She wanted to hold her son forever. But Jennifer was right. She knew she was doing something good that went against her instincts, and she had to trust that what she was doing for her son would be the best for him, even if it tore her heart in two.

She moved to the window, the sunlight peeking through the shades, and whispered, “I wish I could name you. I wish I could just do that so that you’d always have something I gave you.”

And then, as if the glow of the sunlight from the Indiana sky was shining like a Bethlehem star, she remembered something from the TV show she’d watched. The teenager Mary hadn’t chosen her Son’s name. It was given by the angel who was sent to her. In a strange way, that comforted her and as she stood next to the window, she whispered a prayer.

“God, if You’re there, watch over him and protect him.”

As soon as she said the words, the door opened and a nurse entered the room. Melissa took a final look at her son, then turned and took six steps toward the woman in nursing scrubs. Those steps felt like a marathon, her legs heavy, like she was climbing the last steps up Mount Everest. When she reached the nurse, she gently put the baby in her arms and whispered, “Here you go.”

The nurse took him, held him tightly, but lingered for a moment as if she knew what was happening and how hard that final walk was. Melissa stepped back, her eyes locked on the child. And as she felt her emotions giving way, she looked at the woman and nodded.

As if given permission, the nurse turned and walked out the door.

Arms empty now, Melissa stared at the hall, struggling to breathe. She closed her eyes and turned away, putting a hand to her face. And through the tears and the sobs that came, she whispered another prayer.

“Please don’t let him hate me. And please let me see him again someday.”

She closed the door and sank to the floor and hoped no one would hear her crying.

Susan retrieved the diaper bag as soon as they parked at the hospital. Jimmy grabbed the baby blanket and they walked hand in hand as evening shadows fell. It almost felt like she was walking on air as she entered the hospital.

Jennifer, from the adoption agency, met them and hugged Susan. She passed them off to a hospital representative, Scott Davidson, who escorted them to the meeting room.

“Do you do this kind of thing a lot?” Jimmy said as they rode up the elevator.

“Not as much as I’d like,” he said. “Sure beats budget meetings, I’ll tell you that.”

“With your experience,” Susan said, “how often does it happen that . . . ?” She couldn’t finish the sentence.