What Can Happen in a Second - Julie Farrar

The humorless post-Soviet public official stamped our two sets of matching paperwork, one for Tonya and one for Nikolai, and in the instant between the last stamp and her handing them to us with what might pass for a smile in that grim room, Brad and I became parents. It was one second of unmitigated joy and relief. It temporarily wiped out all the months and weeks and days and minutes of anticipation that focused on meetings and forms and apostille stamps and having our life and our psyche picked apart to gain the approval from strangers who declare on some official documents that we are fit to be parents.

And in that one second we can’t see ahead to the multitude of other seconds that have yet to be locked in our memory. The undernourished body sitting in the tub with a head of lather piled six inches high and the huge smile that demonstrates perfect delight. The first time they come down the stairs on Christmas morning with a look that says they finally understand why there was a tree in the living room. The instant she drops on the field with a concussion. The second he crosses the finish line at his first race. The second it takes to slap her face out of anger and extreme frustration and the next second it takes to realize what I’ve done. The minute they step onto the podium as their names are called for their diplomas. And the moment the phone rings in the early hours of the morning with a strange voice saying “You can come pick up your son now.” The instant at the end of most phone calls when he says “Love you, Mom” and I say “I love you, too” as easily as breathing. No, those moments are yet to come as we revel in this single second for which we had been waiting.