I rode in the ambulance, thinking I was losing all of my babies. In the ER, the doctor did an ultrasound and found two heartbeats safe inside. My cervix had suddenly dilated, causing me to lose Johnny. To this day, I do not know why that happened. Mike and I chose to hold our sweet little boy and I spent about 30 minutes with him in my arms. We are both so glad we chose to do that. He was tiny but beautifully made. Letting go of Johnny was the hardest thing I had ever had to do. Each day that followed was spent waiting for an ultrasound to see if the other two babies were still okay. I had to have a cerclage to ensure my cervix would not spontaneously open again. Unfortunately, the placenta never delivered with the baby. I was pumped full of antibiotics to prevent infection and placed on bed rest indefinitely. My grief was overwhelming, but I tried with all my heart to be strong for my two unborn babies.
16 days after delivering Johnny, I woke up cramping. I told myself all day the worst was not happening. At 1:30 the next morning, I accepted that it was. Mike drove me to the hospital, both of us begging God for it to be something else. My contractions were less than a minute apart for over two hours. It was the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life. My cervix had been sewn shut and was trying to open to let the babies come out. We were told the stitches had to be removed, but that doing so would most certainly cause us to lose both babies. About that time, Jaxsen decided he couldn’t wait, and he was born. Nothing could stop him, not even ‘unbreakable’ stitches. I was in and out of awareness for a while but still in extreme pain. I was moved to the operating room and our doctor came in to deliver the third baby and get my bleeding under control. The last thing I heard was, because the cervix ripped and they did not know the extent of the damage, I might have to have a complete hysterectomy. It was terrifying. Thankfully they were able to deliver our fourth-born son, Asher, and save my fertility. We were able to spend about an hour holding the babies after I recovered. They were perfect, sleeping angels.
Our biggest fear had become reality. I had developed a uterine infection that made it impossible for the babies to stay inside any longer. The infection moved into my blood system and caused me to become quite sick. We left the hospital 5 days later with nothing more than three little memory boxes. I did not know how I would continue to breathe except for the fact there was a little boy at home waiting for his mommy to return.
The emptiness that surrounded us after our loss was almost unbearable. I can’t put into words what it was like to picture and plan for a house full of children only to have that dream vanish entirely. Our house was supposed to be noisy, busy, and full of children’s laughter. Instead, we clung desperately to our then two-year-old and mourned the loss of a life we might never have.
Two years later, after medical treatments, surgical procedures, and more prayers than I thought possible, we welcomed our rainbow baby. When Gavin let out a big cry and was placed in my arms in 2012, I exhaled for what felt like the first time in nine months. My body hadn’t failed me that time, and we left the hospital with a healthy baby boy. Three years and four days later, we welcomed our second rainbow baby after enduring the same process once more. Parker Jack came into our lives and made us the proud parents of three boys in our arms and three in Heaven.
Flash forward to the spring of 2018. I turned 35 in March… an age I set for us to be done having children. Our oldest child turned 10 and it seemed like the baby stage of our life was naturally ending. I would be lying if I said I didn’t wonder if we were really done. I started imagining getting pregnant again. “Should we try just one more time? Is it too dangerous?” My medical condition makes each additional pregnancy a little riskier, and we have no way of knowing if I would be able to carry another baby successfully. I started praying for a sign. A clear answer. And boy did I get one.
In mid-April, the night before our oldest turned 10, I was informed of a birth-mother who was set on adoption and wanted her baby to go to a family with children. She was looking for an experienced couple who could give her child a life she never had. Someone who knew our hearts for adoption suggested we meet her. I thought of how, in the early days after our loss, we began talking about adoption. It was placed on both of our hearts and really never left our thoughts. Over the years, we had both mentioned it at times. We never had the chance to give our triplets the beautiful life they deserved. The thought of being able to do just that for a child in need of a forever family kept our hearts open to the idea.
Adoption doesn’t just happen though. People wait years and spend tens of thousands of dollars on agency adoptions to connect with a birth-mother. I just couldn’t imagine this would happen for us. We had not been planning or saving for adoption at all. Was it even possible to adopt with the impending due date only 12 weeks away? I had no idea where to begin, but somewhere deep down inside, I just couldn’t shake the idea. We talked through the financial side, the impact this would have on our boys, and all the details we could think of. We ultimately decided to take a huge leap of faith and see where the journey took us. Soon after that, we found out the baby’s due date was July 20th, the day we lost the first of our babies. I remember laughing as I thought, ‘Okay, God, I hear you loud and clear.’ This was the journey our family was meant to be on. If there is one thing that is for certain, it is our life together has never played out the way we have expected. We’ve been thrown so many curve balls while building our family, we know better than to assume we know what is around the corner. So we took a shaky step toward pursuing adoption. Then we took another. And another.
I always say our love for our children is so big because it has to reach all the way to Heaven. We knew we could give this child a life full of snuggles, kisses, silly jokes, big brothers with hearts the size of Texas, and a Mommy and Daddy who love with a fierceness not easily put into words. We could give this child the life his biological mom dreamed of for her baby.
Doors continued to open and in three weeks, we were sitting in front of an amazing young girl, who after an hour of talking with her, chose us to parent her child. The paperwork, doctor’s visits, home study preparations, home study visits, and planning kept us moving at a whirlwind pace. We found out the baby was a boy a few weeks before he arrived. We were so happy… and not surprised at all. Parenting boys is kind of our thing.
On July 25th, what we now lovingly refer to as our Double Rainbow Day, our seventh son was born on his big brother’s birthday. Six years to the day after welcoming our first rainbow baby, our family welcomed another reminder of the beauty that can come after a storm. When Mike and I met him, he was snuggled tightly in his birth mother’s arms. With a smile on her face, this sweet, young girl placed her baby in my trembling arms. I don’t know if words could ever do justice to that moment. My heart shattered and rejoiced at the same time. I wanted this baby so much. Mike and I had planned and prayed and loved this boy for only a few weeks, but he was ours in every sense of the word.
Eight days after his birth, we sat before a judge and vowed to love and care for Jensen always. A chapter in our family’s story that started a mere 12 weeks earlier drew to a close as we walked out of the judge’s chambers as the proud parents of seven boys. Three of our boys have brought love and joy to our lives over the last twelve years. Three of them changed the entire course of our lives when they went to Heaven. They constantly push us to be the best parents we can be. And one tiny little baby came into our lives when we least expected it and showed us the true meaning of sacrifice, hope, and family. We finally have the crazy, chaotic, beautiful, full life we have dreamed of for so long.
Lazer Lee Photography
When you see our family now, I hope you see the joy and beauty that came out of our battle. I hope you see how we made peace with the cards we were dealt, and how we made our own path. Most importantly I hope you see hope. After all, it’s the thing that got us to this place.
Some of them are filled with special baby outfits, hospital bracelets, favorite baby toys, and sweet cards from their baby showers.
One is bigger than the rest because it has a bigger job to do. It holds the special tokens of a birth mother’s love. A few outfits and a stuffed giraffe that a young girl bought for the baby she entrusted to us are tucked inside waiting until it’s time for them to help us tell our son a powerful story of sacrifice, hope, and indescribable love.
Two have outfits that once fit perfectly on tiny, less than half a pound baby boys. They include tiny teddy bears that were snuggled up in the arms of my angel babies when I softly sung my first and last song to them. They also hold the only pictures I will ever have of two of my boys. Arguably my most prized tangible possessions.
And the last box stands has nothing but a little blanket inside. No pictures of my second-born son, no baby clothes, no other sweet reminders of his short life. It’s just a placeholder for the memories that are stored away carefully in my mind.
The day he was born was different. The hospital staff assigned to my care didn’t know what I needed. They didn’t know how to handle his death combined with two babies still nestled in my womb. The nurses were scared of upsetting me further, so they didn’t dress him in a tiny layette like they did his brothers two weeks later. I first held him wrapped in a medical cloth, pulled from a shelf nearby.
The hospital staff hid me away on a floor away from labor and delivery so I wouldn’t hear the cries down the hall. They did the best they could with what they knew and understood about a woman who had just lost one of her children.
No one told me to take a picture of him. Oh, how I wish they would have. It’s like a sucker punch when I close my eyes, eight years later, and the image of his face isn’t as clear as it once was. I struggle to remember the weight of him in my hands as I held him close to my chest while begging God to give him another chance.
Eventually, they would bring a sweet little blanket to wrap him in, which gave me more comfort than they could have imagined. It is the only item I have to run my fingers over as I reminisce about that day.
Merely two weeks later I was once again saying goodbye. This time to two babies who fought so hard, but were no match for the cards we had been dealt. This time was different. The nurse taking care of me somehow knew what I would need for years to come. She gently bathed our babies, dressed them in tiny clothes donated by an amazing organization that focuses on pregnancy and infant loss, and brought us beautiful memory boxes for all three of our triplets. She apologized that she was not there to do the same two weeks before. The acts of kindness she gifted to us that day will never be forgotten. One woman changed the way that day will be remembered forever.
I will be the first to say that I didn’t even know what I needed when our first baby died. It’s only now that I look back and regret how his special day played out. There is no way I could have anticipated his death, or prepared myself for that loss. There isn’t a protocol for how to handle that devastating blow.
Society doesn’t embrace pregnancy and infant loss because it’s too painful to talk about or even think about too much. No one really knows how to react when it happens. Not the people going through it, not the friends, not the family, not even the medical staff. There just isn’t one right or wrong way to walk through a loss like that.
What is important is that you show up for the people who are saying goodbye to their child. Be the nurse that goes the extra mile to show genuine compassion. Be the friend that shows up to sit in silence by the bed and hold her hand. Be the co-worker who stocks up their pantry at home with food because grocery shopping is the last thing on their minds. Call across the country to set up a meal train for your friends as they leave the hospital broken and empty handed. Ask them if they want to talk about their sweet baby. Let them know you aren’t scared of the pain they are feeling.
You just might be the person who they remember years later as they think of the kindness that was woven into the most difficult time in their lives.
Like each box on my shelf, each child has a story to tell. Sometimes we get to watch that story play out in a lifetime of seemingly insignificant moments, and sometimes one significant moment has to last a lifetime.
Mother’s Day is coming up soon, and I can’t stop thinking about you. It is your first Mother’s Day as a mom after all. Nine months ago you brought a beautiful baby into this world. You held him tightly to your chest, told him how much you loved him, and placed him into my arms.
I literally have to catch my breath every time I think about that moment.
Your strength on that day, and every day since, amazes me to no end. I have no idea how you did what you did for our son. Everything in your body was saying to hold on to him and never let go, but somehow you were able to look into his future and know what he needed. You knew that the life he deserved and the life you could provide were two entirely different things.
Not many people know you are a mother. You so strongly, and bravely navigated the birth and adoption of your baby without many others knowing what you were going through. You look at precious pictures of your baby on your phone, but you do not get to share our son with the world in the same way that I do.
On Mother’s Day, no one will shower you with flowers or a handmade card proclaiming you as the best mom ever. You won’t have your baby to cradle in your arms and admire how he has your eyes and your sweet personality. Most people won’t remember that you need to be celebrated as a mother, but I will.
A mother puts her own wants and desires after those of her child. She thinks not of her happiness, but of what is best for her child. She worries about all the choices she has made, and wonders if they were best for her baby. A mother lays awake at night wondering if she is enough. She wonders if her child can forgive her for the mistakes she has made. Sometimes she wonders if her child knows how much she loves them.
You see, all of those things are what makes you a mother. The fact that you aren’t changing diapers, fixing bottles, or holding his hands as he takes his first steps, doesn’t make you any less of a mother to our son.
You gave him life, and then gave him a new one.
Your sacrifice and determination allows me to be the one that will get the Mother’s Day card this year. I will be the one collecting macaroni necklaces, flowers picked from among the weeds outside, and all the hugs and kisses year after year on Mother’s Day. But my motherhood does not diminish yours.
If I had it my way, I would shout your name from the rooftops for all to hear. I would tell them of a young woman who is the strongest kind of mother there is. I would remind them that the reason my son has a beautiful life is because you loved him enough to let him go.
So each Mother’s Day, when the emotions coming flooding into your heart, stop and remember one thing. Our family won’t just be celebrating me, we will be celebrating our son’s first mother too. Because you are a woman worthy of a thousand praises, and a lifetime of love and gratitude.
My heart begins to race when I sit down to attempt writing Jensen’s birth story. The emotions of the day flood back to me bringing tears instantly. His birth day was so different than his big brothers’, but also so much the same. It was a day filled with worry and uncertainty, but also that special kind of joy and love that comes the day you meet your child.
I wrote about the events leading up to Jensen’s birth in my first and second blog posts about his adoption. I share his story proudly in hopes of reaching someone who is unsure if adoption is for their family, someone who is newly navigating an adoption journey, and for Jensen to read later and know how loved and wanted he has been every minute of his life.
We waited eagerly by the phone on July 24. We were waiting to hear that the birth mother had showed up to the hospital for her induction. She was a few hours late and we wondered if she was okay. At around 10:00 pm we got word that she had made it to the hospital and had begun checking in.
Mike and I packed the car and headed to the hospital to offer any support she might need. This was hard. We didn’t know exactly what she expected from us, and certainly didn’t want to overstep. When we arrived, we visited her room and were able to give her a little care package for her stay in the hospital. We visited with her a little bit. She had two of her friends with her and we heard that her mom would be with her too. I had worried for a while that she would be alone during her delivery. A tough part of this story is how alone and unsupported this sixteen-year-old girl had been throughout her pregnancy. I was so relieved that her family and a few friends were able to come and offer support.
The hospital offered us a courtesy room to stay as we waited on the baby to make his debut. We checked in around midnight and tried to get some sleep. We were very fortunate to be able to get text updates throughout the night. Around 6:30 in the morning, the birth mother got her epidural as she was fairly uncomfortable and not progressing too much. About thirty minutes later we received a scary update that the baby’s heart rate was dropping and the doctor was concerned. They began discussing a c-section, but decided to watch closely and try to avoid it. I remember praying so hard for the sweet, young girl to be able to deliver naturally. I knew at her age a major surgery was terrifying. The doctor broke her water at around 7:24 am, as we waited nervously down the hall.
Exactly six years before, we had been sitting in a hospital as I prepared to deliver our sweet Gavin. He was the baby we didn’t know if we could have. He was the baby that came after our great loss, and the baby that fought against all odds to be with us. We underwent months of infertility treatments trying to conceive him. I had to have surgery to carry him, and had little reason to believe that my body would be able to grow and deliver a healthy baby ever again. But on July 25, 2012, our rainbow baby came screaming into the world. He healed a piece of our hearts, and gave us hope that ultimately led us to try one more time when we added a third little boy to our family.
So here we sat, not-so-patiently waiting to welcome another baby on July 25th. Since it was Gavin’s sixth birthday, Mike grabbed me some breakfast and headed home to surprise Gavin with his special birthday request. He had asked for dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner, so Daddy stopped by Sonic and grabbed burgers and fries at 8:30 in the morning. We assumed he had plenty of time to eat breakfast with the boys, and didn’t want Gavin to feel disappointed on his birthday.
Baby’s birth mom asked for me to come see her, so I got around and headed to her room at 10:06. As I got to the door, I saw nurses and a doctor huddled outside her door having an obviously urgent discussion before darting off in different directions. Right then I got a text from inside the room telling me I couldn’t come in, and needed to wait for an update. I felt like I actually heard my heart fall to the floor standing there in the hospital corridor. I quickly walked back to our room and instantly began praying for the baby and his precious mother.
A few minutes later, I learned that the baby’s heart rate once again dropped dangerously and they couldn’t get it to come back up. The doctor pleaded with the birth mother to have a c-section, but she did not want to agree. She was so scared and confused. Luckily, she had a trusted adult in the room who was able to explain to her the urgency of the situation. At 10:15 am they whisked her off to surgery, as I continued praying (almost begging) for God’s protection for this young girl and her baby.
I walked out to the front desk to meet Mike’s mom who had arrived at the hospital, and a few moments later I heard the door to labor and delivery swing open as the most joyous words rang out, “Allison, your son is here!” At 10:32 am, Jensen Dean Smith was delivered by emergency c-section. He had the cord wrapped tightly around his neck many times, but he was healthy and absolutely perfect. Our sweet boy was 7 pounds, 15 ounces, and 20.5 inches long. He had a head full of dark hair. We received word that birth mom was doing great and we could see them both when she was moved back to her room.
A little over an hour later, as our boys and our family waited in our room, Mike and I met our son. He was snuggled tightly in his birth mother’s arms when we entered her room. With a smile on her face, this sweet, young girl placed her baby in my trembling arms. I don’t know if words could ever do justice to that moment. My heart shattered and rejoiced at the same time. I wanted this baby so much. Mike and I had planned and prayed, and loved this boy for only a few weeks, but he was ours in every sense of the word. Somehow though, I almost expected his birth mom to change her mind. As soon as I saw him, and saw the way she looked at him, I had no idea how she would let us be his forever family. I held him tight and kissed his sweet face before handing him to his Daddy. When I saw Mike’s big, loving hands wrap up that tiny baby, it was almost like I heard God whisper, “it’s okay, he was always meant to be your son.” A peace washed over me and any reservations or worries I had subsided. It was a beautiful moment that will forever be etched in my mind.
We left Jensen with his birth mother so she could give him his first bottle of donated breast milk and love on her son for a while. She had family members that came to see him, and we would end up taking him back to her room several times over the next 24 hours, honoring her every wish. About three hours after his birth, at 1:23 pm Jensen met his three big brothers. They held him, kissed him, and loved on him as we came together as a family of six for the first time. Gavin was so excited to welcome his “birthday brother.” We even celebrated their combined birthday with party hats and a gift from Jensen to Gavin. I had brought along a wrapped Lego set from baby Jensen. Gavin was so happy that baby got him a gift! We declared July 25th our Double Rainbow Day. We have three rainbow babies, our boys born after the loss of our triplets, but two sharing the same birthday is just oh so special.
The birthday boys!
Jensen was able to meet Pawpaw, Nana, Grandma, Memaw, and Aunt Alicia that afternoon too. We FaceTimed with the Boysens to tell Uncle Travis that Jensen was to be given his middle name of “Dean” because he is one of the most amazing men and dads we’ve ever known. Travis’ life has also been shaped by two loving people taking care of him and loving him like their own when he needed them most, so it seemed like the perfect choice.
Aunt Erin stopped by later on that afternoon and Jensen got to meet one of his future best friends, cousin Waylon. It was so special having so many of our family members visiting us on that special day.
That evening everyone left to go to our house to celebrate Gavin’s birthday. My heart was aching to miss one of my kids’ birthday parties for the first time, but Jensen and I snuggled up at the hospital to FaceTime for the party. Later that night, my sisters Alicia and Candra came to visit. Alicia decided to stay the night with us because Mike needed to be home with the kids and had to work the next morning. I was so thankful she came to keep me company.
The next morning, my Mom came to spend the day with us. We had the most perfect, fun day loving on Jensen and taking him to visit his birth mother when she asked to see him. I very much needed my Mom that day. Taking Jensen in to say goodbye to his birth mom was very hard. I was in awe of how she handled it. I know her heart was breaking, but she was brave and strong. She held him, kissed him, and told him how much she loved him. I reassured her of the life her son would have. I promised her he would never want for safety, love, happiness, or family. I felt almost motherly toward her as I encouraged her to make this decision count. She has the whole world ahead of her, and the power to change her story. My hope is that in a few years, Jensen will watch her graduate high school and go on to lead a beautiful, happy life. I will cherish the time just the three of us spent together that day.
That evening, Mike brought the boys to pick me and Jensen up from the hospital. We walked out as a forever family of six. We passed some of Jensen’s biological extended family as we walked out and they said their goodbyes as well.
Mike decided a few weeks before the baby arrived to get a tattoo of an arrow (the symbol for adoption) and a bible verse to symbolize Jensen’s story in our lives. As we walked out of the hospital we noticed the same verse displayed on the wall. We smiled and excepted it as another sign of how “meant to be” this beautiful, unexpected journey has been.
I will write about the following five days some other time, but it was a faithful, hopeful time for our family. The five day waiting period tested us emotionally in every way. The doubt and worry weighed heavy on us, but we also trusted God’s plan for our new son. When day five came and went without event, we moved forward with finalizing the adoption.
Eight days after his birth, our son legally became Jensen Dean Smith. We sat before a judge and vowed to love and care for him always. A chapter in our family’s story that started a mere 13 weeks earlier, drew to a close as we walked out of the judge’s chambers as the proud parents of seven boys. Three of our boys have brought love and joy to every minute of our lives over the last ten years. Three of them changed the entire course of our lives when they went to Heaven, and they constantly push us to be the best parents we can be. And one tiny little baby came into our lives when we least expected it and showed us the true meaning of sacrifice, hope, and family.
Life has been an absolute whirlwind since the birth of our fourth son three months ago. We are adjusting to having a newborn in the house again. I’ve gone back to work and started a new job after a fast, and precious six weeks off with the baby.
In June I posted the first part of our adoption story and I’m excited to finally have a few minutes to share the next piece of our family’s journey.
On April 18, 2018 a family friend told me about a young girl who had just told her she was pregnant and was set on letting her baby be adopted. The girl wanted experienced parents and hoped for siblings for her baby. I listened carefully to the few details our friend had to offer. I honestly thought there was no chance we would adopt this baby, but my heart swelled with joy and excitement at the thought.
The birth mother was 27 weeks along and had not had any prenatal care during her pregnancy. This sweet girl had hid her pregnancy from everyone. One of the single most heartbreaking parts of this story is that she was without any supportive adults. Her relationships with her parents were strained at best, so she had to make huge decisions completely on her own. When she had her 16th birthday, she knew she would legally be able to make an adoption plan for her baby, so she reached out to a trusted adult.
About a week later we heard that the birth mother wanted to meet us. We were so nervous, but agreed to move forward. We worried about starting a process that could lead us to heartache. Losing our triplets in 2010 was excruciating, and we knew adoption plans come with risk of loss as well. We didn’t want to do anything that would bring hurt to our three boys either. How would we explain hoping and planning for a baby and then having it not work out?
The weekend of April 28th, we made peace that our dream for adoption would not be happening. One of the birth mother’s parents was against adoption for this baby and wanted her to parent. We heard nothing all weekend and even though we had been cautious, we were definitely a little heartbroken.
The following Monday I received a surprising text message. The birth mother was not going to let anyone talk her out of her plan for the baby to be adopted. She wanted to meet us asap! I feel like that was the moment that I started thinking of this as our baby. I had a peace that just told me that we were meant to his or her forever family.
I remember walking into my friend’s classroom one day and although Mike and I swore not to say a word to anyone about this possible adoption, I blurted out to her that we were thinking of adopting and had no idea where to start. I owe everything to how supportive and informative she was that day. Having a brave, experienced adoptive mom in my life was just another detail that had been intricately orchestrated in our adoption story. If I hadn’t had someone to ask about attorneys, costs, and the process I might have said “no” to adoption out of fear of the unknown.
On May 10, I sat nervously in an attorney’s office that my friend had suggested. I was fully expecting to be laughed out of the office when I told the attorney we were only about ten weeks away from the due date. I remember how calm and hopeful he was when he said with a smile, “I think we can make it happen!” Again, I was in awe of how this story was unfolding.
The next evening, on May 11, 2018, Mike and I sat across from a young girl in a small Mexican restaurant. Her tiny baby bump was hidden carefully under a pink hoodie sweatshirt. We explained details of our life honestly and openly. It was so strange each time I became aware that we were essentially interviewing to parent her child. This sweet girl blew me away with her decisiveness and obvious love for her baby. I was surprised at how easy the conversation was. My nerves melted away in the first few minutes. As we left I asked if I could give her a hug. She nodded and as I embraced this strong, brave girl, I knew we had a special connection.
Less than an hour later she sent us a message saying we were going to be parenting her baby. As I stared at the message, I blinked back tears of joy and relief.
Over the next two months, I met with the birth mother to get pedicures, and to attend the last few of her doctor’s appointments. Those two months were filled with completing our home study and trying to prepare for having a baby in the house again. It was a time filled with worries, stress, and sadness. I laid in bed many nights praying and wondering if this was God’s plan for us. Was this his plan for this baby? Would something happen that stopped us from getting to parent this child?
We found out the baby was a boy a few weeks before he arrived. We were so happy…and not surprised at all. Parenting boys is kind of our thing.
When July arrived, we had completed everything on our end of the adoption. We were officially eligible to adopt and just waiting on delivery. I bought only a few things for the baby just in case the birth mother changed her mind. We found out that she waived five of her decision days, so we would know five days after birth if we were going to be able to keep the baby. She wanted us to meet the baby shortly after birth and bring him home with us from the hospital.
The birth mother’s doctor would not induce her until her due date, so we waited excitedly for July 22nd to come. Looking back, those few weeks in July were some of the most exciting times we’ve experienced as a family.
Finally, on July 24th I sat in the waiting room while the birth mother went back for her appointment. In a few minutes I got a text that said she would be induced that night! I actually had to leave to go to a job interview minutes later and have no idea how I actually spoke coherently through my excitement. All I could think about was that our son would be in our arms soon.
Later that evening, we received word that the birth mother hadn’t shown up for her induction and it was hours past her scheduled time to be admitted. The next 24 hours would be some of the scariest, most heartbreaking, most blessed times in the lives of myself, Mike, our boys, and our extended family.
About three weeks ago my husband and I announced that we are adopting! The outpouring of love and encouragement we have received has been so touching. I have been wanting to write about how this adoption came about and why it is happening so fast, but honestly my head has been spinning. I think I am finally ready to start sharing.
First things first. WHY are we adopting? A few people have asked us and that is totally fine. After all, we are a couple with three beautiful biological children…so our “why” might not be as obvious.
I come from a family with two parents that have been married for 40 plus years and raised five kids. I am used to a big family and love having four siblings. My life is full because of my sisters, their husbands, and my nieces and nephew. I have always been open to the idea of a big family and want that for my children.
Mike’s parents divorced when he was young so his childhood was a little less traditional. He was very loved, but his sense of family is very different from mine. We married as teenagers, and both openly discussed wanting several children.
We were married six years before our first child was born. We battled infertility and although that story is too long to share here, I mention it to say that there was a time that we thought adoption might be the way we became parents. We were overjoyed when I delivered our first son in 2008.
Giving him a sibling was a non-negotiable for us. We pursued fertility treatment again, and became pregnant with triplet boys. When they were born too soon (another story that is too long to share here) and didn’t survive, our hearts were shattered. Due to the complications from that pregnancy we did not know if I could ever carry another baby.
The emptiness that surrounded us after our loss was almost unbearable. I can’t put into words what it was like to picture and plan for a house full of children only to have that dream vanish entirely. Our house was suppose to be noisy, busy, and full of children’s laughter. Instead, we clung desperately to our then two-year-old and mourned the loss of a life we might never have.
I remember in the early days after our loss how we began talking about adoption. It was placed on both of our hearts and really never left our thoughts. Over the years we have both mentioned it at times.
We went on to have two more biological sons. Medical treatments, surgical procedures, and more prayers than I thought possible brought us the family of our dreams.
Flash forward to the spring of this year. I turned 35 in March…an age I set for us to be done having children. Our oldest child turned 10 and it seemed like the baby stage of our life was naturally ending. I would be lying if I didn’t wonder if we were really done. I started imagining getting pregnant again. Should we try just one more time? Is it too dangerous? My medical condition makes each additional pregnancy a little more risky, and we have no way of knowing if I would be able to carry another baby successfully.
I started praying for a sign. A clear answer. And boy did I get one.
In mid-April, the night before our oldest turned 10, I was informed of a birth-mother who was set on adoption and wanted her baby to go to a family with children. She was looking for an experienced couple who could give her child a life that she never had. Someone who knew our hearts for adoption suggested that we meet her.
Honestly, at first I kinda blew it off. This doesn’t happen. People wait years, and spend tens of thousands of dollars on agency adoptions to connect with a birth-mother. I just couldn’t imagine this would happen for us.
We had not been planning or saving for an adoption at all. Was it even possible to adopt with the impending due date only 12 weeks away? We had never hired an attorney in our life, and had no idea where to begin. Somewhere deep down inside I just couldn’t shake the idea. I was actually nervous to mention it to Mike. He is so logical and often helps me stay grounded when I come up with big ideas. I often act with my heart first and just hope the details work out. As soon as I began talking about it, he was on board entirely. We talked through the financial side, the impact this would have on our boys, and all the details we could think of. We ultimately decided to take a huge leap of faith and see where the journey took us.
If there is one thing that is for certain, it is that our life together has never played out the way we have expected. We’ve been thrown so many curve balls while building our family, we know better than to assume we know what is around the corner. So we took a shaky step toward pursuing adoption. Then we took another. And another.
We don’t live a lavish life by any means, but we have so much love to give to a child. I always say our love is so big because it has to reach all the way to Heaven. The life we give this child will be full of snuggles, kisses, silly jokes, big brothers with hearts the size of Texas, and a Mommy and Daddy who love with a fierceness not easily put into words. We will give this child the life his biological mom can only dream of. That’s what adoption means to us…Changing the world for one child.
Doors continued to open and in three weeks we were sitting in front of an amazing person, who after an hour of talking with, chose us to parent her child.
I reached out to a friend who connected me with an attorney to help us start the process. I fully expected an “it’s not possible” from the attorney when I told him we had nine weeks until the expected delivery. He looked right at me and said, “I think we can do it!” I was floored. I called my husband and excitedly told him that we had a green light, and we haven’t stopped scrambling to organize the details since. The paperwork, doctor’s visits, home study preparations, home study visit, and planning has kept us moving at a whirlwind pace for the last month. There is a constant buzz of excitement in this once quiet, empty house.
I can’t wait to share more as we are able to. We have been open about every aspect of our devastating loss, and our unconventional journey to parenthood. Our reason is simple…to touch even one person who is walking through a similar experience and fill them with even a little hope. We feel sharing about our adoption is just as important as any other part of our story.
I plan to write a detailed post about the cost of our domestic adoption, as I found little information on what to expect when I began my research. Due to the extremely short time frame for our adoption, we have launched a t-shirt fundraiser on Bonfire to help with our unexpected costs. If you feel led to donate, or support adoption awareness by purchasing a shirt, we would be forever grateful!
