It happened on a Saturday evening. I was supposed to have dinner with my neighbor and her family until my phone rang with its special ring tone for the agency ("You Can't Hurry Love"). This was it! My son's birthmom was in labor and I needed to get to Texas!
I was partially packed, so I threw the rest of my stuff in my suitcase while calling the airlines to make a last minute reservation. Helpful hint: Telling the airline representative you are adopting makes them even more helpful (I was told I made her day) and she helped me find a flight with a discounted fee if I had to change my return date. I gave my neighbors my refrigerator food and my mail key, put the suitcase, car seat, stroller, two dogs, and two cats in the car, and began the 3 hour drive to my parents house.
I was a wreck on the inside. My stomach literally hurt from nervousness. What if I couldn't do it? What if I was a terrible mom? My good friends called me on my ride to wish me luck and encouragement on my trip. They all assured me that I could do it and that it would be okay. It didn't work. I was still a mess, but was doing a great job of hiding it.
When I got to my parents, it was almost midnight and I was booked on a 9am flight (which meant getting to the airport, which was an hour away, at least 2 hours before the flight to check in and go through security). Oh, and I had forgot to rent a car, so I had to do that before going to bed as well. The agency representative was calling me as well to give me updates on my son, who still wasn't born when I made it to bed that night/morning. I think I had maybe 5 hours of sleep that night.
Did I mention that I had also never traveled by myself? Anywhere. Ever. This was going to be interesting.