A red leaf softly floats its way down to the ground. A new season is coming. I open my laptop and see a crib for sale. Three clicks in, I see boys’ clothes for sale – a whole bag of them. I sit on the edge of my chair and lean in closer. I’m inches away from the screen, picking outfits. There is an urgency in my actions. What a great deal, 20 outfits for $40! This will be great when we have a boy. But what if we don’t?
Just like any other expectant mother, I am going through the nesting, preparing and longing feelings that accompany the excitement of a new child joining our family of two. I’m just about to send a message to the seller to buy the baby clothes, but something holds me back. What if we never get the call? What if a birth mom never picks us? I would be left alone in my big house with 20 little boy outfits that fit no one.
A snow flake falls to the ground. The wind is picking up as the air gets colder. I never did buy those 20 little outfits, but the nursery room can’t be removed. Month after month, I wait. I hope. I pray. Month after month, I see birth announcements, pregnancy photos and gender reveal party photos. Day after day, I scroll through deals on baby gear and tiny outfits, waiting for the day when I can finally imagine my child in them.
Rain is pouring from the eavesdrops as the buds on the trees turn green. I have a stack of baby shower invitations on my fridge – constant reminders of what I do not have. I drive to the store and buy baby toys and outfits, just to put them in pretty white boxes and give away to real moms.
The clouds part as the bright sun shines down on the garden and the birds sing a joyful song. I sit outside on my deck, my skin covered with sun block lotion. I flip through a fashion magazine, my adoption prayer book in the bottom of a drawer, under a pile of new, unworn woman’s shirts. I stick post-its next to the clothes I will buy next week during my next shopping trip – thoughts of adoption lingering still, but are pushed aside and covered up, like my feelings.