Prompt and Circumstance

The BIGGER Picture

'schedule' (June 17-19, 2016)

"A five year old," I repeated quietly. I couldn't stop shaking from shock. The waiting had been so long as I imagined this phone call, this day, over and over. But this was all wrong. Five, she'd said.

"Beth?" Helen's distant voice interrupted my confusion.

"Ohh... he's so much older than we expected." And somewhere deep inside a voice was shouting, "No! I wanted a baby. You knew that." Although the shout never came out, Helen sensed my conflict, her voice subtly changing - becoming gentler, more persuasive.

"I know Beth... I know. But Scott looks so much like you, it's unbelievable. His hair is blonde like yours and he has the biggest brown eyes, and freckles on his nose - AND perpetually skinned knees. He's a real boy, Beth... just what Jim would love on the farm."

"I guess so. I don't know. Helen, I just DON'T know." My head ached with the painful pounding of my heart, as the questions piled up to a dizzying height. Five years in an orphanage? Or— "Helen? Has he been with his mother until now? And she's just given him up?" That couldn't be... or could it?

"Well... he's been with her mostly, and she did give him up some months ago - for the second time, actually. It's a complicated story I'd prefer to tell you and Jim in person. To be honest Beth, Scott has quite a few emotional problems, as you can well imagine. But we sincerely believe you can meet these with love and security. And in his few years, he's had very little of either."

"Poor lost little boy." Tears filled my eyes. Each end of the love/need scale, weren't we? Bizarre. I learned his problems included bed-wetting and some anti-social behaviour towards other children. Helen felt sure this was only insecurity, and a strong reason she had chosen us, because we had no other children.

"And he stutters," Helen said. "Just sometimes... when he's scared, or upset.Time's a great healer of such things."

After our call, I sat quietly, trying to sort through my feelings. Confusion. Disappointment. Happiness. Sadness for Scott... and for myself. Difficult not to surrender to self-pity as my thoughts drifted to those two suitcases filled with baby clothes. Only a few were ready-made. I had knitted, crocheted and stitched most. Only Jim suspected the number of hopes and dreams woven into every stitch, every row. Now they would stay in their cases until... ?

From the first hopeful plans to start making a baby, through the interminable months of waiting and testing, until the final heart-breaking moment we learned we could not have our dream family, absolutely nothing had gone to schedule.

I'd long since accepted I would never know life growing within me. Still, I'd always believed that love would spring into instant being with that precious, tiny bundle in my arms.

But a five year old! He'd remember his birth mother - ask about her - miss and grieve for her? Would he be cuddly, desperately seeking love? Or withdrawn, needing to learn trust all over again? And school to think about. Not in several years time, but immediately— I jumped as the back door opened and Jim called me. Rushing to meet him I knew my words were babbling out of me, but I couldn't help myself.

"Oh-h Jim. Helen rang - from the Welfare Department - and they have a little boy for us and he's five and his name is Scott and he stutters... " and I find myself crying happy and sad tears now.