The Infamous Meeting
The following is an excerpt from my book, THE QUESTION OF DAVID: A Disabled Mother's Journey Through Adoption, Family, and Life, published in 1999 and available on Amazon.com.
‘When the plane landed in St. Louis three hours later I unbuckled my seatbelt and waited. The other passengers had to disembark first–those not going to New York, that is–before someone came to assist me. As usual, it was taking forever, and I just hoped that the plane didn’t take off for its final destination with me still on board. Yet, somehow I didn’t think Colleen, who had said she would meet me, would let them.
I swallowed, trying to pop my ears, and breathed in the thin, stale airplane air that hissed out of the small metal cones above my head. With cold, clammy hands, I stuffed my GAMES magazine and Cynthia Ozick’s anthology into my backpack and placed it on the seat beside me. Then I put on my jacket; I wanted to be ready when the narrow aisle-chair (a dollylike conveyance) and the always impatient ground crew came to transport me to my wheelchair.
Twenty minutes later, my stomach rumbled and my fingers tugged at the neckline of my sweater. I squirmed under the incessant little light bulb staring down at me from between the air cones, while my other hand absently rummaged through my open-mouthed backpack. I first felt the sharp edges of the magazine before I brushed a furry snout. I snatched the softness.
Holding the brown teddy bear up with both hands, I inspected its friendly face. I had bought it just yesterday, with some reservation and ambivalence. I felt an empty, gnawing ache inside. Did I come here to make sure I did or didn’t want this baby?
Finally, the aisle-chair appeared! I stuffed the teddy bear down into my pack. Not that I cared if anyone thought it was mine; I just didn’t want it to fall out when the two, overdue crewmen assisted me. The men parked the chair alongside my seat and prepared to lift. I didn’t bother trying to explain to them that I could transfer myself from the seat to the chair; from past experiences, I knew they’d rather lift than communicate.
“My bag,” I uttered the simplest words to the man nervously buckling the crisscrossed straps over my chest.
He glanced to the seat where I’d been sitting and called over my head. “Better get her bag. She’s worried about it.” I watched my backpack being slung from the man behind to the man in front. “Ready?” he asked his peer as he stepped aside, without a word to me.
I was tilted back and wheeled through the cabin–their cargo. I detached myself, first looking to my left, through rows of windows framing the blue winter’s sky, and then to my right at the passengers settling in for the last leg of the flight.
“Bye now,” called the friendly gray haired man, who had smiled at me on my way in. He must be from the Bay Area!
We were in the first cabin now, when I was surprised by a strong, slightly broguish voice. "Denise?"
I turned my head to look straight ahead. I saw just enough of the small, neat, fiftyish looking woman to realize she wasn't the Kate that I had pictured. She stood in front of me, but my eyes instantly latched onto the bundle she held. He was just at my eye level.
"Oh, my God!" I gasped.
"Here's your son," she offered with outstretched arms.
His small, solid body sat snugly in my lap. My arm cradled him. I felt my eyes blazing as I stared at him with wonder. He tilted back his fuzzy golden head. Red "stork bites" peppered his forehead and eyelids, but his cheeks were round, as smooth and white as a spring lily. He smiled at me and his blue eyes, locking on to mine, seemed to whisper: "It's about time you got here."
"You were born so far away," I blinked back.
"I want to go home." His laughing eyes demanded.
In our silent dialogue, his bright, steady gaze bored like a steel lance into my heart, piercing my core with a deep, painful joy I had never known before—a feeling without word or thought. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
“My baby, my baby,” I blubbered and pulled him close to me.
I could smell his sweet, gentle scent as my lips brushed his hair. A buzz of voices murmured above us. I didn't look up. I just held onto my precious David.’