Instant Mom by Nia Vardalos

find her. Again. When the birth mother is in this girl’s life, the results have been disastrous. The girl has already been exposed to shady adults with criminal dealings. The panel feels it’d be better if this girl could lead an anonymous life. Although I agree with it, I am disappointed. The social worker tells me a relative will take the girl in and keep her whereabouts hidden from the birth mother. I shake my head and wonder once again about the unfairness for the ovarian challenged. The next week, our social workers check in and after some reflection, I admit I’m not shocked any of the matches didn’t come through. Although I pursue every avenue, I am still waiting for something I can’t explain or define.
     
    A month later, I’m writing at my desk at home and the phone rings.
    It’s a nice man I’ve met who works to place foster kids.
    He tells me there is a little girl.
    She is almost three years old.
    She’d been relinquished to foster care by a young couple whose relationship did not last the birth.
    She is presently legally freed for adoption.
    The man says he has contacted our social workers and they all want to know if Ian and I would like to meet the little girl.
    I nod my head not realizing he can’t see me. I’m not nodding yes to the meeting. I’m nodding yes because I know this is it. I know this is the match.
    Running through the house, I find Ian and, gulping air, tell him about the little girl. I don’t know anything about her background, but we can meet her tomorrow. I am jumping up and down, saying over and over “this is it.” Ian tries to calm me down, so worried I will lose my mind if this doesn’t work. But I know it will.
    The next day is the exact date two years ago when we met Manny. As we drive across the city, Ian and I are completely quiet in the car.
    The way it works with foster care is you have to have a chemistry meeting so everyone can determine how you get along. It isn’t a test—they just want it to be a suitable pairing. That’s why it’s called a match. Wisely, they don’t want the children to experience any more rejection, so the child is not told they might be meeting potential parents. The child probably just thinks it’s more social workers, foster care workers, lawyers, etc. So today, this little girl is being brought to an office so we can all meet.
    Ian and I drive into the parking lot of this office. As we park we see a small group of people standing in the middle of the lot. As we get out of the car, we see a little brown-haired girl in a social worker’s arms. And as we walk toward the group, the little girl turns and looks at me.
    At me.
    And she smiles.
    Everything goes quiet. I hear nothing at all.
    All I think is, “Oh, I found you.”
    Because now I know who I have been waiting for. I know exactly why the other processes didn’t work. I know I was supposed to wait for this little girl.
    I put my hands out to her, and without hesitation she leans forward. As I cradle her I can’t hear anything. I am looking at my daughter. Finally. And I feel a peacefulness come over me like I have never known. I waited a long time for her and she is worth every minute of anxiety. I am holding my little girl and just inhaling her scent.
    She is apprehensive, not sure what’s happening today, and she clings to me and hides against my neck. I kiss her and whisper in her ear that everything will be okay. I tell her I love her. I hold her out now and smile at her. Ian puts his warm hand on her and they look at each other for a long moment. He is smiling. The little girl smiles shyly. She is truly beautiful. And now I see she has little blond streaks in her hair.
     
    Ten minutes later, we’re all in the office watching this pretty little girl play with a red-and-yellow plastic toy train. She is dressed in a light shirt and cotton shorts over a cumbersome diaper. We can see she is very curious and imaginative as she takes each toy from a box and acts out