Our Adoption Story of Warren Davis
I’ve debated writing this— or more so, publishing it. I have mixed feelings when I read adoption stories because adoption has so many layers, not all of which can possibly be captured in a single post. Not to mention adoption stories are not entirely ours to share. Sure, I can share our side of things, but the birth story? My son’s origin story? That story belongs to Warren and his first mom.
That said, I’m going to write and share what I deem appropriate because Warren deserves all the joy and excitement surrounding his entrance into the world just as Jo and Anders did! I would feel weird not writing about welcoming him into our family considering he’s the newest piece to the center of our universe. We are overjoyed that we get to love him for the rest of his life, and I really can’t keep that from bursting at the seams. Our third child. WOW. Three. We must be crazy.
Where oh whereeee to begin??
The Home Study Process
As many of you know, we started the home study process (background checks, interviews, paperwork) for domestic infant adoption last summer. Most people’s #1 question is why did we decide to adopt? I wish I had a really clear answer. I’ve wanted to adopt since I was in elementary school. Wild, I know. It’s just something that seemed obvious to me. My head said: Shannon, you’re going to adopt a baby. I was like, 10 years old. I didn’t even know how babies were made, but for whatever reason, I just knew I wanted to adopt. This was before I learned about white saviorism, unethical adoption, and the only-recently reformed practices of not protecting the mental and emotional health of adoptees and birth moms through normalizing open adoption. (Thank goodness most agencies require some level of open adoption these days, at the will of the birth mom.) All I knew, pretty darn innocently, was that I would adopt someday.
Fast-forward nearly two decades, I remained adamant about this “calling” (for lack of a better, less cliché term), which led to tons of research and learning and unlearning. When Aaron and I were dating, adoption was part of the conversation before we got engaged as we discussed our hopes for a future together. He, looking back, explains that that conversation was like a light bulb for him. He’d never been overtly wishful about adoption, but once I brought it up, he said it became an obvious “yes.” Something that immediately sat right in his soul.
I don’t have a great explanation as to why we had biological children before adopting other than it was the process of starting a family that had the fewest amount of steps. The path of least resistance, if you will. We were fortunate to not struggle with infertility, but we did have a miscarriage between Anders and Jo. Shortly after that experience, Aaron and I decided to begin researching adoption agencies in Virginia (where we lived at the time). We didn’t know if another biological child was in our future, but we thought- Hey! We know we want to adopt, anyway, so why not get the ball rolling?
Then came Jo.
After that pause in our adoption plan—and feeling confident in our decision to only have 2 biological children, God-willing—Aaron and I were knee deep back in the adoption waters within a few months after Jo’s birth here in Alaska. Originally, we thought we’d be using a national adoption agency where Baby can come from any state, but after further research (and a serendipitous encounter), we fell into the lap of the only domestic infant adoption agency exclusively serving Alaskan families.
Our number one priority with any agency was that their practices were ethical toward the expecting mothers, never coercing them or even encouraging them to make an adoption plan. We believed—and still believe—that if a child can be safely raised by his or her biological parent, aide should be focused on allowing that to happen. However, we also wanted an agency who would trust and fully support expecting moms who did want to choose adoption, because every woman— every mother—deserves the respect of making a choice that is best for herself and her child. And we wanted to be on the other side waiting for them, a home that would bring a mom comfort when imagining her child growing up with us.
The small agency here in Alaska fit the bill.
The women who run it have first hand experience with adoption in their own families, and they bend over backwards to ensure that the wellbeing of expecting moms comes first— not the hope of adoptive families paying them for services. But I must say they bend over backwards for us, too, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the team of deeply caring professionals who connected us with our son and his first mom, as well as handled (and continue to handle) the legal intricacies.
We finished our home study with Alaska Adoption Services in October 2020, at which time our profile went up on their website and we officially became a waiting family. Some people like to call this “paper pregnant.” At that point, it was just a waiting game! Waiting for an expecting mom to look through her options and connect the most with us. Whew, the amount of pressure can feel suffocating even though every expecting mom wants something different when choosing a family. No waiting family is “better” or “worse”— we’re all just different. Some of us have kids, some don’t. Some of us have partners, some don’t. We live in different places, have different personalities and interests, different religious beliefs, different pasts…all of which expecting moms get a glimpse of in the profiles and make a very personal, specific decision accordingly. That said, the ego living in all of us likes to believe we can make our profile “stand out,” and I was constantly having to check myself to remember that that’s not what this was about. This process requires a lot of surrender, and then surrendering again, and then surrendering some more. Thank God for God.
Mostly, we prayed. Not that we’d “get our baby soon,” because if you think about it, that’s praying for another woman to be in a situation where she doesn’t feel she can provide the best care for her child. We don’t get to pretend that the pain she experiences in making such a selfless, loving plan doesn’t exist just because we’re excited to grow our family. Instead, we prayed that if a mom did find herself in a situation where she was considering adoption, that she’d find comfort in knowing adoption was an option, and peace when she saw our profile.
At the end of January, our agency informed us that they were working with an expecting mom who would be making a decision in a few days. All we knew was that she was expecting baby boy due in April and, at her own request, would not be looking at profiles. Instead, she’d be choosing a family based on basic bullet-point information rather than looking through pictures or videos. We were 99.9% certain we wouldn’t be selected based on a written summary (further proof of how much ego was behind curating the “perfect profile”), but we prayed for this specific mom each night for the next four nights. We prayed that she’d feel comforted as she made her decision, and that whatever family she chose would be perfect for her and her baby.
On that fourth or fifth morning, I got the call.
I was letting Noma out and distinctly remember sliding open our back door when my social worker said “You’re not going to believe this, but she chose you guys.” She put it that way because when she’d informed me of the upcoming decision, I had laughed and said “Welp if she’s not looking at profiles, I’m sure she won’t choose us”— I was so insecure that Aaron’s career requiring us to move out of state in a few years would be a turn off, and career was one of the things I knew she’d be reading about in the summary. I thought an expecting mom would have to connect with our personalities and pictures to overcome the issue of us not living in Alaska forever.
I was in shock. I think I told my social worker to “shut up” like five times, “Princess Diaries” style. We almost felt like we already knew this expecting mom since we’d been praying for her specifically every night since finding out she’d be making a decision. It was so wild to learn that she’d selected us! No pictures or anything needed. All that overanalyzing our profile was entirely unnecessary. It was abundantly clear that God was leading this whole thing. My fears and lack of surrender were given a big ole dose of humility, and all I wanted to do was hug this woman who had just made one of the hardest decisions in her life, which in turn blessed ours. We were fully aware that she had every right to change her mind through the birth and a few weeks after (in accordance with revocation laws in Alaska), but simply prayed for her heart and health every single night and began locating all of Jo’s newborn stuff we’d seemingly just stored away!
Even thought little man was due in April, we knew he’d likely come early. Jo hadn’t met most of her extended family by this time in her little life (thanks, Covid), so for over a year in the making, we’d been planning a trip to see family on the East Coast the first two weeks in March. That wasn’t something we could really postpone! Before leaving, we knew it’d be cutting it close to making it back to Alaska for Warren’s birth, so we put everything in place to prepare for me flying back at a moment’s notice. In fact, at one point I almost changed my flight based on a doctor’s analysis, but ultimately we made it through our last vacation as a family of four without Aaron flying back home cross-country with two littles by himself or my stepmom having to suddenly buy a ticket to Alaska to help him!
Meeting Warren
Two days after our return, still recovering from 18 straight hours of travel and a 4 hour time change with two toddlers, we learned that Warren was about to make his fast and furious entrance into the world! Talk about cutting it close! He arrived that afternoon, March 16, 2021 at 1:22 p.m. The soonest I could arrive at the area of Alaska where he was born was 9:30 a.m. the following morning, leaving that evening and overnighting in another location before the final leg in the morning. Pretty sure I didn’t know my own name by the time that last leg ended— my 10th flight in two weeks—but I got off that plane with the empty car seat and prayed continuously as I headed toward the hospital. My Uber driver was very intent on not giving me a single moment to process what was happening during that drive, but we won’t get into his extremely incessant need for small talk as I attempted to prepare for one of the biggest moments of my life. (Haha…BLESS.)
Oh, by the way, the reason Aaron didn’t join me is because Covid restrictions only allow two visitors per baby, so his first mom and I filled those spots. We also needed Aaron to watch the toddlers since we weren’t sure how long I’d be away for the NICU stay (a guarantee since Warren came 5.5 weeks early). The support of our community was outRAGEous. Aaron didn’t cook basically the whole time I was gone, as people were dropping off meals left and right. Our neighbors watched the kids when Aaron had extra work, our daycare bent over backwards to accept Jo…it was a team effort, and we’ll be forever grateful for our small town and the amazing people in it.
Obviously I won’t get into the details of Warren’s birth or my experience with his first mom, but I will say it was all truly beautiful. His first mom is an incredible human. Our prayers were answered in her loving, powerful confidence as she chose our family for Warren, and we couldn’t possibly be more grateful for her. Open adoption is a gift for every single party involved. It’s an absolute honor to be connected to her.
Warren was in the NICU for 12 days— shorter than originally anticipated! He’s a champ. He absolutely slayed his feedings and weaned himself off of the feeding tube like a beast. A teeny tiny itty bitty beast, born at 4 pounds 7 ounces. I was super fortunate to be granted a room in patient housing, a gorgeous facility sponsored by Ronald McDonald for the Alaska Native community, connected to the hospital by an indoor walkway, so my room was only a 4 minute walk from the NICU. I tried to be there for as many feeds as possible, so I woke up at 6:30 a.m. each morning to arrive for his 7 a.m. feeding, then would stay until the nurse shift change at 6:30 p.m., when visitors were required to leave for 30 minutes. I’d chow dinner and maybe take a shower, then get back to the NICU by his 7 p.m. feed and stay until after his 10 p.m. feed. I got very into the Crime Junkie Podcast as I sat in that NICU doing skin-to-skin for 15ish hours a day—good times! But spending that uninterrupted time with Warren, learning to care for him and getting to know him was absolutely glorious.
His release day was extremely sudden and unexpected. He’d lasted over 24 hours without needing a feeding tube, but I still assumed it would be a few more days. I can’t even begin to express the adrenaline that came with knowing we were busting out! I frantically booked the first flight out—leaving at 2:50 a.m. because why the heck not— and got everything in order. Next thing I knew, Warren was finally no longer attached to tubes and instead attached to my chest in the Boba wrap I’d packed as we said goodbye to our favorite nurses and waltzed on out! He and I spent a few hours together in my room (he was not interested in letting me get any sleep before the big journey home) before heading to the airport, flying all the way to Seattle with him snuggled in the Boba, periodically pulling him out to feed him on the flight, washing the two preemie bottles we’d been given in the bathroom sink and refilling them during the layover, then catching the 8:00 a.m. flight up to Ketchikan from there!
The excitement of Aaron, Anders, and Jo meeting their son/brother after the long trip home was enough to keep me up for 36 hours straight, but every single hour was entirely worth it (understatement of the century). The transition to a family of 5 has been nearly seamless. The older kids are fascinated and caring. Aaron and I are managing newborn sleep the best we can (last night we each only got an hour…whew), and all of us are just enjoying the extra dose of love under our roof. We are so so so grateful for our relationship with Warren’s first mom, and can hardly believe that we get to have him in our family. He’s perfect and adorable and an answered prayer.
Welcome to the world, Warren Davis. You are a light.
