Choices

***This story contains sensitive content relating to abuse and teen pregnancy.***

“I’m pregnant,” Tracy breathed, dropping her eyes to her hands, folded in her lap. The sound of basketballs bouncing and hitting the backboard seemed to add punctuation to her words.

“Why do I care?” Ben sneered back then rolled his eyes.

“Because it’s yours. You’re the only one I’ve been with.”

“And I’m I supposed to believe that? I don’t know who you’ve been screwing around with. I only know I was first.”

Tracy winced. She should have expected his response. He had ghosted her since the day after they had slept together. A quick and uncomfortable encounter in the back seat of his dad’s four door pickup. It had been 6 weeks and the EPT test she took in the high school bathroom, to avoid being discovered at home, had shown a bright blue plus sign. 

“Just get rid of it and leave me alone,” he threw the words over his shoulder as he walked away.

*****************

“You slut! How could you pass yourself around and get yourself pregnant? You have humiliated this family! Did you even think for one second about what this could do to me and your mother? The embarrassment you will bring on us? I will not stand for it. You will go to the parenting clinic and get rid of it tomorrow.” Tracy’s father paced back and forth, screaming and waving his arms, fists balled.

“It’s too late for that,” Tracy whispered, head bowed. She fiddled with the hem of the baggy t-shirt she had lived in for the last 2 months, trying to hide her ever growing belly.

“What do you mean it is too late for that?” Her father fumed, drops of spit flying from his lips.

“I’m 6 months along. It is too late for an abortion. I am going to have the baby.” 

“Not under my roof you won’t, you tramp! You get your shit and get the hell out of my house! You are no longer part of this family! Do you hear me? You get the hell out and never come back!”

Tracy walked toward the front door, a back pack thrown over one shoulder and a small duffle in the opposite hand. Her mother sat on the couch bawling loudly but making no move to help her or deflect the ongoing screams and slurs from her father. It was no surprise. She couldn’t stand up to him to protect Tracy any more than she could stand up to him to protect herself. 

*****************

Her father had died not long after her 30th birthday. She had read the obituary, “Thomas Bennett is survived by his wife, Lenor and son Terry, 22 also of the home.” No surprise that her abused mother would comply with his wishes even when he was no longer alive to to beat her into submission. 

*****************

“Hello, Tracy, I’m Dr. Sanford, anesthesiologist. I will be assisting with your surgery today. Would you mind opening your mouth for me so I can take a look at your airway?”

Tracy nodded and opened her mouth.

“Your nurse will be in soon to start your IV. I can give you a little Versed just before we go back to help you relax. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, I’m just ready to get going instead of thinking about it,” Tracy said, chewing on her lower lip.

“We’ll get you back as soon as we can. Dr. Searls is the best. You’re in good hands. I’ll see you soon.”

Tracy smoothed the hospital gown around her and straightened the sheets. This was not the side of the bed she was used to being on. It had been a long time since she had lain in a hospital bed.

*****************

“Ok, Tracy, with the next contraction give me one more good push. I see his head and you are almost there,” the doctor said.

Tracy couldn’t imagine how one could NOT push. It was as if every muscle in her body tensed at the same time, starting in her abdomen, spreading across her sides to her back and then squeezed. She should have felt embarrassed, her bottom half exposed, feet in the stirrups but she was oblivious to it all now. Every inch of her working to expel this child from her body. She gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might. 

“Okay now stop pushing and just breath for a moment while I clear the airway.”

Tracy couldn’t see the baby yet but saw the doctor grab the blue bulb syringe from the mayo tray and heard the sounds of him suctioning from the babies nose and mouth. 

“One more easy push now,” he said and then she heard the soft sweet cry. “Would you like to hold him?”

She nodded, unable to speak. The nurse draped her chest with blue striped blankets and the doctor placed her son on her chest, wrapping him loosely. Tracy stared at him, her sobs joining his. After she caught her breath, she began to sing softly, “Hush little baby, don’t say a word…” It was the only lullaby she knew. She had sung it to him every day since she had decided she would have him. His cries stopped and his eyes locked with hers. They held each others gaze as Tracy finished her song. “I am your mother and I love you more than you will ever know. No matter what happens, I promise that I will always watch over you.” The tears streamed down her checks and blurred her vision but his eyes never left her face as though he understood every word. 

“Tracy, are you ready?” It was Paster John. 

Tracy nodded. She hugged her son close and bent to place her lips on his forehead and little round cheek. The skin was softer than any she had ever felt. Pastor John gently lifted him from her arms, blinking quickly to hold back the tears Tracy knew he would not allow her to see fall. Paster John cradled her son tenderly and turned to leave the room.

*****************

Tracy learned through Pastor John that the adoptive parents had named her son David, just like King David from the Bible, and she thought it was perfect. Pastor John had helped arrange the adoption when Tracy was 8 months along. She had never met David’s parents and didn’t attempt to, but they were kind and, through Pastor John, sent her pictures and notes about David as he grew. She had pictures of him taking his first steps, spitting out his first bite of cereal and photos of every birthday. They also sent pictures of the first day of school, school plays and recitals and from these photos, Tracy knew he attended Garden Heights Elementary. She followed the school calendar and even attended a few programs, setting near the back where she could go unnoticed. When David was in the 3rd grade the school performed A Christmas Carol and David had the role of Tiny Tim. He brought down the house with his sweet little high pitched voice declaring, “God bless us, every one!” Tracy clapped so hard her hands stung and her cheeks ached from smiling. 

She had finished nursing school by then and had started her first real job. Pastor John had provided her with scholarships and, along with Pell grants, Perkins loans and her work study job, it was enough to get by. He always said it was from church donations but she suspected it was a gift from David’s parents. They had not been able to have children of their own and according to Pastor John, would be forever grateful for her allowing them to adopt her David.

About a year ago, after David turned 16, the pictures had slowed and the ones she received showed a David who was thin but puffy and very pale. After he didn’t appear in his high school’s junior play, Beth went to see Pastor John.

“Is David ok? He doesn’t look well in the last pictures you gave me.”

Pastor John cleared his throat and folded his hands on his desk. “His parents wanted to wait to tell you. They were hoping for better news. David has kidney failure. They had to put him on dialysis last month. He has been placed on the transplant list.” Pastor John paused and swallowed. “Without a kidney, they doubt he will survive the year.”

Tracy closed her eyes, fighting back the tears behind them. She heard Pastor John shift in his seat, no doubt waiting for the emotional flood that would follow. I promise I will always watch over you, she remembered.

*****************

“Tracy, before you go back, I just have a few last items for you to sign,” her nurse said, bringing Tracy back to the present. “This one is your consent for removal of your right kidney for directed but anonymous donation. I just need your signature here on the bottom,” handing Tracy her pen.

Tracy scribbled her signature and offered both back to the nurse.

“And last but not least, you need to use this black marker and initial the surgery site for us. It is hospital policy to be sure we agree on the side and location.”

Tracy initialed on her right side and began to give the marker back when she paused, and then added in small letters, “For David with love, Mom.”

*****************

“Feel up for a visitor?” It was Pastor John, poking his head into the doorway of her hospital room. Tracy sat up in bed and smiled. She was still in her hospital gown but she had been allowed to get up and shower so felt much more like herself.

“They tell me I should be able to go home tomorrow,” a broad smile across her face. “How is David?”

“Very well. His parents are ecstatic. The doctors are saying he may be able to go home in a few days.” Pastor John put his hands in his pockets and shifted from foot to foot.

“So if everything is going well, why do you look so nervous?”

“Well, I was hoping you might be up for one more visitor today.”

“Ok, who did you have in mind? You’re not going to try to introduce me to another one of your nice single parishioners again are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” He walked to the door and nodded to someone in the hallway.

A nurse appeared in Tracy’s doorway, pushing a wheelchair, IV pole in tow. A hospital gown was draped over the thin shoulders of its occupant, white hospital blanket in his lap. It was a handsome sandy blond haired young man with healthy looking pink cheeks. He met her gaze with eyes that could have been hers in a mirror, deep brown and glistening just as her own eyes began to fill. He said only one word, but the meaning it carried was enough to fill a lifetime.

“Mom?”