a dress waits to be filled (i did not expect this miracle)

"I have something I want to talk to you about."

That's the message Linda left on my phone last Sunday. I hadn't heard from Linda in a while, not since she and her husband and new baby moved back to Utah. I liked her. She's beautiful and soft-spoken and kind and considerate. We served in church together. Her baby made me want to shout for joy, she was so cute.

But I hadn't heard from her in like a year and half. Which is why I was a little surprised when I knew, just knew, that Linda was going to tell me she had a baby for me to adopt.

I called her right back. She answered, and we engaged in small talk until after a while I cut to the chase and was like "what can I do for you?" and that's when Linda told me about her. She told me about her friend, her wonderful, bright and very pregnant friend.

This friend was due on March 12th. It was a girl, the doctors thought. And Linda had thought of us and the birth mother wanted to give us her baby and I hung up the phone and told Paul and we were like YESSSSS and then I called Linda back and left her like three messages, each more excited than the last, telling her we would love to adopt this baby.

Paul and I got this news while we were on vacation, staying with redstarmama and her family. That night, we went to the beach and had a bonfire. The tide glowed blue and when you walked on the sand little explosions of sparkly stars appeared under your feet and while it was probably something to do with algae or plankton or something science-ish, really to me it was magic and the whole world, the ocean and sand and sky, was celebrating the start of our family.

The next day we were in the car with redstarmama and her family, on our way to the museum and Linda called to tell us the birth mom was excited and the baby would be ours and then Paul got sick to his stomach and puked and we thought that's such a good story, that Paul puked as he found out he was going to be a dad.

I couldn't stop smiling. We called our parents and siblings and we talked about names, and I looked up baby stuff online, stuff like strollers and cribs and baby swings. We got a lawyer and filled out paperwork. And when I watched Paul help with redstarmama's little girl I was thinking about what it would be like to watch him with our own little girl.

We got back from vacation, and there was more paperwork, more to be done. A lot to be done. And we had just eight weeks to do it. That was okay, though. Neither Paul or myself are prone to looking a gift baby in the mouth.

Paul and I were excited. Thrilled. Beyond words, really. We were excited and thrilled beyond words. Thursday night we couldn't sleep and we stayed up until three in the morning looking at baby clothes online and making plans and when we crawled into bed it was only because our bodies insisted on rest.

We woke late, at ten. And I stumbled into the living room and checked my phone and Linda had tried calling five times and then everything changed.

The baby had been born. Even though the birth mother had a doctor appointment just the other day and everything had looked fine, she had gone into labor and the baby was born. It sounded like everything was fine, though. Just early.

And Paul and I proceeded to push a month's worth of paperwork through in a matter of hours and it wasn't how we had thought things would happen, but everything seemed to be falling into place and it felt meant to be.

That night, Paul talked to one of the nurses who was helping care for the baby. The baby was sick, she said. So many things wrong. Words like intraventricular hemmorhage, grade three, things like the cord was wrapped around the baby's neck and she was blue and listless and nobody knew just yet how bad things were, but they sounded pretty bad.

We were up late that night. We talked and prayed and thought. Was this what we were meant to do? Could we care for such a sick little baby? Was she ours? And if she wasn't, how could we feel good about saying no? Who would love this baby? Who would give the birth mother the peace of mind I am sure she desperately needed?

The lawyer sent us a picture of her. She looked so sick, so blue, so sad. And I looked at her and felt a mixture of unidentifiable and extreme emotions and I wondered, are you mine? Who will care for you?

Paul and I decided we would wait and talk with the doctor, to get a better idea of how serious the situation was. I guess everyone wants a healthy baby, and we certainly were no exception. But not every baby is healthy, and we suddenly found ourselves faced with a choice. We hoped the doctor would say things weren't so bad. We hoped for a miracle. And we got one, but not in the way I thought we would.

That night Paul fell asleep before I did, and as I crawled under the blankets and placed my hand on his back I loved him more than life and was all of a sudden overwhelmed with reassurance. We would be fine. I knew we would be fine. And that, right there, was a miracle, because my exhausted soul could not imagine how that would ever be possible, but peace claimed my body and I slept.

The next day we, drove to South Jersey to meet with our social worker. We stopped at a local mall on our way home and sat in the food court eating pizza and every once in a while we would exchange a weary smile or a brush of the hand and I thought we maybe looked like all the other tired couples, but there was nobody with as much love as us, and I knew the meaning behind those weary smiles.

Then we sat in the parking lot and Paul called the doctor. Paul said he was nervous, and I was too. And the doctor told us how sick the baby was, so sick that she would likely never leave the hospital, so sick that she would need care we just couldn't possibly provide. I watched Paul shake his head and take notes and Paul hung up the phone and we looked at each other.

"Sweetheart, I don't think this is our time..."

Paul looked at me and I knew, knew that this baby was not ours. "I know" I said, and we drove in exhausted silence and every so often I looked at Paul and knew there was a way to feel good again, and that we would find it, but I wondered about this baby, and who would love her, who would be her mother.

That evening, we called the lawyer we had hired to represent the birth mother. We told him about our decision, and thanked him for all of his help. We told him there was a check in the mail for his services and that's when it happened, when we got a miracle.

This lawyer knows a couple who wants specifically to adopt a special needs baby. And the couple found out about this baby and were excited to adopt her, but without financial means to do so, and the check we sent the lawyer will allow this couple to adopt this baby and that is a miracle to me, that where there had been pain there was now peace and the baby would be loved and cared for and a couple given the experience for which they have been waiting.

It is a week now since this began. I have gone from excitement to concern and from concern to grief and from grief to peace, and my body and soul rejoice in the love I feel for Paul, and for the opportunity we had to participate in the life of this mother and baby.

I am, once again, waiting. A week has passed and it could have been years for the tiredness in my soul, and I have nothing to show for the intensity of this experience, nothing except a tiny dress that hangs in my closet.

Waiting.