Mother's day

Warning This story contains themes of pregnancy

Mother’s Day by Amanda Stogsdill

Staring at the hospital door, I panic. As my heart accelerates, I'm dizzy. Can I do this? Keeping it isn't an option, if it's adopted, another family could love it. If it were terminated, my problem would be solved. That seems wrong, too. Killing an unborn child, just because I don't want it? It's kicking; I should feel something, but I'm dead inside. I can’t carry it for nine months, then give it up!

Chewing my nails, I collapse on the graffiti-covered bench, gazing into space. Two choices, either one can have consequences for me and this child. My eyes slowly close, I drift off in the warm sun.

Let me show you.” Turning around, I see Me? She’s younger, but the spitting image of me. “You want to know what will happen?” I nod, too shocked to speak.

“Think of this as your Mother’s Day.” Younger Me touches my arm, I shiver.

Just like that, we’re traveling through space. We land outside a well-kept house. “Come in.” Wide-eyed, I follow her. We simply lean against the house's front door, which slides open, like magic.

I'm in the living room with your Mom. I've no idea how I arrived. We applaud as you take your first steps across the carpet. "Come here." Your Mom calls. Your Dad claps as you stumble, then fall. Back on your feet, you unsteadily toddle to your dad.

I'm delighted! You're walking. Shame you can't see my smile!

Well, here we are, in a long line to see Santa. Your parents are excited, you're not happy at all. When your turn comes, you open your mouth and let out the longest loudest scream ever heard. Santa just smiles, "Maybe next time."

****** I'm traveling with you in your parents' car. Still unseen, this is bizarre to me. In the backseat, you excitedly peer out the window. "There. I see it." You point at the brick building, bouncing in your seat. Your Mom and I smile, not quite believing this is happening.

You're about to embark on the biggest adventure of your life—kindergarten. She and I watch you enter the playground confidently, your Disney-themed backpack blending perfectly with everyone else's. "Bye Mom. See you!" No tears or inquiries of "When will you get me?" Or "Can you stay?" One girl is still clinging to her Mom's hand! Blinking furiously, your Mom nods as your teacher gathers you kids into a not-quite-straight line. She's proud of you, my awesome child.

"Love you!" She waves back, smiling bravely. "Listen to your teacher, try and behave on the playground. You'll do very well." She whispers. I silently agree with her.

***

Brown and orange leaves collect in crunchy piles, just right for jumping. On this beautiful autumn night, many families are also enjoying the biggest night in a kid's year. I'm proud to be walking by your side, you could say I'm the friendly ghost.

Dressed in your Halloween costume, you and a friend eagerly rush from house to house, candy bags bulging! Your Mom's been instructed by you, "Wait here. I want to go up myself!" Many houses have ghouls and tombstones to scare many kids, but not you. You're afraid of the spooky music and the cackling witch waiting at one house, though. Some people won't give up their candy, until a joke is told first. After about an hour and a half, you head back, passing other families, all in creepy or funny costumes. A whole family is dressed as characters from The Wizard of Oz.

After your friend's gone home, you tumble into bed. Your Mom decides not to raid your haul until you're sound asleep. You won't miss a few Snickers Bars or Gummy Worms, right?

Sweet dreams.

***** You're a teenager, full of stubbornness and a "don't mess with me" attitude. Thinking you know everything, your opinions get you in trouble when you give answers in class. Grounding isn't much of a punishment; I observe you sneaking out at night to a friend's, anyway.

Puberty is a nightmare, with your friends' bodies developing faster than yours. I watch as you obsess over perfect bodies, diet, and exercise. for a teen, being popular is what matters. Choose your own friends, they'll stick with you.

Being a fly on the wall is bizarre; I've watched you and your Mom argue about money, curfews, fashion, everything under the sun. I'd say, "Be patient, you'll catch up." Stay young a little while longer. You have your whole life to be grown up. Making decisions isn't as easy as it looks. Sometimes they're painful. I thought.

Be careful, too. Don't fall for the first partner who sweeps you off your feet. Charm and movie star looks aren't the true person! That usually reveals themselves much later. And a warning, condoms and birth control aren't the surefire protection they're cracked up to be.

Most important, have fun. Enjoy life as much as you can. Go to school dances, have sleepovers. Get your license (for goodness sake no wrecking, please!) Drinking and Driving are off limits! If you must drink, crash at a friend's.

Sorry for the doom and gloom rant; I guess I worry too much. Your parents certainly do. Don't take them for granted.

***** Congratulations, your graduation day! I watch as you line up with your class, laughing as you give a speech. We cheer as each student receives their diploma! Maybe you'll travel, or go off to college, with its parties and late-night cramming. Unseen by you and your mother, I smile through my tears. No matter what you choose, I love you!

“The kid was adopted?” I ask.

“Yes. Very nice. Want to see more?” Younger Me smiles.

“Do I have a choice?” Shaking her head, we lean against a nearby wall. The scene dissolves in to a parking lot.

I emerged from the hospital, blinking in the late afternoon sun. I've done it! I'm so calm, refreshed, as if this enormous weight were removed from my shoulders. Now what? Go back to school, find employment? First though, I'm going to celebrate.

"I do." My husband and I stand at the altar, surrounded by family and friends. I'm married, which hardly seemed possible a year ago. I'm working as a cashier, my husband's a lawyer. I don't know what the future holds, I'm ready for whatever comes.

You'd be getting a sibling if you were alive. I can feel this new baby kicking inside, just as you did. This time, I'm both emotionally and financially ready to support a family. I haven't told my husband about you, and plan to keep it buried. No one needs to know. We've already selected wallpaper, a crib, and many other things for the room.

"Mom, can I have a sister or brother for Christmas?" Three-year-old Jaden clambered into my lap, with that innocent hopeful look all young kids have.

My heart sank. How to explain to him about you? I decided to dodge his question. "What else would you like instead? I'm sure Santa has what you want in his workshop?"

"I want a brother or sister," Jaden's lip jutted out, "All my friends have one." I said we'd see what happens, it may not work out.

"He asked for the unmentionable for Christmas." I sighed.

My husband nodded. "I'm not surprised." We discussed our dilemma, hoping Jaden wouldn't bring it up again. I still feel I made the right decision those years ago. Perhaps the doctor was wrong again; we may have more children, just not in the foreseeable future.

Christmas day went by without Jaden mentioning another sibling. Relieved, we welcomed family and friends; Jaden received lots more presents from Santa! With luck, the sibling will be forgotten in time. One of my friends was noticeably expecting.

As usual, Younger Me and I observed without comment. I wondered where this was going.

The bleak winter faded into lovely spring, with flowers blooming in our yard. One day, the phone rang. "Hi," Jill said brightly, "Just wondering if you have Jaden's old stuff?"

"Sure. When do you want them”?

"Anytime before this baby arrives." She laughed, "I feel huge. Were you like this with Jaden?" We discuss pregnancies for a while, then Jill asked, "Have you thought about more children? You only have the one”?

Not true, I thought. I answer that we're thinking about it.

I forgot about Jill's request, until my husband mentioned it. "She just called, wondering about those baby things?"

I broke out in a cold sweat. "I'll get them and drop them by myself." The next morning, after a sleepless night, I climb the attic stairs. Pushing aside old furniture, I find Jaden's baby clothes. At the bottom, I find the old photo. First Child is carefully written on the envelope.

I never thought I'd have to look at this again. Staring at your beautiful face, I feel calm. Maybe, I can finally let you go. I slide the picture in my pocket, unsure what to do with it. Dragging Jaden's clothes to the living room, I wonder if Jill knows her baby's gender.

Carefully placing the photo into my special box, I feel better instantly. I should have done that all along. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away somehow.

On a rare night out, my husband asked, "Should we try again?"

"If you want." I replied. Then, I thought, why am I making a big deal about this? The abortion happened four years ago, ancient history! I'd already proven I could have Jaden!

Watching this unfold was like seeing a movie on fast forward, trying to go straight for the drama in the middle, before slowly reaching its conclusion.

A couple months later, we're sitting in the doctor's office. "Congratulations, you're pregnant!" She beamed.

"Time to go." Younger Me pulled at my sleeve, and we leaned against the wall.

I jerk awake, blinking in the late afternoon sun. Was that a dream or what? Both situations seemed so real, as if I'd been present for each of my child's lives.

Rising stiffly, I gaze once again at the hospital entrance. As if on cue, a couple emerges, holding hands. Still quite confused by what had transpired, I enter the bustling hospital.

The End