He was only a day old when he came to live with us. His new parents called him “Bubba” because they were afraid to give him a permanent name.
John and Marsha were adopting Bubba. Because they were from out of state and because they did not have the permission of both parents, they had to keep Bubba in Arkansas for thirty days before they could take him home to Kansas City. They came to our bed & breakfast with their son, two-year-old Jack, on a cold January day to set up camp and wait out the month’s probation.
They had gone through lots of trouble and expense to find a teen-aged expectant mother-to-be willing to give up her baby. John and Marsha had made all the arrangements months ahead through the lawyer in Rogers who specialized in these things, paying all the fees and hospital bills. The only trouble was that the biological father was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared when his girlfriend told him she was pregnant. The adoption could not become final until either his permission was given or thirty days had passed.
They were with the mother on birth day and brought the newborn boy to Maguire House. We all had a wonderful time with Bubba, so tiny and well-behaved, no trouble at all, especially when compared with Jack who was no longer the center of attention and feeling the competition.
Marsha’s mother even came to help with the new baby, not so much from a sense of necessity as a feeling of wanting to be involved.
The weeks passed pleasantly. We felt a part of the new family nestled in the upstairs bedroom that came down for most meals, always for breakfast, sometimes just to visit. John was away on business often, but everyone was home for the weekends, and we grew close to them all, especially baby Bubba.
Finally the magic day arrived, the thirtieth day, when the family was to pack up and drive to Kansas City after a final meeting with the lawyer. Breakfast was the scene of additional celebration, as it was Valentine’s Day.
I went out for the day, getting home in late afternoon to say final good byes. Something was terribly wrong. Everyone was crying. John, through his tears said, “The father showed up and cancelled the adoption, and we have to drop Bubba off at the lawyer’s office on the way home.” Five minutes later they were gone.
I was in shock! After bonding with Bubba for thirty days, accepting him as their own son, they had to give him up and go home like the incident had never happened, never to see Bubba again.
John said they would try to adopt again and maybe stay at Maguire House, but I’m not sure my heart would ever be able to take another tragedy like the story of Bubba.
John and Marsha were adopting Bubba. Because they were from out of state and because they did not have the permission of both parents, they had to keep Bubba in Arkansas for thirty days before they could take him home to Kansas City. They came to our bed & breakfast with their son, two-year-old Jack, on a cold January day to set up camp and wait out the month’s probation.
They had gone through lots of trouble and expense to find a teen-aged expectant mother-to-be willing to give up her baby. John and Marsha had made all the arrangements months ahead through the lawyer in Rogers who specialized in these things, paying all the fees and hospital bills. The only trouble was that the biological father was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared when his girlfriend told him she was pregnant. The adoption could not become final until either his permission was given or thirty days had passed.
They were with the mother on birth day and brought the newborn boy to Maguire House. We all had a wonderful time with Bubba, so tiny and well-behaved, no trouble at all, especially when compared with Jack who was no longer the center of attention and feeling the competition.
Marsha’s mother even came to help with the new baby, not so much from a sense of necessity as a feeling of wanting to be involved.
The weeks passed pleasantly. We felt a part of the new family nestled in the upstairs bedroom that came down for most meals, always for breakfast, sometimes just to visit. John was away on business often, but everyone was home for the weekends, and we grew close to them all, especially baby Bubba.
Finally the magic day arrived, the thirtieth day, when the family was to pack up and drive to Kansas City after a final meeting with the lawyer. Breakfast was the scene of additional celebration, as it was Valentine’s Day.
I went out for the day, getting home in late afternoon to say final good byes. Something was terribly wrong. Everyone was crying. John, through his tears said, “The father showed up and cancelled the adoption, and we have to drop Bubba off at the lawyer’s office on the way home.” Five minutes later they were gone.
I was in shock! After bonding with Bubba for thirty days, accepting him as their own son, they had to give him up and go home like the incident had never happened, never to see Bubba again.
John said they would try to adopt again and maybe stay at Maguire House, but I’m not sure my heart would ever be able to take another tragedy like the story of Bubba.
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