Authors Note:
Taking a slight break from my other story as I write a sequel. I finally finished season 3 of Call The Midwife, so please beware of spoilers for almost every episode in that season. This is my first time writing anything from this lovely story and my 3rd story ever completed, so it's not perfect, but I enjoyed writing it tonight. :) Reviewers get a cookie and perhaps more Turnadette? ;)
That car ride had seemed to go on forever - even though it was a short trip, only 15 minutes at the most, it had been like the ride to the sanatorium. So quiet, meaningful. Both car rides had been spent in the company of Patrick, back then still just Dr. Turner, but Timothy seemed to add a much happier, child-like flair to this one. Both car rides, so life-changing. Timothy and I practically vibrated in our seats with excitement while Patrick stayed so composed, as always. He seemed to always be the careful one, just in case things didn't work out. But as we pulled into the orphanages parking lot, the small smile that wrinkled his face with pure joy and hope and love had been all I needed.
"Well, Mrs. Turner...I suppose we had better get a move on, then." He smiled. Timothy beamed at us both from the back and anxiously thrust his car door open, grabbing a hold of my own door before Patrick could make his way to it, opening it for me and practically pulling me out before giving me a moment to collect the small things we had brought for baby - a blanket from Sister Julienne, a small crocheted hat from Chummy. Before long, we were all welcomed with opened arms into the building full of crying and smiling children, awaiting homes just as eagerly as we waited for a baby of our own. How much I wanted to bring them all home...but there was one baby in there meant for us. Our gift from above. Just as my eyes met her crib, a knit flower hanging from the side - a gift from her young, too young, mother who had prayed so hard to keep her in safe arms, a gift and a plea for the baby and parents to hopefully remember and continue cherishing her, even outside of the womb. I knew that she was ours..meant to be ours. Our little angel baby. Suddenly, the weight of the painful discovery of my inability to conceive, the difficulties and arguments that the adoption process brought on, the grief that Patrick had finally shared with me over his past and the sleepless nights wondering if he would still love me even though I was barren, the tears soaked into pillows as he wondered if I would still stay with him, despite his secrets...
It was all worth it...it all made sense, feeling her being placed into my arms by a man already so proud to be her father.
"Shh," He swiped a gentle finger over her wispy, light hair, just barely there, shushing the crying babe quietly as she fussed until comfortably cuddled into my shoulder. "there. Meet your mummy." He murmured, gazing downwards at the sight below him.
"Well? Where is she? Can I hold her? After all, she's my sister!" Timothy's voice broke through the calmness, sending the baby into a short fit of cries until she settled once again. Patrick waved Tim closer until he was just near enough to wrap an arm around as Patrick enveloped us both into his arms easily, dropping a kiss on my head as he bowed his head in reverence and peace, finally a complete family.
"You can hold her as soon as we get her home, Tim. Let's get mum and baby time to bond and get to know each other, hmm?"
There always seemed to be more paperwork to fill out, in cases like this. Paperwork regarding the mother, whether or not she was free to interact with baby or if we wanted complete privacy. We had agreed to let her visit once and awhile, I was unable to deprive such a young woman who obviously cared for her child the ability to hold her, even if it was just once every so often, but the baby would be raised with myself as the sole mother, even if in that moment, as we finally climbed in the car with our legal daughter, I wondered to God if I was truly worthy of such a beautiful life, a beautiful, full family. The feeling when we ended the day with a baby in between Patrick and I in bed (I couldn't bear to leave her alone in the crib, nor could Patrick, I knew.) was such a wonderful, fulfilling one and I knew that I would spend my whole life proving my worthiness and my thankfulness for what God had chosen to give us. Every night, I prayed and thanked Him, soon joined by my husband who doubted for so, so long but finally seemed to believe just the time that I felt myself go back into the fold of God's embrace, after a month full of so much death, heartache, secrets and doubt. My heart was full and thankful, as would it be until the day that I was called Home.