"No, I can't - I'm saving up to buy a baby."

Like that title? That's what my friend Jen used to say about spending large amounts of money. She always made funny remarks about her not having kids. "I wish I would have known earlier that I can't have kids," she'd say. "I wouldn't have spent all that money on birth control. I'd have gotten jewelry."

Jen has a way. She is a very comforting, validating friend (just what I like). She is extremely thoughtful. She was a pro at joking about not having kids. It was part of her way - making others feel at ease after making some asinine comment about, "Why don't you have kids yet?" The things people would say to her made me want to wretch. Very insensitive. But she played it off. "Are you kidding? Kids? I wouldn't have time to watch all the shows that I've TiVo-ed."

What a great way to make a situation comfortable for others. Brighten up an entire situation.

Not like on Mother's Days.

Or during baby blessings.

Or hearing a testimony about, "I thought I knew what love was when I got married, but now I KNOW that you'll never know what love is until you have a child."

Or most Sundays.

Or any other time when her emptiness consumed her.

She has Waldo. And they are more in love with each other than most couples I've ever met. Their open affection for one another ranks among newlyweds, and they'll celebrate 9 years of marriage this December. (I've known Waldo since I was 15 years old. We met at an EFY in Indiana, kept in touch through letters, another EFY in Michigan, lost touch, and met up again in Student Government at UVSC. Then we, completely unbeknownst to one another, built houses right next door to each other.) He takes care of her. And he always answered the door when I'd bring her a Mother's Day card, along with some treat. I hoped she'd want to visit, but deep down I knew better. That's how it was the week preceeding and the week following. Not a merry May.

Jen was not one to be bitter towards those with children. She spoiled my kids rotten. Especially li'l ~j.. They had a very unique relationship which ran like this: li'l ~j. would knock on Jen's door and ask if she could please go to the store with her. Jen would either tell li'l ~j. to go home, or start making plans to go to the store. She'd grab her planner and purse and sunglasses and keys and come over to get li'l ~j.'s car seat. Once at the store, or mall, or wherever, li'l ~j. would say, "My brain just popped an idea. How about...(dramatic pause)... you buy me whatever I want." And Jen would say, "mmm...Okay." Once, shortly after Superstar was born and I needed a nap, Jen took li'l ~j. 'out' and li'l ~j. came back with a pair of sunglasses, some lip gloss, three pairs of shoes and a haircut. Jen also has taken my girls to the snowcone stand at the corner of Center Street & Geneva Road, something I've never even done.

Jen's an expert at Aunting - she wrote an awesome paper about it.

Jen was waiting, waiting, waiting to hear from her social worker about whether any birthmoms had chosen them. Their profile had been looked at a lot, but no more than that. We would talk about my being a mom and her not being a mom. And we'd hear about some Courtney Love-esque star being a mom and say, "Yeah, that's fair." Or young girls who got pregnant...

Last summer, Jen found out that her friend Lola's husband's little sister, Fiona, was pregnant. (Yes, I have changed these names, and I have to and I want to. Bear with me.) About 16 or 17, I think. The boyfriend took off. Jen said to me, at that time, "Maybe Fiona will give me her baby."

Last September, Jen, li'l ~j. & I went to Sandy to attend the Scarecrow Festival (don't ask) to watch Lola's daughter dance in a dance recital. And there was a petting zoo. And churros. Anyway, Fiona was there, too. I didn't say anything to let on that I knew she was pregnant, but Jen talked to her, and, as is her way, made her feel very comfortable just being who she is. Jen had the understanding that Fiona had already chosen an adoptive family for the baby, and, although they were both working with the same agency, that family wasn't Jen & Waldo.

In November, the Galans moved to Texas, city of Mexico (or something like that) due to W's army job. Fast forward to March - Jen calls me and, for the first time ever, I ignore my cell phone ringing. (It was all the way upstairs in the kitchen...) When I check the message later, it was Jen yelling, "PICK UP! PICK UP YOUR PHONE!! CALL ME! CALL ME RIGHT NOW!". When I reached her, her voice had the same tone, "I'M GETTING A BABY!". I cried. All she knew was that the baby was due to be born in a little less than three weeks, and that Waldo was training 'in the field', so no one knew where he was. She couldn't reach him. Her cell phone battery promptly died. She knew she had to come to Utah to pick the baby up, didn't know yet if it was a boy or a girl. And she knew that the birth mother was Fiona.

Fiona had apparently not completely settled with any family, and came across Jen & Waldo's profile..."Oh, I remember her...". And as she discussed it with her mother, they couldn't stop the tears. They had found the baby's family. And their previous connection had nothing to do with it. This was the right family.

Jen's frantic call to me was on a Monday. That baby girl that was due in three weeks was instead born two days later, on Wednesday. By Friday, Jen & Waldo had driven to our house and were getting ready to pick up the baby.

Fiona took the baby home for a few days. The placement was to occur on Easter Sunday evening. I had the privilege of going to the placement. Since I'm 'not family' (whatever) I couldn't be in the actual room; I just waited in the social worker's office. But I felt it as it was happening.

The Spirit stormed into the room where I was sitting, followed by the sound of a mother handing over her firstborn. It is a crying moan, a weeping and wailing of Biblical proportions. I have heard this sound only twice before; once made by me and once by my cousin, Heather. I hope to never hear it again. It was excruciating. I can't even write about it without shaking. Tears streamed down my face, and I instantly, automatically, prayed: "Heavenly Father, HELP HER. Helpherhelpherhelpher. Comfort her. She's doing the right thing. Help her. She's the bravest, most loving soul on the earth right now. Help her."

Shortly after that, I heard people leaving and then Jen & Waldo came in to the room where I was, carrying little Georgia Grace Galan. The ride back to my house was bittersweet. We had all just been emotionally floored. While it was what they had been waiting for for all those years, there wasn't that fairy-tale feeling that we had perhaps expected. It's one of those experiences that's not really discussed. But it's part of the story, and that's why I write it.

Gigi, or, "Bee-bee Joo-jah", as Curly had named her, is beautiful. She looks like Waldo, actually. Jooj. That's what I call her.

I'll see them in about a month when they come up to Utah to finalize the adoption and then immediately go to the Temple to be sealed together for time and all eternity.

I don't really know what else to say. I don't have a witty ending to my story. A friend that I have met through this blogging-world is currently dealing with adoption issues that are more than I would ever wish on anyone, and I've been praying for her and her situation. And she's been on my mind. I guess that's one reason I wanted to write this.

Also...I'll just put my plea out there to watch what you say to people about their children, or lack thereof. People don't want to hear, "Are all those kids YOURS???" "You can't possibly have enough [time/money/love] to take care of all those children!" "You're not going to have any more, are you?" And people don't want to hear, "How long have you been married -- and you don't have kids?" "Don't you want children?" "Just relax, and you'll get pregnant." I don't know exactly the right words to say, but I've heard the wrong ones far too often.