I think this will be the last in my adoption reflections series.
Things started to come together quickly once the court granted us full custody of Patrick. The adoption agency put in a petition for something called an “interstate compact” or “ICPC”. Basically, Michigan and Utah had to formally agree on which laws would govern the adoption. Meanwhile, the hospital social worker and discharge planner started working on the bigger question of how exactly we’d get Patrick home.
Patrick’s care needed to be transferred to specialists in Utah. He needed doctors here arranged and home care set up before he could leave the hospital environment. That meant he couldn’t just be discharged from the hospital so we could fly home commercially.
Eventually, it was decided that our best option was a medical flight. It took some juggling, negotiating, and everything short of outright begging to come up with the $20,000 cost of the flight, but eventually between our insurance company, a private donor, and our own savings, we had enough to book the flight.
Two days before Thanksgiving, the ICPC and flight were arranged, Patrick had a bed and a doctor at Primary Children’s hospital. We were coming home!
There wasn’t room for both of us and our month’s worth of luggage on the flight home, so Brian flew home Tuesday evening with the luggage. I stayed behind to take care of Patrick.
We were scheduled to fly out early in the afternoon on Wednesday, but some bad weather put the flight crew behind so it was after midnight before we left. We bundled Patrick up as warmly as possible. Then they strapped him to a stretcher. We went by ambulance to the airport, where a Leer Jet was waiting. We flew at 70,000 feet to stay out of turbulance. Patrick just slept the whole way.
Finally, we landed in Salt Lake and took an ambulance to the hospital, arriving about 4 a.m.
It was so disorienting to be in a new hospital. Nothing was familiar. I was tired and somewhat lightheaded from the long trip.
Brian met us at the hospital, and once we were checked in, took me home to rest. Leaving my baby all alone in an unfamiliar place was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I knew I had to take care of myself.
After a couple of hours’ sleep, we got up and got ready for Thanksgiving. I finally got to see the nursery Brian and our friends had put together for us. We took hundreds of pictures with us to Thanksgiving dinner. And then, once we were rested and fed, we went back to the hospital – where’d I’d spend most of my days for the next 2 and a half weeks.
For the first time, it was our last name on Patrick’s nametag. We were just the parents, not the “adoptive parents”. Our families got to finally meet him. It would be a couple of weeks more before he left the hospital, but Patrick was home.
This year, he gets to come with us to his first ever Thanksgiving dinner. Two of them in fact! We’ve come a long way to get here. Probably the best journey I’ve ever experienced.