We landed at O’Hare airport in our 15-passenger van loaded with an empty car seat and our best friends. Each of us donned a nametag reading the personal name with …”for Tupper baby” written beneath it. Vanessa, one of our “short” friends carried the “It’s a boy” sign. When I think now of how our little parade must have looked, it coaxes a smile. When someone asked us what a “Tupper baby” was, we laughed and joked, “why, it’s a baby with a lid!” There were so many well-wishers, I likened it to giving birth in front of a huge audience.
When we caught up with the other “parents-to-be,” the nervousness set in. There were at least four of us there to pick up our children. The babies themselves were to be escorted by Korean businessmen who agreed to take care of the little ones on the long flight from Korea to the United States.
When the agency representative caught up with us, she eyed my big belly suspiciously but didn’t mention it. She gave us instructions on the papers we needed to sign and then assigned us the task of deciding which one of us would go down the chute to pick up our son.
I was so nervous. The butterflies in my stomach were more than just Scotty’s sibling being excited. “I can’t do it,” I said. Michael put his arms around me. “Are you okay?” “Yes, I’m fine, but I don’t think I can be the one to go down the chute to pick up Scotty. Will you do it?” I asked. “Of course,” Michael agreed.
We waited for what seemed like hours. I felt fat, frumpy, and excited. The entire experience was surreal. I couldn’t believe it was finally going to happen. Our friends kept our minds busy with talking, singing, and anticipation. With these friends there was always a lot of fun and laughing.
Finally, the plane arrived. My baby was just a few hundred feet away from my arms. Questions overwhelmed me. Were we good enough? Was I up for this? Did we make the right choices? Would we be good parents? What if Marcia was right and we weren’t nurturing enough? Would I be able to bond with this baby even though I hadn’t carried him? Would we like him? Would he like us?
It was time. My tall, lanky husband walked confidently into the chute. I stood at the opening, ready to meet my son. Our friends stood behind me. I could feel their spirits giving me encouragement and strength. I waited. It seemed like an eternity as I watched the other babies emerge. One was screaming. Another was fussing. One little girl baby had hair sticking straight up about two inches, but she was taking everything in stride. So sweet! I thought and then I saw the man I love coming toward me awkwardly carrying a bundle in his arms. I braced myself.
“Scotty, meet your mom,” Michael whispered. I looked down and saw the chubbiest and cutest little baby package I could possibly imagine.
“Hi baby” I said quietly, not sure of what my script should be. Scott’s eyes met mine and at that moment he smiled the biggest smile I have ever seen come from a three month old. One of our friends caught the moment on film and the picture has graced Michael’s office for almost 25 years. You can see Scott’s big smile, my big belly, and tears streaming down my cheeks. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I felt like the final piece of a puzzles edge had been put into place. I knew the picture was far from complete, but it was such a satisfactory moment in the journey. I felt I was literally being showered with God’s blessings in the being of this beautiful baby boy dressed in a blue-green outfit, a pacifier hanging from the zipper, and a missing bottle.
We were informed that Scotty was an easy traveler. Even when his bottle came up missing, he didn’t cry. We were stocked for any emergency and we took a few minutes to let him enjoy a few ounces of soy milk before we headed to the van.
Michael and I sat on either side of our son as we made the 50-mile journey home. We hardly noticed the large painted sign church members had attached to the house as we floated into the house ready to start our new exciting journey as mom, dad, and baby.
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