Waiting…and the NCAA
Being picked to be the parents of twin boys can definitely keep you up at night. I don’t know if I slept at all for the next few weeks as two of many items were bought, borrowed, and delivered to our home. I wondered what our three-year old Natalie was thinking at all the bustle and excitement. I know we were walking on a cloud a good bit of the time.
By now we had moved into our first home, and had prepared the small nursery with some of the previously used nursery items. I recall getting the phone call that the birth mother had gone to the hospital. It was during the NCAA tournament when Kansas and Oklahoma had been tied at half-time. I got this description from Joe many years ago, and learned that is how men seem to remember important dates:
Our anniversary? I know it’s right around the Florida game.
What’s wrong? You seem upset.
I could have sworn it was the Florida game, but maybe it’s Auburn.
I have always been amazed at the dates that men can remember if they are connected to a something called a flea flicker, a Hail Mary pass, or a double overtime score. Or even a simple win or loss. Or a game of any kind. Ok, to sports in general from any part of the world. I often overhear sports programs that my husband is listening to, and am startled at the vast amounts of information that these men know off-hand. They can retrieve dates, months, years, coaches, recruiting violations, scouting reports, polling data, and even give you a play-by-play of almost any game that occurred after they were 10 years old to the present. But do they know their wife’s favorite flower or perfume or hobby? ( I have also noticed that this is also the only time men are truly gabby.)
So we stayed up to wait for the birth of our twins while watching the NCAA final game, and at times I forgot if we were pacing for the twins, or for the Jayhawks. It was hard for us not to pull for them; they came into the tournament at the underdogs, with over 10 regular season losses and were not supposed to win. As those who read the last post know, we were in a similar come from behind situation and so I guess we felt a kinship with these unknown to us fellow-underdogs. Kansas did go on to win, thanks to Danny Manning, and the team was thereafter referred to as Danny and the Miracles. It was Kansas’ 4th national title and Kemper Arena went a little crazy that night. Some 800 miles southeast, Joe and I were celebrating the arrival of our sons, and life would never be the same.
Once again, we felt God’s sovereign hand upon us as we continued through the process. Even though the boys were small (5 lbs. 4 oz. and 4 lbs. 5 oz.), they were completely healthy and required no medical care whatsoever, so we were hoping to bring them home right away. We were told by the lawyer however that the hospital administrator had been dragging her feet about their release, and that she was thinking that the birth mother would probably change her mind. So in a stalling tactic, we were required to come in to the hospital and feed the babies, while being observed covertly. Did this administrator know that we are the parents of a healthy three-year old? Yes, we were assured, she knew we were not first time parents, but nonetheless she demanded that we come in. It made us a little nervous but the lawyer assured us that the birth mother had remained firm; it was just the hospital administrator who seemed to be hoping things did not work out for us.
“There are moments you remember all of your life.
There are moments you wait for and dream of all your life.
This is one of those moments.”
(Alan and Marilyn Bergman, from Yentl)
I will never forget going in to meet our two tiny miracles. I took Preston, because he was the smaller of the two and Joe was afraid he might hurt him, and Joe took Jack in his arms, and we smiled, and cuddled and smelled them as we held them close. They had that wonderful baby head smell–you moms know what I am referring to–it only lasts from newborn to about a week and after that is gone forever, but the sweet smell of those two tiny heads was the most fragrant perfume I ever knew. (If someone would bottle Baby Head, I know it would be a money maker.)
We looked down at those adorable faces and were in awe. I took Preston’s tiny, frail body and said to him “I don’t know you, but I love you.” And I meant it. Parents know that feeling–the moment when you meet your child and decide that you will do anything to give them what they need, and that you will keep them in your heart till the day you die, and perhaps beyond. That day I knew we would be loving these two as much as we did our Natalie Love, no doubt. We fed the boys in that glass nursery but it seemed a bit deserted; if there was someone watching how we interacted with the twins, we never saw them, although we looked around. I suppose we passed, or perhaps the birth mother gave her assurances that she was firm in her decision, and so the boys were allowed to be delivered to us the next day.
The lawyer had sent his young assistant and two secretaries with the twins, and we watched through the window as they came up the steps to our Roswell home. Natalie was in her blue smocked dress with a red bow in her pretty blonde hair and we excitedly opened our front door, and the entourage came up to our living room. They handed us the boys, as we sat on our green corduroy couch, with Natalie in the middle. The secretaries told us that this was one of the happiest legal duties they had performed to date. The legal team did not stay long, and finally the five of us were alone for the first time. Now all we had to do was to take care of three children aged three and under, and wait for the ten-day waiting period to pass uneventfully. The former was our pleasure; the latter was not, but happily this time no hitch came. We were now a family of five.
Thank you God for hearing my prayers of so many years.
Thank you for remembering the underdogs.
Thank you that You are the God Who Sees.
(And thank you for Danny Manning.)