“WE found out by text message. “Don’t get on the plane. The birth mother is unsure.”
It was 6 a.m. in December in Seattle. A quiet stillness — the kind only possible after a month of winter rain and gloom — threatened to envelop us. We began our vigil, calling the Louisiana social worker not nearly as much as we wanted to. We received no answer, had no connection to the couple that had chosen us, a lesbian couple, to adopt their just-born baby.
The night before, as we double-checked our bags to make sure we had formula and baby clothes, we received a photo of him, also by text. Then it felt amazing to be so connected by technology. Now, the chasm created by our unanswered texts and calls made us feel utterly adrift.
By noon we knew all hope was gone, but without a final word we banged around our house, not wanting to unpack. The blue gloom began settling in by 4, but we hesitated to turn on lights, not wanting to commit to the idea that we were here to stay. At last, almost 12 hours from when we were to leave for the airport, we got the word: She had left the hospital. With the baby.”
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