My baby and I were denied boarding, but an 83-year-old grandmother saved us.
It was a real-life nightmare. Four days before, my wife had died giving birth to our daughter. The fact that Mary hadn’t even had a chance to hold our child was still hard for me to believe. All I wanted was to get home.
“Is this child really yours, sir?” the gate agent asked angrily.
Of course she is. She is only four days old. “Now, please let me pass,” I replied, my voice trembling with frustration and fatigue.
Sorry, sir, but you can’t go on board. “She’s way too young,” she said coldly.
What I heard startled me. “What do you say? You mean I’ve had to stay stuck here? I have no one in this city. My wife died not long ago! It’s imperative that I return home today!
Before going on to the next traveler, she simply said, “That’s the rule, sir.”
At that moment, I was truly worn out. I had no words to describe my feelings. It would be days before a formal document could be obtained. and I had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I had only my kid and myself.
I had already made the decision to sleep on a bench at the airport with my baby on my chest, but then it came to me that maybe there was only one person in the world who could help.
For me, time was running out. A few minutes prior, a hospital in a different state had called to let me know that a baby girl had just been born and that I was listed as the father on the birth certificate.
At first, I thought it was a cruel joke. I knew that my wife had been in the region for a little trip that I had secretly planned for her while I was renovating our house to surprise her.
Despite never having biological children, Mary and I had adopted three little beauties since adoption had always been a major part of our life’s purpose. The modifications were required since we had to expand our home to make room for them.
I had a particular place in my heart for this cause. As a foster child myself, I grew up promising to one day give others a home. “I will have truly done something if I can help these kids become the best versions of themselves,” I used to tell my wife.
In addition to our adopted children, I had two young adults from my first marriage to Ellen. Our marriage abruptly fell apart when she deceived us by hiring our own pool contractor. After a challenging breakup, I wanted to build a stable family again, but I was wary.
Mary and I met two years later. Before we were married, we dated for several months. No matter how hard we tried, nature never produced a child. We therefore looked into adoption while we were still hoping for a pregnancy. Then, one day, the miraculous happened: Mary was expecting a baby.
In preparation for this eagerly awaited delivery, I started making major renovations: a nursery, an extra room, a house ready to handle a newborn’s cries and laughter. I also took my wife to a place she had always wanted to see in order to help her unwind before the big day.
But she had only barely arrived when she started to have severe labor. She died of complications after giving birth to our child while being taken to the hospital.
I was instructed to pick up the infant immediately. With my emotions divided between the awful reality of losing Mary and the excitement of meeting my daughter, I packed my bags and boarded the first flight.
I immediately rushed to the hospital after landing. Meredith, an 83-year-old volunteer and recent widow, greeted me there. I followed her into her office.
“I sincerely apologize for your loss,” she added softly. Unable to control my grief, I broke down. “I understand you’re here to take your child, but I need to make sure you’re able to care for her,” Meredith said after letting me cry in private.
I clarified that I was a father already. She gave me her phone number, reassured me, and nodded. She said, “Call me if you need help.” On the day of my departure, she even volunteered to drive me to the airport.
Another challenge arose a few days later when my daughter and I were getting on the plane.
The gate agent repeated, “Sir, is this child truly yours?”
“She is, of course! She is just four days of age.
I apologize, sir. You can’t travel until she is at least seven days old, and you have to show her birth certificate. The rule is that.
I was taken aback. Was I meant to remain stranded here by myself, without family or friends?
When I thought of Meredith, I was prepared to spend the night at the airport, holding my infant to my bosom. I grabbed my phone.
“Meredith… I need your assistance.
She immediately came to pick us up and invited us into her house. Her generosity overwhelmed me. She housed us for more than a week, assisted me with Mary’s body repatriation, and supported me throughout my first moments as a father. She was a real angel to me. My daughter would instantly settle at the sound of her voice, suggesting that even she sensed her kindness.
Meredith had four adult children, seven grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren, as I discovered during the course of the days. We took walks to calm our hearts, took care of the infant together, and paid tribute to her late spouse. She reminded me of the mother I had long since lost.
I was finally allowed to go home after obtaining my daughter’s birth certificate. However, I continued to communicate with Meredith. Every year, my daughter and I went to see her.
Up till the day she died quietly. I was informed by a lawyer at her funeral that she had left me, along with her children, her inheritance.
I decided to give this portion to a nonprofit that was established with her kids in remembrance of her great generosity. The oldest of them was Shirley, with whom I became close over the years. After our relationship blossomed into love, she became my life’s wife and the mother of my six kids.
