I’d been a hard-driving reporter and happily single. But now I was ready for something more.

by Sheila Stainback

Each day when I return home from work, I hear Charles’s soft, baby voice: “Mommy, my mommy.” I always reply, “My baby, my baby.” He presses his nose against mine and encircles my neck in his tiny arms. It’s our routine as I take over from his caregiver and resume the most rewarding job of my life—being a mother. “I can see I’m going to have to start putting away money for that child’s psychiatrist bills.” That was the reaction of a friend when I told him I had decided to adopt. As a hard-driving TV journalist, I had never struck anyone as a person who would make time for a child. Close associates confessed that my nickname was “Ice Queen”…

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