Labor and delivery

Several years ago I was home alone on the day before Thanksgiving when my mother called and asked if she could drop by. Two of my brothers and there families were in coming in from Oregon and Thanksgiving--for some reason or another--was going to be held at my house. Almost all of us were going to be together for Thanksgiving, which is quite unusual. There were still pies to be baked and potatoes to be scrubbed. I told my mother I would be home and she was welcome to drop by.

As I waited for my mother, I happened to be sitting on the sofa in my living room, with a good view of the front door, but not of the street. I glanced out the window just as my brother from Las Vega walked up to the door and began to knock. This particular brother, my baby brother, was not expected for Thanksgiving, so I was surprised and quite excited to see him. Thinking he had just decided to surprise us for Thanksgiving, I jumped up off the sofa and ran down the stairs to throw open the door before I realized what he was carrying.

It was a brand new carseat/baby carrier. Covered in a soft green/brown blanket with hints of pink.

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Several months previously, I had gathered family photos and filled out a short profile on our family and written a recommendation for my brother and sister-in-law, who, after years waiting for another child, had decided to adopt. It was from them I had first heard tell of the awful effects of Clomid. It was them with whom I cried over the phone when they explained to me how they went to pick up a much anticipated newborn only to have the birth mother change her mind.

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I screamed.

I cried.

I had to hold that sweet baby girl.

Finally, I invited them in from the cold of winter and asked to hear the story of how their little girl--for this one was truly theirs--had finally come to to them. They are very private people, particularly online, and it is not my story to tell, particularly here. But miracle it was and yet another witness to me of something I already knew: families are forever and children find their respective families one way or another; it is never by accident.

I pulled my brand new niece (one of only three and also, thus far, the last) close to me and snuggled my nose into the crook of her soft neck, inhaling deeply that sweet scent of newborn as my brother told me how this child had finally found them. I was sworn to secrecy. We plotted with my mother how best to pull off a grand surprise for the rest of my siblings at Thanksgiving dinner the next day.

They snuck in through the back door the next day as most of the rest of my family gathered around my table to feast and give thanks. More screams. More tears. Love. Absolute joy. An abundance of gratitude.

It was the best Thanksgiving ever.