I sat in the crowded terminal wringing the magazine in my hands. My husband took it from me then, telling me to relax. She walked out carrying a bundle, a mass of black stick-straight hair protruding from the blankets, and I knew it had to be him. The tears erupted immediately as we walked hand in hand to meet her. She smiled compassionately and handed him to me before saying a word. He looked up at us, and I say he smiled, my husband says he was to young to smile and it was only gas. All my fears about being able to love him as much as my daughter dissipated as he squirmed in my arms. I filled out the final paperwork joyfully, and packed up our new son so we could take him home.