Tears slid down my cheeks in a steady flow, creating tracks through my makeup and collecting at my chin until they released in fat droplets. The grey of my dress darkened where each one splattered on the fabric. I occasionally wiped at my chin, involuntarily brushing away tears that tickled my skin. I sat with my husband and our adoption social worker, and together we faced a selection of hospital representatives. The table was large for our small group, able to fit double the amount of current occupants. I was thankful that the wide span of the table created a gap between us so that I didn’t have to sit…