Adoption agency. Baby girl. Must go straight away.
The corridor echoed. The sound of new babies whimpering and cooing in the distance and the sterile scent of disinfectant was enough to prove to Shelagh that this was indeed happening. She had waited so long to have a child of her own, and now her prayer had finally been answered, even if it wasn't in the way she had expected. This was all happening so fast, and she found herself becoming dizzy. Was it nerves? Excitement? She wasn't quite sure.
"Baby Jones is at the far end of the room, on the right. There's a little felt sunflower attached to her cot."
This was it.
She was suddenly aware of her slightly increased breathing rate when she felt Patrick gently squeeze her hand.
"Do you want to go in alone?" He asked, gently.
"No, Patrick. This is the closest I'm ever going to get to giving birth, and I want, and I need, you to be by my side."
He kissed her cheek as she took a sharp intake of breath in an attempt to control her nerves. Patrick opened the door for her and her feet started moving on their own accord. What does she look like? Will she be happy? Will they bond? With her insecurities threatening to overcome her, Shelagh's feet only took her a quarter of her journey. For as soon as she saw the felt sunflower on the end cot in the corner, her body halted.
Patrick was walking closely beside her, with his hand gently stroking between her shoulders. He felt her tense and decided to continue walking. He was clearly just as nervous as she was, but the nerves soon drained from his face when he hovered over the cot. She recognised his expression, it was almost identical to the expression across his face when he saw her walking down the aisle. His jaw had relaxed into an adoring smile and his eyes were sparkling. She was so anxious to see her baby, but feared her body would fail her if she so much as moved a muscle.
"What's she like?" She finally asked, her voice cracking with emotion.
A huge, proud smile broke across his lips. "Close your eyes."
Her arms came up as soon as she shut her eyes. Time felt as if it had stopped and she was hyperaware of her breathing again. Her lungs felt as if they were going to burst through her chest, and her arms and legs were slowly beginning to feel like jelly again. Until finally, she felt her husband place their tiny miracle in her open arms.
"Here's your mummy."
Perfect. She was actually perfect. With her tiny fingers and crinkled nose, her small, slightly cold, feet, her beautiful dark eyes and fair hair, and the tiny pout that formed on her lips after she yawned. Shelagh was sure she had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful, and she was theirs. She couldn't prevent the tears that were slowly cascading down her cheeks.
"Oh, Patrick." She began to sob. "We have a daughter. She's actually ours."
"Yes." Was all he could manage.
The doctor and ex-nun had been rendered speechless by their precious miracle. Their proof that you can never have too much hope, that everything works out somehow, even if it's not the way you plan.
From the moment she held her daughter in her arms the first time, and studied her angelic face, Shelagh finally understood what Trixie meant when she heard the blonde describe the notion of love at first sight.