Atkinson Family Addition

For Coretta’s first twelve (and a half) weeks of life, I was with her. Together in the hospital. Together in Nevada. And together here at home. The most time apart we spent, was a couple of hours-maybe a few times. I need her. I need to feel her head resting on my chest. I need to hear every coo, every cry, every sigh. I need her fingers wrapped around mine. I need to run my fingers through her gorgeous dark hair. I need to whisper in her ear. And I need to kiss her cheeks. So when our time was up, I couldn’t possibly prepare. For two weeks, I cried. I wanted to cherish every second of our fleeting time together. Every diaper change. Every bottle. Every massage. Every snuggle. And most intensely, every smile. I spent much of those final days just staring at her. Holding her gaze. Smiling at her through the tears pouring down my cheeks. Smiling and telling her how much I love her as those tears landed on her cheeks and head. I was terrified. But I was not terrified or s

Coretta Neeley. For quite a while, we have kept a running document with names that we’ve liked. We would find them everywhere and anywhere: the credits after a movie or show; book characters and authors; family names. One of our favorite places: the church bulletin! We’d look at all the composers and writers (I think we added two names that way). When we found out that we were chosen and that the baby was a girl, our name search amped up. We had a long list of maybes but hadn’t yet decided on names we loved. While we were waiting, both of us seemed to be drawn to boy names: that list was extensive, had stars and notes by each of our favorites, and even had some middle name ideas. (We also learned that when your last name ends in -son, first names sound silly if they also end in -son.) In one of the very first conversations we had with Mama M, she asked us if we had a name picked out--which made us panic that we hadn’t even narrowed it down! During our July visit together, we knew

I always imagined becoming a mom to be the most amazing, beautiful experience. I imagined happiness and basking in sunshine. I imagined only love and happiness. But that image isn’t how our story is being written. During the lengthy process of adoption, there were people in our lives that were noticeably absent; uninvolved; uninterested. People that we thought would be our supporters. Those pages weren’t written how we imagined. But there were others, who in the absence, stepped in and filled that void. They were involved; interested; and cheered us on. Those pages weren’t how we imagined; but they were filled with the grace of our God. When this sweet baby girl was a mere three days old, our beloved Pastor Stephanie texted us early that morning to say “My prayers are with you. God’s love surround you. May you all experience peace.”. She knew that 72 hours had passed and that Coretta’s Mama would be making a decision that wasn’t easy; it took deep thought and prayer; it to

After we spent as many hours as possible with baby girl, we arrived at the hospital on that final day. It was final because at 10am, her mama would be meeting with her Social Worker and attorney to make her decision to parent or place baby through adoption. After spending those two days together, we know M loves baby girl and would be a great parent to her if that were her choice. Our emotions were beyond intense. No matter the decision, we knew that our hearts would be hurting. No matter the decision, this baby girl was loved and would continue to be loved. No matter the decision, we had poured out every ounce of our hearts for the last 72 hours and wouldn’t regret that time. We were quiet, because no matter the decision, what comes next wouldn’t be easy. And then it was 11, and the social worker hadn’t arrived yet. And then it was 11:30, and the social worker still hadn’t arrived. My stomach was such a mess I had to take a walk to get ice and splash cool water on my face. I

This is it. The moment we’ve been waiting for. We were in M’s maternity room and the nurses wheeled in a tiny little babe that was just about to have her first bottle. They showed us where the necessities were, handed me the bottle, and left the room. And then it was us. I scooped up that tiny little squish and held her close to my chest. Travis and I stared at each other in complete and utter disbelief. This was happening. This was our reality. In this moment. We stared at baby, completely and utterly smitten. We spent the rest of the day in the room with M and baby girl. We talked. We laughed. She rested and slept. We stared at baby and never set her down. Travis fed baby girl a bottle and instantly got her to burp. He confidently responded with “I just have the touch!”. To which, I replied with “I will remember that at 3am…”. M laughed and she reminded Trav that we thought he “has the touch” any time baby girl fussed. When we noticed baby girl’s extremely long finge

Here we are. In the midst of the most intense, heart ripping, emotional, surreal time of our lives. On Wednesday morning at 4:30, we awoke to a chilled house from the cool air. I asked Travis to get me another blanket and snuggled back in. I leaned over to check what time it was and there it was: Missed call from M. A text from M saying “U should come”. I calmly set my phone down. In shock that this was the moment. The one we had been waiting for. I asked Travis if he was awake and then handed him my phone. I couldn’t even say the words. We then immediately called M. She was in labor and walking down the hallway at the hospital to the labor and delivery unit. IT WAS TIME. After that, life is a blur. Booking plane tickets, taking showers, packing the last necessities, and getting our puppy and house ready for us to be gone. Before we knew it, we were sitting in a car on the way to the airport. Breathing heavy. Sweating. M texted saying she was dilated to 6 c

Today, the count has reached 38 weeks. A milestone we have only dreamed of. Another tick along this journey. But our journey hasn’t been all smooth sailing. Two weeks ago, my sweet Granny’s health rapidly declined after a fall. Our entire family quickly made their way to her hospital room where we were able to hold her hand, kiss her forehead, and tell her stories of times remembered. My feisty Grandma. The one who taught me the finesse to flip lefse without tearing it. The one who showed me her hidden key so I could stop in anytime--whether my legs were too tired to bike all the way home, or I just needed a listening ear, her door was mine too. The one who loved us all deeply. So we whispered the name we picked out with Mama M so she could be in on one last secret, kissed her goodbye one last time, and let her go. During the same time, our communication with Mama M was abruptly halted. We went from texting nearly every day to going two, then three, then four days with nothing

35 weeks. We have been so overwhelmed by the support and love of all of our family and friends over the past several months. It is truly incredible and has not gone unnoticed. We now have an even bigger ask. An ask that doesn’t come easy. With only a few weeks until baby’s due date, we have adoption and attorney costs quickly approaching. Although these fees seem difficult, we know that they will ensure that Mama M is able to be cared for and supported; that all aspects of this adoption are handled ethically and with integrity. In an effort to honor our support system, we invite you to be a PIECE of our adoption! For every $25 donated, your name (or send us a message/bible verse of your choice) will be added to the back of a puzzle piece. Once the puzzle is complete, we’ll put all the pieces together to help decorate the nursery. We have a GoFundMe account set up here: https://www.gofundme.com/a-piece-of-the-atkinson-addition . Our previous YouCaring page was close

When we started this journey over a year ago, I had no idea how much I would learn; how many mamas would inspire me with their words weighing heavily on my heart or uplifting my mind; how many times my heart would be torn open a little further; how many prayers I would pray. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. Though I still don’t, nor will I ever, have all the answers, I have gained exponentially more insight and knowledge from an incredible group of adoptive and birth mamas. Be that good, bad, incredible, hard, or beautiful...or more often than not: incredible, hard, AND beautiful. A Birth Mama that I recently discovered (thanks to Cari) posted a blog that I let sit on my heart for a bit. Her words echoed so much of what I have been feeling since being chosen. She writes about the importance of honoring the voice and right to choose of birth mamas in this process. Travis and I have tried to be intentional about our word choice and how we talk and think about the baby girl that

With hearts ripped wide open, we are ready to share that we have been CHOSEN. During the week of all things graduate school: Travis finished his last final on Tuesday, I was defending my thesis on Friday, we were contacted with about 4 different situations. We spent a good 2+ hours on the phone Thursday night with social workers, case managers, and directors discussing these situations and what the next steps were to be. We were informed that Mama M had selected our profile and wanted to do a call with us in the coming days. (Good thing my presentation was pretty much finalized by that point!) I cried tears of joy. And I started to sweat. I was equal parts ecstatic and terrified. Ecstatic that an expectant parent felt comfortable and confident enough in our profile to take the next step; and terrified that I would say something ridiculous or freeze up on the call and squash that confidence and comfort. We scheduled the call for Sunday night. We made notes, came up with que

In this time of great wait, we are trying to get ourselves and our lives as prepared as we can. So that when “the call” comes, we are truly ready. Last week brought us our final major TO DO list item: finishing graduate school. After the past few years of spending many Saturdays in classes, nights and weekends doing homework, reading, studying, and generally being stressed out by working full time jobs AND pursuing our grad degrees, we ARE DONE. Walking into our home after we had both finished our “final finals” was like a giant fog had been lifted. We could see again. And it felt GOOD. We celebrated with a Saturday morning at one of our favorite coffee shops FREE of homework for the first time ever! It was glorious. Amidst this final stretch for both of us, we have also been on an intensely complex portion of our journey. Our profiles have been shared with an additional two agencies in different states. The past two weeks between all of our grad happenings, work happe

The day has finally arrived. After receiving information about several situations, we took the plunge and said “yes” to showing our profile to an expectant couple. For the next three days, I checked my phone like a true millennial. I don’t think my emails have ever been read/responded to/deleted so promptly in my life. But then, time stopped. When on that third day, I checked my phone for the 287th time to find an email. An email that stated “I’m sorry to inform you that birth parents have chosen another family”. In a flash, it was a quick punch to the gut. But that punch was softened. My gut was protected with what a “no” for us means: it means that somewhere else, another family has found their baby. They are getting “the call”. The call that will forever change their lives. And that family will be the best family for that baby boy. Because his birth parents chose the family that best fit their hopes and dreams. And THAT knowledge saves me. It saves my