Surviving an adoption gone wrong - the story of our 'could-be' child

For two years as a family and as a mother I prayed for, longed for and cried for a new baby in our home. The desire of our heart was to bring to our home-fold a baby born outside our known bounderies. Perhaps someone who needed us just as much as we needed them. So for two long years, we filled in papers, got sorry emails and pursued absolute dead-ends in our pursuit for a baby-sister. We were once given an option for a male child, but we preferred a female child, knowing that many of them dont survive beyond the womb and many of those who do, don't beyond their first few weeks on this planet.
Just as we were giving up all hope, we got one bright call, for a bright-eyed girl. Joy rang in our home, it would soon be filled with sounds of laughter and baby talk! We sent as much information as we could, and equally received all they knew. The two months dragged on, and we could hardly wait for the journey to be over. A was super excited he would get a baby-sister and we kept talking about her and praying for her.
The institute sent us pictures of the baby, and to me she already looked like one of us. It would be wonderful, that day when we'd be able to hold her ourselves! At the end of those long months, they finally gave us permission to come, she was now well enough to travel. We frantically bought baby clothes and tried thinking what essentials could we get there. We started booking tickets, thinking of the least coldest days to travel back. But alas, it was never meant to be. We couldn't get tickets anyhow, no matter what means of transport we thought of. Probably the only option left was to take a boat and travel the entire coastline of this peninsular country. How strange, we thought to ourselves, still we prayed, and hoped, and waited. Till the news came to us that we just couldn't.
At once our plans crumbled, i fell ill for months altogether. We no longer wanted to talk about it or even pray about it. The clothes we bought seemed to mock us and we stored them away to be given as gifts in the future. We stopped talking about the baby to A, and he would ask us when she'd come. Not anymore, was our dismal reply. The house grew quiet, Christmas came and crept away. The only adorments we put up were handcrafted words- HOPE, PEACE and JOY, hoping that these would find a way into us.
Our life took on its grind anew, and slowly we put our minds away from the gloom and fog that enshrouded our days.
I stored all these things in a corner of my heart, away from my mundane living. Till it came back haunting me a few days ago. In the death and stillness of the night, I sat up and whispered farewell to my sweet little could-be girl. I finally got the God-sent courage to give her back, to send her on her way to a bright, new, unknown future, with somebody else who would rejoice over her. It was like putting a little seed, dried up and dead into the ground, giving up claims of it forever, to bloom and be what it is meant to be in its own way.
And with that healing wound, to trust that God knows our ways, and to rejoice in all circumstances, I am able to take the next step up to life.

Good night

Here at noon, with a resplendent sun shining just a few meters away from where I lounge, the mountains hiding behind mist and glare, little J.P. scooting into the now empty wardrobe says in his melodious voice, ' good-night sweetheart'