My other baby

I almost adopted a baby yesterday. Okay, almost is a bit of an exaggeration, but I made a valiant effort.

This experience shouldn't surprise those of you who know me well. As a teenager, I contacted the 20/20 producers to see if I was eligible to adopt children featured on a show about Romanian orphanages. (Short answer: No. Long answer: No way in h...) On my mission, I often daydreamed about packing a neglected child home in my suitcase along with my ridiculous assortment of local knick-knacks.

But this time, adopting actually made sense. I am old enough. I am married. I even have the baby gear. So when my friend told me about a baby girl whose mother had fled the hospital after giving birth, my heart broke. These stories always make me sad, but after Baby Zee, I'm extra protective of little ones.

I instantly assumed that this baby was meant for me - after all, we were expecting a baby girl next month, so we couldn't say it was bad timing. Mr. Dub, however, wasn't so sold on the idea. (Not that he's against adoption; he just thinks we should finish up our own baby-making before we consider it.) But I had to explore the possibility - I mean, wouldn't you?

Me: "Hi, this is weird, but I had a friend tell me about a baby born at your hospital the other day whose mother abandoned her. I can't stop thinking about her. I was just wondering if someone had come forward to take her."

Nurse: "Yep." (click.)

And like that, my baby girl was gone. I shouldn't be surprised; every time an infant is abandoned here, which is way too often, like 400 people ask to adopt it. But since I'm a bit dramatic, I actually felt a little sad. In those 12 hours I'd considered it, I'd made grand plans for our future together, which may have involved a pony and some apple picking.

To make me feel better, my friend assured me the baby had been ridiculously chunky - like, stop traffic chunky. And that didn't even help.

Maybe next time.