When we first learned he was coming to us, we weren't sure we were ready for him.

I suppose many parents have felt that way, since time began.

But as he began to grow, he became more and more our child.

By Halloween, we couldn't wait for our last child, our little boy to be born.

Some had criticized us for our choice, for having such a large family through birth and adoption.

But our closest family, including our closest friends, didn't censure us. They believed that what was best for us was best.

Good families do.

And when we found out that the good and kind woman who carried our baby inside her body for nine months for us was going through a divorce, no one who truly loved us said, well, that's what you get when you do such risky business. They felt sympathy for her, because she had chosen to be a surrogate mother for this little boy, when a judge awarded custody of her own two children to the man who had promised more than ten years before to love her in sickness and health, forever. And though not every single member of her family had supported her choice to be a surrogate, they supported her in adversity.

Good families, even flawed ones, do.

Both our families worried, for her and for us.

The problem, as I've written here before, wasn't hers alone.

Under the law, in every state, that man was presumed to be the father of our baby, too. If the husband of our surrogate mother had chosen, he could have asserted a right to our child. He didn't, but he could have. We couldn't have stopped him, even though our baby wasn't related to him in any way biologically, even though he grew from a frozen embryo conceived by us years before.

But our baby didn't know what controversy swirled around him. He was born healthy and beautiful. We named him Atticus, for a just man in a wonderful story == in part because we hoped fervently that justice would be done for us, that the names on our little boy's birth certificate would be his rightful parents.

We'd moved, just two months earlier, away from the ocean of grass to the ocean in fact, away from the place we'd spent all our adult lives to a place we chose for wonderful things it offered, including a greater simplicty. There was so much there that we loved and still love.

But when Atticus was born, something that adventured in us turned homeward.

We wanted the security of familiar faces, even those we had learned to take for granted. I wanted my niece and nephew, my brother and his wife. I wanted my grown son. My husband wanted his dad. Our children remembered how dear the tired halls of their school had been.

What drives the heart?

It wasn't fear so much as longing. We longed for the safe and the familiar because the wholeness of our family felt threatened; and family, though it may not be perfect or ideal, adventurous or glorious, is the one thing we know is good, if it is good.

Because we had strong family ties, we could leave. Our brothers wished we would stay; but they wished us well. Because we had strong family ties, we could come home. The same people who had told us goodbye welcomed us home.

Three weeks after Atticus was born, he and I and our middle son came home. Atticus had no birth certificate. Our lawyer, Melissa Brisman, had asked the court not to issue him a birth certificate until the court heard our side.

One week ago, that court, in the beautiful and sane state of Massachusetts -- where a part of me will always remain, where I hope one day to spend a part of my life -- took our side and allowed the names of the parents on Atticus's birth certificate to be ours.

Two days ago, our little girls and our two-year-old came home with a family friend.

Two days from now, after our college son finishes his last exam at the college he'd come to love, my husband and son will be here.

It won't be a lavish holiday. The presents under the tree this year are few. Moving away and back again is an expensive proposition, and no one will cry, "You shouldn't have!" at the extravagance of the presents. The gifts will be simple, but we will appreciate them. The meal will be simple, but we will have it all together, safe with Atticus in our arms.

We'll have our lawyer, Melissa, to thank for her thoughtfulness and skill.

We'll have Arty, who stayed strong and brought our baby into the world, to thank, always. The judge who intially gave sole custody of her children to her husband stuck to that decision; but she is appealing it, hoping to have at least a greater role in her children's life, if not the role she had before she decided to help us give Atticus life. She has faith that the good she did will not be so punished, not for good. Her family does as well.

We'll be home for Christmas. Our hearts are filled with gratitude in this season of thanks. And we hope that come next year, Arty's heart will be home as well.

Jackie Mitchard