Reunion with Isaac's Birth Mother and Family

Before yesterday, we had only met Desiree, Isaac's birth mother, once: On the same day that we first met Isaac when we was five months old.

A day later, we never saw Desiree again.

Yesterday we attended a memorial service in Oceanside. The service is for Lila, Isaac's biological grandmother and Desiree's mother. We had never met Lila before a few weeks ago, but then I received a Facebook message from Lila. She said she had been looking for us for many years and found our Baldwin family web site a while back. She said a day hadn't gone by in 12 years that she didn't think about Isaac. She asked if Isaac might want to meet her, and when we talked to Isaac about it, he said he'd be very interested. (By the way, he said he wasn't quite ready to meet Desiree yet).

So on October 25 we met Lila for dinner at Island's restaurant in Carlsbad, shared a great conversation, watched Lila and Isaac exchange glances, prayed for Lila, and then agreed that next time we might include Sally, Lila's mother and Isaac's bio great-grandmother. Lila also said that she'd planned to stop smoking again the next week.

On Halloween, Melissa received a call from Sally saying Lila had had a heart attack, had a collapsed lung, and had been rushed to the hospital by ambulance and was in ICU.

The next day Lila passed away.

Isaac thought it was nice to have a grandmother that had this special bond with him and so he wanted to go to her memorial service, knowing of course that Desiree would be there with her three children.

Everyone seemed very excited about meeting Isaac, especially a biological cousin, Ashley, who is only a few months older than Isaac; and for much of the time Isaac was also flanked by his biological half-siblings: Alyssa, Hope and Chris. Uncles and cousins also embraced Isaac, but none so much as great-grandmother Sally did. In one day she said good-bye to her precious daughter and reunited with a beloved great-grandson.

The day was about Lila and her life, of course, but we appreciated the invitation to have Isaac be part of the day, and to have us join the family gathering.

Ten Years Later

I have no memory from a few minutes before the crash until I woke up on a gurney at Mercy Hospital in Hillcrest, a hospital specializing in trauma that was several miles away, and heard the voice of our friend Andra as she stood over me. Melissa had been taken to Mercy, too, but was then transported to Kaiser because our health plan was there and she was eight months pregnant with Emma. The boys were both taken by separate ambulance to Scripps Chula Vista, the nearest hospital, and Landen was cared for there, but Isaac, because he was only eighteen months old, was then transported to Children’s Hospital even further away than Mercy. At one time the four of us were at four different hospitals, and because it was still Thanksgiving weekend and family had been gathered together, there were enough people to disperse. The whole time elapsed must have been an hour or more I guess.

Today it is exactly ten years later and I still don’t remember any details, thankfully, except passing our friend Jose Chavez and his family as were driving up Telegraph Canyon back home after a rainy day out as a family. What I don't remember at all is that we were at a stop sign across from the golf course only blocks from our house and a man driving a red Suburban was coming toward us and, as Melissa tells it, he didn’t look like he was going to stop, and didn’t. The Suburban struck our white Honda accord on the driver’s side with Isaac directly behind me in his car seat. Except for some bruises, Isaac ended up walked away unscathed. Landen has a scar on his chin that was more visible for years than it is today, and we think the hit he took was from a loose middle seat belt or object inside the car. Melissa went into pre-term labor but walked away okay, too. For years she had nightmarish memories of the drunk driver of the Suburban walking toward the car and standing at her window.

The whole event happened a block or so from the home of our friends, the Stephens. Blair was a San Diego police officer and was off-duty but heard a report of the accident on his radio and recognized the street names and came to us right away, along with his wife, Denise. Calls were made and other friends and of course our family responded right away.

In the same six weeks, Isaac’s adoption was final, we moved into our new home in Eastlake, survived the crash, Emma was born, and Melissa turned 30, all while I was probably trying to do good work in a job I’d been in for only a year. Thank God for times like these where we can experience his mercy, his grace, his provision, and the gift of family in rich and comforting ways.

Road Trip to SLO

Two weeks ago we decided it was time to go on a family road trip since the kids were on their three-week break from school. We took two days to drive up the coast to San Luis Obispo where we stayed two days and visited some of my childhood stomping grounds. The kids seemed intrigued by some of the places I used to go and play: Montana de Oro especially (photo) where they hiked and explored; Bubble Gum Alley and downtown SLO; walking along the creek at Santa Rosa Park, seeing up close the sea lions lying around at the pier at Avila Beach, eating seafood in Morro Bay, and even walking past a concert by Sean Kingston on the Embarcadero. We stopped at Los Osos Cemetery where my grandparents, great aunt and uncle, and several other extended family members are buried, and walked around looking at headstones. Maddie commented as we drove away: “Next time I want to look at all of them (headstones) to see of one of them says, “Birth mom.”

It was good to get away together, and as expected, nice to go back to where I feel grounded.

Bedtime Reading on a Summer Night

Here' s a great way to relax and wind down at the end of a long stressful work day: It's warm in the house and all the kids have been cranky, but when it's time to read with Emma she wants to be outside when the sun is setting and she can listen for dogs "chirping" to each other, as she says. (By the way, she considers herself a dog rescuer, and she's found several stray dogs in the neighborhood since we've arrived.) We sit together on a porch swing in her grandparents' backyard, she with her Animal Ark horse book reading aloud, and I with my eyes closed in the coolness of the gloaming, and with each sentence my muscles are relaxing and the tension is released, and I'm thankful for this moment with my first daughter who seems to enjoy this time as much as I do.

James Robert Tracy (Cousin Jay)

Tonight at seven, Jay went to be with Jesus. Those were the words my Aunt Carolyn shared with me when I returned her call around 10 o’clock tonight on my way to Pasadena. She and my Uncle Jim rejoice that my cousin Jay is no longer in pain and is home with his King, but I know how deeply sad and exhausted they must be after caring for Jay all these months and years, traveling back and forth between Albuquerque and their home in Los Alamos, New Mexico. Jay had been suffering from the effects of AIDS and he was only 38 years old.

Halloween candy

Halloween is coming and Melissa was recently quoted in this Washington Parent article with her "unique solution to the dilemma of too much candy."

Schedule time for blog posts

I realize that I'm not fully taking advantage of this blog. I had all the best intentions, but I've spent nearly all of my time lately enjoying the presence of my family, diving into the new job and spending hours getting up to speed, or traveling to and from work. There are only a couple times typically when I might stop to assemble blog-worthy thoughts, and regretfully it's either when I am lying in bed at night or when I'm captive on a plane. In any given day there are dozens of situations that lead to streams of memories, spontaneous prayers of thanks to God for his goodness and grace, and sometimes new ideas. Even the one-sided conversations that I have in my mind could find some resolve in such posts, but instead they remain frustratingly imprisoned and doomed to be forgotten. So I haven't figured out when or how to consistently disengage from these moments and channel the inspiration into writing. I'll schedule time for it, which has worked for other worthwhile habits, and we'll see how it goes.

All Pro Dad Article Published

One of the things I believe God has called me to do is reach out to dads, or guys thinking about being dads, who might be considering adoption. All Pro Dad asked if they could republish my story from a couple years ago. I made some updates and it was sent out as the “Play of the Day” on September 7 to almost 31,000 e-mail recipients, mostly men. I’ve had some really great responses from dads who have adopted, and others who are currently contemplating the decision with their wives and can relate to some of the concerns that I addressed. Feel free to pass it along to anyone you know who might benefit.

Insights and Faith of My Teenage Son

Most on my mind today is my son Landen’s MySpace entry last night which describes his eighth grade weekend retreat called Fall Forward, the purpose of which Landen more aptly explains in his piece. From a parent’s perspective, it is one of the most overwhelming and satisfying sensations to read your thirteen year-old’s writing, more intelligent and insightful that most adults I know if asked to describe what they learned at a weekend church retreat. (See it on Melissa’s blog)

Tribute to Aunt Esther

I grew up with two grandmothers: Grannie, my dad’s mom in Ceres, California; and Aunt Esther, my mom’s Aunt who was also her mother by proxy after her mother, Lois, died when my mom was only 16.

Mom called today with the news that Aunt Esther had passed away. She was 91 years old and her health had been declining, but she is immortalized in my memory as a relatively healthy beachcomber that was conscientious about her appearance, proud of her financial independence, and increasingly demonstrative in her affection for her “grandchildren” as the years passed.

Aunt Esther seemed to measure her life by financial independence and hard work, and upon visiting her and engaging in conversation for a while, it wasn’t long before she’d talk about her investments, the cost of various home-related projects, the nice financial advisor she’d hired, or someplace that she’d enjoyed visiting with Uncle Harold.

Aunt Esther was born in 1916, the same year as John F. Kennedy, and was two years older than Uncle Harold, born in 1918. I remember their phone number in Pismo Beach because it ended in 1917, right between their two birth years. By the way, Uncle Harold passed away in September 1998 and after that Aunt Esther was never quite the same.

Aunt Esther was a faithful letter-writer, sometimes handwritten but more often typewritten. She’d remember everyone’s birthdays, and as children we could usually look forward to “money from Aunt Esther,” maybe a five dollar bill or even ten. From time to time as a younger boy I’d receive a toy or a souvenir from one of the places she had visited with Uncle Harold, but I think it made Aunt Esther feel very good to give cash to her grandsons.

My earliest memories of Disneyland included a routine trip to Aunt Esther’s house in Torrance and later Redondo Beach, just mom and us three boys. Uncle Harold would stay home which he’d done every time since my mom was a little girl. Family legend says he never did go inside Disneyland even while working and living nearby, but Aunt Esther opened the door for the experience.

When I was thirteen we drove with Aunt Esther to Los Alamos, New Mexico, to visit Aunt Carolyn, Uncle Jim, and our cousins Jay, Keith and toddler Tonya. I remember on the return trip Aunt Esther was sited for speeding by an Arizona state police officer and I noticed a sign that said “Crazy Creek” on the bridge we crossed as she pulled over to the side on Highway 40. I thought it was funny at the time.

In 1986 Aunt Esther and Uncle Harold moved to Arroyo Grande while building their house in Pismo Beach, moving into the new house above the beach in 1987 when I left for college. I’m sure they came north to be near mom and cousin Cheryl, and they must have intended for the new house to be their final home together, which it was, although Aunt Esther herself spent her final couple years in an assisted living home in Grants Pass, Oregon, near Uncle Gene, her younger brother.

Melissa and I would always make sure we stopped to visit Aunt Esther on our way back home to San Diego, and one time I remember Aunt Esther seeing me on one of our visits, and saying, “You’re so chubby!” with a little chuckle which made it easier for me to laugh along and look for a way to segue into lighter conversation before withdrawing into private thoughts and promises to myself that I needed to get back into shape.

As she aged I learned to handle Aunt Esther with greater affection. For most of my life I don’t remember Aunt Esther as particularly demonstrative aside from making sure that we were well-fed, had some cash in our pockets, and received greeting cards on every occasion. But in her later years I’d hold her hand while talking to her and she’d grip mine tightly. She would cry as we said good-bye after a visit. She appeared to be embarrassed about her inability to fully care for herself, and yet would be as dignified and composed as she could be, always aware of how she was dressed and made-up.

Father, welcome Aunt Esther into your heavenly kingdom and thank you for her life on earth: A conduit of your love and grace and provision.

Tuesday of the Eighth Week

The day begins with the phone ringing obnoxiously just minutes past three a.m. and Melissa gets up saying she won’t fall back to sleep, and I do get more time before bouncing out of bed at 4:05 meaning that I must have hit snooze one and I just don’t remember. Melissa is still getting ready and Isaac is the first one of the kids up and eager to get going because today is the trip to San Diego that we have been talking about all year. Next Maddie, then Emma who is the most excited of all, and then Landen who promptly gets dressed and combs his hair. We’re on track for leaving at 4:45, and after putting the finishing touches on the house, Melissa making the bed and both of us double-checking lights and doors, we load the bags into both rental cars and we’re on the road. The boys ride with me in the red Saturn Ion that I rented in Chicago on Thursday night, and the girls ride with Mom in the white Pontiac Grand Am that we picked up at the South Bend airport yesterday. We thought it would be too early to ask somebody to drive us in our Pilot, and we’re enjoying the drive. In the front seat with me Landen is very talkative for this time of day, and ironically Isaac listens to music before passing out in the back seat. My morning child needs to ramp up with a fair amount of sleep I guess, and Landen the night owl is probably operating just fine without. We listen to various stations on the way and Landen keeps me thinking because he’s very sharp, and the girls, Melissa tells me on the phone, are enjoying country music together.