She shook her head. “You make me sound like some kind of superwoman.”
“A super-saint is more like it.”
“Nonsense.” Gail concentrated again on the piping tip as she scripted each letter with awe-inspiring precision. Pressing, curling, breaking. Pressing, curling, breaking. Pressing, curling—“Finished.”
She placed the bag in the sink, then tilted the cake stand to reveal what she’d so carefully written: Happy Adoption Day, Ben!
Hot tears rushed to my eyes, threatening to spill over at the slightest hint of a blink. “It’s beautiful, Gail. Truly.”
She laid the cake flat once again and then reached to touch my elbow. “I haven’t stopped praying for the day we get to celebrate your child’s homecoming. You’re so close now, I can feel it.”
And with those tender words, I came undone.
All the months of grueling paperwork and interviews, research and planning, and near-unbearable waiting released in a cry I hadn’t allowed myself in much too long. “I’m so sorry.” I buried my face in my hands, a sob-laugh bubbling up my throat. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“Ah, sweetheart, don’t be sorry. You’re not being ridiculous. You’re being a mother.” She wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight as she swayed ever so gently.
I pulled back just enough to wipe my eyes on my cardigan sleeve. “Am I though? Because I don’t feel like a mother. Most days I just feel like I’m walking through a dark tunnel with no end in sight. Like I’ll be in this waiting place forever.” A raw truth I’d never spoken aloud. Not even to Jenna. Because with everyone else who knew of my plans to adopt, I needed to stay strong, stay diligent in my defense of why international adoption as a single woman was the right choice for me.
Gingerly, Gail framed my face in her hands and tilted my eyes to meet hers. “Listen to me. Right now your child is sitting across the world in an orphanage, waiting for you, too. You may not know your child’s name yet or what their face looks like when they laugh or cry, but God has already gone before you in this. He’s already connected your heart to theirs in a way only He can. I know the wait can feel excruciating while on this side of things, but it’s not in vain. There is purpose in the waiting, Lauren. Don’t allow yourself to lose sight of that.”
I nodded, trying to halt my tears by pinching the bridge of my nose. “I know you’re right, I do… it’s just so hard not to get discouraged when I’ve heard nothing new from my agency in so long—not since China gave their stamp of approval on my adoption dossier. I sent my caseworker an inquiry over the weekend, asking for an updated timeline on being matched.” I shrugged, knowing I likely wouldn’t hear much until the day they sent me the name and picture of a waiting child. There were no absolutes when it came to timelines, just best estimations. “I know the caseworkers have more important things to tackle than responding to another update request from an impatient woman, but . . . it’s been over a year since I—” My throat constricted, my thought cutting short.
Since I took a step five sizes bigger than my savings account and ten sizes bigger than my faith and applied to be a mother of a family-less child.
“It’s tough keeping our hope alive when there seems to be no end in sight. But, Lauren, there will be an end to this season. I wish I could tell you the exact date and time, but only God knows that. With Samuel, we waited nearly four years to bring him home from Haiti. Jacob was just over two. Caleb’s adoption was completed after ten months of fostering him. Allie and Becca were just under a year when the judge finalized their paperwork. And our sweet Benny . . . we waited seventeen months from application to homecoming to bring him home from China. Every adoption story looks different, but every one of our children joined our family on the perfect day. God is always on time.”
My heart could have sprouted wings under Gail’s motherly gaze. Every time she looked at me this way, I imagined what it must feel like to be one of her children. Did they know how special they were to be on the receiving end of such focused love and attention? I could only pray my child would feel the same way about me one day. “Thank you, Gail.”
After planting a firm kiss to my temple, she opened the cupboard above the sink and warmed two mugs of her homemade vanilla chai. The spicy aroma filled the room, releasing the tension in my body and bringing my emotions back to my normal baseline.
I ducked my head into her fridge and spotted the creamer, asking her what else I could do to help prep for the family party. She shook off my request and encouraged me to relax, explaining that Robert was bringing home a stack of pizzas to feed the masses any minute. Work smarter, not harder and all that. The cake was all that mattered to Benny, not Pinterest-style party appetizers.
We moved into the dining room and scooted a mountain of Allie’s library books aside to set our mugs and biscotti down on the table. Everything in this adorable nook was marked by children. The pencil lines on the doorjamb declaring heights and dates, the basketball in the corner that must have rolled in from the mud room, and the gallery display of candid snapshots.
Here, in this space filled with love, the doubts that blindsided me at night were nowhere to be found. There were no whispers of “Your faith isn’t strong enough to handle this” or “You aren’t equipped to be a mother” or the worst one of all: “You won’t be able to do this on your own.”
Gail noticed me staring at their most recent family picture taken just as the trees were cloaked in every shade of autumn. “How’s your family doing, Lauren?”
But I knew what she was really asking: “Have you told your family yet?” It was the same question Jenna asked me on a regular basis—not understanding how I could keep such a huge secret from them. But where Jenna imagined cocktail celebrations full of tearful toasts, warm hugs, and promises of future adoption showers, I pictured something else entirely.
I dunked the almond biscotti into my tea, watching the crusty texture morph into a soggy sponge. “They still don’t know. I’d planned to tell my sister over the weekend at Iris’s dance recital, but Lisa had a different agenda she was trying to push.”
“Meaning?” Gail sipped her tea as if she had all the time in the world for this story.
“Meaning the only thing she ever wants to discuss is why I’m still single at thirty-one. She’s weirdly obsessed with my dating life—or lack thereof.”
Gail remained quiet for a moment. “And you’re still good with your decision?”
I nearly sputtered out my first sip of tea. “To adopt?”
“No, silly.” She laughed. “Your decision not to date while you’re waiting to be matched with a child.”
I opened my mouth, ready to spout the only answer I’d ever given to this question when Jenna asked it. But the usual yes faltered a bit, stalling on my tongue as if it couldn’t form correctly. I repeated it a second time, willing it to sound stronger, more sure of itself. Willing it to replace the yes I’d almost spoken to Joshua only a few hours ago when he’d asked me to dinner.
Gail lowered her mug, saying nothing as she studied me through her practiced mom vision.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, though her eyes remained approachable and soft. “I’m good with it, Gail, I really am.” Finally, a sense of calm confidence strengthened my voice and encouraged my resolve. “It’s not like I can go back on it now, anyway. I signed document after document stating that I’m adopting as a single woman.” And we both knew the rules for international adoption from China. There were only two categories that existed in the world of Chinese adoptions. The first was to adopt as a single, unmarried woman. The second was to adopt as a married woman of two years or longer. There was no in-between. No gray area to be found. “I’m way too far into this process now to jeopardize it for a man who likely wouldn’t stick around for the long haul anyway. Adopting an orphaned child is my calling. My passion. The odds of meeting a man with a similar mindset at my age are minuscule.”