by Joanne Lynch

Created on: June 06, 2009

As I sat in the waiting room, my mind could not wrap itself around what was about to happen. I couldn't believe that all this time had gone by and I would finally get that opportunity, that chance I had so desperatelyhoped to get one day. I was nervous and I was early. Why had I come so early? My nerves got the best of me I guess. I had hoped it would all be perfect.

I couldn't focus on the magazine I was looking at and I had read the same line in an advertisement at least a dozen times. The receptionist kept looking up at me, scrutinizing me behind her glasses, so I felt. I never felt so alone at that very moment. What would happen when that moment came? What would I say? How would I appear? Would I be as expected?

I glanced over at another woman sitting off to my side. She was older than I and I wasn't exactly sure of her age but she seemed so calm. Another woman off to my left was writing something in a notebook. She seemed very intent on whatever she was writing. It was just the three of us in this waiting room. I wondered what the other two ladies were doing here. Were they here for the same reasons or different reasons?

I couldn't put my mind at ease and I felt sick to my stomach all of a sudden. I had brought a simple box, baby blue with a white bow. I fiddled with the package. Inside, was a locket. I had placed a picture in there. I was hoping to give something very special away.

Twenty years ago, I had given a baby up for adoption. It had not been an easy decision. I was young and my parents were not supportive. The baby's father had long since decided that having a baby was not in the cards for him. I did not have a good job and my parents had kicked me out of our home, ashamed of me then. I was staying with friends or other relatives or at a local woman's shelter. I had decided to continue the pregnancy. The other alternative was not one I could accept. I also knew, I could never provide the home my baby needed.

That day of her birth, it was so vivid to me, still, all these years. I had thought about it at least a million times, replaying the moments right up to her birth. I remember how I felt when I held her. I remembered how much love I felt as I looked down at her angelic face, rosy red cheeks and delicate pink lips.

I was able to stay with her for three days. I nursed her and held her and tried to imprint her face into my memory. I wanted to burn an image of her there. It was all I would have to carry me through my darkest days. Those

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