All we wanted was to begin a family, our own family.  Due to my husband’s disease and the probability of passing it on, we thought adoption was the best way to go.  We thought there are so many children without homes, surely we could find one to come into our lives.

One day my husband came home very excited.

“Honey, I think I found a child for us.”

It was 1984, and we lived in Los Angeles (West Hollywood) to be exact.  My father-in-law had purchased four acres in a small town north of there a few years earlier.  On this property was a Victorian house surrounded with cottages built in the twenties, as homes for crop workers in the area.  Now the cottages held an assortment of renters, some on welfare, others were struggling artists and others who liked living among the mature oaks and King Palms.  It was thick with vegetation and you could always hear the sounds of people outdoors, sitting with other neighbors and watching the children play hide and seek.

My husband went there once a month to talk with the tenants and collect rent.  They all liked him for always being interested in what they had to say.  He’s easy to like and really cares about the people.  This is where he met one of the tenants, Jennifer.  She was living at the cottages because of her father, known as Old Joe.  He was from the South, but moved there after his marriage broke up because he was a diehard alcoholic.  His daughter came with him, pregnant at 16.  She had the little boy and moved into her own cottage.  Jennifer didn’t know the father of her son, but she didn’t care, it was obvious the child was loved by her and his grandfather.

On this particular day Old Joe had mentioned to Lance that Jen has gotten herself “knocked up again”.  This time though she was going to give the child up for adoption.  The lightbulb went off his head, and he couldn’t wait to share the news with me.

We discussed it, drove up to the cottages one spring day in April and broached the subject of us adopting the child.  Jen and her father were thrilled.  They knew the child would have a better opportunity life being adopted by us, and we contracted a private adoption attorney to draw up the necessary papers for Jen to sign.  We agreed to pay her expenses up to and including the birth of the child.  Everyone was thrilled and eagerly awaiting the birth.

The questions/demands he had were odd, but then we knew he needed to feel a part of the process and we were happy to acquiesce to his “wants”; a promise his child would go to college, and if it was a boy, that he be circumcised.  We understood why he would want to know we intended to pay for the child’s education, but the other...well, since my husband is Jewish it was a given.  All-in-all the dinner went well, and he told us he would give us his blessings.  He seemed excited to know his child would grown up with such loving parents, ones that would be able to give him so much more than he could.

In June my husband was making his monthly visit when Jen gave him the “photo” from her ultrasound. 

We knew then it would be a girl.  I was so excited and spent my days fixing up our second bedroom and bathroom for our new daughter.  I had picked out balloon print wallpaper in bright pastels, and along the top was a border of fun, elephants and other animals.  Now that I knew it was a girl I was able to find an adorable eleven piece bedroom set with a canopy bed.  I knew we needed a crib first, but I would wait a little longer before I got it.

Then came the morning in early September the hospital called me, “Your daughter was born this morning.”  I called Lance, he was going to pick me up and we would drive to see our daughter for the first time.  

In the hour it took for him to get there though, things had drastically changed.  It seems the night of the birth, the father was in jail.  Now out and informed of the birth, he changed his mind and refused to let Jen give up the child.  We spoke to Jen, she was still wanting to, as raising two children before she was even 18 was too much for her, but Tim kept pressing her.  She suggested we call his parents and speak with them.  They lived in Atlanta.  We called immediately and explained the situation.  Of course this was to be their first grandchild, but they understood how irresponsible their son was and agreed the adoption would be best.  We even promised they could be a part of her life in some way.

This was all to no avail.  He would not relent, and forced the baby girl, now known as Angel, to go home with the mother...where he moved in for a few months and then left town and their lives.

We ached and grieved over the loss of the child we had accepted in our hearts.  Each time we walked past the unused room it was like a reminder of the death of our child, because that is what is was, a death of a dream, of our hope.  Our lawyer apologized, saying this kind of occurrence was rare.  That did not help us deal with it.  But in time the pain eased somewhat.  Our attorney called several times saying she had a pregnant woman who would love us to adopt her child, but always we said, “no”...it was far too painful to think of going through a private adoption again.

Little did we know what was around the corner for us.