Abandoned

         I sat there in silence.

         "I’m sorry. I just can’t do this. I’m not ready to be a dad," he said.

         Without another word he stood up and walked out. For a long time I just sat there. It didn’t help that the drugs from my delivery hadn’t quite worn off yet, so trying to process exactly what he meant and why he had walked out was taking a lot longer than usual. The soft shuffling of the nurses feet as she brought my son into the room broke my foggy concentration.

         "Would you like to hold him?" Bonnie asked sweetly.

         "Sure," I managed to choke out, forcing myself out of the daze I was in.

         She gently placed him in my arms and told me to make sure I support his head. It was the first time I had seen him since I had delivered him earlier that morning. I looked up at Bonnie, her face a mixture of concern and judgement, and could instantly tell she was thinking the exact same thing I was. I had absolutely no business holding this infant. I was a 20 year old child that probably couldn’t even keep a plant alive, let alone a helpless baby. She backed away slowly, her body ready to spring to the rescue should I somehow manage to drop him or make one wrong move.

         "If you need anything at all just push the red button on your remote," she said.

         "Thanks," I replied, refusing to look at her. I could feel shame and a feeling of complete exposure of my incompetence burning on my skin.

         The door shut with a click, and I found myself looking over the same dull interior of my cramped hospital room that I had been staring at for hours. I knew what I was supposed to do, but the act of doing it took me a long time. I closed my eyes and finally forced myself to look at my son. He slept peacefully, his chest rising and falling with the serenity of someone without a care in the world.

         Must be nice, I thought.

         I stared at him for a long time. The minutes dragged on until finally I came to a realization; I felt absolutely nothing. This was the first time I had held him since he came out of me, and I couldn’t dig up even an ounce of emotion for this child. Looking at him reminded me of Michael, and his statement finally started to sink in. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to be with me or this baby. He left us.

         But was I really that shocked?
 
         "It’s positive," I said quietly.

         I looked at him and could see he was about to throw up. I moved into the hallway as he retched into the toilet. I didn’t offer him any help because, honestly, I was having a hard time keeping my own food down those days, and I didn’t particularly feel like joining in his misery. The sound of his heaves forced me into the living room, and I sat on the couch waiting for him to finish. Finally he came out and stood in front of me.

         "I can’t tell you what to do with your own body, but please, for the love of God, get an abortion," he said coldly.

         "No." I replied instantly, shocking myself as the word came out.

         "Why not? We can’t have a baby. We aren’t even together! I’m not ready for this!" he cried desperately.

         "Look I'm not ready for this either, but I'm also not ready to be a murderer," I responded.

         He stared at me for what seemed like forever, with a look of pure hatred, and finally stormed out of my apartment, slamming the door behind him. I curled up into a ball and cried until I fell asleep. Hours later I awoke to the sound of my front door shutting. Michael sat down with his back against the door and stared at the floor. His inability to look at me stabbed me like a needle.

         "We should probably move in together,” he said, “we have to save money somehow."

         So that’s what we did. We didn’t talk about the baby. We never even picked out a name. I knew he didn’t want to and I wasn’t going to force him. He only came to one doctors appointment with me, and complained the whole time, so I didn’t invite him again. We silently ignored my growing belly, and over time grew to love each other. I had even started to think maybe everything would be okay. I knew he wasn’t really interested in my pregnancy or the baby, but I knew he loved me in his own way, and he said he wanted to be a part of it, so for the time being, that was enough. Things would change after the baby came, right?
 
         As I held the baby a wave of exhaustion washed over me and I called Bonnie back in to take him. That night I tossed and turned, replaying the past nine months in my head. Every time the nurse brought the baby into my room, I pretended to sleep until they took him away. Finally I drifted to sleep. In the morning I awoke to the horrible sound of the new happy family that had been moved into the bed next to mine sometime during the night.

         "Oh Richard, she is so beautiful!" the ecstatic new mother exclaimed.

         "I know. She looks just like you, only with my eyes. God, she is gorgeous!" he replied.

         I wanted to throw up. But his words made me realize something. I had no idea what color eyes my son had. I had been so drugged from my epidural I couldn’t remember what color they were the first time they handed him to me. Since then I had only held him once and he had been asleep. I grabbed my remote and pushed the red button. The nurse came in a few minutes later.

         "You rang?" Bonnie said in her sweet voice, which I had begun to loathe.

         "When can I go home?" I asked.

         "You can be discharged as soon as you want,” she said, “you guys are both healthy and Dr. Atwood says you are good to go. Do you have someone to come get you?”

         "Yeah, I have someone," I lied.

         "Okay, I’ll get all the paperwork and your son ready and be back later to discharge you," she said, “have you chosen a name?”

         “No.” I replied, refusing to look at her.

         Bonnie left the room.

         It hadn’t dawned on me yet that Michael not coming back meant that I was on my own, without a ride home. At that point there was really only one person I could call. I picked up the phone and dialed.

         "Hello?" A deep husky voice answered.

         "Hey dad," I said.

         "Hey sweetie! How are you feeling? How’s the baby?" he asked excitedly.

         I hadn’t had much contact with my parents during my pregnancy. They didn’t like Michael, and really hated the position I had gotten myself in. They called every once in awhile to see if there was anything they could do to help, but my pride wouldn’t allow it, so they kept their distance. Hearing my dad’s voice calmed my nerves and I took a deep breath.

         "Dad can you give me a ride home from the hospital?" I said.

         "Sure honey. What time do you need me there?" he said.

         That’s one of the things I loved about my dad, he didn’t ask questions. I gave him directions to the hospital and told him to come sometime in the afternoon. After I hung up,  Bonnie came back in, with a big happy smile on her face.

         "Would you like to see your son? You haven’t seen him since yesterday morning." 

         "Uh, no." I replied quickly. "I mean, I’m gonna take a shower."

         I looked away and focused on trying to get myself out of bed. I heard her leave my section and go over to the couple next to me. They immediately started chattering about how beautiful their new baby was. I hurried to the bathroom as fast as I could, trying to hide from the blissfully happy atmosphere of the section next to me that I should be sharing in, but wasn’t. Why couldn’t I be happy like that? Oh yeah, because I was completely abandoned and alone. I didn’t have an ecstatic partner to share my joy with. When I looked at my baby I was empty, instead of overwhelmed with love and adoration. I didn’t even deserve to be in the same room as these people.

         I got to the bathroom and shut the door behind me, taking a deep breath as I stood there. The trauma of what my body had just gone through hit me like a ton of bricks, and I suddenly hurt all over. I undressed slowly and turned the water to as hot as it would go. The pain of the water hitting my body was like a sweet release.

         With my mind being as numb as it was, something had to hurt, otherwise I would start to question if I was even alive. I stood under the water like a zombie. At this point any normal person would be figuring out what to do next, but not me. Because, I realized, this whole situation was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard! He wasn’t going to leave. He couldn’t. I mean, obviously he was a jerk and a scared little boy, but was he really capable of leaving me and our newborn son? I don’t think so. He wouldn’t stick around through my whole pregnancy just to leave the day after our son was born. When I got home he would be there, telling me he was sorry and that he loved us. Everything would be fine. I would just give him some space and when I got home we would be a family. I felt excited at the thought of going home. Home was where my future was waiting for me.

         My new found realization eased my mind and I was able to wash my hair and body, and change into clean clothes that smelled like my detergent instead of a hospital. I made my way back to my bed feeling much better than I had going in. The couple next to me had visitors who were gushing loudly over the much loved little girl. I crawled back into bed and drifted to sleep.

         I woke to someone cursing quietly. I looked up and saw my dad sitting in a chair across from the end of my bed struggling with something I couldn’t see.

         "Hey dad," I said sleepily.

         Startled, he looked at me and stood up. What he had been struggling with, was a car seat.

         "Hey sweetie! How are you feeling?" he asked.

         "I'm fine. What are you doing?" I said, eyeing the car seat in his hands.

         "Well, I wasn’t sure if you had a car seat or not, so I picked one up on the way here. It’s been awhile since I've had to deal with one of these stupid things. I just remembered how much I hated them."

         My heart swelled a little with my dad’s thoughtfulness. I realized at that moment how much I had missed him.

         "Thanks dad. Here let me help," I offered.

         He set the car seat in my lap and together we got to work. After about an hour the car seat was ready to go. Just as we were finishing up the nurse came in.

         "So, are you ready to get out of here?" she asked.

         "Oh yeah!" I replied.

         While she went over some paperwork with my dad I looked out the window. It was already dark. I must have slept a long time. I was starting to get anxious about going home. Bonnie then went over instructions about the baby with me. I nodded, but wasn’t really listening. Something about alcohol and his belly button, got it. I just wanted to get out of there. I started getting my stuff together while she went to get my son.

         "Is everything ok?" My dad asked.

         I knew he was referring to the fact that Michael wasn’t there. I kept my eyes down, not wanting to look at him as I answered.

         "Yeah dad, everything is fine. It’s just been a long couple of days. It’s a lot to take in, you know? It’s just scary, that’s all. But everything will be fine."

         "Here he is!" Bonnie chimed in behind us.

         I zipped up my bag and turned around to see the nurse putting my sleeping son into my dad’s arms.

         "Oh, he’s beautiful!" he gushed.

         I didn’t say anything. I turned back to finish packing. It will be fine, I coached myself. Once I get home, it will all be fine. Bonnie had me sign some paperwork while my dad put my son into the car seat.

         "He sleeps a lot. Is that normal?" I asked her.

         "Well, he doesn’t sleep as much as you think. You just haven’t gotten to spend much time with him yet," she replied.

         Her response irritated me, mostly because it was true. But she didn’t have to say it. I was fully aware that I hadn’t seen my son very much since he was born, but all that would change once I got home.

         My dad pushed me down to the car in the wheel chair while I held my sleeping son in his car seat on my lap. My dad refrained from swearing while he tried to strap the car seat into the car. Twenty minutes later we were all safely in, and driving towards my apartment. I bounced my leg lightly, unable to sit still. I was too anxious. I just wanted to get home, for this whole situation to be over, for everything to go back to the way it was supposed to be. My dad told me about how my mom was doing, and the recent trip they had taken to New York . I barely heard a word he said. I’m pretty sure he knew I wasn’t listening, but he kept talking just to fill up the silence.

         Finally we reached my apartment. I quickly got all of my stuff. My dad, with the baby in tow, followed me up the stairs. I dug through my purse to find my keys and took a deep breath as I unlocked the door. It was pitch black inside, so I reached over and switched on the light.

         It took my eyes a second to adjust, but when they did a wave of nausea hit me as I took in the room.

         "What the hell happened in here?" my dad asked quietly from behind me.

         The entire living room was almost completely empty. The only things left were my coffee table, my bookshelves filled with all of my books and my now empty entertainment center. Everything that had belonged to Michael was gone.

         The couch that he had insisted was more comfortable than mine, the TV that was bigger than mine, all of the movies we had gotten while we were together, the desk along with his computer , all the posters that I had let him put up so he would feel more at home, gone. I walked on shaky legs into the kitchen. Most of the cupboards were open and empty. I opened the refrigerator and saw that he had cleaned out most of that as well.

         I quickly went to the bedroom. The sheets were gone and my pregnancy pillow was on the floor next to my bed. The dresser was gone and all of my clothes were in a pile where the dresser had been. The tiny dresser I had bought for the babies clothes was untouched. The bathroom was the same. Everything of his, or anything that we had gotten while we were together, was gone. He had taken everything. He didn’t even leave me our sheets or a blanket.

         "I'm so sorry sweetie," my dad said softly from behind me.

         I turned and looked at him. I couldn’t speak. I felt my heart ripping inside of my chest. I wanted to scream out in pain, in disbelief. But I couldn’t make a sound. I stood there staring at him for a long time. I could tell he wanted to say something, anything, but didn’t know what to say.

         "You should head home dad," I heard myself say. "It’s getting late."

         He stared at me, confused.

         "You can’t stay here,” he said, “come home with me."

         "No dad. I need to stay here tonight. He might come back."

         I knew what I had just said sounded desperate and sad. He obviously wasn’t coming back, but I just couldn’t believe it. I walked past my father and out into the living room. I stood in front of my sleeping son still strapped in his car seat.

         "I don’t want you to stay here," my dad said.

         "I know, but I need to," I replied, not taking my eyes off my son.

         My dad walked over and knelt down to kiss my son softly. He turned to me with sad eyes, not knowing what to do. He hugged me, and I let him.

         "If you need anything at all, or if you want me to come get you, call me. I don’t care what time, you call me, okay?"

         "I will."

         He left, closing the door quietly. I knelt down and lifted my son out of his car seat, walked him to my bedroom and laid him on the bed. I covered him in one of the baby blankets from his dresser then silently crept out.

         My eyes roamed the living room, taking in the emptiness. Suddenly, my throat started to ache and my eyes filled with tears that began to stream down my cheeks. I let out a choked sob, not realizing that I had been holding my breath. I fell to my knees sobbing, my face burning hot with tears. The pain in my chest hurt so bad I could barely breathe.

         "What am I going to do?" I gasped out, finally saying it out loud.

         I collapsed on the floor, crying hysterically. I couldn’t stop myself. I hurt so bad I thought I would die. I couldn’t think. All I could do was beg silently for the pain to go away so I could just think. Eventually I fell asleep out of pure exhaustion.
 
         When I finally woke up I was shivering so badly my teeth chattered. My apartment was freezing cold. I had forgotten about our lack of a heater due to the building being so old. I got up to go get a blanket and remembered with a chuckle, that there weren’t any. I wrapped my arms around myself and went to my bedroom to check on my son. He was still fast asleep. I knelt down close to him and heard him breathing in and out softly.

         I started pacing the room quietly, finally able to think. What was I going to do now? I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby. Michael hadn’t either, but we were supposed to learn together. We were supposed to be there to help each other and learn to be a parent together. Now it was just me. All alone, and I didn’t have a clue. The panic was quickly increasing and I could feel the pain start to come back. I sat against the wall and put my head between my knees. My head was swimming, and my whole body hurt, especially my chest where my heart was broken in two.

         I don’t know what to do, I thought, what am I going to do? Then I remembered something Michael had said.

         "I can’t do this." I said out loud.

         For a moment my whole world seemed to freeze. The only thing in my mind was the words I had just said, echoing loudly.

         Suddenly, I heard a tiny cry. I looked up from where I sat and saw that my son was moving around. When I walked over to the bed I looked down at the little bundle that had turned my life upside down. As he wiggled and squirmed I bent down to get a good look at his face. He looked up at me and I finally saw them.

         “Your eyes are blue,” I whispered, astonished. “You have my eyes.”

         He stared at me, his deep blue eyes exact replicas of my own. I had the sudden urge to hold him so I picked him up and carried him to the kitchen where I made him a bottle. I went back to the bedroom and sat down on the bed, putting the bottle into his mouth. He started sucking on it greedily, all the while never taking his eyes off my face.

         As I sat and watched him eat, something strange happened. It was as if my heart was piecing itself back together, and the pain began to morph into something entirely different. My heart began to swell and felt as if it was going to burst out of my chest. What I felt was the overwhelming sensation of love. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. Suddenly Michael didn’t matter anymore. I could have cared less if he was there or not. In fact I was kind of relieved. I didn’t want anyone interrupting my moment with my son, and I’m pretty sure that if I had to hand him over to anyone that I just might die from separation. I wanted to hold him forever and never let him go. He was mine now, and I wouldn’t give him up for anything in the world.

         We studied each other. He had my nose and my dad’s joker mouth. His hair was a soft milk chocolate color just like mine. Michael was Hispanic and I was white so my son’s skin was slightly darker than mine, but in everything else he was just a tinier version of me.

         “I’m sorry I haven’t seen you very much these last couple of days,” I said to him, “I was just scared. I don’t really know what I’m doing with you, and I didn’t want to do it alone. But now I’m kind of glad. I get to have you all to myself and I don’t have to share.”

         He finished his bottle and just looked at me expectantly. I racked my brain trying to remember all the things the nurse had said to me before I left. I started to feel the panic coming back, and then it dawned on me.

         Burping! He has to be burped after eating.

         I tossed the bottle next to me and gently placed him over my shoulder while I patted his back. I put my nose against his head and inhaled deeply. He had this smell of soap and baby powder that made me want to sit there and smell him forever. If love had a smell, this would be it, the smell of my son for the first time. It was intoxicating. I was on a high like I had never felt before.

         “I am going to love you forever,” I whispered into his ear.

         He gave out a little burp, as if in agreement. I laid down next to him on the bed and just played with him. Letting him grab onto my fingers and watching him flail around. Everything he did was amazing. His little coos and noises were like music to my ears. I changed his diaper and pulled out a fresh outfit. I heard him cry out and noticed little goose-bumps on his skin. They reminded me of how cold my apartment was. I dressed him quickly and wrapped him in the warmest blanket I could find.

         “We can’t stay here. This just isn’t the right place for us anymore,” I said to him.

         I placed him in his car seat in the living room, where he quickly fell back asleep, and made the phone call I never thought I would make.

         “Hello?” A sleepy voice answered.

         “Dad, can we come home?” I asked him.

         “I’m on my way,” he said, and hung up.

         I looked around the apartment to try and figure out what I should take and realized something. I was totally unprepared for this baby. I didn’t have a crib or a cradle or even a changing table. Even my dad had had to buy me a car seat.

         What was I thinking? I thought to myself. And the truth was that I wasn’t. Up until then I had only really thought about myself and Michael, not realizing just how much this baby was going to change, or how much he was going to need.

         “Well I know now,” I said out loud to myself.

         I went to my room and packed up our clothes and all of my bathroom supplies, periodically looking back into the living room just to make sure he hadn’t somehow disappeared. When I was done I sat down in the living room and just stared at him. I started thinking of what he was going to be like when he got older and all the things I couldn’t wait to show him. My heart was racing with the excitement of having this perfect child. I couldn’t wait to show him to everyone. I knew that I was going to get those looks of pity when they asked where his father was, and I would have to tell them that he had left.

         “Hey, I’m not sad,” I would tell them. “I have a beautiful son. Michael’s the one that’s missing out.” And it would be completely true.

         At that moment my dad showed up.

         “Hey sweetie! You guys ready to go home?” he asked.

         “You have no idea!” I said to him with a smile.

         We packed everything up into the car and strapped the baby in. I went back upstairs to lock up and took a second to look over the apartment that I would not be returning to. This was the home that belonged to a past life, one that wasn’t meant for us anymore. I felt a hint of sadness because I knew that once I left, Michael and the life that I had had, would be gone. But that just wasn’t my life anymore. I had a completely different road to travel now.

         I locked up and booked it down to the car, anxious to get to my parents house so I could see my mother. I had a million and one questions for her. I knew that if I was going to learn how to be a mother, she was the one I wanted to learn from.

         My dad spent the whole car ride home talking excitedly about how great it would be to have a baby in the house and all the sports my son was going to play when he got older. I couldn’t help smiling at how excited he was because I felt the same way. This was the excitement I was supposed to share with Michael, but I was really glad it was with my dad instead.

         When we pulled up to the house all of the lights were on. My mom rushed out the front door in her robe and smothered me in a hug as she cried loudly.

         “I’m so glad you’re home,” she sobbed.

         “Me too,” I replied, trying hard not to cry.
         
         We got the baby inside and my dad started the trips back to the car to bring in all my stuff. My mom immediately took the baby out of his car seat and rocked him while she cried silently.

         “Have you chosen a name yet?” she asked me.

         I thought for a moment and then replied, “Spencer.”

         “Spencer,” she repeated. “It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. He looks just like you. He doesn’t look anything like the donor.”

         I laughed hearing her refer to Michael as the donor.

         “Mom, I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said to her.

         She looked up at me and smiled.

         “I know honey, but don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you need to know. The rest will just come naturally. You’re going to be a great mother.”

         My heart hurt with my love for her. At that moment I realized how much I had missed her, and how much I really needed her now. If I was going to survive this at all, I needed my mom. I thought back to how much she had taken care of me throughout my life. If I could be half as good of a mom as she was, I would be really lucky.

         Finally my dad finished bringing in all of my stuff.

         “Are you ready to see your new room?” he asked with a big grin on his face.

         I followed him and my mom, still holding Spencer, to the room that used to belong to me, and now belonged to me again. When I walked in I couldn’t believe it. My bed was neatly made with the covers pulled back, as if waiting for someone to snuggle into it. Next to the bed was a crib, swing and a changing table filled with diapers, clothes and blankets. All around the room were other baby things like a tiny baby bath and containers of toys. Everything my son needed.

         “We weren’t sure if you had any of this stuff, so we’ve been buying things here and there just in case,” my dad said.

         Suddenly the tears spilled out of me. My dad hugged me tightly and my mom stroked my hair. In that moment I knew that this is where we were supposed to be. This was our home. I was a mother, and the only thing that mattered in the whole world, was Spencer, my son.