PART 12 – I Could Not Change What Had Happened Before Lily Came Home, but I Was Determined Not to Let Her Face Her Future Alone

By then, I had stopped trying to convince myself that the lawyer's discovery was nothing.

It was clearly important.

He wouldn't have called me in such a worried voice if it weren't.

And I couldn't forget the expression on his face when he opened the folder.

I wanted to know what had happened.

I wanted to know why the documents had been missing.

Most of all, I wanted to know what the five families had learned before withdrawing their adoption applications.

But I was beginning to understand that the answers might not come all at once.

There were records to examine.

There were details to verify.

There were questions that needed proper answers.

I couldn't force the truth to arrive faster.

So I focused on the things I could do.

I could care for Lily.

I could make sure she felt safe.

I could keep the promises I had made when I decided to adopt her.

And I could continue asking questions until I understood what had happened.

I thought about my husband and daughter again.

There were days when missing them still caught me by surprise.

I sometimes remembered an ordinary moment and wished I could return to it.

But those memories no longer meant I had to live entirely in the past.

Lily was part of my present.

She deserved my attention.

She deserved my patience.

And she deserved to be treated as a child, not as a collection of documents or a mystery adults needed to solve.

I reminded myself of that whenever my thoughts became overwhelming.

One afternoon, I sat in the house and looked around at the things that had changed since the adoption.

The home that had once seemed so empty now had a different feeling.

I had become accustomed to having a little girl beside me.

I had become accustomed to thinking about another person's needs before my own.

It wasn't always easy.

But I didn't regret it.

I remembered the day I had told the caseworker that I wanted to adopt Lily.

I remembered the surprised looks.

I remembered knowing that people might question my decision.

I had gone ahead anyway.

And I would make that same decision again.

I couldn't change the five families' decisions.

I couldn't go back and discover what had happened before I met Lily.

But I could make sure she had someone standing beside her now.

That mattered.

I also understood that loving her didn't mean pretending everything was perfect.

If the records contained something important, I needed to know.

If there had been a mistake during the adoption process, I needed to understand it.

And if there were questions that required further attention, I would face them.

I didn't want to live with uncertainty.

Not when it concerned my daughter.

I checked my telephone more often than I usually did.

I was waiting for the lawyer's next update.

Each time it remained quiet, I tried to return to whatever I had been doing.

I didn't want my entire life to become a waiting room.

Lily still needed ordinary things.

She needed someone to spend time with her.

She needed a home where she could feel comfortable.

And she needed a mother who wasn't going to disappear when life became difficult.

I had lost enough people to understand how painful absence could be.

I wasn't going to choose it for her.

That night, I looked at Lily and felt the same certainty I had felt at the group home.

I wanted her.

I loved her.

And I was going to keep learning whatever I needed to learn to protect her future.

I still didn't know what the missing records would ultimately mean.

But I no longer thought of the folder as something that could undo my decision.

It was something I needed to understand.

There was a difference.

And I was ready to face it.

Click here to continue reading: PART 13: I Had Finally Found Happiness Again, but the Questions About Lily’s Five Failed Adoptions Still Followed Me