I searched each application, not sure exactly what I was looking for, but sure that each one wasn’t the right couple for my baby. I guess that I was looking for a piece of Adam and me in every picture, every description. I was getting frustrated and starting to feel that maybe this wasn’t a good idea, when I glanced down at the next application. Charles and Heather Petersen. It was their picture that caught my eye first. She was pretty but in a very natural way. Long blond hair and hazel eyes that radiated kindness. He was broad shouldered with short dark hair, warm brown eyes.
I read through their application and felt a connection that I hadn’t with the others. They both were born and raised in Lynden, a small town just south of the Canadian border. They were high school sweethearts, had attended college at Western and had been married for nine years. They lived in Bellingham. He was owner and founder of a successful export business, and she was a pediatric nurse.
They had been trying to conceive for seven years in every natural and scientific way possible, always unsuccessful. Their story broke my heart and gave me a sense of hope at the same time. I can’t place the exact reason that they stood out to me more than the others, but I felt like I had found the right couple. I immediately called Susanne at the number she had given me and told her that I wanted to meet the Petersens. She assured me that she would set up a meeting with them as soon as possible.
The following week, Marie and I went to the agency to meet Charles and Heather Petersen. I was nervous, suddenly feeling insecure. What if they didn’t like me? What would they think of me, that I was willing to just give away my baby? When Susanne introduced us, I could see that they were just as nervous as I was. I could sense hope in Heather’s eyes but also fear, and I wondered how someone survived the heartache that they had suffered time and time again.
They had brought pictures of their home, pictures of their parents and siblings, nieces and nephews. I pictured the baby surrounded by a big family. They asked questions about me and my life. I hadn’t included any information about where I was from in my file, and I wasn’t about to tell them now. I mentioned that I was local and that I was a student at Udub, and that was it. They asked about the birth father. I wondered how many times I would have to lie about Adam. They asked about the pregnancy, how I was feeling and if I knew the sex of the baby.
I liked them instantly; they seemed to be good, honest people. At the end of the meeting, I told Susanne in private that I wanted to proceed with the adoption process with the Petersens. Susanne was thrilled, and we scheduled another meeting with the couple and their lawyer, so that we could discuss the terms of the adoption. Susanne asked me to think about how involved I wanted to be in the baby’s life once it was born, so that we could discuss it at the next meeting. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be involved at all.
~
“Hey, Tab, you should know that I’m going to take spring quarter off from school. I’m moving in with Marie until fall. I just turned in my paperwork today,” I casually informed her while we were pulling our clothes out of the dryer in the laundry room of our building. I had been avoiding the conversation for days, but, now that it was official, I had to break the news to her.
“What?” she asked, completely shocked at my news. “Why would you do that?”
“I’m just feeling overwhelmed and need a break. I’ll catch up over the summer.”
“Maybe you should’ve stuck to three classes rather than the crazy five you’ve been juggling these past two quarters,” she said, shoving her designer jeans in her laundry basket.
“I know. I’ll slow down next fall when I come back. So you’re going to have the room to yourself next quarter. What do you think about that?”
“I think that I’m going to miss you like crazy!” she said sincerely and then her face grew serious. “Can I ask you something, Kendi, without you getting upset with me?”
“Of course.” I braced myself for her question, knowing that I had to be honest with her.
“I don’t know how to word this any differently so I’m just going to ask. Are you pregnant?”
I had known that it was coming, but the words still took my breath away. My belly was growing more with each passing day, and it was only a matter of time before she acknowledged the obvious. I blew out a long breath through my lips and answered, “Yes.”
Her brown eyes grew wide as she processed my response. “Wow. When did this happen? I mean you haven’t even looked at a guy since I met you.” Before I could even respond, she had connected the dots. “Oh, my God, it’s Adam’s, isn’t it?”
I could only nod.
“Does he know? What are y’all going to do?”
I took a deep breath. “Tab, you can’t ever tell anyone about this. My sister is the only one who knows. Adam doesn’t know, and I’m not keeping this baby. Can I trust you to keep this to yourself?”
“Of course, Kendi. So this is why you’re ‘taking a break’?” she asked, making quotations with her fingers.
“Yeah, pretty much,” I admitted. “The baby is due May 5th.”
“I wish that you would’ve told me sooner. I feel like such a bitch for always pushing the parties, the drinking and the guys on you when you had all this going on.” She motioned toward my growing belly.
“It’s okay, Tab. You’re not a bitch, at least not all the time.” I smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood. She threw a T-shirt at my face, and we both laughed. And that was the last time that she brought it up. I was so grateful that she didn’t treat me any differently. She still teased me to no end about being a prude and a bore, the usual. And there was this unspoken truth between us that, although she was going to pretend as if this wasn’t happening—as I had done for the past six months—she did know, and she supported me.
~
Heather and Charles were so kind to me, easing me into the legal proceedings gently and making sure that my young mind understood everything that was discussed. I could tell that this process was not new to them, and I wondered why they were still childless if they had gone through the adoption process before.
We had decided that they would accompany me whenever possible to doctor appointments with the new obstetrician that they had referred me to. I declined politely when they asked me to move into their home when I finished school this quarter. I couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be to live with them for the remainder of my pregnancy, but apparently it was common with young, single birth mothers. I was thankful that I had Marie.
When the subject of the nature of my relationship with the baby after the birth was brought into question, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t want to be involved; I wanted to move on and never look back. Marie did not agree with this decision. She begged me to take as much contact as they were offering, knowing that I could decide differently later on. She had a good point; I had no idea how I would feel once the baby was born.
So I agreed to the terms that they were generously offering. Heather encouraged me to have some kind of relationship with the baby. She said that she wanted to be open with her child from the start about the adoption and who I was. I wasn’t sure that I understood her logic, but she seemed to feel strongly about it. The lawyer suggested contact between me and the Petersens, a minimum of three times a year, but no more than once a month. This could be in the form of a letter with pictures, phone calls or a face-to-face visit.
They decided that they did not want to know the sex of the baby; they wanted to be surprised. I was thankful for this. I didn’t want to picture a little boy or a little girl growing inside of me. I couldn’t help but notice how reserved Charles was in comparison to the first time that I had met him, most noticeably when we discussed the birth procedures. I agreed to having them at the hospital when I went into labor, but I did not want them in the delivery room. That was beyond my comfort level. I was worried that this wasn’t really what he wanted. I decided to ask Susanne about this in private. I had grown to depend on her to answer every question that I
had, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.
With the legal matters squared away for the adoption, I focused all my energy on my finals. The quarter was coming to an end, and I had five huge exams to get through. I studied every spare minute I had. Taking a quarter off from school wasn’t going to look good; the least I could do was finish this quarter strong. I was definitely looking pregnant, and I tried to ignore the stares and whispers from those around me. Tabatha was great at taking that attention from me. She tried to embarrass herself on purpose to distract the rumor mill long enough to get me to and from class. I was used to the way rumors spread, having grown up in a small town. I just wasn’t used to being the subject of the gossip.
I finished finals uneventfully and began to pack my belongings before the dorms closed for spring break. I had to turn in my ID badge by the end of the day.
“I can’t believe that this is your last day as my roommate,” Tabatha whined. “Who am I going to make my evening coffee runs with, and who is going to make sure that I get home safely from campus parties?”
“You’ll be fine. Besides I haven’t been to a party with you in months.”
“True. You just had to go and get yourself knocked-up and ditch me on the party circuit.” She smiled as I cast her an incredulous look for her crass comment.
“Kidding,” she moaned. “On a serious note, Kendi. I’m worried about you. Can I come hang out with you at Marie’s? Someone’s got to keep you from wallowing in self-pity while you sit around and get fat.” She laughed but I could sense the sincerity of her concern.
I walked over and threw my arms around her. “I would love for you to come see me. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do to keep myself busy for the next six weeks, and I’m going to miss you.”
She helped me carry my stuff down to Marie’s car, and then the three of us walked to administration to turn in my badge. We stopped at our favorite coffeehouse on the way back to the dorm for one last cup of joe. As I looked around at the mix of college students sipping their coffees, discussing their spring break plans or the latest party that they had attended, I couldn’t help but feel envious of the simplicity of their lives. I missed waking up each day knowing that the most difficult decision that had to be made was what I was going to wear. Everything had gotten so complicated. This wasn’t how my first year of college was supposed to be.
Choices
It was hard not to feel depressed as I watched my body become unrecognizable. My belly was huge, my feet were swollen, my cheeks were chubby, and my breasts were starting to look like the world’s worst implants. I tried to spend as much time outdoors as possible. The days were getting warmer, and I spent hours walking around Marie’s neighborhood, looking in shop windows and people watching.
With so much free time, I found myself thinking of Adam. I missed him terribly. The day that I signed over the baby to the Petersens—the preadoption papers, nothing was final until the baby was born—I knew that I had to let Adam go, and I did. I never replied to his letter that explained his plans to become a minister and stay in Africa an additional year. He had written a handful of letters since then, which I tucked away in a shoebox unopened.
I didn’t have the heart to read his thoughts when I did not intend to write him back. I couldn’t stomach the hurt he must feel knowing that I hadn’t written him a single letter since Christmas. I didn’t know what to say to him, how to tell him good-bye without an explanation or, worse, give him one full of more lies. So I just didn’t tell him anything. This only added to the overwhelming guilt that I was feeling already.
I dreamed of him nearly every night. My dreams were so vivid. When I woke up, it was hard to decipher what was in my mind and what was real. I had very physical dreams, where his touch felt so authentic. Adam kissing my lips, my neck, whispering in my ear, as my body shivered from his breath on my cheek. Adam taking my body for his own, in the way only he knew how. I would wake up breathless, the longing nearly choking me.
And then there were the dreams where I walked out of the bathroom and told him that I was pregnant, and he was ecstatic. The dreams where he was here with me, watching my belly grow, placing his hands against my skin as he marveled at the feel of the baby’s movements from inside. Awakening from these dreams resulted in severe rounds of hysteria that were nearly impossible to recover from. Marie would come home from work to find me still in bed with the curtains drawn. I just wanted this to be over so that I could move on with my life. So that I could be young and free again.
My mother called nearly every day. She had been extremely upset when I had told her of my plans to take a break from school. I played up the idea of how overwhelmed I was and how stressed I was feeling. She insisted that I come home, but I told her that I wanted to get a job to save money for school. She couldn’t deny that I would make more money in Seattle than I could ever make taking a job back home. She called for constant updates about my job hunt. I just kept telling her that nothing had come up yet. I tried to avoid lying to her as much as possible, but it was inevitable. I wondered if this was just the beginning. If my life would always be one big fat lie.
My favorite days were when Tabatha skipped classes to hang out with me. She would paint my toenails while she told me everything that was happening at school, and then we would watch old movies until Marie came home from work. Tab usually had a letter or two from Adam in hand when she arrived. I had forwarded my mail but they still seemed to end up in my old mailbox on campus. I put them in the box unopened with all the others, while trying to ignore the hopeful look that Tabatha gave me each time.
“Come on, Kendi. Aren’t you even a little curious about what he has to say?” she asked.
“Curious or not, it’s too hard. I don’t deserve to have him in my life. It’s better this way.”
“The poor guy. Can’t you at least write him and tell him good-bye or tell him that you are moving on?”
“Whatever I tell him will be void of the truth, and he will still be left wondering why. Can we not talk about this, Tab?”
“Fine. But I’m just sayin’,” she said as she plopped down on the couch next to me.
“I know.” I breathed out in frustration. The truth was I had considered reading his letters a thousand times, but something always stopped me, although I didn’t have the strength to throw them away. At first I didn’t know what to say to him, and now it had been so long that it seemed like whatever I did say to him wouldn’t be enough.
I rode the bus to Capitol Hill where my new doctor’s office was located. Heather had referred me to Dr. Pierce, a highly recommended obstetrician who practiced at Swedish Medical Center. Initially I wasn’t thrilled about having a male doctor, but I didn’t have much of a choice since the Petersens were footing the bill. Dr. Pierce had experience with newborn adoptions, and was extremely comfortable with Heather and Charles’s role in the situation.
Heather was meeting me at Dr. Pierce’s office that day. She tried to drive down from Bellingham for most of my checkups. It seemed silly for her to come all that way for a twenty-minute doctor visit, but she insisted, and who was I to deny her. It was nice to have someone with me. I had insisted on going to my appointments alone so that Marie didn’t miss any more work than absolutely necessary.
After my appointment Heather invited me out to lunch. She drove us down to the waterfront where we enjoyed lunch at a small restaurant, watching the ferries come and go through the bay windows while we ate. We chatted about how I was feeling and what I had been doing with all my spare time. She told me about her latest patients at the hospital and her father’s birthday party that they had attended over the weekend. She was sweet and easy to talk to.
I asked her if they had gone through the adoption process before, remembering how knowledgeable she seemed. She admitted to me that they had been through this a year before with another young girl. She had moved in with them, they had painted the nursery, and, the day the baby was born, the mother couldn’t go through with it.
She had kept the baby and moved back home with her parents.
Heather had tears in her eyes as she told me the story. I was shocked. The lawyer had repeatedly told me that nothing was legal or permanent until after the baby was born, that I could change my mind when the time came. I couldn’t imagine doing that to Heather and Charles. I knew how much they wanted this baby, how much they deserved to have this baby. As if reading my thoughts, she reached across the table and placed her hand on mine.
“You know, Kendi. I would understand if you couldn’t go through with it too,” she said softly. “This is your life, your choice, and we are so grateful to you for even considering us to be your baby’s parents.”
I looked into her hazel eyes, filled with sadness. “Heather, I don’t know what to say. I want you to raise this baby. I know that you and Charles will be great parents. I need to finish college, and I want to try to get into medical school.”
She smiled at me, but her features were still laced with uncertainty. “You’re extremely smart and driven. I’m sure that you’ll have no problem getting into medical school. And you’re always welcome in our home, if you want to see the baby.”
“Does Charles want that too? He doesn’t seem happy about our arrangement.”
“Oh, Kendi, he is happy. He’s just very guarded this time. We’ve been through a lot, and he doesn’t want to get too attached, in case...you know...”
“In case I change my mind?” I finished her sentence for her, and she nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”
Her face suddenly lit up with an idea. “Hey, why don’t you let me take you shopping for some maternity clothes to get you by for the next month or so? What do you think?”
I had been practically living in the same pants for weeks; new clothes did sound nice. “Okay, if you don’t mind,” I said.
“I would love to.” She seemed excited at the idea of shopping. “Let’s go up to Fifth Avenue, and then I’ll drive you home when we’re done.”
Ripple: A Novel Page 17