by Ava Bell
“I’ve tried. I spent hours on my laptop. Do you know how many Sam Austins there are in Chicago?” I say, shaking my head.
“There’s hundreds, if not more. Besides, it really doesn’t matter; he never contacted me after I left him in Chicago. He had my number, it was his choice.” Both of us walk inside and sit on the sofa and that’s the last of the conversation regarding Sam.
The next morning I get my computer out and start my search for adoption agencies. I pick the one closest to my location, Spence-Chapin Adoption Services. My hands shake as I dial their number. It rings twice and I hang up, throwing the phone on the sofa. I take a deep breath and dial the number again. It rings and a woman answers. “Spence-Chapin Adoption Services, how can I help you?” she says.
“Hi, I . . . I need to speak to someone about putting my baby up for adoption.” My voice cracks.
“Okay, what’s your name?” she asks.
I swallow, trying to hold down the lump that wants to form in my throat. “Maggie Taylor.”
She takes my name and number, telling me that a woman by the name of Nichole Hubbs will be in touch with me sometime this afternoon. I hang up and cry while I wait.
Twenty minutes later as I’m lying on the sofa, my phone rings. I look at the number and recognize that it’s the adoption agency. I take a deep breath and answer it. “Hello?” I say, sitting up.
“Hi, is this Maggie Taylor?” the woman asks.
“Yes, it is,” I reply, trying to calm my shaky hand.
“Maggie, I’m Nichole with Spence-Chapin Adoption Services. How are you this afternoon?”
“Hi, Nichole. I’m fine.”
“I’m calling about your inquiry about our services. Are you free to talk?” She sounds sincere, putting me more at ease.
“Yes, I can talk.”
“Maggie, I understand that you are pregnant. Am I correct?”
“Yes, I’m pregnant.”
“Have you seen a doctor to confirm it?” she asks.
“No, I took a pregnancy test a little over two weeks ago. It showed positive.”
“Okay. Well, Maggie, when are you available to come in? I’d like to set you up an appointment as soon as you’re free.”
“I am available anytime.”
“Okay, how about tomorrow morning? Is 9:30 a good time?” I can hear the tap-tap-tap sound of her keyboard as she types in my info for the appointment.
“Do you need directions to our office?” she asks.
“No, I have the address. I should be able to find it.” She confirms the appointment time and the address. I push end call and run to the bathroom before I throw up.
I arrive at Spence-Chapin Adoption Services at 9:20 a.m. and as I sit in the lobby, I watch several couples come and go. I assume they are couple wishing to adopt. I can’t help but notice one couple in particular; they look to be in their early thirties, professional, and extremely nervous. I watch as she anxiously looks at her husband each time the office door opens and I feel sad, maybe for them, maybe for me, I’m not really sure. At 9:32 the door opens and a tall blonde woman who looks to be in her mid-fifties calls my name. When I stand I feel every eye on me, judging me as I walk through the office door.
Once I’m seated, the woman introduces herself. “Hi, Maggie, I’m Nichole Hubbs. Can I offer you something to drink? Some water maybe?” I nod and she hands me a cold bottle of water from a mini fridge next to her desk. My heart begins to pound as I sit and watch Nichole sort through papers on her desk and I feel as though I may be nauseous.
“Okay, Maggie, I have several questions I’d like to ask you. Are you okay with that?”
I nod my head and say, “Yes.”
“First I need to tell you that we require all of our clients to make an appointment with one of these doctors.” She hands me a sheet of paper with several doctors listed on it.
“You can pick from any of those on the list. If you prefer a female doctor, there are some on the list as well.” She watches me as I look over the list and smiles when I look up at her.
I sit for what seems like hours as she goes through the list of questions, mostly about my health and family. She asks about everything ranging from what diseases run in my family to if there were any mental health issues. The one question I knew was coming and was dreading was about the father of the baby. I cringe and hold my breath when she looks up, waiting for me to answer.
“It was a one-night stand.” I start looking down at my hands. “He doesn’t even live here in New York.”
She looks at me sympathetically and writes down my answer while I try not to breakdown. When she finishes my paperwork, she tells me to call as soon as possible to make my first doctor’s appointment. She asks me to let her know as soon as I do. My legs are shaking as I stand to leave. She smiles and shakes my hand, but I can’t get out of there fast enough; something just doesn’t feel right. I start to doubt if I am making the right decision.
I slowly walk down the sidewalk as people rush past me, barely seeing through my tears as I make my way home. I feel numb and I’m desperate to get to my apartment so I can crawl into my bed, in hopes this will all go away when I wake up from this horrible dream. The next morning I wake as my cell phone rings; it’s Sydney. I’m hesitant to answer it. It’s been been almost a week since we’ve talked and I’m not sure I’m up to talking, so I roll over and ignore it.
The next day I pick a doctor from the list and make an appointment. They can see me the same day at four o’clock. At first I wasn’t nervous about seeing an OB/GYN, I’ve seen one before, but by the time I got into the examination room I was sweating and feeling nauseous. I stare at the ceiling as Dr. O’Daniel does his examination and explains to me the things I should and should not be eating or doing while I’m pregnant. I take the papers and pamphlets the nurse hands me as I walk to the receptionist to make my next appointment in one month. On my way home, I call Sydney.
“Hey, girl, have you forgotten about your best friend?” she says, answering.
“Of course not. You know you are completely unforgettable.” I smile as she rambles on about how I’ve neglected her. “I’ve just been so busy. I’m really sorry I haven’t called,” I say, feeling guilty.
“It’s okay, I’ve been busy too. Hey, I got a full-time position at the law firm.” she says, excitedly.
“That’s great! Now you can get serious about finally going to law school.”
“That’s my plan,” she adds. I pause before saying goodbye, hoping that I can find the nerve to tell her about the baby.
IT’S BEEN A month since meeting with the adoption service and Nichole calls regularly to see how I’m doing and if I need anything. She’s always bright, cheerful, and friendly. It’s almost nauseating. I really think she’s just making sure I haven’t change my mind. Two months later Nichole calls to tell me there are several couples that have expressed interest in meeting me. She says she would like for me to come in and look at their profiles so I could pick which couples I’d like to meet and interview. When I hang up I have a sick feeling again as I keep replaying those words in my head. Interview. Interview. I start to question myself. Am I seriously going to “interview” a couple to take my baby? To raise it and love it like it’s their own? How can they love something that Sam and I made? How am I going to get past this and move on knowing my child is out there and another woman is answering to mommy! I wail as I fall onto my bed and clutch the pillow to my chest. I sob and yell into my empty room. “I need you, Mom! I need you to put your arms around me and tell me it’s okay. Please God, help me. Tell me I’m making the right decision. Just make this pain in my heart go away!” I sit up and throw my pillows across the room; I feel so much anger and heartbreak at this very moment. “I hate you, Sam!” I scream. “I hate that you’re not here and I’m left to deal with this alone. How could you do this to me, Sam?” I lie on the floor and cry. I cry until I have no more tears left.
I stand in the shower and slowly rub my hands over my belly, it feel
s fuller, swollen. And after I finish I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my bathroom. I turn to the side and my heart jumps. I can actually see that there’s a bump, a baby bump. I stare as I lightly brush my fingers over my small extended belly and I rush into my room to grab my phone.
“Maggie, sweetie, how are you?” my aunt says when she answers.
“I can’t give it up, Aunt Virginia, I just can’t! I don’t want anyone else raising my baby,” I say, softly weeping.
“Maggie, sweetie, calm down. It’s going to be okay,” she says, comforting me. “You have something inside of you that you will love and cherish one day. This is your baby, Maggie, and if you want to keep it, I’m with you one-hundred percent.”
“I’m not sure I can do this alone. I’m scared,” I say to her.
“Come home, Maggie. Come live with me. I’ll help you,” she tells me, and finally, for the first time in months, I feel like I can breathe. I exhale and smile knowing that I don’t have to do this alone.
As I lie in my bed trying to sleep, thoughts keep racing through my head. I toss and turn until I finally get out of bed and go out onto the balcony. As I look down at the busy streets I think of the call that I have to make to Nichole at the adoption agency. I think of the couples that I will be disappointing because I won’t be interviewing them, how this is just another attempt at parenthood that will fail them. I sit on the balcony and watch the sun when it comes up as I start another chapter in my ever-changing life.
I dial the agency’s number as my hand shakes. I hate to disappoint Nichole but I’ve made up my mind. She answers on the first ring. “Hello, Nichole,” I say. “I’m calling to tell you I’ve changed my mind; I can’t go through with the adoption.” I say it as fast as I can, hoping it lessens the sting.
I hear her exhale. “Maggie, are you sure that’s what you want?” she says, sounding irritated.
“Yes. I’m one-hundred percent positive. I’m sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused and I’m sorry if I’m letting anyone down with this decision, but it just didn’t feel right.”
“Maggie, it’s okay, this isn’t the first time we’ve had a mother change her mind. It’s just something we deal with on a regular basis,” she says, sounding defeated once again.
“I just want to thank you for everything,” I say. She wishes me luck and we say goodbye. Over the next hour I make several calls. The first is to my realtor, Marissa. I need to let her know that I will not be renewing my lease and that I will be moving out on November 15, which will leave two months on my lease.
The next call I make is to Nadia. I tell her my plan and that I would like for us to get together before I move. My last call is to Sydney; I’ve kept this from her long enough. She’s been my best friend for the last ten years and I need to be honest with her.
“Mags, what’s up?” she says, when she answers.
I take a deep breath. “Hey, Sydney, are you busy?”
“No, I’m just hanging out and watching TV,” she says.
“Good, because I need to tell you something.” And over the next hour I tell her everything. I tell her about Sam, the baby, and my plans to move to Savannah, Georgia. Her silence is hard to take. I know she feels nothing but hurt and disappointment for keeping this from her for so long, and for the next several hours we talk and cry. When we finally hang up and I feel as though another brick has been lifted from my chest.
One week later, Nadia and Debra help me pack up my apartment the night before I leave. We order Chinese takeout. They drink wine while I have water. We laugh and cry and I finally feel like it’s all going to be okay. I tell them how thankful and lucky I am for having met them. We promise each other that we will keep in touch and I tell them I will keep them up to date with everything. Before they leave, Nadia hugs me and tells me she will be over early with her uncle so they can help me load my things into my car.
The next morning I’m up and dressed before the sun is even shining. I walk down the street to the coffee shop and pick up some lattes for the three of us. As I’m walking back, I take one last look at the neighborhood I fell in love with. I feel a little sad knowing that this was my dream and it’s gone. I hold my head high, satisfied with what I’ve accomplished and what awaits me. After the last box is loaded in my car, I turn to Nadia and hug her tight. I kiss her on the cheek and tell her goodbye, trying to keep it upbeat, but after pulling away from the curb, I let it all out. And fourteen hours later I’m pulling into Aunt Virginia’s driveway. I can see her standing at the front door when my headlights shine towards the house and I jump out to meet her as she climbs down the steps.
“Maggie, sweetie, how was your drive?” She grabs me in a tight hug.
“It was good, it went by a lot quicker than I had expected,” I say.
“You look tired, come in and let’s get you settled.” she takes my bag.
I grab the bag that has what I need for the night and follow her inside. “I’ll unload everything in the morning. Right now I need a shower and a soft bed.” I say, following her into the house.
After my shower, I unload a few things and climb into bed. I feel as though I’ve lived a hundred lives these past few months and I drift off into a restful sleep.
The next few days go by fast as I slowly get settled into a regular routine. I make my first appointment to see Dr. Bussey, OB/GYN. When I step into her office, it feels right, as if this is where I was meant to be.
“I’d really like to do an ultrasound today and we can determine the sex of your baby, if that’s okay with you?” she asks.
My pulse picks up as a smile comes across my face and I nod. “Wow, I can find out whether I’m having a boy or a girl?” I ask, feeling very nervous, but excited.
“Yes, and it should confirm the due date.” She motions for me to lie back on the examination table. As I lay staring at the ceiling, I can’t help but remember my last OB/GYN visit. A sad feeling washes over me. Was I really considering giving my baby up? I shake my head to get rid of the thought, not wanting to put a damper on this moment.
As Dr. Bussey is waving the gooey ultrasound wand over my exposed belly, I can’t help but stare at the screen. The picture is black and grey and very fuzzy, but suddenly my eye catches a small flashing and I hear a thump, thump, thump.
“That’s the heartbeat you hear and that little flashing orb right there . . . that’s your baby’s heart,” she says, pointing to the screen. I blink my eyes as I focus on the screen and I can’t pull my eyes away. I’m so glued to that small flash as my eyes widen and my heart races. That’s my baby, that’s mine and Sam’s baby. Look what you are missing, Sam.
“Okay, let’s see if we can get an idea of whether this is a boy or a girl.” Dr. Bussey presses and moves my stomach around.
“And it looks like it’s a girl,” she says.
“A girl. I’m gonna have a girl?” I ask softly.
“Yes, a girl, and by the measurements, I would say you are eighteen weeks,” she smiles.
“Eighteen weeks, so that would be four months and two weeks,” I say, doing the math in my head.
“That’s right, you are about halfway through your second trimester,” she adds.
I take a deep breath as she takes my hand and helps me to sit up. “Here is a prescription for prenatal vitamins; take one each morning starting tomorrow.” She hands me the paper. “You can get dressed and I’ll see you next month.” I make my next appointment and walk out of her office. I sit in my car and stare at the ultrasound picture. It’s hard to make out exactly what I’m looking at, but I love her regardless. I continue to look at all the pamphlets and booklets that are in the bag the nurse gave me: Natural Childbirth: Is it for you?, What if I have to have a Cesarean Section?, Breastfeeding or Bottle feeding: What are the Benefits? This is so overwhelming and surreal. I try to catch my breath.
My aunt is just getting home from her lunch with her book club as I’m getting out of my car. “Maggie, what did the doctor say?” She m
eets me on the front steps.
“Aunt Virginia, I’m going to have a girl!” I squeal, showing her the ultrasound pictures.
“Oh my. A girl. That’s wonderful, sweetie!” she exclaims, looking at the grey and black fuzzy picture while I attempt to point out her head, legs, and arms.
“I’m gonna be a mommy,” I say. We both walk into the house.
After I fill her in on all the details of my appointment, I sit on my bed and text pictures of my ultrasound to Nadia and Sydney.
Me: Here SHE is!
Sydney: OMG! It’s a girl!!
Nadia: Oh how sweet!
Me: I think she’s beautiful, even if it is hard to see her face.
Sydney: Of course she’s beautiful!
Nadia: What are you going to name her?
Me: I haven’t decided. I’ll have to think about it and I’ll let you know.
I go downstairs to help with dinner. Aunt Virginia hums as she cooks and I sigh as I sit at the table, feeling scared but content.
“You’re very quiet tonight, Maggie. Is everything okay?” she asks during dinner.
“I’m okay, I’m just so overwhelmed by all of this. I have so much to do to get ready for her.” I shake my head at the thought.
“How about we go shopping this weekend?” she asks.
“That’s a great idea,” I reply.
“I’ve been thinking about names and I think I want to name her after Mom,” I announce.
Aunt Virginia smiles and pats my hand. “I think that’s perfect. Your mother would have loved that.” Tears form in her eyes.
My mother’s name was Eleanor and it suited her well. She was a beautiful woman; tall and thin with long red hair that had just enough curl. We shared the same light green eyes.
“I could call her Ellie. What do you think, Aunt Virginia?” I ask.
“I think that’s a beautiful way to honor your mother’s life,” she adds.