Erica
Thursday, August 24th, 4pm
“She won’t sign the papers. Something is wrong.” As John’s words sunk in, I look up from the sleeping baby in my arms and into his worried blue eyes. He had stepped out to answer a call from our lawyer, and we had both excitedly assumed that it was the confirmation that Evelyn had signed the papers and that the baby girl was now ours forever.
“What on earth are you talking about? She assured us she would sign her rights over as soon as possible. What the hell has happened in the last 48 hours that would cause her to change her mind?!” I feel tears brimming in my eyes and hurriedly stand up, passing the baby to him that may now never be ours.
“Erica…” He reaches out a comforting hand but I brush him off and leave the nursery. I can’t bear to cry in front of the whole nursery staff again. It has happened too many times before. I step into the closest empty hospital room and shut the door behind me, and I feel the tears come.


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48 Hours Earlier
“I see it! Quick, get into the right lane. It’s up on the right there. Jefferson Memorial Hospital.” John, ever cautious, puts his blinker on and checks the mirrors twice before switching lanes. He turns into the driveway of the hospital and I can barely contain my excitement as he looks for a parking space.

We meet up with Andrew, the lawyer who has helped us through the entire adoption process, right outside the doors of the nursery. I crane my head to try to catch a glimpse through the slim window in the door of our baby girl. Which one is she? I can barely stop myself from pushing the door open and running in to take her into my arms.
“The baby girl is healthy and doing well. Evelyn requested the baby not stay with her in her room but instead sleep in here. She informed the nurses that you had the right to visit the baby whenever you wanted during the next 48 hours, which is when she can sign the papers. She had indicated before that she wanted as little to do with the baby as possible during the required 48 hour waiting period and that she wanted to sign the papers as soon as possible. She seemed to feel the same way after the baby was born, so it looks like you’ll officially be parents in exactly 48 hours! Congratulations.” He said this with a kind smile, knowing of our many previous struggles with this exact process.
“Now go ahead into the nursery and see that baby! The nurses will show you where she is.” I practically shove John aside as I push open the doors. A kind older nurse greets us as we step inside and I ask to see the baby of Evelyn _____.
“I’m Mary, you must be the adoptive parents. She is right over here.” She leads us over to a bassinet with a tiny and perfect baby girl in it. The baby has a beautiful head of dark, curly hair. She opens her eyes to reveal a stunning blue color, and I can’t contain myself anymore. I scoop up my baby girl and hold her close. My eyes well up with tears of joy and John puts his arm around us. I lean into him. Finally there are three of us. It took eight years and far too many heartbreaks, but we will finally have our child. Soon I will be able to legally refer to her as my baby. Because I will be her mom. I sigh happily with the thought.



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The next 48 hours are blissful. The hospital provides us with our own room so we can keep the baby girl with us for a while each day. I text pictures of her to everyone I can think of, and bask in the congratulations. Everyone comments on her beautiful head of dark hair and stunning blue eyes. I am smitten with this tiny person, and I can tell John is too. He has had such a peaceful expression on his face since the moment we saw her, and expression I have rarely seen in the last few years. He is finally relaxed and the deep worry lines in his forehead are so much less noticeable. He has such a look of pure and deep love on his face when he looks at our baby; I know he wants this as much as I do.



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It is 4 pm on Thursday afternoon, and I go into the nursery to see our baby girl. I take her from nurse Mary, who has just given her a bath. I breathe in the smell of her freshly washed baby head, and bring her over to one of the glider chairs by the windows. The late afternoon light is streaming in and casts a warm glow on my baby’s olive skin. She looks up at me and I smile down at her. It is 10 minutes away from the 48 hour mark and Evelyn is about to sign the papers to transfer parental rights. We haven’t seen Evelyn at all during the hospital stay, at her request, but Andrew has and he has assured us that she is anxious to sign the papers and let our baby start her life with us. John comes into the nursery and we sit together and talk about how beautiful our new baby is until his cell phone buzzes.
“It’s Andrew, get ready for the good news!” He says excitedly as he taps the answer button and walks into the hallway to talk. This baby is about to be ours forever. Losing all of the other babies no longer matters. This baby is perfect and will be ours forever. If Andrew is calling us, Evelyn probably already signed the papers. As I rock back and forth in the chair I see her eyes start to close as she drifts off to sleep. She has long dark eyelashes, and looks incredibly peaceful as she sleeps. I am so privileged that I will be the one to rock her to sleep every night and get to see her beautiful face as she drifts off in my arms. I am focused so intently on our baby that I don’t notice John return until he starts speaking next to me.
“She won’t sign the papers. Something is wrong.” As John’s words sink in I look up from the sleeping baby in my arms and into his worried blue eyes. He had stepped out to answer a call from our lawyer, and we had both excitedly assumed that it was the confirmation that Evelyn had signed the papers and that the baby girl was now ours forever.



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I sit in the hospital’s Starbucks, sipping my iced tea and thinking. Evelyn had promised over and over that this baby would be ours. She wasn’t ready to be a mom, she didn’t know if she ever wanted children, she had told us. My mind drifts to the many conversations and emails we exchanged, each one reassuring us that this baby would be the one we got to adopt. She knew about all the other babies, and was heartbroken for us. We were the perfect family, she had told us. She was ecstatic that we could provide a life for the baby that she couldn’t, with her promising career as a ballet dancer being at the forefront of her life. John and I knew what a lying birthmom sounded like. Evelyn had been so genuine with us. I think back to our very first meeting with Evelyn.
“It’s so nice to meet you.” Evelyn stood up from the booth in the back corner of Bertucci’s restaurant. She was tall and thin, her dark hair pulled back into a tight and perfect bun. Everything about her indicated ‘ballerina’. She smiled shyly as she shook our hands and then we all sat down. She told us how she was instantly drawn to our profile from the adoption agency. She was thrilled that I planned to be a stay at home mom. “I’m sure it’s obvious, but I didn’t exactly intend to get pregnant now. I can’t raise a baby and be a professional ballet dancer. I am so thankful there are people like you who can raise a child so much better than I ever could.”
I am pulled back into reality by the sound of a newborn baby crying nearby. What would have ever caused Evelyn to change her mind? She seemed so sure. I picked up my phone and saw a text from Andrew. He said that Evelyn’s lawyer was saying nothing except that she needed more time to decide and wasn’t giving any indication which way she would go. I look up from the text as a couple sits down at the table next to me with their brand new baby. He had quieted down but begins to wail again, jarring me from my thoughts. The couple springs into action, trying to calm him down with calming words and gentle pats on his tiny head. I can feel a lump in my throat. Those parents will never worry that someone will take a child from them. That baby is theirs forever and they never had to second guess if they would walk out of the hospital empty handed. I bristle with jealousy as I realize I will never get that right. Even when the baby was mine to begin with, I had no control of the fact that my body could never carry a baby to full term.



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Evelyn
Thursday, August 24th, 3pm
I look down at the pile of papers, the jumble of legal words blurring together the longer I stare. I look down and I have the pen gripped in my hand so hard my knuckles are white. I drop the pen and take a deep breath. Come on Evelyn. Stop this. Just sign your name. That’s all you have to do. You’re just emotional. Stop that. There’s a knock on my door and Lisa pokes her head in.
“You all set, Evelyn?” She speaks cautiously and quietly, unusual for a lawyer.
“I…I…I don’t think I can do this. Not right now. Sorry.” I say, averting my eyes from her concerned gaze.
“What’s wrong?” She takes a seat on the chair by the window, and sits patiently waiting for me to respond.
“Just…nothing. I just need some time.”
“I have to tell Andrew something, he is expecting me to hand him the papers. What do you want me to say? Are you changing your mind?”
“No, no, not at all.” Am I? “Just say I need a bit more time. Nothing else. Don’t say anything either way.”

She still looks concerned, but gets up quietly and leaves me alone.



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48 Hours Earlier
Don’t do it Evelyn, that baby is not yours. Just stop it. Go back to watching the television. Stop thinking. It’s only 48 hours.
I can’t focus on the TV. I try hard to focus and get my mind off that baby. I don’t know why I suddenly want to see her. I told everyone they could just take that baby to the nursery. She wasn’t mine anyways. I tune back into my TV show. The lady shopping for her wedding dress is acting like a brat. She just needs to pick a dress already and stop complaining. You can just go see her for 5 minutes. 5 minutes won’t hurt anyone. She is still yours. No. No. Stop that. She was never yours. She belongs to John and Erica. The bride is now yelling at the store manager about incompetent employees. Ugh. Just one more look at her. You only got a glimpse before they took her away. You don’t even have to go in, just look in the window. Just one look. One look won’t harm anybody. No. Stop. Evelyn, it’s not your baby. Don’t even pretend. Why do you even care? Now the bride is in tears and her bridesmaids are comforting her, even though she’s being ridiculous. She needs to stop being over-emotional. You too, Evelyn. That’s your problem. You’re emotional. That’s all. It’s just the emotions talking. You don’t care about that baby. You can’t raise a baby. You spend all day at the studio. How would you ever pay for daycare? Erica is that baby’s mother. She wants that baby. She can raise that baby in a way that she deserves. My mind races with too many thoughts. I know I shouldn’t. But I have to look at that baby one more time. Only one time, Evelyn. Then you can sign the papers. You have to sign them.



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I walk towards the door of the nursery. Then away. Then back. Then away. Finally I take a deep breath and gingerly push the door open. It feels wrong to be here.

A nurse comes over as soon as she sees me walk in. She is an older woman, kind and gentle looking. She has smile lines in her face and friendly eyes.
“I’m Mary. Welcome to the nursery! What is your name?” She smiles intently at me, speaking so kindly I can’t stand it. I don’t deserve this kindness. I shouldn’t even be in here and I know it. I swallow and introduce myself. I can’t bear to look at her. Does she not realize who I am? I already granted John and Erica unlimited access to their baby during the 48 hour waiting period. I am sure they have visited their baby, they were so excited and said they were coming immediately when I called them to say that the baby was coming soon. I requested not to see them. Not that I am regretting my decision. I just want this done and over with. A nice clean break is best for everyone. No need to get attached.

Mary leaves me alone once she shows me where the baby’s bassinet is. The baby is sleeping soundly, looking much cuter than she did just a few hours earlier. I see dark strands of hair peeking out of her hat. A beautiful purple hand knit hat, undoubtedly something Erica put on her. I shouldn’t be here. That baby is really not my child.

I pull the hat gently off of her head and gasp at the beautiful, thick head of dark and curly hair. My mind flashes back to old photographs, photographs of me as a newborn, my mom as a newborn, and even my grandma as a newborn. Every single one of us had thick, dark, and curly hair at birth. She looks just like you. She is your daughter. No. Stop it. Just because she has dark and curly hair means nothing.

I gently put the hat back on her head, trying not to wake her. I am unsuccessful, as she opens her eyes and starts to fuss.
“Shhh, shhh. Quiet now.” I whisper. I don’t have a clue of what to do with a baby, but she quiets the moment she hears my voice. I look into her eyes, which are an incredible shade of blue. The exact same unique color my Grandma Rose and I shared. The color that got so many compliments about how striking it was with our very dark and curly hair. She is the spitting image of me as a newborn, my mother would say.
I cringe, I left Seattle as soon as I started to show and taken a medical leave from Pacific Northwest Ballet. I told my mom I was at a training program in New York City that PNB had recommended. She never suspected. My heart aches. Should I have told her she had a grandchild coming? No. Because she’s not yours. And legally she won’t be in 48 hours. Erica and John’s parents will be the baby’s grandparents. That’s the right thing to do. I still feel a pang of guilt as I think about my mom, so I brush the thought away and leave the nursery.


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I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I go into the nursery every chance I get. I check through the window to make sure Erica and John aren’t in there before I go in though. It feels disloyal to them, but I can’t stop myself. Something draws me to the baby girl and I can’t ignore it. Only two more days, I tell myself. Then she’s their baby.

At first I don’t hold the baby girl, I just look at her and talk softly. During the night I go in and Nurse Mary looks pleased to see me. She must have seen John and Erica come in to visit their baby, so she must know what the situation is. She never says anything to me though, so if she thinks it’s strange but won’t bring it up, I surely won’t start that conversation.
“I’m so glad you’re here! I was just about to feed her, but now you can.” She hands me the bottle and gestures towards the row of gliders under the window. I pick up the baby awkwardly, having held very few babies in my life. I sit down in the glider and gently rock back and forth. I think you are supposed to rock babies, though I’m not sure. I feed the baby her bottle and she snuggles close to me, completely relaxed. I look out the window at a stunning starry sky. I look down at the baby and think of the life she’ll have with her parents. She doesn’t need me and I know it. I feel a tear slide down my cheek and slap it away quickly. I don’t know what is wrong with me and I hate it.



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The next morning a new nurse was on duty and greeted me as I walked into the nursery. “I’m here to see my baby” I blurted out. The nurse smiles at me, not looking at all confused. I walk over to the baby, still inwardly angry that I had referred to her as my baby. What is wrong with me?
I stare down at the number I just dialed on my phone. I can’t decide whether or not to click the call button. I touch the button and then quickly shut my eyes. I can’t do this. Suddenly I hear a voice from the phone. Crap. I really shouldn’t have called her. I pick up the phone and realize my hand is shaking.
“Hi, Mom? Um, I think I should tell you something.” The moment I hear her voice take on a concerned tone, instantly wanting to comfort me, I feel the tears come.



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It has been exactly 48 hours since my baby was born when Lisa brings me the relinquishment of parental rights papers. I tell her I need more time and she goes off to inform Andrew. I can’t handle the guilt of what I’m doing to Erica. But I can’t sign the papers. I pick up my phone and dial a number. I stare down at the number I just dialed. I can’t decide whether or not to click the call button. I touch the button and then quickly shut my eyes. I can’t do this. Suddenly I hear a voice from the phone. Crap. I really shouldn’t have called her. I pick up the phone and realize my hand is shaking.
“Hi, Mom? Um, I think I should tell you something.” The moment I hear her voice take on a concerned tone, instantly wanting to comfort me, I feel the tears come.



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It is early in the morning as I pace my room. You can raise this baby if you want to. You can do it. But what about Erica? She has lost so many babies. You can’t be responsible for another one. My mind races as I pace faster and faster as I wait for Lisa to arrive. I tell her I have made my decision. Once I called my mom I was sure of what I needed to do. I feel horrendous guilt whenever I think of Erica. I don’t know if I could take away a baby that I have promised to someone who so deserves one. She deserves my baby so much more than I do. But, she is my baby first. Erica should have my baby, not me. I hate the pull I feel towards the baby. The decision to sign away my rights was far less complicated before I saw her.

Lisa gently knocks on the door and I open it.
“You made your decision?” She asks, searching my face for an answer. I take two deep breaths and nod, telling her what I have decided. I know in my heart that it is what has to happen.



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Nurse Mary
Friday August 25th, 8am
I pick up the baby girl from the bassinet in the corner of the room. I stroke her beautiful head of hair, so beautiful and thick for a newborn. She gazes at me with her shining blue eyes and I smile down at her. What a sweet baby she is. I’ll miss taking care of her when she leaves today. I rock gently back and forth as I cradle her in my arms. She has had a very complicated first two days of life. I have never had a baby in the nursery with two different women coming in and introducing themselves as her mom. I watched both of the women carefully each time they came in, and I was torn up inside, knowing that one would have to leave empty handed today. All of the nurses who had seen them had discussed what was going on. I still wasn’t sure who I thought was the right mother to take the baby home.
I knew it was truly none of my business, but I cared about this baby. I know the birthmother tried to deny it, but I saw the love in her eyes when she looked at this sweet baby girl. I still don’t know who is coming in to take her home today.

The door slowly opens and I smile as the woman walks into the room.
“Here she is! Enjoy her. She is such a beautiful and sweet baby,” I say as I smile at the woman. She smiles back and thanks me. I place the baby girl in her mother’s outstretched arms, content in knowing that she is the right mother to take this baby home.