Mum, Dad, hello, you asked us to come over, whats happened? Emily and her husband Tom burst into their parents flat.
It had actually begun weeks ago. Mum was ill, battling a serious illness in its second stage.
She had just finished a round of chemotherapy, then radiation. She was in remission and a few strands of hair had started to grow back. But it was far too early to relax; her condition was deteriorating again.
Emily, Tom, good evening, come in, called Mum, pale and slight as a schoolgirl.
Children, have a seat, said Dad, a little unsettled. We have an unusual request. Please listen to Mum.
Emily and Tom sank onto the sofa, eyes fixed on their mother. Irene sighed, glanced at her husband Boris, as if seeking his support.
Emily, Tom, dont be surprised, but what Im about to ask is rather odd. In short were asking you both.
Adopt a boy for us, please! Were too old, and there are other reasons.
A heavy silence fell.
Then their daughter spoke first:
Mum, I think youll be shocked. Weve been meaning to tell you for a long time but were afraid. Tom and I really want a son, and we already have two granddaughters your grandchildren, Grace and Lucy.
Theres no guarantee the third child will be a boy, but its not just that; my health is failing.
Emma had a Caesarean. The doctors say I shouldnt have any more children. Weve even thought about adopting a little boy from a childrens home.
A little son, to bring into our family. And now youre telling us the same thing, Mum. Where do you get these ideas?
Emily, I dont even know where to start, Irene ran a trembling hand through the hair that was just beginning to sprout, the truth is, Ive felt worse again.
Just then my old friend, Aunt Nadia from my previous job, walked in. Remember her? She used to have a large mole over one eye that almost covered it.
They warned her it might turn malignant and needed removal. Yet when Nadia arrived, the mole was gone and she looked perfectly fine.
Shed been travelling to her grandmother Zinas cottage in the countryside and started talking to her there. Nadia and I decided to drive to Zinas; shes wellknown in the region, helping people from all over. I thought, why not?
Emily and Tom listened, breath held, but could barely follow where she was going.
So, children, Irene continued, Grandmother Zina asked me a strange question straight away: do I have a son?
When she learned I only have one daughter, Emily, and two beloved granddaughters, Grace and Lucy, Zina pressed further: what about the daughter?
I was stunned, because nobody besides my husband and me knows I suffered a lateterm miscarriage. There should have been a boy, my firstborn, for you, Emily. He didnt survive, Irene fidgeted nervously at the edge of her shirt.
And then? Emily asked, eyes wide.
Then Grandmother Zina said exactly what I needed to hear: adopt a boy. I went home in tears, feeling as if I were to blame for not keeping that first son alive.
Now I must give warmth and love to another child, to restore the balance that was broken.
And you know what? I realised I truly want this. My husband and I can give a child both love and everything he needs.
It isnt about my recovery; its a conscious wish to save a little life from orphanhood and loneliness. Do you understand?
Mum, I hear you, Im with you completely, Emily said, tears streaming, lets do it.
Emily and Tom had already spoken with the director of the local childrens home about adopting a little boy, and they were invited to meet the children.
Irene and Boris, of course, went along. In the playroom, children three and older were scattered on a carpet, laughing.
Mum, look, that blond boy looks just like you, see how carefully he builds a tower? He even sticks his tongue out in concentration, Emily whispered, pointing to a small boy on the floor.
Irene looked and liked him too. Suddenly, from a corner, a soft, indistinct voice rose.
Irene turned in the side of the room stood an older boy with sad eyes, whispering.
Did you hear me? Could you speak up a little? I didnt catch that, Irene asked.
The boy stepped forward and repeated, Auntie, please, take me. I promise youll never regret it. Take me
Emily and Tom quickly completed the paperwork and adopted James. Grace and Lucy were overjoyed to have a little brother.
James settled in fast, calling Emily Mum and Tom Dad. He spent many afternoons with Grandma Irene and Granddad Boris, whose home was just a short walk from school.
He oddly called Irene Mum Irene, never Grandma. She watched him, breath held, feeling as if he were the son she had lost.
Doctors insisted Irene start a new treatment cycle, but it only made her feel worse.
James looked into her eyes, his short hair brushing her cheek.
Mum Irene, why are you sick? I want you to get better!
I dont know, James, thats how it goes, but Ill try to recover, I promise, Irene smiled at the way he called her Mum Irene.
Boris spoke with the surgeon, who pushed for an operation.
What are the odds? Boris asked.
The doctor was blunt:
Fiftyfifty. Well do everything we can, and that will save her.
So Boris and Irene decided to go ahead.
On the day of the operation everyone was on edge. Emily kept calling her husband. He arranged with the surgeon to be kept informed, and Boris felt like he was perched on a pin.
He didnt realise at first where James had disappeared. He found the boy in their bedroom, near Irenes robe, huddled on the floor, his face buried in the fabric, sobbing:
Mum Irene, dont go, I cant lose you again, please! Stay with me forever, Mum!
The phone rang, startling both Boris and James.
The surgeons voice was tired, almost defeated, and Boris felt his heart sink.
Is it over? Did Irene survive the operation?
This is Dr. Michael Hart. The surgery was difficult, but she made it through. Your wife held on.
She was on a razors edge, something Ive never seen, as if a higher hand was guiding her when her life seemed about to snap.
Congratulations, shes still with us, theres still a reason to go on
Thank you, thank you, Doctor! Boris embraced James.
Youve understood, shes fine, our Mum Irene is alive! What a relief, youre here, boy.
Sorry, I heard you praying for Mum Irene, thank you, my dear son!
