M
ichele had just left. Christina was alone.
She closed her eyes and prayed for strength. She needed to do this. Not for legal reasons. She didn't have to see the baby again. When they had taken her away at birth, things could have ended then. She could have begun shutting down her emotions, shifting her focus forward. Trying to pretend this whole ordeal had never happened.
People did that. They called it denial. It was a powerful thing. Just keep lying to yourself long enough and hard enough and you can silence all the emotions connected to anything you didn't want to deal with.
But she knew that wouldn't do. Not for her, anyway. This was a moment that needed to happen. A memory she needed to make.
There was a knock on the door. She tensed, opened her eyes, and looked up. The door opened and a nurse walked in. Christina glanced at her arms. She wasn't holding the baby. Christina breathed again.
“Are you ready for . . . your special visitor?” the nurse asked.
“Trying to be. No, I am. You can bring her in.”
“She's right out here in the hall. Another nurse is holding her. Just wanted to make sure you were ready.”
Christina shifted in her bed. “Okay.”
The second nurse came in holding the baby. Christina could just see the pink crown of her head poking out of the blanket. The nurse was also holding a white envelope.
“Here she is.” She came around the bed and placed the baby in Christina's arms.
For a few moments, she didn't look at her baby but at the two nurses' faces. Afraid if she did, she'd start crying in front of them.
“How much time would you like?” the nurse asked.
“Just a few minutes.”
“Well, here's the remote. Just press that button and one of us will be right in. I'll set this envelope here on the nightstand.”
“What is it?”
“It's a letter from the baby's new parents. You can read it now or later. Even take it home and read it if you'd like.”
“They're here, right?”
The nurse nodded. “Down the hall, in a different waiting room.”
“Did they get my letter?”
“They did.”
“Have they seen the baby?”
“They have. That's what you wanted, right? That's what we were told.”
“Yes, definitely. That's what I wanted. Were they excited when you brought her in?”
“Excited, thrilled, speechless . . . lots of tears.”
The other nurse added, “The mom said she couldn't believe this day had finally come.”
The mom.
She called her the mom.
That was good. That's
who she was. Christina was glad they were so excited. She thought about Michele and how excited she would be when her day finally came.
They stood there looking at each other. Finally, the nurse said, “Well, we'll leave you two alone. Just push that button when you want us to come back.”
“Okay.”
And they left.
For the first time, she registered the weight and warmth cradled in her arms. She looked down into the baby's precious face and just stared, taking in every feature. Her eyes were closed. Her cheeks pink and pudgy. Her tiny left hand was pulled up under her chin. Christina reached her finger down and touched each of the baby's miniature fingers. The baby instantly grabbed hold of Christina's finger and squeezed.
“Look at your little fingernails,” she said. “They almost don't even look real.”
It was hard to believe this tiny little person had been living inside of her up until a short while ago. She reached down along her legs until she could feel the balls of her feet through the blanket. How long was she? She'd forgotten. “No bigger than a breadbasket,” she said aloud.
That phrase floated up from somewhere deep in her memory. It was something her older brother was supposed to have said the day she was born. He'd walked around their neighborhood on Long Island, telling it to housewives out hanging their clothes on clotheslines. Her mother had told Christina this years ago, back when they used to talk to each other. “You probably won't ever meet your uncle,” Christina said. “Or your grandmother.”
Then she thought a moment about the Andersons. She had prayed her baby would go to a family like theirs. She looked
at her daughter again. “I bet God's going to give you lots of uncles and lots of aunts. Nice ones. Ones that will hug you when they come over, and pick you up and spin you around. Ones that will remember your birthday and bring you presents and cards that play funny songs when you open them. You'll have lots of cousins and live in a nice neighborhood. A safe neighborhood. One where your mom won't have to worry about you all the time.”
She had just said “your mom.” She was looking at a baby she had just given birth to and thought of someone else as her mom. But that was a good thing, wasn't it? She glanced at the white envelope on the nightstand. Her baby's mom had written it. She felt an urge to read it, to connect with this woman she was about to give her baby to. She wanted to make sure everything she had just promised her baby was true.
Tightening her hold with her right arm, she reached for the envelope with the left. It was a little tricky, but she managed to break the seal and tear it open. She began to read.
Dear Christina,
I know we haven't met, and based on your wishes for a closed adoption, I realize we may never meet. But my husband and I wanted you to know how incredibly happy you've made us, entrusting us with this precious little girl. We've been trying to have a family for so many years. It's a long and complicated story, so I'll just say this . . . I had almost given up hope that I'd ever become a mom. But you have made our greatest dream come true. We already love this little girl with all our hearts, and we'll do our very best to care for her and provide for everything she needs.
We both come from big families with lots of brothers
and sisters. My husband and I are the only ones on both sides who don't have children yet, so she'll already have plenty of cousins to play with. All four of our parents are still living (they even live near us), so she'll be properly spoiled by them. A huge party awaits our arrival home.
We also want you to know we've done lots of reading and had lots of conversations with people who were adopted and are now adults. Looking for the best way to handle this information with our little girl as she grows up. The best advice seems to be to raise her with the knowledge that she is adopted and help her realize how special her story is, but also to let her be the judge of how much or how little detail she wants to know, when she's old enough to make that decision.
We've already picked out her name. The agency has asked us not to mention her first name in this letter, but they said it would be okay to tell you that we've decided to give her your name, Christina, as her middle name. So, in a way, you will always be a part of her life. Considering the age we live in, we both think your decision to have this baby and to place her in a home like ours is such a brave and courageous thing to do. We will raise her with the knowledge of the amazing sacrifice you have made.
With God's Love
in Our Hearts,
Your Baby's New Mommy and Daddy
Okay, reading this letter now may not have been the greatest decision. Tears were pouring down Christina's cheeks. She dropped the letter and wiped her eyes so she could see her
baby clearly, and talk to her one last time before she pushed the button to get the nurse.
She bent down and kissed her baby on the forehead. “Did you hear that?” Her words were halting and broken through the tears. “Did you hear how much they love you, my little darling, and what a big family you're going to have? See, I couldn't give that to you, but they can. That's what you deserve. A mommy and a daddy who are ready right now to love you and take care of you. I'm not ready to be the mommy you need. One day I hope God gives me another chance. I've made so many mistakes and so many bad decisions, but I know God has forgiven me . . . for all of them.”
She kissed her baby again. “But you're not a mistake. You are a treasure. You're proof that God can make beautiful things even when we get everything all wrong. He's made you, my sweet little girl, just the way he wanted to.”
She decided to pray for her. “Lord, thank you for letting my baby be born healthy and safe. Thank you for answering my prayers about the family she'll be going home with. I put her in your hands now. Take good care of her. I know you will. In Jesus's name, amen.” She wanted to say more but knew she'd fall apart if she did.
Wiping her eyes again, she kissed her baby's forehead one last time and held her close. “God picked out the perfect mommy and daddy for you.” She couldn't say any more, so she reached for the remote and pressed the button for the nurse.
S
he had to stop crying.
The baby had been gone for almost five minutes. She'd asked the nurse to let Marilyn and Michele have a chance to see her before taking her to her new parents. That would also give Christina a little time to pull it together.
The thing was, she wasn't really sad. She wasn't sure where the tears were coming from. She'd actually felt something pretty close to peace inside. From within that peace, she felt a sense of assurance that everything would be fine, that her baby was in good hands and that God would take care of her from now on. It was like the tears had a mind of their own, like they were going to come and keep coming until they were done.
As she reached for another few tissues, she decided to stop trying to shut the tears down. A knock on the door. She looked up. A head popped in. A hand waved.
It was Doug.
She didn't want him to see her like this.
“Okay if I come in?” He was still standing by the door in the shadows.
How could she say no? She sat up straighter, dabbed her eyes again, tried blinking her tears away. “I guess so.”
“If you're not ready, I can give you a few more minutes.”
To feel good about seeing
him
, she would need a few hours. She looked down at her stomach, still big under the blanket. No, she would need a few weeks.
“I asked if I could go first,” he said, still standing by the doorway, “since everyone else had already seen you. But if you'd feel more comfortable starting with one of the ladies, I'm okay with that.”
“You can come in. I'm sure I look like a complete hag, but if you don't mindâ”
“You look fine. You just delivered a baby. I've never been in a delivery room right after a baby's been born, but I've seen it in the movies plenty of times. You look better than most of the moms in the movies.”
She laughed, then winced. “Don't make me laugh. It hurts.”
He approached the bed, stood to her left. “I wasn't joking. Your eyes are kind of red and puffy. Your hair's a little messy, but that's really about all.”
She began fiddling with her hair. “How bad is it?”
He reached up and gently pulled her hands down. “You look fine, Christina. After what you've just been through, you look great.”
There was such tenderness in his voice, and in his eyes. And his touch. She knew they were just friends, but in that moment, how she wished they were something more. She instantly relaxed. The beat-up feeling was still there, but just barely.
“How are you doing?” he asked. “How did your time go, you know, with . . . the baby? If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay.”
“It was a little hard. But not traumatic. I guess God prepared me for it. I've been praying about it a whole lot, especially the last few weeks. I cried more than I thought I would, but look, I've already stopped.”
“That's because I'm here.”
Just as she began to wonder what he meant by that, he said, “You know, to take your mind off it.”
Yes
, you did.
“It's really not a depressing thing.” She pointed to the note sitting on top of the white envelope. “That's the letter from the couple adopting the baby. They are so excited, and she's going to such a great home. It sounded like their family is bigger than yours.”
“That's cool you have something like that already, so you don't have to wonder about what's going to happen to her.”
“They even made the baby's middle name Christina,” she said.
“Really?”
She nodded, felt tears beginning to form.
Change the subject.
“It was so nice of you to come.”
“I had to,” he said. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you go through something this difficult all by yourself?”
She couldn't help it. That made her cry. She didn't care that he used the word
friend
. Or if that was all he was, or might ever be. He was that, her friend, the best kind. The kind that drops everything and runs to your side when they knew you were hurting. The kind who couldn't bear to see you suffer alone.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry.” He reached for the tissues and pulled out a few. “Did I say something wrong?”
She wiped her eyes. “No, dummy. That might have been the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Oh.”
When she regained her composure, she reached for the letter on the nightstand. Seeing her stretch, Doug got it for her. “Would you like to read it?” she asked.
“Do you want me to?”
“Only if you want to.”
“Sure.”
He took it from her and began to read. She watched his eyes crisscross back and forth across and then down the page. When he finished, he said, “Wow. That's pretty amazing.”
“Isn't it? That's why I have no reason to be depressed. God has given my baby a wonderful home, and he's given me such wonderful friends to help me make a new start.”
He put the letter back in the envelope and set it on the nightstand. “To my folks, you're more than a friend, Christina. They talk about you like family. You may not look like an Anderson or talk like an Anderson, but you're pretty much an Anderson now.”
She wanted to ask him, in the worst way, was she more than a friend to him? But she already knew the answer. Why spoil such a beautiful moment? “Thanks again for letting me stay in the garage apartment.”
“You're welcome. But it's not much of a sacrifice, since I'm not sleeping on the sofa anymore. Now that Tom and Jean have moved into their new place, I got the whole upstairs to myself when I come home from school. Oh, I forgot to tell you. When this new semester starts, I'm moving out of the dorm and getting my own apartment. I've already picked it out. It's smaller than the garage apartment in River Oaks but a lot bigger than the dorm room. I should have a lot more freedom there too.”
She wondered what he meant by that. Something in the
way he said it made her a little concerned. No way she was going to ask.
“Well, I better go get my mom, Jean, and Michele,” he said. “Are you still up for seeing them?”
“Sure. I think I can manage that.”