The group laughed. Most of them, anyway.
“Oh, don’t we all know that feeling!” Karen exclaimed, reaching into a plaid car seat.
“Well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.” I flicked the edge of my plate with my thumbnail. “To be honest, though, now that the big email could be sent out at any moment, time seems to be moving so much slower, and my patience feels much thinner.”
“I’m sure many of us can relate to that feeling, too,” Gail added sympathetically. “But this is wonderful news, Lauren. We’ll all be ready to celebrate with you whenever that special email does show up in your inbox.” She paused then, her gaze scanning the circle before coming back to me. “You made the right decision in coming tonight, no matter your motivation. The season of waiting that you’re in is just one example of why we need to lean into our support systems. When life feels hard, it’s imperative we reach out to our loved ones and communities and share our burdens. And in due time, those same support systems will be the people who will get to share in our blessings, too.”
Even as several verbal agreements rang out around the circle, a familiar heaviness pushed against my chest. Karen patted the back of her newest pink baby bundle, and I forced my next words out before I could second-guess the level of my vulnerability. “I don’t want to take up too much more group time, but I was actually hoping I could ask a few questions about all that. Is that all right, Gail?”
“Certainly, ask anything you need to, darlin’. That’s why we’re here.” I didn’t miss the way her gaze floated over to the new couple again.
“As far as support systems go, I have my best friend, Jenna, and a few women at my church, Gail and Robert, this group, as well as a few social media pages specific to China adoptions. But . . .” I hesitated, and the head bobber closest to me, Sara, picked up speed, as if to spur me on. It worked. “But I haven’t told my family yet.”
“About the latest news from your agency?” Karen kindly tried to clarify as shame ignited my cheeks.
“No, um, I mean, I haven’t told them I’m adopting at all.” Even as I said the words aloud, I knew how bad they sounded—how bad I must sound for admitting such a heartless truth. What kind of a woman didn’t tell her own family about an adoption she’d been planning for over a year?
Every one of the well-meaning lectures Jenna had given me since last winter recycled in my mind. “I know how that sounds. It’s just that things are a bit complicated with my family. They’re not bad people or anything, I just . . . I don’t think my decision will make sense to them.”
Robert leaned forward, his salt-and-pepper eyebrows crumpling at the arch. “Lauren, what part of your decision to adopt do you think they’ll struggle with the most?”
“That I’m single.” Those three words hung in the silence like a dead weight, exposing me in a way I rarely allowed. Perhaps it had something to do with finding my unattached marital status at the top of my sister’s New Year’s Resolution list. Or how my mother constantly obsessed over my financial security like it was her part-time job. Though my father’s workman’s comp had run dry twenty years ago, my mother never let us forget how she’d been thrust into the workforce so her family of four could survive. She wasn’t the type who called to chat or to check on me. No, her questions usually surrounded my retirement plan and low-risk stocks. I certainly wasn’t looking forward to the day she found out I’d cashed in my nest egg of savings to take on a dependent.
“I think what you’re doing as a single woman is really admirable, Lauren,” Sara said. “It may not be the most traditional pathway in adoption, but the world has way more orphans than it does loving parents who are willing to step up to the task.”
“Exactly,” Karen added with a tearful smile. “Jack and I are unlikely candidates, as well. We’re in our late fifties, and while most of our friends are retiring and taking fancy vacations, we’re feeding sick babies through the night. But you know, God has always provided for our needs. Saying yes to this calling has been our greatest blessing.”
At this, Melanie huffed. And not the could-be-considered-a-cough kind of huff, either. It was definitely a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me huff.
“Melanie,” Gail said in the same voice I used to calm an emotionally charged first grader, “do you have something you’d like to add to this discussion?”
“Yeah, I do.” The hard rasp of her tone had me sliding to the back of my chair. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t going to be frosted in sugary optimism.
“Mel, honey, please,” her husband chided as he reached for her hand.
She jerked hers away quicker than he could make contact. “No. Don’t you dare honey me, Peter. You were the one who dragged me here after your little chat with Pastor what’s-his-name. Well, here I am. And I have something to say to uh . . .” Her eyes flashed as she read the name tag on my knit sweater. “Lauren.” She bent toward the middle of the circle, targeting me directly. “Some people will tell you that adoption is a great idea, and some people will say the opposite. But I’m going to tell you the truth: None of those opinionated people are gonna be there for you when you wake up to the screams of night terrors at three in the morning. Just like none of them will be there to pick up the half-chewed food off your kitchen floor because your toddler refuses to swallow it due to his sensory issues. And not a single one of them is going to know how to stop your baby girl from banging her head against the wall because it’s the only form of self-soothing she knows. You’ll question your sanity a hundred times a day, asking what’s real and what’s just in your head. But I’ll tell you what’s real, Lauren. Trauma is real. And it’s all-consuming. And before you know it, everyone in your life—even those Positive Pollys who patted you on the back for making such a selfless sacrifice—they’ll be gone. And you’ll be all alone.” Her voice cracked on that last word. “Married or single, you’ll be all alone.” She stood, snatched her purse off the floor, and sprinted for the stairs.
Gail gave a brief yet decisive glance back at Robert before she, too, disappeared up the stairs.
Peter got to his feet, his face distorted with indecision. For a moment, I imagined him bolting after her, but instead, he looked to Robert. The helpless plea in his eyes sucked the air from the room and left a hollowness in my chest.
“I won’t tell you not to go after her, Peter. But I can assure you she’s in expert hands,” Robert said calmly.
After a full five seconds, Peter gave a stiff nod and sat back in his chair. “I, uh, I’m really sorry about all this. We’ve . . . it’s been a hard year for Mel and me.”
“We understand trying times,” Jack said. “We really do.”
Peter slid his hat off his head and ran a hand through his dark wavy hair. “My youngest sister’s been missing for years—living on the streets, selling her body for drugs. You name it, she’s done it. None of us had any contact with her at all until a caseworker called us last summer.” He took a steadying breath. “One phone call turned our whole lives upside down. Melanie was on her third round of infertility treatments while working as a sous chef at Barlow’s Table downtown, so when we heard we had a niece and a nephew out there who needed a home—a family—we said yes.” He chuckled sardonically. “We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. Overnight, we became a family of four.” This time, Peter let the silence linger, as if he wasn’t sure how to continue. Maybe because he wasn’t sure if they would continue.