EpilogueEight Months Later
“Baby, hurry up, we’re going to be late to the courthouse,” Brock called through the bathroom door. Today our little girl was going to finally become permanently ours. Our Gemma girl.
“Say ‘Hurry up, Mommy,’” Brock coached Gemma.
“Hurry up, Mommy,” her precious voice came through loud and clear.
I don’t think she would ever know until she had a child of her own how much I loved to hear her call me that. How much I loved being her mommy. She was the best thing that had ever happened to us. She’d filled our days with giggles and hugs, light and love.
Mommy wanted to hurry, but Mommy wasn’t feeling all that well, and Mommy had taken a pregnancy test and was waiting to see the results. “I’ll be right there,” I promised. I stared at the test that was sitting on the bathroom counter amid my cosmetics, hoping and praying two lines would appear. I wanted to give Gemma a sibling. And this was perfect timing. The state would have been reluctant to let us adopt if we were already pregnant.
What seemed like eons later but had only been seconds, a second line appeared. I cried and smiled. “Brock, I think you should come in here.”
He immediately opened the door, holding our girl. She looked adorable in her yellow sundress, her hair french braided and tied off with a white bow.
“Are you okay?” He sounded concerned.
“Uh-huh.” I held up the stick.
He rushed toward me and traded me our daughter for the pregnancy test.
I held Gemma to me while I watched my husband’s wide eyes fill with tears. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
“Yep. We’re pregnant.”
He threw his arms around me, sandwiching Gemma between us.
“Daddy,” she squealed. “You’re squishing me.”
“That’s because Daddy is so happy.”
“I’m happy too,” she responded, even though she had no idea why.
Brock leaned away and met my gaze. “Is Mommy happy too?”
“Yes,” I replied, joy bursting across my face. “Mommy is very happy.”
