by Aly Taylor
SHE’S COMING!
At Karen’s thirty-eight-week mark, the doctor told us it would still be a while and that we should all relax a little bit. Josh and I took his advice and decided to take a break from the nonstop pressure of always being ready to run to the hospital at a moment’s notice. We unpacked our hospital bag (because we knew we’d need those clothes over the next few days), did some shopping, and then relaxed for the rest of that afternoon. Later we decided to ride our bikes to the Starbucks down the road. We had such a great time! Until, that is, I wrecked my bike. I was so embarrassed. There I was, a grown woman sitting next to a crashed bike with tears streaming down my face and blood pouring out of my chin. Plus, Josh and I couldn’t stop laughing. We were such a sight to see.
We got back to the house and, as I was trying to clean up the big scrape on my chin, Karen’s mother called. You guessed it: her water broke! Curse the doctor’s orders to relax! Josh flew around the house like a maniac, repacking the hospital bag and putting away all the groceries we had bought earlier. I did my best to stay calm and run through my mental to-do list that I’d been preparing for the past three months. I felt like I was about to burst, but he told me later how weirdly calm I seemed at the time. In fact, he said he was super annoyed as I went about my careful tasks when all he wanted to do was jump in the car and race to the hospital like Jeff Gordon. Anyway, with my few jobs done, I took a quick shower, tried covering my scraped chin with some cover-up, and told Josh I was ready. It was time to go meet our daughter.
—JOSH—
As soon as we got to the hospital and found out Karen’s room number, the nurses showed us right back. Karen had already given us permission to be there with her, and the hospital staff had been told about our relationship. Karen was relieved to see us, and we were thrilled to be there on time. She had just been given her epidural, so she was feeling pretty good. We waited together and talked a bit as things progressed. It was surreal to sit in the delivery room of a woman who wasn’t my wife knowing she was about to give birth to my daughter!
About 10:00 p.m., Aly stepped out to run to the bathroom. Literally the moment she walked out, the doctor checked Karen and said, “She’s completely dialated. It’s time to go.” After everything we’d done to make sure we were there for the birth, Aly wasn’t in the room!
I ran down the hallway after her, yelling, “Baby! Hurry! Come back in here! She’s about to push!” We got back in the room just in time. Aly went straight into birthing coach mode. She held Karen’s hair back and encouraged her as she pushed. I was a little dazed at first, to be honest. After thinking about it for several months, I still wasn’t sure how I would feel watching a woman—not my wife—push out my baby. I think I would have been freaked out enough as a new dad watching my own wife do this, but now I was supposed to stand there and watch someone I’d only known a few months do it?
Here’s the kicker, though. Standing in that delivery room, I knew it was my baby in there. This wasn’t a stranger’s birth; this was my daughter’s birth. I honestly don’t think I would have felt any different if it had been Aly lying on that table. I was a little surprised that I wasn’t grossed out at all. Instead, I was amazed at what I was witnessing. I was standing there watching my child enter the world. I was watching my wife become a mother. This was something we had always dreamed about, always talked about… but it had been hard to hold on to that dream over the years. After so many trials and heartaches and bad hospital visits, I realized I’d let myself start to doubt whether this moment would ever come. But here it was, playing out right in front of me. I was witnessing a miracle, and an uncontrollable wave of emotion crashed into me. I was a mess.
—ALY—
Genevieve was perfect. Absolutely beautiful and perfect. Her temperature was a little low, so they had to put her under a lamp to warm her up. I was eager to hold her, but I was also making sure Karen was feeling okay. Karen’s mother and a few other family members were there, and we were all embracing and crying and celebrating Genevieve’s arrival.
Finally, the nurses said Genevieve was ready to be held. I wanted to jump up and grab that baby as quickly as possible, but I knew I needed to be considerate of the birth family. I asked, “Can I hold her?” and they all smiled and said yes. So the nurse put my baby girl in my arms for the first time. I got to hold her and feed her; it was the most perfect moment of my entire life.
Josh also took a turn holding her. He tried to feed her but Genevieve wouldn’t drink from her bottle well for anyone other than me. I felt this swell of motherhood come over me. Suddenly, everything just came naturally for me, and I felt myself become immediately attached to her. I couldn’t imagine being more connected to this little girl if I had been the one to give birth to her. She was our gift. Our promise. Our beautiful chosen rose and angel. Our Genevieve.
THE CRITICAL MOMENT
—JOSH—
The birth experience could not have been better. Karen and her family were incredible to us, and Aly and I never felt out of place the whole time. However, we also tried to be aware of the sensitivities at play. Our attorney had advised us to make sure the birth family had plenty of time with the baby. As much as we wanted to have Genevieve all to ourselves, we knew these were the last moments they’d have with her, and we wanted to be respectful of that. So we agreed to let them have a few hours with her that night and said we’d talk to them in the morning.
The hospital gave Aly and me a room right down the hall from Karen, so we settled in for the night and tried to get some rest. We weren’t sure if the baby would be in the nursery that night or in the room with the family, so we set our alarm to go off every hour and took turns going out to see if she was in the nursery. After a long night of interruptions, morning finally came and the birth family called for us to come get her. We were soaking up every minute with her. She was absolutely stunning with a full head of dark hair. Oddly enough, the birth family kept commenting on how much she looked like me! It meant a great deal to us that they were giving us so much time with her and not being possessive of her or threatened by us. We sat in our hospital room, now a family of three—Aly, Genevieve, and me—as Aly and I took in every expression, gurgle, swaddle wrap, diaper change, and bottle feeding.
—ALY—
The morning we spent in the hospital room with her was heaven. Absolute heaven. I’d never been so happy! However, I knew from experience that joy can turn to sorrow at the drop of a hat when you’re sitting in a hospital room. I didn’t realize it yet, but I was about to get a painful reminder of that.
The birth grandmother called, and I picked up the phone. We had spent so much time together that month that the two of us immediately started chatting about the events of the day and how sweet Genevieve was. As the conversation went along, she mentioned that they were trying to find a car seat they could use. I said, “Oh, you guys don’t have to worry about that! We have a car seat. We have everything Genevieve needs!” Something didn’t feel right, though. A voice in the back of my head started asking, Why are they looking for a car seat? That’s the instant everything changed.
She explained that Karen was having second thoughts and was trying to figure out a way she could keep the baby. I thought I’d heard her incorrectly. I sat there in complete silence; I had no words. What was I supposed to say? Genevieve was literally asleep in my arms as we were having this conversation! This was my daughter! I’d spent every second telling her that I was her mother and pouring out my entire heart to her, and now we were faced with the possibility that she wouldn’t be ours? Somehow God gave me grace and compassion in that moment, and I spoke kindly to the birth grandmother. I told her that I couldn’t imagine what they were feeling and that we would talk when they got back to the hospital. In the meantime, I said, we’d be there caring for Genevieve.
—JOSH—
Aly hung up the phone and told me everything that was said. I thought she was overreacting. I reminded her that we knew Karen would struggle with th
e decision. I told her to take a breath and trust that everything would be okay. But Aly was completely white. She could barely speak, and I knew she was about to lose it. I remember thinking to myself how emotional everyone was and how certain I was that Aly or the grandmother was exaggerating the seriousness of the situation. After all, we’d all spent months preparing for this. Genevieve was our daughter. Nothing was going to change that. I knew I just had to wait for everyone to calm down. Oh, how wrong I was.
A few minutes later, I got a call from our adoption attorney and the counselor. They confirmed our worst fears: the birth mother had changed her mind and was trying to parent Genevieve. I couldn’t believe it. How did we get here? After so much time, planning, preparation, and prayer, none of this made sense. This was my daughter we were talking about. I was her daddy. I couldn’t imagine stepping aside and letting someone else drive her home and raise her. But there was nothing we could do except wait and pray—the two things that drove us crazy during so much of Aly’s cancer battle. We sat there crying in the hospital room with Genevieve, still pouring our hearts out to her and connecting with her on every level, fully knowing that it was now likely the Taylor family was returning to Louisiana as a family of two.
—ALY—
Numb. Totally, completely numb. My mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening. My friends say I dropped off the map at that point. Until that phone call from the birth grandmother, I had been texting updates and pictures of Genevieve nonstop. As soon as I got that call, though, I cut off all contact. I didn’t even reach out to update them on what was going on. I couldn’t do anything or think about anything except the baby girl who was still in my arms. I was totally focused on my pain and worrying about this child’s future. Karen continued to say the best thing for Genevieve would be to go with Josh and me, but she also kept saying she wanted to keep her. It was confusing. The thought of going home without my daughter crippled me.
We kept getting updates from the birth family, but every phone call, text, and message through the grapevine made us more and more convinced that we were going home without our baby. Karen was discharged from the hospital and went home on Saturday, but adoption protocols had Genevieve staying there until Monday. We told the family that we’d be there through Monday, the day Karen would have to sign the papers if she was going through with the adoption. She allowed us to stay at the hospital with Genevieve, which we were grateful for, but she also made it clear she was trying to find a way to keep her. It was such a tense weekend, and everyone was waiting for Monday, which would be the final decision day.
As soon as Karen went into labor, Josh and I had called our parents, who then started the long trek to see their granddaughter. When they arrived we had to greet them with the news that the adoption seemed to be falling apart. They were devastated. They thought they were there to meet their granddaughter! As a family we’d been through so much together. Cancer. Infertility. And now what seemed to be a failed adoption.
All the waiting was eating me alive. Josh and I soaked up every minute we could spend with Genevieve that weekend. We studied her every move, watched her every breath, and laughed at her every sound. There was nothing else we could do, though. This whole nightmare—the outcome of which would change our entire lives—was totally out of our hands. It was the most painful, stressful few days of my life—and that’s saying a lot. All we could do, though, was spend time with the bundle of joy in our arms and fall deeper and deeper in love with her, and that’s what we did.
Josh was amazing during this time. I know he was dying inside, too, but he took such wonderful care of me and Genevieve. He handled all the communication with everyone and did his best to keep me sane. Over and over, he told me, “We just have to stay here and fight and trust God for what’s best.” He read Scripture to me, praying 2 Corinthians 12:9 over us: “He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” Goodness, we were weak, and we needed Christ’s power. We clung to each other and to our daughter, making the most of our time in that little hospital room.
Monday finally arrived. When Karen got to the hospital, I asked for a moment alone with her, as we hadn’t had a chance to talk one-on-one. I asked her how she was feeling, hoping she’d had a revelation over the past few days. Instead, she replied, “Aly, I don’t think I can go through with the adoption. I am going to try to keep her.” I fought back my sobs, but I was also overcome with compassion for this young woman. I had never given birth before, so I couldn’t imagine what she was going through, facing the prospect of handing over this baby to another family forever. I hugged her and wanted to convince her of all the reasons she had previously given us for choosing adoption, but I didn’t. I just cried with her and held her.
This was the moment when I lost all hope. Genevieve wasn’t going to be ours after all. I couldn’t believe it. I had no idea how I would recover from this. I knew God restores, and I knew He could do it, but I had never felt this broken. Healing seemed impossible. I knew I would have a hole in my heart that would last a lifetime.
Karen and I walked down what seemed like the longest hallway in the world to tell her mom and Josh that Karen had made her final decision. She wasn’t going through with the adoption. Karen’s mother was not in favor of this decision. She knew adoption was the best choice for everyone—especially the baby—but she was also trying to be compassionate and empathetic toward her daughter. Genevieve was in the nursery and we definitely wanted to tell her goodbye, but Josh asked if we could pray with them one last time before we went our separate ways for good.
—JOSH—
I felt an undeniable urge to pray for Karen and her mother. As devastated as we were for ourselves, we knew we had to pray for Genevieve’s birth family. We had dreamed of the day we’d be able to tell our daughter about Jesus Christ, but now we knew that responsibility would fall on Karen and her family. So I wanted to pray over them and bless them before we left. As I prayed, I spoke words of value. Karen had a rough background, and I knew she struggled with a sense of worthiness. I prayed she would know how loved she was. I told her she was a beloved child of the King. I prayed for favor, blessing, wisdom, and the fruit of the Spirit. I prayed for it all. We finished praying, hugged, and expressed our love for each other. I knew this was the last time we’d be together. It was brutal, but the Holy Spirit was there, binding us all together.
—ALY—
I need to be real here. While Josh was feeling the Holy Spirit’s presence, I was feeling a whole bunch of nothing. All I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and never come out. The truth is, I don’t remember much about Josh’s prayer at all. I remember a sense that the Spirit was speaking through him, but I felt trapped behind a wall of emotion. My main focus at the time was getting out of the hospital without completely falling apart.
After Josh ended his prayer and we all started saying goodbye, I saw something I’d never seen before. Peace—a perfect, angelic peace—flooded Karen’s face. She had a glow about her all of a sudden. She looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her, and she is a beautiful woman. It seemed as though she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t get the words out. Finally, she spoke and started telling us about a time in her life when she felt the Lord speak to her. She told us how powerful that moment was for her and how she’d always remembered what His presence felt like. Then she said the words I never thought I’d hear her say.
“God just spoke to me again,” she said. “He told me that you are Genevieve’s parents. There isn’t a doubt in my mind. She is your daughter.”
What? I thought I might fall on the floor in convulsions from the emotional roller coaster we’d just been on. But Karen wasn’t overcome with emotion at all. She was speaking plainly with a rock-solid voice. She told us to go and love on Genevieve in the nursery while she called the attorney to get the papers ready. This was really hap
pening! God had stepped in and given her the peace she needed to fully let go of Genevieve, to entrust her child to us forever. It was in every sense of the word a miracle. God had saved our family, just as powerfully and wondrously as He had saved my life.
As Karen and her mother left the waiting room, I completely lost it. I sobbed louder than I ever had before. I didn’t care how loud I was, how much of a scene I was making, or how ugly I looked. I was too overjoyed to care.
—JOSH—
We checked in with the attorney and counselor, and they confirmed that the papers were on their way. A short while later, we sat down with Karen, the attorney, and the counselor, and Karen signed everything, making the adoption official. I could not get over the change we saw in her whole presence that day. Even as she signed the adoption paperwork, she was all smiles. She joked with us, and she called us Mom and Dad the rest of the day. With all the surprises and miracles we’d seen throughout Aly’s fight with cancer, I had never seen anything like Karen’s transformation. There is no doubt that God showed up in that hospital waiting room that day, and I could not be more grateful for the grace and courage He gave Genevieve’s birth mother.
—ALY—
Just like that, I was officially a mommy. But the truth is nothing really changed for me emotionally toward Genevieve once papers were signed. I had already given her all of me from the moment we were matched with her. I am so thankful I didn’t hold back bonding with her until she was “officially” ours. We had just witnessed a genuine miracle, and now, finally and forever, I was Genevieve’s mommy. Our hearts, our home, and our family were full, and we didn’t think life could get any more perfect than it was as we drove away from the hospital that day.
Little did we know that God had even more surprising miracles in store for us, which we’d discover soon enough.