The drive to the hospital normally takes about 15 minutes. But when I was headed there to pick up our little guy, it felt like an eternity.

My hands were sweaty. My heart was racing. Thoughts FLOODED my mind. Emotions raced through my heart.

Are we really ready to welcome this little guy?

I’m so excited!

I wonder what he looks like.

I wonder if he has a name yet.

We have a name for him… baby Moses.

What if they don’t let me leave with him?

What if he has colic like our youngest?

I’m sure he will be great! He has to be…

His mama. Oh my heart. His mama.

I can’t even begin to imagine what she is going through.

Healing after giving birth and not having her son to snuggle.

Milk coming in and not having a baby to feed.

Post partum emotions going crazy and not having the ability to bond with her baby.

I. Can’t. Even. Imagine.

My heart BROKE for his mama on my drive and has broken for her everyday since.

I finally got to the hospital, and walked the long hall. The last time I walked this hall was when I was 9 months pregnant with our youngest, there to help my parents and see my grandma who was dying. To hold my grandmas hand as she floated in and out. That long hall had a whole new look to it now. It was filled with all sorts of emotions as I walked down it.

Then I turned the corner off the main hallway to meet the social worker from the hospital we had been working with. She led me through the big double doors and to the nurses station.

And there he was. Sweet baby Moses. All swaddled up in the bassinet hanging out at the nurses station. So alone. Left. Abandoned.

They escorted me to a room to watch the “purple crying” video and do paperwork. The nurse asked if I needed anything, and I just asked “can I hold him?” “Yes!! Yes of course! Enjoy! I’ll be back in a bit.” I felt like I still needed permission to hold someone else’s baby.

She walked out and it was just him and I. 28 hours old. Someone else’s baby that I now was choosing to love as my own. I picked him up, kissed his sweet little cheeks, told him it was going to be okay, told him that I loved him and that his mama loved him.

We sat and rocked and I just watched him (even though I was supposed to watch the purple crying video… oops! The way I saw it was that I made it through colic, I think I’ll be alright! 😬). I fed him a bit, but mostly just looked at him. Studying his face, savoring these moments. I was amazed with how much he looked like our girls when they were brand new! So much so I even did a side by side photo comparison of all of them and some of my friends couldn’t differentiate him from our girls!

After the video was over, the nurse came in with some paperwork and a box of clothes mom had been collecting.

I rummaged through the box looking for anything that was maybe a going home outfit mama had picked out. I found a pair of pants that were newborn size, but that was about it. So I got him dressed and took lots of pictures. Got him loaded in the car seat and the nurse said I was free to leave.

Free to leave.

With someone else’s baby.

It was so so so weird.

And I walked out of the hospital just like that.

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