I remember the day Noah was born. I was induced (on his due date) because of what turned out to be an unnecessary concern. He was 6lb 11oz and the whole ordeal was over and done within 1 1/2hrs, mostly drug free (well, a little painkiller via IV which made me loopy more than anything). But, I remember what I did that day and how it proceeded.
The day I was induced was warm and sunny. Ben took part of the day off and it was relatively relaxing as we hung out mostly at home.
I remember the day Tait was born. I was induced again, also on his due date. This time I was induced because a week prior to his due date I sat crying in my Dr's office because I had bruises showing on my lower back because he was such a big kid. 40 minutes after being induced that time, he was out and again the whole process was over. It was quick. He was 8lb 9oz. Solid for me. (I hover at a whopping 5 feet and jog, 4x a week so I'll let you do the math on my size.)
The day I was induced (it happened in the evening) I remember we were shopping for a new fridge. Ours was from the stone ages and it was using power like it was going out of style.
I remember the details.
And here's the thing. I am going to remember those days until my final days. And, I will remember our referral day until my final days. But I won't be there for the birth of our daughter. I won't know how it went. I will likely never know if it was fast, slow, if she was big or small (my guess is small). I won't ever know her specific birth weight or time of birth. I won't know if she had a head of hair or is she was completely bald. I won't know if her birth mother was present, if she was surrounded by family or if she had to endure it alone. Will her birth mother's mother be there? Will a Dr be present? A nurse? Anyone with medical background or training?
Simply put: there are dozens of questions I have answers for, for our boys...and I take them for granted.
And there are dozens of questions I will never have answers for, for our daughter.
The "elusive list" is coming out by the end of the day, January 15. This is the list we will look at and find out where we fall, compared to all the other PAPs whose files are in Ethiopia. Our placement on the list will be based on the date our file arrived in Addis Ababa. However, it doesn't mean that we will be referred based specifically on that date. Details such as our gender, age, and health requests will play a part. Specifics such as whether or not childrens' parents requested a family of faith, a single/married couple, etc will also play a role. However, the list will give us an idea of where we sit.
I was out for coffee with friends the other night and one of them asked if I was excited about this list or nervous. Would I rest more comfortably, having at least a clue of where we rank or would I be more uneasy, looking at all those names ahead of us?
I had always thought I would be excited...peaceful, knowing approximately when it would be Our Turn. Our Call. But the question caught me off guard and for a few moments I contemplated if it actually would put me more on edge. After all, it is more of a guide than a list. And while I will get a black and white idea of how far down the list we are, I will also have to look at all those families ahead of ours.
I still don't have a good answer. I would say I am hesitantly excited.
And I know I will never ever forget our referral day.
But I will not be there the day our daughter is born.
So this is what I am doing. I am grabbing my pen and marking on our calendar what we were up to. Whenever we have activities, events, or outtings from now until our referral day I will make sure to take note. Because I have to be able to tell our daughter, when she is old enough to comprehend, that on the day she was born what we were doing. It is my responsibility as her parent.
I'm off to grab my pen and write it down, baby.