“No, I can’t tell him. Please don’t ask me to do that.”
“How are you going to keep a baby from him, Kendi? Like he won’t figure it out.”
“I can’t have a baby, Marie. I’m eighteen and just starting college.”
“Well, I hate to state the obvious, but you are having a baby. It’s too late to have an abortion.” We both cringed at the word. “Have you thought about adoption?”
“I haven’t thought about anything, obviously,” I said, feeling frustrated and confused.
“We need to tell Mom,” Marie said.
“No, please. It will kill her. And how’s she going to keep this to herself? No one can know, Marie. Swear to me that you won’t tell anyone about this, or I will never forgive you,” I said, holding my finger up in warning.
“Kendi...” she started to protest.
“Swear to me,” I demanded, cutting her off.
“Fine, I swear. I won’t tell a soul. But you need to see a doctor, and we can look into your options. We can’t use your insurance or Mom will find out.” She was holding her fingers to her lips, thinking intently. “We can go to the clinic at Harborview, the county hospital, and pay cash. We’re going tomorrow though. I’ll call in sick.”
I agreed—Marie didn’t give me much choice—and that was the end of our conversation. I didn’t feel alone anymore, knowing that I had Marie by my side, but I was so terrified of what the future held. I was still plagued by the uncertainty of what I was going to do.
Exposed
The next morning Marie woke me from a dreamless sleep before the sun was even up.
I groaned, covering my head with the pillow. It felt like I had just fallen asleep, and already it was time to get up. I was dreading the day. I knew I needed to face this head-on, but I wanted to crawl under a rock and continue to hide.
“Come on, Kendi, the clinic’s going to be busy. The earlier we get there, the less we’ll have to wait.” Marie was already dressed, her hair styled perfectly as always.
I shuffled slowly into the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and applied a touch of mascara and lip gloss. Marie had set out a pair of black leggings, a long sweater and a fresh pair of socks. After I was dressed and ready to go, I met her in the kitchen, where she forced me to eat a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries and a glass of orange juice. I usually didn’t eat this early in the morning, but Marie insisted that it was going to be a long day. We left her apartment with to-go mugs full of steaming-hot coffee and drove to Harborview Medical Center.
Sitting in the county clinic, it was hard to feel inconspicuous. The room was packed with men and women who appeared in desperate need of a shower and young girls that looked barely old enough to drive. The smell was hardly tolerable, antiseptics mixed with foul body odors and stale cigarettes. We were catching plenty of stares while we waited to be seen, reading magazines that Marie had brought from home. Marie’s fancy designer coat and Coach handbag were not helping us blend in.
When I finally heard my name called, I felt like I was going to be sick. My stomach was in knots, and the oatmeal that Marie had forced down my throat was threatening to make a reappearance. She pulled me from my seat and led me to the doorway with her arm around my shoulder, whispering that everything was going to be okay.
We were pointed to a cold, sterile room with an exam table and a single chair that looked like it had seen better days. The medical assistant asked why I was there, and I was unable to speak. Marie explained to her that I was pregnant and had not seen a doctor yet. When she asked when the date of my last menstrual period was, Marie looked at me for an answer.
“I don’t remember, but I know when it happened. August 12th.” I remember the exact date because it was the first anniversary of the accident, the same day that Adam and I had made love in his room, the one and only day that I had had sex in the past year. It was a day that I would never forget.
The assistant made some notes in a chart and then checked my blood pressure and heart rate. She left a gown for me to wear and then slipped out of the room. I changed into the thin cotton gown that was completely open in the back, and Marie and I went back to our magazines while we waited for the doctor; the only sound in the room was the tapping of my foot on the step of the exam table. After what felt like hours, the doctor finally entered the room.
“Hi. Miss Brooks? I’m Dr. Hoffman.”
She held out her hand, and I shook it gently, telling her to call me Kendi. Dr. Hoffman looked to be my mother’s age with short dark hair. She wore small black rectangular glasses and a warm smile.
“Well, Kendi, let’s do an ultrasound so that we can confirm the pregnancy and make sure that everything looks okay all at the same time. Okay?”
“Okay,” I responded.
She wheeled a large machine from the corner of the room, setting it up next to me, and asked me to lie on the table. I felt the rigid steel table against the skin of my bare back as she draped a sheet over my legs and pulled my gown up to my chest. Marie came to stand next to me, and I felt her take my hand in hers.
“This is going to be cold,” Dr. Hoffman warned as she squeezed a clear jelly on my exposed abdomen. She pushed down hard against my skin with the transducer and started tapping keys on the machine. “Well, it looks like there’s a baby in there. And I would say that you’re about twenty-two or twenty-three weeks along by the measurements. The baby looks healthy. Let’s check the heartbeat.” She tapped a few more keys and a loud shock-wave sound emerged from the machine, followed by a fast, steady beat. “Heart rate sounds strong and healthy. Would you like to know the sex of the baby?”
“Um.” I looked at Marie, not sure what I wanted.
She just shrugged her shoulders at me, silently telling me that it’s my decision.
“No, I don’t want to know,” I finally said, shaking my head.
“Okay,” Dr. Hoffman said, her voice void of any judgment or concern. She wiped the gel from my belly and pushed the machine back to the corner of the room. “So, Kendi. I was concerned because you’re nearly twenty-three-weeks pregnant and haven’t had proper prenatal care, but, now that I’ve seen the ultrasound, it seems that you have been taking good care of yourself. The baby is thriving and appears to be healthy, but I’m going to prescribe you prenatal vitamins to take daily.
“And you need to come in for a checkup once a month for now and more often as your due date approaches. We also have a few blood tests that you’ll need to get at the lab, just normal precautionary tests.”
I sat up, pulling the thin gown down over my legs. She held up a chart full of dates and continued. “It looks like your due date is May 5th. Do you have any questions?”
I couldn’t speak. I had so many questions but I didn’t know where to begin.
I heard Marie ask, “Do you have any information that you could give us in case she decides not to keep it...the baby?”
Dr. Hoffman looked at me then and asked if that was what I wanted. I nodded.
“Well, I have some brochures about adoption. We have several resources available for adoption agencies, lawyers and social workers. I can get those for you on the way out. It can be a very difficult process for a birth mother, but if that’s what you truly want, there are many good couples out there waiting for a healthy baby to adopt.” She handed me a prescription with her business card and said, “It was nice to meet you, Kendi, and please call me if you have any questions. We’ll see you again next month. I’ll leave information at the front desk for you about the adoption process, along with a list of resources, lab orders and some information for you regarding your pregnancy, the dos and don’ts, and what to watch for. Good luck.” And she left the room.
I started to cry. I was not really sure why I was crying, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Oh, Kendi. It’ll be okay,” Marie assured me, while wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll check us out, and then we’ll go have a
nice lunch while we look over the information that Dr. Hoffman left for us. Okay?”
“Okay,” I managed to choke out through my tears.
“I won’t lie, Kendi. This is going to be hard no matter what you decide to do, and I will be here for you the entire time in whatever way you need me, but I also need you to be strong.” She kissed me on the cheek and left me alone in the room to get dressed.
I had always thought of myself as a strong person, blocking every punch that life had swung at me, and, when I got knocked down, I always landed on my feet eventually. This didn’t feel like the usual punch; this felt like a bulldozer, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to recover this time.
After careful review of all the information from the clinic, Marie made a few calls and scheduled an appointment for the next day with an agency that seemed like a good fit. We decided that we could collect all the information, asking all the questions that we had, and then I could decide what I wanted to do. Marie was taking another day off from work to go to the appointment with me, and I felt that I was intruding on her life, but I couldn’t do this alone.
As tired as I felt, I couldn’t sleep. Every time that I closed my eyes, I saw myself standing in an open field at a crossroads, lost and unsure of which path to take. I immediately forced my eyes open. I placed my hands on my belly and tried to picture myself with a baby, but the image was blank. I just couldn’t see myself as a mother. I tried to imagine giving this baby away, to someone who could picture themselves as a mother, and it seemed to make more sense. The only thing that I was sure of at that point was that I was having a baby, and, no matter what I chose to do about it in the end, I knew that I had to let Adam go. I had known this since the day I walked out of that bathroom. I had just wanted to hold on to him as long as I could. Ironically reading his last letter, it had felt like he was the one letting go.
The adoption agency was located in a brick building on a quiet tree-lined street in the lower Queen Anne neighborhood. It was nice. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but, after our experience at the clinic yesterday, my expectations were low. I was pleasantly surprised.
As we waited on the tan leather seats in the reception area, I concentrated on each breath I took, unable to focus on anything else. Just breathe, I told myself. I heard my name called, a repeat of the day before. Marie and I followed a short, heavyset woman into a large office. The office was bright, full of light pouring in from the large windows that looked out onto the street; the color from the tall trees gave the room a natural feel. The woman motioned us toward a large table with several comfortable-looking chairs that sat in the center of the room. Marie and I settled into the two closest to where we stood.
“Hi, Miss Brooks. I’m Susanne Waters. Welcome to Northwest Open Adoption Agency. I am a counselor here, and my sole purpose is to help guide you to make the best choice for you and your baby, whatever that might be. We offer support for pregnant mothers who decide to keep their baby as well as facilitating an open adoption plan with a family of your choice, if you should choose adoption.”
“Open adoption? What does that mean?” I asked quietly.
“Well, that is the type of adoption that we offer here. An open adoption allows you to choose the parents who will raise your child and provides you with access to their files containing their personal information, medical files, etc., to help you make that choice. And they would have access to your files as well. You would be able to meet them, and you can decide how involved you would like them to be during your pregnancy. Doctor visits, ultrasounds, things like that.
“Together you can decide what type of contact you would like to have with your child after the birth, or you may choose not to have any contact at all. Although we recommend some sort of contact or update at least three times a year. We find that open adoption gives birth mothers a piece of mind knowing that their child is safe and happy, and it gives the children a sense of security and confidence knowing who their birth parents are and where they came from. These are all things that we can cover later. I have some forms for you to fill out, and then we can talk more about your options and how you’re feeling about your pregnancy.”
She handed us a thick file folder and a pen, and left us alone to fill out the numerous forms in the folder. Most needed just my basic personal information: name, birthdate, address, phone number. Others were medical forms asking me questions about my health and my family’s medical history. Marie and I filled this out to the best of our knowledge. There was a form strictly about the pregnancy: date of conception, due date, father’s name, father’s date of birth and father’s contact information. I looked at Marie, unsure of how to fill in the blanks under Birth Father.
She suggested that I skip over it for now.
When Susanne returned to her office, she silently reviewed the forms before speaking to us. “Everything looks good, Kendi. What can you tell me about the birth father?”
I looked at Marie and then back to Susanne. “I’m not really sure who the father is,” I said, feeling ashamed for what she must have thought of me rather than the fact that I had just lied to her.
“Okay,” she said, void of any judgment.
She must have heard that often. She made a few notes in the area that I left unanswered. We talked for over an hour about everything from what my living situation was to what my dreams and goals were in life. We talked about my family and the fact that I didn’t want anyone to know that I was pregnant. We talked in detail about the adoption process and what kind of support the agency offered birth mothers at no expense. I left feeling hopeful.
The whole package that had just been presented to me sounded easy and uncomplicated and free. I would know who was raising the baby, and I could walk away with the peace of mind knowing that it was safe and loved. The solution sounded too perfect for this predicament that I was in. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and I told Marie as much in the car on the way home. Susanne had told me to spend a few days thinking about what I wanted. She had also given me a small book to read with testimonials written by other birth mothers and adoptive parents, so that I had a deep understanding of what would take place and what I could expect emotionally. I didn’t need a few days. I couldn’t keep this baby.
The Plan
That night, while sitting at Marie’s kitchen table eating Thai food out of little paper boxes with chopsticks, we talked about what I was going to do about school. I wouldn’t be able to hide this pregnancy for much longer.
“I have to finish this quarter. I’m already registered and my room is paid for.”
“What are you going to tell Mom?” Marie asked as she tilted her head to the side and stuffed a huge bite of pad Thai noodles in her mouth.
“I don’t know. I could tell her that I’m overwhelmed and taking on too much. Maybe she’ll understand if I take spring quarter off to catch my breath.”
“What about your scholarship?”
“It only covers one more quarter. I guess I’ll lose it. I could get a job after... afterward and take summer courses. That would make up for the scholarship, and I could catch up from missing spring quarter.”
“Well, it sounds like you have it all figured out. Excuse me.” Marie tossed her chopsticks into one of the empty boxes as she stood up and walked into her room, closing the door behind her.
I sat there staring into a box of cashew chicken, wondering what had just happened. She was fine a minute before, and now I felt like she was mad at me.
I knocked softly on her door and opened it slowly when she didn’t respond. She was sitting on the edge of her bed with her face in her hands, crying.
“Marie, what’s wrong?” I asked as I sat beside her.
“Everything,” she mumbled into her hands. “I am just so sad that this is happening to you, Kendi. You’ve already been through so much.” She looked at me, her blue eyes full of compassion. “I don’t think that you realize how hard this decision is going to be, this choice that you’re making. I know I said
that I was going to be here for you no matter what, and I will. But I’m in over my head. You should do this the right way. You should tell Mom, and you should definitely tell Adam and let him make this decision for himself. This isn’t right, Kendi.”
I let out a long sigh. “I can’t do that. It has to be this way, Marie. If you’re not okay with this, tell me now, and I’ll do this without you.”
She was quiet for a moment, and I was scared of what she might say next.
“I don’t understand it, Kendi. But you can’t do this alone. Please, just promise me you’ll think this through carefully before you make any decisions.”
I felt relieved to still have her support. “I promise. And thank you for being here for me. Do you think that I could stay with you at the end of this quarter, until I go back to school in the fall? I know that it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. I can’t go home.”
“Of course, Kendi. I kind of planned on it already.”
“Thank you. For everything, Marie.” I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward me. She rested her head against my shoulder, and I became overwhelmed with the love and gratitude that I felt for my sister. I knew that what I was asking of her was beyond her realm of comfort. She was sacrificing a lot to respect my wishes, knowing that keeping this secret meant that my lies became her lies, my shame became her shame, and the guilt that I was already drowning in would inevitably pull her under with me.
~
Winter trudged on bringing more freezing rain and even a dusting of snow now and then. I longed to see the sun, just to feel its warmth on my face for a few minutes. I continued to run as much as I could, but sometimes it was just too cold. At night, while Tabatha was out at a party or watching the Huskies battle it out on the basketball court, I took advantage of the privacy and laid in my bed reviewing the countless applications that Susanne had given me for prospective parents. It wasn’t an easy task finding a couple that would raise my baby.
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