Memory of a beautiful dream
A month ago a former high school student now friend of mine, Darius, shared his SubStack page titled “Beautiful Memories”. His premise moved me to reflect on my website posts to find a “beautiful memory” or two. One of Darius’ writings was of a student in his ACE program who was particularly memorable, but who had a sudden family tragedy and at the last minute couldn’t attend the culminating presentation for the program. My student never saw his student again, and he thinks of him still.
This brought to mind a piece I wrote almost 25 years ago. This dream never materialized and the memory never faded. Since it is a memory of a beautiful dream, now I choose to call it a beautiful memory. I am ready to share this memory with the universe. Ryan and Vivian, I think of you still, with love.
BIOLOGIC, FROM THE WOMB; BY ADOPTION, FROM THE HEART (originally written in late December 2000)
The stork has landed.
"Rob, come here" I said urgently this morning as I looked in wonder through our sunroom windows into the back yard. Still pajama-clad and tousle-haired he came quickly out of the bedroom hoping expectantly that our long awaited phone call had finally come to the cell phone I now wore as though it had been surgically attached to my hip.
You see yesterday we thought was to be our adopted son's birthday and we had done all the things we could think of to distract us through a day's worth of anxious waiting. We cleaned house. We shopped for hours (extremely uncommon for the Aspen Hill Gilleys ever since the advent of catalogs and Internet buying!)
We'd gone out for lunch but only ate half of our portions. We talked to friends and family although we had no news to share, and we don't remember what we said. We watched TV. We laundered baby bedding. We napped. We left a message on the adoption agency's voice mail and although no one would hear it until morning, at least hearing our counselor's recorded voice made me a little less nuts. We assembled a bassinet without instructions, (which was actually quite an accomplishment).. We watched more TV, and finally, we fell asleep until morning.
Unfortunately, yesterday was Sunday and no one was available until this morning to tell us of our mistake. (The first of many new-parent mistakes | know we'll soon make!) Naturally, labor induction is hardly something that would be rationally scheduled on a Sunday; but who was being rational? The birth mother said she'd be induced on the 10th" and that's all I heard. In reality, Monday the 11th was the scheduled day.
A birth mother is a very special woman, and she will be part of our family forever although we may never see her again. She loves our child very much. So much she'll carry him in her womb and nurture him for 40 weeks as his cells of life develop. Initially she may consider parenting him and providing his care after birth much as she does before. But she'll realize she wants more for him than she can traditionally provide so she'll search for a special family that can give the love, guidance, protection and opportunity that her baby (and all children) deserve.
We have been searching for our baby too. Our family is so full of love and happiness that it is destined to grow in the very special way that's unique to adoption and that's how Ryan's branch will grow on this family tree. Rob and I have nurtured the seeds of his soul in our hearts for 13 years. Nana and Granddad, Grandma and Grandpa have been gathering memories of our family and treasures from their childhoods to share with him for more than 40 years. Aunts and Uncles all have special gifts and stories saved just for this little boy. A very special boy; in fact some references define Ryan as Irish for little king, and this precious son is a supreme little being that will be a source of love and joy for the rest of our lives.
Well the phone hadn't wrung; rather a great blue heron had landed in our backyard and was cautiously approaching the goldfish pond in search of breakfast. We raced around the house looking for film and binoculars all the while trying not to frighten our new visitor. Of course since Rob is a professional cameraman and artisan photographer all the unused film was in the freezer, where else would it be? I crouched near the great room window and tried to focus a picture through two sets of windows only to see the sunroom swing chair and plant leaves. Finally, Rob found the film that promised to capture this special event for others to admire, but the huge zoom lens and quick movements startled Mr. Heron into flight and off he gracefully flapped on to the next backyard diner for his meal.
After a sigh of disappointment, Rob turned to me with a smile, "that was our stork" he beamed. Indeed, a 'stork' had landed in our yard. On Tuesday night a baby boy finally arrived via c-section. We held him on Thursday, and prepared to bring him home on Saturday. On Friday, Mr. Heron, the stork, again graced our backyard, perching first on the fence and again stalking the pond fish. We noticed though that as with Monday's appearance, his beak was empty. That afternoon the adoption agency called with the news that this birth mother had changed her mind.
So, this baby was not to be ours at this time. Our hearts were broken and our trust in "life's goodness" severely shaken. But as time passes and we regain our balance we now know that the stork has found our house and our babies will find us too when the time is right. Ryan and Vivian are somewhere; Rob and I are here, and we know in our hearts we will be a family some day; we just have to believe in love, goodness and "the stork".
And we do.
