by Laci Maskell
I feel so nervous I could vomit. I don’t know what to say to these people. Luckily my mom does. She introduces herself, my dad, and me. Kristina tells us to open it up for free discussion.
Fred and Nancy ask some rudimentary questions about my pregnancy, the baby’s development, and so on. I listen, not intently, and try to figure out what to say to these people. My dad asks Fred and Nancy about where they live, their jobs, the school districts, all those other important things. I feel like I should be taking notes. The test is who to give my baby to, so taking notes and being prepared should be vital. Realizing this, I do my best to shake off my nerves and get involved in the conversation.
Fred and Nancy have no kids at the time being but they wish to have four of them. They live in Lincoln and work as an English Professor and a clerk at the courthouse. Much of this I learned on the website but it is nice to hear in person. They talk about their parents, who would be my baby’s grandparents, their siblings and nieces and nephews they have. They are extremely nice, so nice it’s weird, but I guess they are trying to impress us, or me. Before, when we were in Kristina’s office, she said something about getting a vibe from the couples. I’m not sure what she meant about this, but I think I’m getting there. While they talk to my parents I try to imagine them with my baby and how they will raise it. The picture I get is of two very clean cut people with a messy baby. I know that people can change and I’m sure that people work with a baby when they raise them, but I get the feeling that Fred and Nancy like their lifestyle so much the way it is, they may not want their child to be free spirited. And while I cannot judge them, or fault them for this, I’m not sure I want my baby growing up like that. And maybe I’m totally wrong about them. Maybe they are actually messy freaks and they are just putting up a good front. I don’t know. This is all very complicated. I’ve known these people for an hour and I’m supposed to decide in that hour if they are the right parents for my baby.
Maybe I’m putting too much pressure on these people and myself. If I could just figure out how to relax and go with the flow, maybe I would feel better about these people.
But, by the time I get around to figuring that out, we have to move on to the next couple. We tell Fred and Nancy it was nice to meet them and again Nancy hugs me. I really hope they don’t get their hopes up about me choosing them. Not that I definitively won’t, but how sad would it be to get your hopes up about receiving a child and then being let down. I think, no matter what, I will be letting down two sets of parents and I can’t help but feel sad and guilty about that.
We move on to the next room, and while I still feel nervous, I know more what to expect and how to react. I walk into the next room more prepared.
Kristina introduces us to Thomas and Anna. I do not recognize them from the website. Perhaps they are new to wanting a baby or maybe the website doesn’t put all available parents on their site. When I met Fred and Nancy, I was so overwhelmed, I couldn’t even see them. I honestly don’t remember what they looked like, what they wore, or how old they looked. But now that I am a little more relaxed, I can focus better and observe more fully. Thomas looks like he is in his mid-thirties while Anna looks to be in her late twenties to early thirties. Thomas wears a suit, Anna a flower printed dress with tights and a sweater. They are a nice looking couple. Thomas looks not like he is worn out, but that he works hard. I quickly learn why. Thomas is a farmer. He grows corn and beans and has cattle and pigs. Living in northeast Nebraska all my life has taught me how much work that is. Anna is a third grade teacher. She does not hug me like Nancy did, but I still feel a warmth from her. She smiles wide, but it is a genuine smile, not one to impress.
I can’t remember how Fred and Nancy interacted with each other, but Thomas and Anna look to each other quite often and hold hands almost the whole time. I never thought that would be important, but watching Thomas and Anna together, I realize the adoptive parents relationship with each other is almost as important as how they will treat my baby.
Thomas and Anna have two other children, Sydney, eight, and Adam, three. They are their biological children. I guess Thomas got ball cancer and they couldn’t have any more children the old fashioned way. As per usual, I have conflicting thoughts about this. I think that it is nice that my baby would have built in siblings, someone to play with and love, but at the same time, I want my baby to have all the attention it can and to feel as much love as it can so they don’t feel abandoned by me. I also wonder how my baby would feel when they get older and learn that they are adopted and their siblings are biological siblings. Would he or she feel like an outsider? Would it make he or she love them less, or for that matter, will these children that Thomas and Anna already have love my baby as if it were a biological sibling?
There are so many things to consider it is all about too much to handle.
With Thomas owning a farm there are many pets that my baby would have. I feel like he or she would learn so much about life and how to take care of things. Thomas and Anna and their kids have dogs and cats and rabbits, ducks, chickens, and geese, as well as many other animals. My baby would have a plethora of animals to play with, something I never had. But what if they get scratched by the cats or bitten by the dogs.
As I think about this, something powerful strikes me. When this baby is born, it will no longer be mine. Once I pick the parents and hand the baby over to them, it’s not mine. I will have no say in how it is raised or know what happens to it as far as broken bones. I will never see it in school plays or play in the band. I’ll never see it score baskets, send it on its first date, see it graduate from high school.
These thoughts are so overpowering tears slip down my cheeks. I wipe them away and take deep breaths as quietly as I can so as not to alert anyone to my small meltdown.
This whole time, these few weeks I’ve been pregnant, all I could think about was how hard it would be to raise a baby and how it would take over my life completely and how expensive it would be. But I never considered how amazing it could be. I never thought about the good times, all the firsts.
Once I hand this baby over, it’s not mine. If I were to see him or her walking down the street years from now, I would have no clue as to who they were. I wouldn’t be able to see the person they grew into and think, I carried you for nine months and gave birth to you, because I wouldn’t know that they were once mine.
More tears slip down my eyes. Damn these pregnancy emotions.
Luckily, our meeting with Thomas and Anna has come to an end. I take a deeper breath as we stand up and check myself before we say goodbye to them. I don’t want them to think the girl who is possibly having their baby is a crazy freak who cries all the time.
All in all, meltdown aside, I feel good about Thomas and Anna. They seem like really good people who care a lot about each other, their children, and their careers.
I’m glad the next couple we are meeting is the last. I don’t think I could handle more of this in one day.
For the last time today, we enter a room with two people who stand up to greet us. This couple was also not on the website. Their names are Sean and Piper. They both look to be in their mid-twenties. From the moment I see them I like them. Sean wears a pair of dark blue jeans and a sports jacket. His face has a bit of scruff on it and he wears glasses. Piper wears dark jeans, tall boots, and a fancy shirt. They are both good looking and appear to be really happy people without seeming creepy.
Sean is a mailman in the small town they live in and Piper is a florist. They have no kids and no pets. They are both young but desperately wish to start a family. To see them talk to my parents and me and each other is insane. No matter who they are talking to or what they are talking about, they are respectful and considerate and so passionate. If this is what Kristina was talking about when she told me to feel the vibe, I get it.
As much as I love this couple already, I wonder how their passion will endure with a newborn. I’ve heard that babies take a lot out of you, especially the fi
rst two years. I wouldn’t want a new baby to diminish their spark for life.
Ugh. Do I have to find something wrong with every couple? I may find things wrong with them, but there are also so many good points to each of the couples. They all have merits deserving of a child. They were all so kind and compassionate and warm to me. They always had answers for everything I or my parents threw at them. I wish that one couple was far better than all of them or that one sucked hard core so that my decision would be easier, but of course none of that happened.
My parents and I have a quick meeting with Kristina back in her office. She asks my parents how they felt about the couples. She asks how I felt and how I currently feel, questions I have no answers for, but ones I lie through.
We leave the Nebraska Department of Health and Human services and head home. I have more questions and concerns and indecisions than ever. I had hoped that this would have made me feel better.
My parents are quiet on the drive home. I get the sense that they know I was overwhelmed and are letting me process it. I do know, however, that when we get home, they will be chatter boxes. But that is okay because I definitely need their help on this.
Almost the minute we walk in the door my mom asks how I feel. This time, I don’t lie to her. I tell her that I feel stressed. She knows that my stress levels are not good for the baby so she goes to the bathroom and makes me a bubble bath. After I’ve soaked in the tub until the water turned cold, I set at the table around a pizza and discuss my feelings with my parents.
I tell them what I thought of each of the couples. I have to ask them what they thought of Fred and Nancy because I can’t remember. I tell them my concerns, leaving out the meltdown I had. They give me their feedback, my dad surprising me with having a lot to say. By the time the pizza is finished I feel like I have to throw up, but have a good idea of who the parents of my baby will be.
Greyson
No-dinner-time conversation, ten.
Greyson, negative twelve.
I’m really not sure why it is so hard to talk to my parents. Surely I did it when I was younger. Or maybe I just didn’t realize we don’t communicate when I was younger, too worried about my own agenda than about my relationship with my parents.
It is at times like these, a quiet dining hall, me failing to catch the interest of my parents, them staring down at their plates like I do in all of my classes so the teachers won’t call on me, that I wonder what could ever possess me to wish Lux would keep the baby. I have no parenting skills. I have no one to learn parenting skills from. My parents would be better suited for a wax museum than they would be as parents. And obviously I have no relationship skills, so how could I possibly know how to interact with my own kid.
Three forks and three knives are louder in our dining hall then our voices.
The rudimentary how was your day, anything new, questions were dispersed and then normal silence followed. I notice my mom has new diamond earrings on, meaning my father did something wrong again. When my dad does something wrong, my mom gets new jewelry. When my mom does something wrong my dad ‘spends more time at the office.’ When Greyson does something wrong the world falls apart. I make one bad pass in a game, I get to spend Saturday and Sunday making one thousand perfect passes in the backyard, my father watching from his study. When I get a bad grade at school my mother makes me write ‘I will no longer get bad grades’ one thousand times in the Greyson-fucked-up notebook. You could say there are a lot of wrong doings in this house. You would think that achievements are celebrated. You would be wrong. Achievements are only proof there should be no Saturday and Sunday passes or Greyson-fucked-up notebooks. Achievements are also my parents’ way of telling me I did good but I should have done better.
I can’t wait until August so I can be in my dorm and out of this Hell hole. One would think that by now I should be used to my treatment and get on with my life, but the less parental love I receive the more I crave it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
My father, with his Vulcan hearing says, “No phones at the dinner table, Greyson. If I have to remind you again, you will lose it.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, turning my cell off.
Minutes of silence follow, forks scrape, glasses clank. A pounding in my head forms.
“Anything new at the office, Dad?”
“No. What would it interest you son? You will still get your allowance.”
No-dinner-time conversation . . . what is it up to?
Greyson . . . I don’t even know.
“Mom?” I ask, almost desperately. “Anything new?”
“Lovely of you to ask, Greyson,” my mom says and starts rattling off the functions and events she and her friends have gone to recently or will be going to. I don’t care about any of it, but it is nice, for once, to have her engaging with me. I stop listening to the words of her sentences and listen only to her voice, that is, until she says, “I will begin planning your graduation party this week.”
That’s all she says. I think maybe she will ask what I want for food or decorations or who I will want to invite. But no. Just that she is doing it. Why I thought my opinion would matter in the case of my graduation is beyond me.
“Do you want help? I could pick out the food or music,” I say.
My mom smiles her that’s-so-cute-you-think-you-have-a-say smile and says, “It’s okay dear, you’re so busy with football and Amelia. I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Ok,” I say.
When the silence stretches on I excuse myself from the table and turn my phone back on while I walk to my room. The cause of the buzzing at dinner was a text message from Ameila. Come play with me. I’m bored. It’s not exactly what I want to do, but I need to feel connected to someone and if I can’t feel it from my parents, I’ll get it in a different way from a different person.
Besides, I’ve kind of been blowing off Amelia lately. She’s bound to be getting needy soon and when that happens, bad things happen to me.
I don’t even bother to tell my parents I’m leaving when I walk out the door. If they cared they would ask. If they even notice my absence they will chalk it up to me being at Jesse’s or Amelia’s.
When I get to Amelia’s I take note of her missing parents, run up to her room, and have my way with her. More than once. It does nothing to fill the void left by my lack luster parents, but it doesn’t make me feel as alone as I do in my own house.
When I’m tired and laying back on Amelia’s bed, she talks about her day, her shopping trip with Haley and Elizabeth, her manicure, and other inane things I don’t care about. As I lie there, I consider telling her about my relationship with my parents. It’s something I’ve never talked about. I’ve touched on it with Jesse before, but I wasn’t about to let him think less of me, so I didn’t dwell on it. But maybe I could tell Amelia. She is my girlfriend, aren’t we supposed to talk about these things? If I can’t talk to her about them, who can I talk to? For a split second, Lux’s face flashes through my mind and it feels like a punch to the gut. I can’t talk to Lux about these things. I can’t talk to Lux about anything. She hates me. She hates talking to me. And she hates seeing me. Sometimes, when I feel exceptionally down about myself, I would give anything to go back to the night of the party, before the sex, when Lux and I talked. That night I felt like I could tell her anything and she listened. I don’t know if I felt that way because I knew she knew nothing about me and if she judged me so be it, or if I truly had a connection to her and she truly cared and I screwed it up by being myself.
I really need to get Lux out of my head, especially when I am naked, in bed with another girl. A girl who happens to be my girlfriend.
“Do you want to do something tonight?” Amelia asks from beside me, her arm draped over my chest.
“We just did something. More than once,” I say, a wicked grin on my face.
“Not what I meant, dipshit,” she says, slapping my chest, an equally wicked
grin on her face.
I almost say no. I want to say no. But that would incite whining of the forever variety. Amelia would go on and on about how we never do anything together anymore and we need to do stuff and when we go to college we won’t see each other as much.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask.
“We could go to the city, see a movie, or go out to eat.”
“I already ate, and we have school tomorrow.”
“Since when has that stopped us before?” Amelia asks, pulling herself up, resting on an elbow, to look at me.
She’s right. I got trashed with Jesse not that long ago on a school night. It’s a good thing my parent’s haven’t found out about that one yet.
“Yeah, we can go see a movie,” I say, giving into her. “Or,” I say, rolling over to pin her down, “we could just have more sex.”
Amelia licks her lips and says, “We could do that after the movie. Oh, we could go bowling.”
“Yeah, alright,” I say. “Get dressed. But just know, I’m not letting you win.”
“Oh, baby, but I always win,” she says, winking at me before she runs naked into the bathroom.
The ride to the city is rough. When we’re not rolling around naked together or hanging out with our whole group, we don’t know how to act with each other. It didn’t used to be this way. Before Lux came into the picture, I’d never had to put so much effort into my relationship with Amelia. But now, I don’t know how to talk to Amelia. We go to school together so we know what goes on there. She has cheerleading practice in view of my football practice so I don’t need to ask about that. And we spend a lot of our nights together. It is nights like these I seriously consider breaking up with her. I didn’t necessarily want to get back together with her at the beginning of the school year but it was convenient. Without Amelia as my girlfriend I would have to look hard for a girl or sex. But now, in my car, with a girl I have nothing to talk about, and sex that has become a robotic affair, I want something else. Or someone less.