Pregnant Pause

by Han Nolan

  "She has a point there," Leo says. "Emma Rose may never be able to grow up and live on her own. You don't know yet, but that's a possibility."

  I get to my feet and hold on to my belly again. "Of course you'd say that. You were adopted. Of course you'd say that." I feel pissed.

  Leo stands, too, and he looks pissed right back, which is a new one, because Leo never gets pissed. "For your information, I don't always think giving your child up for adoption is the best idea. Some of us get stuck in bad foster homes or horrible orphanages, and lots of kids never get adopted. It's not the perfect solution everyone thinks it is. And some of my brothers and sisters have problems, big problems, because of things that happened to them before my parents got them. And one of my brothers my parents got when he was three days old, and he's still messed up. So, no, I don't think just because I was adopted that you should put your baby up for adoption, too."

  I touch Leo's arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm sorry, Leo."

  He lets out his breath and forces a smile. "I know you are. It just gets me sometimes. No offense, Elly, but girls get pregnant and figure it's no sweat, they'll just give it away. They'll just give it up for adoption. They figure some nice happy couple's going to take them the very next day and everything's going to be beautiful. But adoptive couples get divorced just like other couples, or they turn out to be abusive, or a foster parent abuses them. It's not perfect. It's not a perfect solution."

  I think of the parenting magazines with all the pretty people and the nice sane advice they give for even the craziest problems. It all sounds so easy in the magazines.

  "Nothing's perfect. Nobody's perfect," I say, and I think that maybe I expect life to be perfect, and Sarah and my parents to be perfect, and me to be perfect, but I'm so far from perfect it makes me hate myself a thousand times a day. Emma Rose isn't perfect, but she is to me. She's special to me. I accept her as she is. Why can't I accept myself?

  "We just have to accept that life is perfectly imperfect," Leo says.

  "My parents say that life only looks imperfect, but that's because we can't see the whole picture. Only God sees the whole picture. We see through a glass darkly."

  Just then my mom and dad come into the room. They look annoyed. "We've been looking all over for you," Dad says. Mom walks over and kisses my cheek.

  "I'm supposed to walk around today so I don't get blood clots in my legs," I say. Then I introduce my parents to Leo, but they remind me that they've already met.

  I wonder what my dad thinks of Leo, who's dressed in these goofball golf shorts made out of patchy material in all different colors. Also he's not wearing his Hawaiian shirt anymore, just the WeightAway shirt, with all the signatures on the back. I notice that he and my dad are the same height and build—real stringy with broad shoulders.

  Dad acts happy to see him again and he shakes his hand, so I figure he likes him. That's a first for my parents, actually liking one of my friends. We all talk a little bit, and Leo explains the back of his shirt. "The last week of camp, I wear it uncovered so the campers can see all the names and point out their own. They get a kick out of it." Leo shrugs, and Dad and Mom think it's a great way to encourage good deeds—one of their favorite topics. I smile. I'm happy to see the three of them together talking like adults and not the way my parents always were with Lam—like he was just this evil dude trying to lure their daughter into sinful deeds. I'm glad they came back, and I think that maybe, after they've gotten used to the idea, they'll want to stay in the States and help me raise Emma Rose.

  "So, where have you guys been?" I ask them during the lull in the conversation. "I thought you'd be here early this morning. It feels like everybody's deserting me." I laugh, kind of, but it does feel like that.

  "We've been exploring options for your baby and talking to a social worker."

  I frown. As far as I'm concerned, there are no other options. I'm going to raise Emma Rose. "So you're really going back to Kenya, then?"

  Mom and Dad exchange glances, and I know of course they will. That's their life's work. I get that, only I guess I kind of wish I was their life's work.

  Leo says he's got to be going, and he gives me a hug. I thank him for coming, and I tell him how much it means to me. "You're a great friend, Leo."

  "You, too, El," he says. "See you."

  It doesn't take long once I'm left with my mom and dad to get right into a discussion about putting Emma Rose up for adoption. My mom has bought a book about caring for Down syndrome children.

  "If you'll just read this, Eleanor, you'll see all the work that's involved. It's very, very difficult, even if you're an adult and you're married. Don't ruin your life. Don't ruin Emma Rose's. Do the right thing, El."

  "Raising any child is difficult. It's the hardest thing you'll ever do in your life," my dad adds. "You're just not ready for the responsibility yet."

  On and on, and blah, blah, blah.

  I don't tell them about Ziggy. They'd probably think living in Boston with him was the wrong thing to do. But Ziggy wants me and the baby. He told me so, and I know he'll take real good care of us. I'll get a job, and he'll create music, and someday he'll become famous and we'll live out in Hollywood, and Emma Rose and I will be hanging out with movie stars and their kids. That would show my parents. I just need to talk to Ziggy, then we can come together to my parents and tell them our plans—our dreams. I've got dreams! For once I don't mind looking into the future, because now the future includes Emma Rose. It includes Emma Rose, Ziggy, and me—a family.

  Chapter Thirty

  ANOTHER DAY in the hospital goes by, and the only visitor besides my parents is Leo. Ziggy's helping with the talent show and still dealing with the grieving campers. Even Leo can't stay long, because he comes on his break, and that just lasts an hour, and it takes twenty minutes to get here from the camp. I feel sad and lonely and strange, and I don't know what the strangeness is, except I'm still hurting over Banner's death. Every time I hurt or feel guilty, I try to really feel it the way Rabbi Yosef said to do, and it helps for a while, but it comes back again, so I find I have to keep "feeling" it over and over, just to get through the day. The one bright spot is Emma Rose, but now that's gotten all smeared with sadness because my parents are getting to me, and maybe they're right. I've read through most of the book on Down syndrome my mom bought me, and yeah, it does sound hard, really hard. Emma Rose will need to have physical therapy and speech and language therapy and occupational therapy, and the book says I should sign her up right away for this—like right now! The sooner the better. The one good thing is that the state and my insurance will pay for this, although the book said a lot of parents of Down syndrome babies have difficulties with insurance companies.

  I read that bonding with the baby is wicked important, and that I might not find out till later in my baby's life that she has something like epilepsy, which Down syndrome babies can have. And she needs an especially healthy diet, which can cost extra, so I need to read up on how to create healthy meals—and I can't even boil an egg. So I'm pulled in two directions. Do I find some couple all grown up with lots of money and happily married who wants a Down syndrome baby and give her to them, or do I keep her because I love her and I believe that when it comes down to it, nobody cares as much as I do about my baby? Nobody will take care of her any better than I would. I'll do whatever it takes, and I'll have Ziggy there to love me and help me. It will be the three of us together, a happy family. Yeah, if I could just talk to Ziggy and get straight with him what our plans are, then everything would be good, everything would be all right.

  I know I'm blinded by my love for Emma Rose, so I decide to call Sarah. I feel I need to talk to her, even though I'm not sure what I'm going to say or why I'm really calling.

  She picks up on the third ring.

  "It's me," I say.

  "Oh, Elly. What a disaster! Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left so fast. I should have said goodbye, but you don't know. I've been such a wreck. I had my hope
s so set—I just so wanted—I—I—What's wrong with us Crowe women, anyway? Down syndrome! Is that why I keep miscarrying? What will I do now? And my nursery. I can't even go past the door of that room. It's just devastating is what it is."

  All of this comes pouring out of her. No hello, no how are you, no how's the baby.

  "The doctor says it's nobody's fault."

  "Of course he says that. But you don't really believe him, do you?"

  "I don't know. Maybe I did do something wrong, or it's in the Crowe genes," I say. "Or maybe it's the Lothrops' side. Maybe they passed on some defective gene, or maybe it just happened, but who cares? She's beautiful, Sarah. Her name is Emma Rose. She smells so sweet, like sugar cookies, and she makes this cute little sound almost like a cat purring. I wish you had stayed. I wish you had seen her."

  She huffs into the phone. "She's brain damaged, El. She has Down syndrome. Do you really expect me to want my first and possibly my only child to have Down syndrome?"

  Sarah acts like I'm too dense to understand the words. "Yes, I know she has Down syndrome," I say. "So what? I'm thinking of keeping her myself."

  "You? Are you insane?"

  "Probably. I'm insanely in love with her, that's for sure."

  "Come on, Eleanor, why are you always like this? If there's a hard way or a wrong way to do something, why do you always have to pick it?"

  "Well, what do you think I should do with her?"

  "Give her away. Put her in an institution of some sort. Let people who know what they're doing handle it. Really, El. Really, you're too much sometimes."

  "Thanks, Sarah." I say this sincerely, not sarcastically, and I can tell by the tone of her voice that she's surprised by this.

  "You're welcome, but for what?"

  "For helping me make up my mind. For proving to me that I'm making the right decision. Have a nice life, Sarah, a nice safe, boring, perfect life."

  I hang up before Sarah can say another word and smile to myself. Yeah, it's going to be hard, and expensive, and I can't cook, and I don't have a job yet, but I have Emma Rose and Ziggy. Sarah and Mom and Dad don't know that. I have Ziggy, and we'll manage just fine.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  EMMA ROSE and I are supposed to be able to go home tomorrow morning, but I don't even know where home is anymore. My parents are staying in a hotel, and the Lothrops don't want me back at the cabin now that Lam's gone, and they're not interested in Emma Rose.

  There's a memorial service for Banner at the camp tonight. Banner's parents are having the funeral in New Jersey tomorrow, so they won't be there or anything, but there will be candles and singing and people talking about Banner. I want to be there. I beg the doctor to let me leave the hospital early. "You said I might be able to leave today, anyway, remember?" I say. I tell him that I'm feeling great (with the help of Ibuprofen), and that this is really important. He finally agrees to discharge me in the evening under my parents' supervision, but not Emma Rose. I can't get her until tomorrow.

  So now I'm free. I'm on my way to the service at the camp. My parents are driving me and attending the memorial service with me. I'm not allowed to drive for a while or have sex for six weeks (as if!), but I can take a full shower, and I'm excited about that. I feel like a total grunge. I'm also not allowed to lift anything heavier than Emma Rose.

  When we get to the camp, it feels like I've been gone for three weeks instead of three days. A whole crew of kids come up to me and hug me, and they want to see Emma Rose, and I have to tell them that I had to leave her in the hospital. "But she's so beautiful. Wait till you see. She's perfect," I say.

  They all say I look different now that I'm not so big, even though my stomach still sticks out a ways, but they look different, too. It's as if in the past three days the campers just dumped a ton of their weight into the lake or something. Maybe I just hadn't been noticing, but most of them have really lost a lot. One person who looks like she's gained some back is Ashley Wilson. She looks exhausted, too, and I figure she's feeling guilty for always picking on Banner. Now she can't ever take it back. Every awful thing she said will go with Banner to her grave. I feel so sorry for her, especially since I've picked on Ashley Wilson now and again just to get her back for the way she treated Banner.

  My parents head off to the main cabin to meet with the Lothrops. Probably so the four of them can come up with some scheme to get me to give away Emma Rose. When are they going to figure out their schemes always backfire?

  I go find Ashley Wilson and try to talk to her the way Rabbi Yosef talked to me. I don't think I explained it all that well, and she looks more miserable than ever. I'm afraid she might kill herself, too, because you never know how a person is really feeling. I know that now, so I give her a big hug and say, "God will forgive you no matter what," and she smiles at that and thanks me.

  I look everywhere for Ziggy, but I don't see him until the memorial service begins. We're all gathered at the lake, and we're standing in a line waiting to get our candles lit. The old lady, Lam's grandmother, is in her wheelchair behind me. She bangs into me with her chair, and instead of saying sorry or excuse me when I turn around to make a face at her, she says, "Why don't you look where I'm going?"

  "What? Me look where you're going? That's rich," I say, even more annoyed.

  The old bat cackles and I think maybe she was trying to be funny, but I'm not sure, so I decide to ignore her.

  Ziggy is one of two counselors lighting everybody's candles. We step up two at a time. I make sure I end up on Ziggy's side. I'm just so happy to see him that my heart is leaping for joy. As soon as it's my turn to step up to him, I get that zinging feeling, and we're not even touching each other. I smile and say hi. He looks so surprised to see me, and then he looks embarrassed and he stares at my candle when he says hi back.

  I know he's ashamed because he hasn't had time to get to the hospital, but I understand. He's trying to keep busy so he doesn't have to think about Banner. He and Leo and Jen tried to revive her, and they failed. He's sensitive, so I know that he's hurting.

  "I'm keeping the baby," I whisper, excited to be telling him this news. "We'll talk after."

  Ziggy nods but remains somber and looks past me to the next person in line.

  Once all the candles are lighted, we stand in a semicircle around the far end of the lake and Mr. Lothrop leads us in a prayer. The wind is low, so most of the candles stay lit. The stars are out and they're twinkling, and I remember how Banner loved that. I recall how she said she wanted to live here in the winter with a stack of books to read. Tears spill down my face.

  Ziggy leads us in singing "Today," which was Banner's favorite camp song, and by the time we're singing the lines "I can't be contented with yesterday's glories, /1 can't live on promises winter to spring. / Today is my moment and now is my story, /I'll laugh and I'll cry and I'll sing," everybody's weeping, even my parents.

  Then it's time for people to get up and say something about Banner, and Mrs. Lothrop starts it by saying how polite Banner always was and how much she loved Rufus the cat. Then some of the girls in Banner's cabin talk about Banner's favorite book, The Secret Garden, and how Banner would say that someday she was going to have a secret garden just like the one Mary Lennox found. They tell about the day Banner did the splits both ways, and they say that was amazing. One little girl, maybe eight years old, steps forward, and she says, "I think Banner was very pretty and she had very pretty long hair."

  Then Leo steps forward. He blows out his candle, so it's harder to see him really well, even though I'm standing pretty close to him.

  "I have no idea what I'm about to say," he begins, "but I've been thinking a lot about what happened. I know we all have." He lowers his head and lets out his breath. His cheeks puff out when he does this. He takes another breath and looks out at all of us.

  "Uh—I feel really guilty about Banner. I feel like I should have done more. I should have listened more and hugged her more. I should have taken her more seriously wh
en she told me she was unhappy. I know that a lot of us feel this way. We feel responsible for what happened, and I think we should." Leo pauses and clears his throat. "We're all responsible for each other for lots of things. Most importantly, we depend on each other for companionship, for friendship. And I think sometimes we can take friendship for granted. I don't think Banner did, because she didn't have too many friends. She was a nice girl, but let's face it, she was a whiner."

  I hear whispering when Leo says this, and I'm wondering if they're agreeing or they're just so shocked that he said something negative about Banner. Maybe it's both, because that's how I feel.

  "Banner was so afraid, wasn't she? And maybe some of us made fun of her because of this, but we didn't realize how much it would hurt."

  Leo lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose to keep from crying.

  He sniffs and takes a deep breath at the same time. Then he lifts his head.

  "There are lots of Banners in this world, and we can't help ourselves—we pick on them, and we say things that we shouldn't, but these types of people just bring it out of us." Leo shakes his head. "I don't know what we can do about that, except remember Banner, and catch ourselves before we speak."

  Leo pauses and relights his candle. He holds it up, and everybody else just automatically holds theirs up like Leo's about to make a toast.

  "So I guess what I want to say is that we have to pay attention to one another. We have to have compassion for one another. I know that's sappy, but we do. And we have to remember everything we say matters, and sometimes a lot more than a person will let on. We have to know that! Banner taught us that. It's so easy to toss some words out there without any thought. And we just don't realize the damage those careless words can do. So, that's what I'm going to remember. I'm going to remember Banner at her best. Let's just all of us always remember Banner."

  Okay, so I'm crying like crazy now, and my candle's out because I cried on it. Leo just said everything I was thinking, even though I didn't know I was thinking it until he said it.