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Emma's Prayer

By R.A. Giggie

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CHAPTER ONE

April 2

“Push!” Nurse Jackson barked.
The pain ripped through Emi’s abdomen, all the way to the tip of her toes. How much longer could she put up with it? “I’m too tired. I can’t do this anymore,” Emi cried.
“Girl, you should have thought twice before you got pregnant.”
A contraction stole Emi’s breath away. She grimaced, grabbed the handrail, and fixed her eyes on the overhead mirror. Her lips taut, she tensed every muscle in her body. Holding her breath, she pushed.
“Come on.” Nurse Jackson met Emi’s eyes. “The baby’s almost here.”
The contraction passed. Emi blew out a long ragged breath, and dropped onto the pillow like a rag doll. She eyed the husky nurse who had dark skin, short curly hair, and spoke like a drill sergeant. Emi didn’t care. She wanted it to be over. Another pain tore through her thoughts, scattering them like fallen leaves in a high wind.
“Come on, child. Push!”
The baby’s head appeared in the mirror above. Emi’s mouth fell open. In vain, she fought against the physical pain. Her heart fought harder against the mixed emotions swirling within. Was it a boy or a girl? The way he’d kicked the past few months, he had to be the next football star or professional boxer. The ultrasound technician had offered to tell her the sex. She’d declined. Why bother? She wasn’t keeping him. Or her.
“Okay,” the nurse urged. “One more push. It’ll be over.”
Emi had barely spoken a word since they’d wheeled her into the room the night before but enough was enough. “I don’t have one more,” she snapped. “You’ve been at me for hours like I could drop this baby with no effort.” Her voice resonated in the room. Sobs racked her body as the next contraction hit. Her face scrunched, she clenched her jaw, and she pushed with all her might. As the first rays of sunlight shone through the window seeking Emi’s blurred vision, tearing agony struck. The room spun. Noises faded. Total darkness. Silence. 


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Cynthia Manning tossed the last file in the done basket, swivelled her chair, and stared out the bay window behind her desk. Turmoil welled inside her chest. Her seven years at the Riverview East Local Interpretation Centre, otherwise known as RELIC, had been an eye opener in numerous ways. She’d thanked God countless times for the many blessings He’d given her, but something else troubled her.
She drummed her fingers to the rhythmic ticking of her desk clock. 1:07 p.m. A few minutes more until her meeting. Where’s Logan? He said he’d meet me here at 1:00. It wasn’t like him to be late. How could she quell the roiling in the pit of her stomach? She picked up his picture from her desk. Happy thoughts.
She’d married her high school sweetheart after graduating from university, and they’d spent their honeymoon driving from Alberta to New Brunswick where Logan had been hired as operations manager of a new state of the art manufacturing company. They’d bought the perfect little house in Riverview, a small town separated from the city of Moncton by what locals called the Chocolate River. Within a few weeks, God had led them to the Metro Baptist Church where they’d met Kristen Williams, the RELIC administrator who’d become her boss.
RELIC served the Deaf community with American Sign Language interpreters. It also housed an audiologist, a speech pathologist, and two psychologists. While in many communities these services tended to be dispersed between the local hospital and School for the Deaf, in Riverview they were coordinated under one roof.
Cynthia’s work as a speech pathologist was what God had called her to do. Oh how she loved working with children. Why hadn’t He allowed her to bear a child of her own?
Would she ever be a mother? Would she be a good mom? Why did women who didn’t want children at times end up getting pregnant, while others who wanted them remained childless. Not fair!
A soft knock on the door brought her back to the confines of her office. “Come in.”
Logan poked his head in the doorway. “Hey, sweetie. She’s not here yet?” He glanced about.
Cynthia closed the distance between them. “No. I’m glad you came first, though. I could use a hug.” She wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Are you okay?”
She smiled. “Yeah. A little nervous.”
Logan held her tight. “Better?” He kissed the top of her head.
Cynthia buried her face in his chest. Filling her lungs with his scent drove all anxiety away. Raising her head, she met his eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Ahem…” Hannah, her best friend and co-worker, stood in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt. Mrs. Sanford from the Department of Social Development is here to see you.” 
Cynthia pulled away, and put her fingers through her hair. “Thanks, Hannah. Please send her in.”
Hannah left the door ajar.
Standing next to Cynthia, his hands in his pockets, Logan winked. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.
Seconds later, Mrs. Sanford walked in. The petite woman, in her late thirties, had hazel almond-shaped eyes. Her wavy brown hair rested on her shoulders.  
Cynthia stepped forward and gave her a warm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you. This is my husband, Logan.” Taking a seat behind her desk, she motioned toward one of the black leather chairs. “Have a seat. We’re so glad you could come on such short notice, Mrs. Sanford.” 
“Thank you. Please call me Joanne.” She tucked a stray lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear. “Tell me, why do you choose to adopt?”
Cynthia twisted her wedding band.
Logan moved behind her. Leaning against the window ledge, he touched a hand on her shoulder.
“We’ve tried many times to get pregnant over the last ten years. I’ve had five miscarriages, so adoption is our last option.”
“Five?” 
“Yes. My doctor warned me, another pregnancy could kill me.” 
Joanne nodded, her eyes filling with empathy. “Oh, I am very sorry.”
After a long moment, Cynthia broke the awkward silence. “It’s so important to us.”
“Well, foster homes are filled with children waiting for parents. How many do you have in mind?”
Cynthia glanced up at Logan and matched his playful grin. “Well, he always says he wants a baseball team.”
Joanne raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t there nine players on a team?”
Logan chuckled. “It’s an ongoing joke between us. I used to coach little league.”
Cynthia continued. “Two is what we have in mind.”
“What about the age?” Joanne asked.
“Oh, we’d love to have a baby.” 
Joanne cleared her throat. “The waiting list for babies is extensive.” 
“Yes, we assumed so. We’re prepared to wait.” 
“Most parents say the same, but many change their minds within six months. Let me be honest, and please don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to discourage you. Assuming you’re approved by our department, your application will go to the bottom of the list. It could take years, not months, before you reach the top and have to wait until a baby comes into our care.”
Joanne shifted, and leaned back in her chair. “On the flip side, you can have a toddler or school-aged child in your home a lot quicker. The majority of adoptive parents want a baby, but we have over six hundred children right here in New Brunswick waiting in permanent foster care.”
Cynthia’s hopes sank. “We had our heart set on a baby. We’ll have to talk about it.” 
“Yes, of course. We can start your application today, and if you’re approved, you’ll have two options at that time. You can have what we call an immediate family, but if you want a baby, I can guarantee you’ll have to wait a long time. Both are possible. The difference is the time line.”
That wasn’t what Cynthia had anticipated. She’d shared her heart’s desire so many times with the Lord. He’d comforted her before, and with what must have been a nudge from Him, she sighed. He knows which child He’s going to send, if any. I need to depend on him.
Joanne pulled a booklet from her briefcase, and placed it on the desk in front of Cynthia. “We have to go through the assessment process, which will give you plenty of time to weigh your options. You’ll be required to attend our four-week program called ASPIRE. It stands for Adoptive Parents’ Intro to Resources & Education. This handbook will tell you more about it.”
Cynthia scanned the cover of the two-inch thick manual and passed it to Logan.
He flipped through a few pages. “We have our work cut out for us.” 
“I’m not done.” Joanne handed Cynthia a thick folder. “I brought all kinds of documentation for you to read. Once you fill out the forms and return them to me, we can move the process along.”
A smile crept across Cynthia’s face. “Wow. Good thing we enjoy reading.” Is this really happening? Are we going through with adoption? Friends who’d adopted had told her the process had gone well. A sliver of hope grew within her heart. 
Joanne folded her hands together. “Do you have any questions?” 
Cynthia turned to Logan.
Logan moved forward and looked down at the pile of paper work. “Tons,” he chuckled. “We’ll let you know once we’ve gone over everything.”
Joanne glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry, I have to run. Don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions whatsoever.”

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