10: Special Delivery

10: Special Delivery

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Miracles and More

Special Delivery

I always interpret coincidences as little clues to our destiny.

~Ann Brashares

My husband and I had been trying to start a family for several years with no luck. It was a difficult time of doctors’ appointments, hormone drugs and injections, acupuncture, waiting, fighting back tears at friends’ baby showers, and a growing sense of hopelessness. We spent far too much time asking the universe and ourselves, “Why?”

Around that same time, my husband visited with a woman at the school where he was being trained in massage therapy. She was known as a highly spiritual person. My husband mentioned our pregnancy difficulties and she smiled reassuringly and told him that she felt certain we would have a baby. But not soon.

When he asked her to explain, she told him she was getting a strong message from my husband’s grandfather, whom we all called Grandpa Mac. He had passed away a few years earlier, and we missed him dearly. She said that quite possibly Grandpa Mac was holding the spirit of a child for us in heaven, and that he would send us this baby’s spirit when he felt we were ready.

Mostly because we needed to laugh so we wouldn’t cry in those days, we joked on and off about this revelation.

First of all, we weren’t sure we believed in this sort of thing. A Greater Power — maybe. But anything else was a stretch.

Secondly, Grandpa Mac had been an all-out jokester. He was the kind of man who would give you an empty box to open, watch for your disappointment, and then lead you outside to see the new car he’d bought you.

Frankly, it would have been just like him to tease us unmercifully — to know that we wanted something so badly and to say, winking, that he was waiting for the right moment to give it to us.

We even laughed (a little bit) when our expensive fertility treatments continued to fail. We’d shake our fists at the sky and say, “Come on, Grandpa Mac! Enough already!”

Eventually, we began to move on and looked into domestic adoption. It was a tough decision in many ways, and I think we grew up a lot as we weighed the decision. After much discussion, we knew we wanted to share the life we’d built together with a child who needed a loving home. It all made sense, and it was so aligned with our values that we were surprised we hadn’t landed on this option much sooner.

During the period of waiting for our birthmother match, attending adoption classes, completing paperwork, raising money, and preparing for the adoption process, Grandpa Mac’s “gift” faded from our minds. But we hadn’t forgotten about him. We even made plans to name our soon-to-be-arriving baby boy after Grandpa’s last name: McIntyre.

The evening we got the call that our son’s birthmother, Amanda, was in labor, we rushed to be there for our son’s arrival. We visited with Amanda, who was incredibly generous to have us there with her in the room.

As Amanda’s labor progressed, a nurse came in to tell us that the birth was imminent, and the doctor on call would be delivering our son soon.

In the minutes before we met the doctor, we all discussed naming the baby McIntyre. We also told Amanda the story of Grandpa Mac. waiting to bestow a baby upon us. We chuckled together at the idea.

Then, the attending doctor walked into Amanda’s room and offered her hand for us all to shake. I glanced at her hospital nametag, caught my breath, and reached for my husband’s arm next to me.

“Hello, I’m Dr. McIntyre,” she said. The name was even spelled exactly the same.

We all stared at her like she was a ghost. Amanda and I exchanged wide-eyed looks that silently screamed, “Did that really just happen?”

Things became a busy blur after that. Our son was born less than fifteen minutes later. Amanda held him first, and then Dr. McIntyre handed my husband and me our sweet baby, his fingers curling around ours.

We’d waited a long time for this gift.

~Kathy Lynn Harris

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