I’m sitting in my office and looking once again at the decades-old photo of Gary and me. He’s so handsome in his Air Force uniform (of course, I’m not prejudice at all) and I’m smiling next to him, looking so young and wrinkle- free. No wonder, it was before we had any kids—not that I’m blaming my wrinkles on our kids, still they have to take some responsibility for bringing on the gray hairs I now have, which of course no one can see because of my magical hairdresser.
We were so young then. Gary was having the time of his life piloting the F-100 while I was being a homemaker and a stay-at-home writer. I couldn’t get much of a real job because the Air Force moved us every few months during training. Mostly, we were busy learning how to be married people, waiting and wishing for babies to come along.
For those of you who know us, it took us awhile, five long years. And then it happened through adoption. I could tell you many stories about the miracles of adopting our children—they each came to us by divine guidance. We knew they were ours! We just had to find them, fill out the papers, sign off in the courts, and make it everlasting at the temple.
Today I’ll share just one of those sacred experiences with you. This is the story of our fifth child, our son Paul. We moved to Utah from California, not knowing why, just knew we were supposed to move there. Gary quit his job, we sold our house, and came, settling in Salt Lake City (we now live in Provo). The search for a house and a job began. Why are we here, we wondered, but felt at peace.
About four months after our move, we found out the reason. We were walking in the mall and ran on to the former mission president, a lawyer, Gary served with while we were stationed in Germany. We had a feeling there was another baby for us somewhere and had been praying about it, so we asked if he knew of any that would be available for adoption. He said, no but would ask his partner. I’ll cut this short, and will simply say that his partner was a praying man and soon knew we should be the parents of a soon-to-be-born baby. Other couples were ahead of us, but he said he knew we were the ones. We were thrilled and so excited.
Several weeks later the phone rang and it was him, announcing the birth of our baby boy. He was three weeks premature, so they wouldn’t release him to us until he gained more weight. We couldn’t even see him. In those days the adoptive parents weren’t allowed in the hospital. A nurse would meet them, with the lawyer, outside the hospital and hand the baby over to the adoptive parents. A week went by and it wasn’t happening.
The problem was that our baby boy wouldn’t eat He refused to take the bottle from everyone who tried. No doctor or nurse had any success. The lawyer kept us updated on this. After putting us off day after day, not letting us in, I finally called our lawyer and said, “This is my baby and he needs his mother there to feed him. You find a way for me into that hospital or I will break the law and find a way myself!”
That did it, he made it happen. Dressed in white hospital gowns, we were ushered in to our baby’s isolation area. My heart was pounding. The nurse placed him in my arms—he was so cute, and so bald. I adored him right off. She handed me the bottle. I looked into his precious face and softly said, “Hi, baby, I’m your mother and I love you.” Then I put the bottle nipple in his mouth and said, “Now, drink for Mommy.” He immediately began sucking, and kept sucking. The doctor and nurse were astonished. Gary took a turn and he drank for him, too. But he wouldn’t drink for them After that I came in for his feedings every few hours. He did so well the doctor said, “You’re the only ones he’ll eat for. You can take him home.”
He has been a light and a joy to us ever since. Now he has a great wife, is a school principal and the father of six of our cherished grandchildren. These five wonderful children of ours were definitely worth the wait.
