Dear Samantha,
You were born today: Thursday, May 21. At 12:02AM, you made your entrance into the world. It's amazing how you have already completely changed my life. You made me a mom. You made your father a dad. And today you gave your grandparents their title and I don't think they could be any prouder.
I realize that someday, I'm going to forget a lot of the little details of what went on today, so I'm going to try my best to write down as much as I can. Full disclosure: I've had all of two hours of sleep in the past 48 hours and my brain might not be all there right now. And did I mention that I'm on cloud 9? Yeah--my feet haven't touched the floor since I laid eyes on you.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. After writing the last post, your father, Nonni and I beelined for the hospital, where we were told that the security guard would let us into a separate delivery room to wait for your arrival. That didn't happen. There was a little bit of a mixup, and the three of us ended up waiting for forty minutes in the hospital lobby.
It was the longest forty minutes of my life.
Finally, the security guard got the phone call that it was ok for us to go back into the labor and delivery area. We were quickly met by a nurse, who made an off the cuff comment about YOU being HERE.
My thought process went something like this: Um. Stop the train. YOU'RE HERE?!?! As in--there's a baby waiting for me to be their mommy?
The world kind of slowed down at that point. We walked into the room, and there you were, in a hospital bassinet and surrounded by nurses. I didn't waste any time:
"Is it a boy or a girl?"
"Girl. What's her name?"
I swear, kiddo, my brain stopped at that moment. I shrieked and put my hands to my mouth and started bawling. "Emily Joy," I whispered.
And I knew as I said it that you weren't an Emily.
The next few moments flew by, as the three of us took turns holding you while the nurses looked excitedly on the scene that was unfolding before them.
Soon, we had a visitor: your birthmom's sister (your birth-aunt). I gotta say it; I love your birth aunt. She was one of the most kind and down to earth people I've ever met. She was excited to meet us and was so happy to see just how happy you were making us. She let us know that your birthmom wanted us to write down our names so she could make a decision.
We jotted down six names; three for each gender (your birthmom wasn't sure if she was ready to hear that you were a boy or a girl yet). A few minutes later, your birth aunt returned to the room with "Samantha Grace" circled and a note from your birthmom saying that whatever we picked was okay.
I looked at your father, and without saying a word we knew what your name was. It's Samantha Joy, and as I looked at you today I couldn't think of any other name to call you. It's almost as if you, your birthmom and your daddy and I pow-wowed together and named you.
And Samantha, you are the most beautiful baby I've ever seen.
I spent the night with you, waiting in a conference/storage room. You were anxious to eat; and amazed everyone by how quickly you downed 2 ounces of milk. Apparently you were hungry!
I held you for six straight hours, putting you down only when I had to because the nurses needed to do a check up. We spent the entire time just looking at each other, memorizing each other's faces.
I did manage to find the strength to read "Tell Me Again About the Night I Was Born," but admittedly some of the words were mere squeaks because I was crying tears of joy as I read the pages (in fact, as I type this several hours later I'm tearing up all over again). I sang happy birthday to you (again, more tears of joy).
And I told you I loved you, little one. I now know what it means when mothers say that to have a child is to know the experience of having your heart outside of your body.
In the morning, your father joined me in the makeshift "adoption" room and we watched you get your first check up from your birthmom's doctor: Dr. Gorman. He told us a little more of your delivery (how you weren't coming at all, but then *wham* labor hit hard and you didn't waste any time getting here--the wham was later explained by your birthmom's social worker; she didn't start really laboring until the two women prayed together). He also said that you were remarkably healthy and that your Apgar score was a 9/9. That's as high as it gets, little one; you're an over achiever already!
After your father got to feed you, I reluctantly turned you over to the amazing nurses and went back to the hotel to get some much-needed sleep. Two hours later, I awoke to find your Nonni proudly showing me what she had bought you that morning.
By this point, your Poppa joined us and we all went down to the hospital to see you again. Your Poppa was so anxious to meet you that I don't think I could have wheeled you out fast enough!
The afternoon was just the three of us. The Vogts. Sarah, Jay and Sammie. I like the sound of that. It works. We spent the time just holding you, feeding you and watching you be you.
Later in the afternoon, guests came in droves. The first to arrive was your Aunt Erin & Uncle Grant. They ooh-ed and aah-ed and remarked at how cute you are (by the way, for a newborn, you are a drop dead gorgeous baby...no old man face here!). Soon, Grandma Max & Aunt Beth came (along with most of the contents of Babies R Us). It wasn't long before the cozy make shift room became an all out papparazi infestation. Cameras were going off all over the place!
And you were remarkably patient about it. Really, you only fussed when your swaddling came undone.
Somewhere in there, your birthmom's social worker came in and took me out to the hallway to talk a little more about some of the details surrounding your adoption. Your birthmom knew in her heart, Samantha, that you were always meant to be ours. She knew from the moment she laid eyes on our profile that we were to be the parents of the child she was carrying. She loved that we had pictures of the nursery along with candid shots of our day to day lives.
The social worker, Dianna, reminded me that the birthmom was very artistic (always sewing or putting together crafts or an art project) and loved that I've got a bit of a creative streak in me. She liked that I decorate cakes and make scrapbooks in my spare time, and loved that I am a drama teacher.
Diana told me a few more details, but honestly, I'm having a hard time remembering all of them. We spent some time going over the adoption plan; for now, we're to send updates and pictures every other month. In time, we hope to expand that to visits, but we'll take things as they go.
The *big* news had already been delivered, though: your birthmom officially named us as your parents shortly after being discharged. This means, Sammie, that you are officially Samantha Joy Vogt. You are our daughter.
And I love you more than you'll ever know. We've got a lifetime to get to know each other, and I, for one, am looking forward to every single moment. For now, this busy evening is coming to an end and the hotel bed is really calling me. Tomorrow, we get to pick you up from the hospital and, after we stop by the adoption agency to sign our end of the paper work, we take you home.
Home, Samantha. Your home. You're almost home!
All my love,
your mommy
Crying aside, I'm not the only Mommy in the house. Roxy is mommy #2. She can't get enough of you, and must be lying or sitting by your crib allthetime. If you do fuss during the day (which is very rare), she whimpers and gives me this imploring look, as if she's saying "Um, hello? Woman--take care of this precious baby because I don't have opposable thumbs to do it myself." The other day, I walked into the bedroom to find this sight:
With all of the students. Bummer that it's blurry because that would've been a great shot!
