She slid the bill to me. I looked at the check. Then I looked at her—and smiled. Actually,” I said, “Ryan and I just got the call. We’ve been matched. A baby girl. She’s being born tomorrow. We fly out in the morning.” Silence.
Then I stood up, left $25 for my meal, and said, “This is my first Mother’s Day too. Being childless doesn’t make me your wallet. Or your punchline.” The next day, I held my daughter for the first time. Her name is Maya. And when she wrapped her tiny fingers around mine, I knew: I didn’t need to prove I was a mother. I just needed her.