[title subtitle=”WORDS Liesel Schmidt
IMAGES mariaprovescot/Shutterstock”][/title]
The shadows on the ceiling seemed to dance in the dim light of dawn that crept through the edges of the blinds, growing more animated as the headlights of passing cars swept by. Lily sighed and turned over, catching a glimpse of the digital clock on her nightstand.
5:00 a.m.
She’d been awake all night, her thoughts running rampant.
What if she doesn’t settle in? What if she doesn’t like me?
All the home visits and evaluations had been completed, every I dotted, and T crossed. But that still didn’t guarantee the adoption would go smoothly. There were no guarantees. Only question marks.
And a whole lot of sleeplessness.
She rolled over again, onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She wished she could find answers written up there, something to give her some small measure of reassurance. Still, none seemed to be forthcoming. Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath, silently praying she would be granted the mercy of sleep, even if it was only for an hour. At least it would give her an escape from all the worry, all the “what ifs” swirling around in her head.
She was so tired. Exhausted from all the cleaning and shopping and preparing. It had taken weeks to get everything ready, just the way she imagined every little girl would want—the way she would have wanted when she was tiny. The bedroom had taken two coats of paint, and that had been after all the wallpaper had been stripped. But now it was beautiful and the perfect shade of pale pink.
But what if she doesn’t like pink?
The thought came like a shot through the darkness, making her eyes pop open.
What if—
She shook her head. Stop it, Lily. Just stop.
She sighed and looked back at the clock. A half hour had passed. There was no way she was getting to sleep. Not now. Lily tossed the bedcovers aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed, planting her feet on the floor. Her bare feet sunk into the carpet, and she wiggled her toes, noticing that they needed to be repainted. Red, her favorite color. Something else to put on her list—a list that seemed to constantly grow and never shorten, no matter how hard she tried to keep up with it.
And you think you can handle being a mother?
Lily shook her head, wondering how she was ever going to do this. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change her mind. She could just call the agency and tell them that this really wasn’t the right time, that she needed to hit pause and think about the adoption some more. But that picture—that picture of the beautiful little girl with the gummy grin and eyes that looked like pools of melted chocolate—was everything. Lily had fallen in love with her the minute she had seen her, and she had known this little girl was meant to be her daughter.
She stood and stretched, then padded to the bathroom to take a shower. Her flight was in four hours, the first in a series of flights to China to pick up the little girl she had been waiting on for so long. She’d been packed for days, her anxiety and excitement so intertwined she didn’t know where one ended and the other began. There was a low level of nausea that seemed to accompany the embroiled mess of emotions, and it had only seemed to grow more acute as this day had gotten closer.
Lily showered quickly and combed her hair, carefully applying makeup and grimacing in the mirror at the wrinkles and the bags around her eyes. When had she gotten so old?
When did you decide you were going to do this all on your own?
The question in her mind seemed so loud it was as though someone had announced it into the room. It almost echoed.
When?
When? It was a loaded question. When Mike had left her three days before their wedding. When all the dates she had gone on after putting the pieces of her heart back together seemed to prove to her, time and again, that what she thought she wanted just didn’t exist anymore. When she realized she still wanted a family, even if that meant something unconventional.
She’d started researching adoption and then reached out to adoption attorneys, checking into all the angles and requirements to make it happen. It had been demanding and emotionally exhausting, waiting and hoping and praying that if—when—it happened, when the call came and she was matched with a little girl, that it wouldn’t fall through. She’s seen that movie, heard that story, too many times. She knew she couldn’t take it if that happened. And she had prayed like she had never prayed before.
God, please let this work out. Let me have a family.
Her prayer had been answered one afternoon. The call came, followed by an email and all the details about this tiny little girl with big brown eyes and a smile that could light up a room. She was magical.
Lily dressed and made breakfast for herself—coffee and two eggs with toast—then gathered her bags to head to the airport. She hit the button for the garage door and tossed her suitcase and carryon into her trunk, circling back to the driver’s side door. Her eye caught the car seat in the back.
She’ll be sitting in there soon. Very soon.
Lily closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then climbed into the driver’s seat.
I’m coming. It’s time. This is it.
She backed out of the garage and drove down the driveway, pointing her car in the direction of the airport.
I’m on my way, baby girl.
*******************
Lily rested her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes. She felt as though she had been awake for months. And as though she hadn’t had a real shower in about as long.
See, you’re not cut out for motherhood. Why did you think you could do this alone?
There it was again, that voice of doubt that screamed at her when she was tired or overwhelmed by her new life—and the new little life that had become part of her world. Three months had gone by since she’d brought home her tiny girl—Hannah, she had named her—and it had been both everything she had dreamed, and everything she had feared.
At two years old, Hannah was sweet and intelligent. But she was also having trouble adjusting. The first few weeks in her new home, she didn’t sleep well in her crib—especially in a room all by herself. The strange surroundings were something she took time getting used to, but Lily had been slowly helping her acclimate. Lily was teaching her how to identify things in English, working on helping her understand a new language. Still, there was something that Lily wasn’t sure would ever happen. Would Hannah ever call her “Mama”?
The silence in the room could have easily lulled Lily into sleep, she was so tired. Hannah was down for her nap in her crib, surrounded by a menagerie of small stuffed animals. The pink zebra was her favorite, then the little lavender elephant. She had named them all, took them to bed with her every night, and kissed them all in order.
Lily smiled to herself and reached for a book on the coffee table, realizing that she hadn’t picked it up since before she had gone to get Hannah from China. Maybe she should just start again, from the beginning?
Twenty minutes later, she realized she had dozed off. A noise from the monitor had shaken her awake, gently pulling her from sleep. “Mama, up,” Hannah’s little voice said.
It was a word Lily had been afraid would never come, and now she had heard it. It was like the voice of an angel calling her name. She got up from the couch and made her way to Hannah’s room, carefully peeking in to check on her daughter.
“Mama’s here, Hannah, love,” she whispered with tears in her eyes. “Mama’s here.”
