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2 years later…
Life for me has changed considerably from the course I had originally set on. Granted, life takes you places you really didn't think you would ever go. But I never thought my life would shift so much from the route I anticipated taking. I understand the detour was my fault, but it still left me anxious and unsure of what to do next.
Finding out I was pregnant at 17 was shocking, to say the least. I felt so overwhelmed and so ashamed that my mind began conjuring ways to remedy the situation. Awful ideas filled my head and I decided to terminate my pregnancy. Just thinking about it now makes my stomach churn with guilt. But at the time I was drowning in self-reproach and that seemed like my only way out.
Turned out I couldn’t go through with it. I heard the heart beating and it changed everything for me. I guess in theory I understood there was a baby inside of me, but I never actually considered it living until I heard the fast paced rhythm of its little heart. If I close my eyes and listen carefully I can still hear it thumping in my ears. Thump-Dump-Thump-Dump.
I would love to say that things got better afterwards, but they didn’t. Jim became skeptical and literally hovered over me the entire summer. Not only that, but when school started in September, rumors spread about me like wildfire. Some said I had cheated on Jim and that he was not the father, others said I got pregnant just to keep him around, while a few doubted that I was even pregnant! It was awful. I tried not to focus on what people were saying too much because there was this tiny person growing inside of me that was my job to protect.
It was around that time I began looking into adoption. It was a given that Jim and I couldn’t raise a child. My parents, were hesitant at first, but later thought it was a good decision. However, Jim’s parents, including Jim (although he didn’t go against it at first), were opposed to the idea wholeheartedly.
“You want to do what?” Gerry said aghast.
“We want to give the baby up for adoption,” I said, wobbly on my knees.
“You don’t want the baby?” Betsy asked.
I looked at Jim and he looked at me and I saw a glimpse of sadness in his eyes.
“Of course I do.” And I did. I loved Jim and in turn, I loved this baby so much that it hurt. I wanted it to have everything we couldn’t give. “But we don’t have the means to raise it,” I added with tears in my eyes.
“A grandchild on mine can’t be brought up by strangers,” Betsy said.
“They won’t be strangers, per se. We get to choose them,” I said, trying but failing to smooth the situation. “You can meet them too if you want.”
Betsy looked as if she’d been trampled over by an angry mob. “Jim, is this what you want?”
Jim facial expression fell. Although he hadn’t told me, I knew how he felt about adoption. “I want what’s best for the baby,” he said calm and composed. “And Pam’s right. We don’t have the means to raise it,” he said, as if he’d been rehearsing it in his head.
So, with somewhat of our parent’s approval, we began looking into potential adoptive parents. We met with a few of them and it took us sometime, but we settled on a loving couple. It was a very hard to think about handing away half of me. I knew it was the right decision, but with every movement I felt, every flutter, and every kick…a part of me died. And I knew once that part of me was completely gone, I would never be fully functional again.
But one day, during an ultrasound something happened that initiated a cascade of events that would eventually lead me where I am.
It was a pretty routine ultrasound. I was lying on the hospital bed as the doctor navigated the wand over my burgeoning belly. Jim was leaning against the wall with his eyes fixed on the screen. The doctor was measuring the baby’s head, the spine, and examining all the typical things they do with each visit. He approximated the baby’s weight at 4 pounds 8 ounces.
“Everything looks good, Pam.”
“That’s good to hear,” I said.
The doctor quickly went over what I should be experiencing in the next few weeks and how to deal with the aches and pains that comes with the last trimester. I asked him if I could have an extra report (for the adoptive parents) and he said he would print two out for me. Before he left he said, “Do you guys have any questions?”
Jim, who had been blending with the wall this whole time, piped up from his corner, “I know she’s due in March, but is there a possibility the baby could come before?”
The doctor saw worry etched on Jim’s face and beamed his kindest smile for him. “So far, everything seems to be going according to plan,” the doctor said, “Don’t worry about that just yet. She’s not coming out anytime soon.”
Jim frowned his brow and asked, “She?” I hadn’t caught the slip up until Jim asked again, “Did you say she?”
“I didn’t...I was talking about…” The doctor bit his lip, knowing what he had just done. “I’m sorry.” He looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“A little girl,” Jim said, a bit disoriented, looking at the doctor with this dreamlike expression on his face. “We’re having a little girl,” he repeated, then exclaimed with a bit more confidence. “We are having a little girl!”
A deep rooted pain stabbed my heart at the site of Jim’s overwhelming reaction, which will forever be etched in my mind. The thought that our baby was never going to be able to call him dad sliced right through me. I wanted her so much that day that it hurt. But I had convinced myself that it would be selfish to keep her. I had made a mistake, she didn’t. She deserved parents who would be there for her and who would fulfill her needs.
“I’m so sorry,” the doctor apologized for a second time. “I hope you guys aren’t mad at me.”
Before I had a chance to say anything, Jim answered, “We are not mad,” he said, “How could we be mad?” Then he looked at me with glossy eyes and whispered, “Pam, we’re having a little girl!”
After that fateful ultrasound, Jim began slowly distancing himself from me. The bigger my belly grew, the further we grew apart. Looking back, he wasn’t detaching himself from me, but from the baby. He knew he was getting attached to her and it would be impossible to give her away if he got any closer - if he felt a little foot nudging his hand. At the time I welcomed the space between us. While he was around, I had an enormous urge to keep her, but when he wasn’t I didn’t question my decision to give her up.
Although Jim tried to keep his distance and his feelings buried, anyone within a 25 mile radius knew his was struggling with my decision. I tried talking to him, but he kept his promise to support me. I don’t know why it caught me by surprise when he finally burst. I knew it was coming, but I just didn’t think it would happen the way it did. It happened when we were making arrangements with our adoption counselor and the adoptive parents on how the “exchange” would go. I knew if I held the baby and looked at her little face my resolve would crumble and I would never be able to let her go. Ever. I made the decision to not see or holder her. When I made my point clear, I felt Jim begin to slowly boil next to me.
“So, you don’t want any contact with the baby?” The adoption counselor asked.
“I rather I didn’t,” I told her.
Jim released a bitter chuckle and I could literally see steam coming out of his ears. His reaction didn’t go unnoticed by the adoptive parents, who eyed at each other nervously.
“Pam, in my experience, it is sometimes better to have a moment of closure. I think you should reconsider, the counselor said gently.
“No, I can’t—” And as soon as I said this, Jim erupted, gushing hot lava all over the place.
“You don’t want to see her? Touch her? Nothing?” He asked me, his eyes boiling with rage. “You’re not one bit curious what your daughter looks like?” He shook his head. “You know, just because you won’t see her, doesn’t mean she will suddenly disappear.”
“Jim, it’s Pam’s choice not to see her, but it doesn’t mean you can’t,” the counselor said.
“You can hold her as much as you want,” the adoptive mom kindly added.
“I will hold my daughter,” Jim said curtly. He stood up and began pacing the room. “It is wrong to want her? I know I’m a stupid teenager and all, but I do. I want her. There, I said it. Write it down on all those papers that we’ve been signing that her dad wanted her.”
The counselor and the adoptive parents were struck with silence. What could they say? The most beautiful words strung into elaborate sentences wouldn’t comfort his heart.
“Can I have a moment with Jim, please??” I asked meekly.
Without uttering another word, the adoptive parents and the counselor, stood up, and excused themselves leaving Jim and I alone. Jim couldn’t even look at me. He leaned his forehead against the wall and balled his fist at his sides. I had never seen him so…crushed.
Running a hand over my belly, I said, “I named her.” He slowly turned my direction and held my gaze. “Cecelia Marie,” I revealed. “Cecelia after my grandmother and Marie after yours. She will have a piece of us wherever she goes.” Tears agglomerated in the back of my eyes. “I want her too. I want to see her. I want to hold her. Do you think it’s easy for me, carrying her, feeling her move knowing I’m going to have to give her away?” I wiped my face with my shirt sleeve and continued. “I love her so much Jim that I’m willing to suffer for the rest of my life so she could have everything we can’t give her.”
Jim shuffle his feet toward me and kneeled down in front on me. He then placed his hands over my belly and Cece kicked him hard. His eyes filled with tears. “She’s ours.”
“I know.”
“Look, it’s gonna be hard. But it will be even harder not thinking about her every single day of my life, wondering if she’s okay, if she’s happy.”
“She will be well taken care of, Jim. We can’t give her what they can.”
Jim wiped at his own eyes and said the words that changed our lives forever. “You are right; we can’t give her everything she needs now, but that doesn’t mean we will never be able to.”
Well, that day, in Scranton’s adoption center, Jim and I decided to keep our little girl.
Currently, Cece lives mainly with me at parent’s house. She is this amazing little girl with curly blond hair, a rosebud for a mouth, and big blue eyes. She is without a doubt the sweetest little thing I have ever known and I seriously, seriously doubt that there will ever be a time in my life in which that statement will not be true. She is as easy going as a spring breeze, as warm as a summer sunset, and as gentle as an autumn leaf falling to the ground.
Although Jim doesn’t’ technically live with us, he is pretty much here every day and most nights. He has a key and the guest bedroom is pretty much his bedroom. He works full time as a salesman at a paper company and goes to school at night. He provides everything Cece needs and is the best dad. That little girl absolutely loves him. One smile, one “da-da” from her and just like that she has him wrapped around her pinky finger.
After I had Cece, it was hard to keep up with school and take care of her. I ended up not graduating on time and missed the application deadline for the fall. So I worked as a receptionist at the same paper company Jim’s working while Cece went to daycare during the day. But I applied for the spring semester and have since started taken a couple of classes. It’s going to take me more time to get my degree, but I’ll get there.
It’s been hard, juggling school, work, and Cece. For example, trying to write an open response tonight with a one year old with an ear infection is very difficult. She wants to be held and I want nothing more than to hold my blond little babe and just cuddle away her ear infection, which I’m currently doing, but also typing my paper. I’m not even halfway done and it’s due tomorrow.
I hear the back door opening and I look at the time on the computer screen, 11:46 pm. It’s Jim. As soon as Cecelia sees him, she lifts her head from my shoulders and whimpers a little louder throwing her arms in his direction. He quietly drops his book bag on the floor, gives me a peck on my cheek, and lifts a weeping Cece off my arms.
“Still with the ear infection, uh?” He asks, nestling Cece in his arms.
“Yeah… I gave her the medicine the doctor prescribed, but it hasn’t gotten any better,” I tell him.
“Oh Cee…” he says running a soothing hand on her back.
I can see the black circles under Jim’s eyes. He is drained. Between selling paper during the day and taking classes at night, it leaves little time to do anything else.
“You can give her to me and you can go to sleep,” I offer, though, I could really use a few minutes to focus on this open response.
“I got home late yesterday and I didn’t get to see her. I will lay down upstairs with her and see if she settles.”
I won’t object to that. “Okay, but if she keeps fussing, just bring her down.” I tell him. “Oh, I went to the market and picked a few things, but I forgot to get diapers.”
“I will pick some up tomorrow,” he says and lowers Cece down to my eye level. “Say goodnight to mommy.”Cece rubs her doll face on his shirt and burrows her head on his neck. She’s not up to anything tonight.
I plant a kiss on her hair and watch as Jim ascends the stairs with Cece draped over his shoulders.
This is how most of our nights go, except Cece is not always sick. Our parents help, but they were very clear that they are not her parents. That is not to say that they don’t lend a hand when we need, they do and we couldn’t do it without them. But they don’t wake up in the middle of the night to tend to her, they don’t prepare her bottles, and they don’t stay up with her if she’s sick. And I understand completely.
All in all, Jim and I are very optimistic about our future. Things maybe though now, but it’s a walk in the park compared to the few months following Cece’s birth. Still, some days are great, others are not. Some nights we sleep, some nights we don’t. We chose this path and I’m extremely thankful we did. I couldn’t live a day on this earth without holding, kissing, and hugging my daughter. Giving her away would have been the end of my relationship with Jim and possibly the end of me. Now, it’s only the beginning.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I know this story wasn't everyone's cup of tea and that's totally okay. But I have hard time leaving stories unfinished. It’s like holding a sneeze. So instead of writing a bunch of chapters, I took my outline and made it into one last chapter.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Cheers!
Dedeen is the author of 20 other stories.
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