Series II. Material from Joyce Hamilton Finch, 1930-1991, Oct. 26, 1961

Just after talking with Dr. Greene, her gynecologist in Lexington,

"Well, then what would you say the chances are?"

"Not more than 50 percent. Not good at all. In another six months or so, you should consider adoption."

I hung up the phone and stood looking out my kitchen window. It was not exactly a bleak or dreary day. The wind was cold, but the sky was clear and a couple of red roses were still blooming just next to a large group of mums, heavily loaded with buds. In spite of this, depression settled around my shoulders and the tears welled up -- and stopped, forming that lump in my throat. Even if it had been spring and the dry, brown grass had been a lush green, it would have meant little comfort. It is hard to face the fact that you and the man you love may not be able to create together a new life which takes on characteristics of each and draws you closer to each other. But self pity never drives away sorrow -- it seems to feed on gloom. There are others who, for one reason or another, face the opposite problem. A child to them is not a reason for rejoicing. Surely there will be a child whom we can love and provide for and as that love grows, it won't matter for very long (probably no longer than it takes to get one look at the child) that we are not the physical parents. I would not consider adoption until I knew that I could give a child the same love I would give to one I myself had born. Surely God will meet our needs, lift the feeling of depression and guide us into the completion of His will