I wheeled into the driveway of my condo complex…

From August 19th, 2008

I wheeled into the driveway of my condo complex after a grueling, mind-clearing Saturday morning bike ride along the beach. The Santa Monica sun climbed overhead, forecasting one of summer’s warmer days. Sweat poured over me. Literally exhausted, I unlocked the gate to the storage area. Then I saw Mary…

Mary was crying on the sidewalk in front of the building. It was a silent, but honest cry. There were no wails, no moans, and no big demonstration. She was just standing there motionless with quiet tears flowing down her cheeks and off her face. Immediately, I knew why. Mary had given up her baby.

Mary, a foster mom was on the sidewalk on the passenger side of a big, black expensive SUV. Another woman, I didn’t recognize stood in the street on the driver’s side of the vehicle; two mothers in love with the same child. The SUV, with Mary’s baby boy snugly and securely strapped in the back seat, separated them.

The two women’s eyes were locked onto each other’s. Mary had been here before; there was always sadness with her having to give up her babies. But this time was different. She’d fallen in love with the baby boy. The new Mom was negotiating unfamiliar emotional turf. She made a heartfelt, earnest plea to Mary. “Call anytime you want to,” she said. “I mean it. Early in the morning, it doesn’t matter. Visit whenever you want.” Mary nodded through her tears.

Mary’s latest child, the baby boy now in the back seat of the SUV stole the hearts of the neighbors in our complex. Mary had other babies before, but this baby, with those eyes, and that smile, the self-awareness, became my favorite. He was our baby. He fit our little community until now.

My bike ride had been to flesh out some of my ”problems.” Simple situations complicated by unnecessary drama. Mentally and physically exhausted, I still had not settled on any “answers,” but, with the drama of Mary, the new mom and the baby cuddled into the back seat, I cancelled the sit-com running in my head.

The new Mom could not leave. She tried. She paced back and forth from the driver’s door then back to Mary. Once the new Mom actually reached for the handle, opened it and then couldn’t get in. She let the door slide closed again. All the time her eyes were connected to Mary’s. Finally, with nothing more to say, she got into the big vehicle. The SUV with Mary’s baby rolled off down the street and into other lives.

Joining Mary on the sidewalk, I gave her a big hug.

She told me, “I’ve had him longer than any of the others. This is the most difficult good-bye.”

”Yes, he’s special.” I agreed.

I held on to her. She managed, “He’s going to a great family.”

We broke up our little pity party and headed to our respective condo’s. My mind, churning again, wouldn’t stop thinking of the baby boy. Born into some adverse circumstance he’d already gotten a lifetime of love from two mothers and a condo building full of well-wishers in just his first ten months of life. I hoped the love would continue to flow for him. I thought of the new Mom, a warm, seemingly loving human being, who was empathic enough to temper her excitement for herself, her family and their new loved one with compassion for Mary’s loss. My mind ran to Mary whose love is so strong, it allows her to give the babies up so others can love them as well. I tried to remember why I’d been so bombed earlier in the morning and I couldn’t or I wouldn’t. It didn’t matter anymore.