A Gift for Christmas

It was about a week before Christmas. Outside, the weather was chilly, trees were leaf-less, and there was a dusting of snow on the ground. Migratory birds had long since flown south to warmer places. What was left were the species who could survive each winter. Two of them were in this hospital room; I was one and my mother was the other.

“Be sensible, Eunice,” she said with a sigh. She was using her “You wouldn't have gotten yourself into a mess like this if you'd only listen to me once in awhile” voice. (She knew how much I disliked it.) “Even if you could afford to, how could you raise a child by yourself? You're barely an adult as it is.”

Not quite true. After all, I was 19 years old (I would turn 20 in early February -- only a month and a half from now). I wasn't a little kid anymore and resented that my mother kept treating me like one.

She'd always been good at rubbing my nose in my mistakes and now was no exception.

I made a face as I struggled to sit up in the hospital bed. “I can't exactly undo getting pregnant, now can I? Anyway, it's too late. The baby will born next week.”

“What are you suggesting?” I went on. “Give him or her up for adoption?”

Of course she wouldn't have considered an abortion. (Thankfully. A baby, whether planned-for or unplanned-for, deserves a chance at life.) It was one of the rare times my mother and I actually agreed with each other.

“That would be the wisest course of action,” my mother said. “And then, maybe sometime in the future, you'll be old enough and solvent enough to support any future baby.”

I rolled my eyes and wondered if she remembered that my own birth had been unplanned-for almost nineteen years ago. (Ah, but she had been married to my father at the time, and both had jobs and biweekly paychecks. That, of course, excused it. Assuming that she hadn't conveniently forgotten about it at the moment.)

“Don't do that,” my mother said. “I'm sorry that I'm saying things that you don't want to hear. But sometimes you have to hear it. You can't just turn a blind eye to it.”

No kidding again.

“Like your behavior when you and Dad were separated and divorce wouldn't happen for another few years?” I asked.

She pursed her lips and I almost wished that I hadn't said it.

“At that time, you didn't want me to have anything to do with him,” I went on. “Sometimes all I wanted to do was say 'Hi' to him and see how he was doing. It's not like he was trying to hide a bad habit. He deserved to see his only daughter once in awhile. Even hospitals and prisons allow for visits.”

“Is that why you got pregnant?” my mother asked, avoiding most of what I'd just said. “To get back at me?”

I shook my head. “I wasn't thinking about you when I was in bed with my boyfriend. I was a little distracted by other things at the time.”

“Which brings us back to the innocent traveler from heaven currently in your womb,” she said.

“He or she will get born as normally as possible,” I said.

“And then what?” she asked.

“Given up for adoption,” I said. “That being the only option permitted me. In which case, you might want to get the pertinent paperwork ready for me to sign.”

“You won't do anything drastic in the meantime?” my mother asked.

I shook my head and laid both hands on my swollen abdomen. “I promise.”

She didn't seem to believe that, but at least it encouraged her to leave my hospital room and give me some time to myself.

I felt the baby move under my hands. He or she might not like the sound of my voice when I was unhappy and/or stressed; they were more active then. When I was more relaxed, they tended to follow suit.

I'm sorry to bring you into this world like I am. I won't deny that my mother is correct about almost all she brought up. It's just that the thought of having to say “Good-bye” to you almost as soon as I say my first and only “Hello” doesn't exactly cheer me up. But what else can I do?

I sighed.

Will you forgive me for giving you up? Will your new parents love you as much as I would've? Will we ever be able to meet sometime in the future? I hope so. Probably. Maybe.

I wonder if I'll get to see you graduate from high school and/or college. I'll sit in the back of the auditorium and think to myself, “I was your first mother. I'm sorry that I couldn't be your only mother. But your adopted parents raised you well. You turned out great. I wish I had the courage to follow you out of here and introduce myself to you.” How would you react, though? With anger? With sadness? Or, if I'm lucky, with forgiveness and love?

One of the nurses came in and asked, “And how are we doing today, Miss Taylor?”

It was Shannon. One of the really nice nurses.

“All right, I suppose,” I said.

She smiled slightly. “I saw the look on your mother's face as she passed me. One open expression and then she saw me and closed me out. Is she Catholic?”

I nodded. “Devoutly so. I'm surprised that she didn't quote me chapter and verse even once.”

As she adjusted the pillow behind my head, she said, “Don't remind her or else she probably will. My mother was displeased, to put it mildly, when I told her I wanted to go to nursing school instead of med school or law school. Left me message after message on my cell phone's voicemail and sent me text messages in case I didn't check the voicemail.”

“Did she ever change her tune?” I asked.

Nurse Shannon shook her head. “And still hasn't a dozen years later. Sometimes parents or a parent will change and accept your decision, and sometimes they never do. All you can do is live your life as best you can. After all, it isn't their life you're living; it's yours.”

I looked at her short dark hair and blue eyes. “Have you ever gotten pregnant? Intentionally or accidentally?”

She looked thoughtful as she backed away a few feet from me. “Once. I wasn't even old enough to drive yet.”

“How old were you?” I asked.

“14,” Nurse Shannon said. “My parents refused to pay for any abortion. I would have to carry my baby until she was born and then give her up for adoption.”

“Did you ever see her again?” I asked.

She shook her head. “She's probably in college by now, studying for her major. Who knows? She might even have chosen the same career as I did.”

“Have ever you tried to contact her?” I asked.

She shook her head again. “That was part of the adoption agreement. If I promised never to try to contact my daughter, I would be free of any legal liabilities.”

“Is she allowed to contact you?” I asked.

Nurse Shannon nodded. “But, as far as I know, she hasn't.”

“Maybe she will, someday,” I said.

She shrugged. “Maybe. All right. I have other patients to take care of. Your mother is probably already heading back here. Press the nurse-call-button if you need anything.”

I watched her leave my hospital room. She gently closed the door behind her.

Mere minutes later my mother entered without knocking. (Had she been listening to our conversation? Maybe, maybe not.) She held several sheets of paper in one hand.

“Just sign where the head of the maternity ward highlighted it and I'll take it back to her,” she said.

“I won't be responsible for any costs?” I asked.

She shook her head. “You'll be free to do as you wish.”

The unspoken condition no doubt being: as long as you keep your nose clean and go to college. Who knows? My parents might even pay for my college expenses. Provided, of course, that I didn't do anything that they didn't approve of. I wondered sometimes if indentured servants had been as restricted as I would be. Probably far more than I could imagine being.

“Where's the pen?” I asked.

My mother handed me one and watched as I signed each highlighted place. Finished, I handed both pen and sheets of paper to her.

“Anything else?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Would you rather I stayed or if I went home?”

“The latter,” I said. “I'm assuming that you'll be back tomorrow?”

She shook her head again. “I can't miss any of the pre-Christmas rehearsals. I can arrive late, though the director frowns on it.”

“Maybe he needs to be less fussy,” I said. “He's lucky to have someone like you in his drama group.”

Oops. I hadn't meant to say anything positive about my mother. It just happened. Sorry about that.

“I guess it's hard to find anyone to play Mrs. Claus this month,” my mother said. “I think I was the thirtieth or so that he asked. The rest had plans that they couldn't change. Early retirement does have advantages, few as they might be.”

“You could always go back to your old job,” I suggested.

“My position has already been filled,” she said. “Besides, your father earns enough that there's still plenty left over for savings or luxuries. There's no need now for me to go back to work.”

I glanced at her. I had been admitted to this hospital a week ago, despite being uninsured. There had been no discussion with the admitting nurse about health insurance. Which could only mean that someone was paying for it. If not my mother, then my father. Unlike her, Dad never held it against me that I'd gotten pregnant before turning 21 and out-of-wedlock.

She didn't confirm my guess. “Remember, Eunice, that your father and I both love you.”

Despite what I'd done.

“We just want you to be happy, of course,” my mother went on. “I confess that it would've been nice to have a grandchild, but we were hoping you'd wait until after you graduated from college and had a job lined up.”

Except that I hadn't.

“I'll call and let you know when I can visit again,” she finished.

“What about Dad?” I asked.

“You'll have to ask him,” she said. “He's even busier this month than during the rest of the year.” She came over to my hospital bed, leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “Take care.”

“I will,” I said.

She hesitated, then nodded and left my hospital room.

I waited until she definitely seemed to be headed home, then picked up the room phone and called Dad. It rang twice before he answered.

“Hey, Kiddo,” he said. It wasn't a reminder that I wasn't an adult yet. He'd called me “Kiddo” since I could first remember. “Did your mother come visit you again today?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It wasn't as stressful a visit as the last one was. You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?”

He paused. “We talked about you over breakfast this morning. Your mother all but said that she wouldn't back down from her position. I trust you to make the best decision you can make. I always have, even if sometimes I didn't agree with you. You can't protect children forever. They have to be allowed to grow up and make their own decisions, whether good ones or bad ones. They have to be allowed to learn from their mistakes. Otherwise, they'll effectively be children all their lives. I'd rather see you become a wonderful adult instead.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Have you thought about Christmas yet?” Dad asked, changing the subject.

“We might have to have it here, if I haven't been discharged by then,” I said. “If that's okay with you.”

“It's definitely okay with me,” he said. “Hopefully it'll also be okay with your mother.”

“Is anyone else going to be there?” I asked.

“You mean, like your grandparents?” he replied.

“Yeah,” I said. “Mom's parents haven't visited since I told you and Mom that I was pregnant. Maybe they still don't approve of it.”

He paused. “Maybe. In any case, my parents would've been happy to become great-grandparents. I had to explain to them that it might take a while longer for the official great-grandchild to be born. They didn't quite understand why you couldn't keep this baby and raise him or her as your own. I could afford to help you, but I knew that your mother would oppose it immediately. College expenses are one thing, but child-rearing expenses are quite another.”

“At least the next one, whenever it happens, won't cause the problems this one caused,” I said.

“Let's hope not,” he said. “Any thoughts about what you'd like for Christmas?”

“You know what I like and don't like,” I said. “You choose. Also, no hints. That way I'll still be surprised when I open each present.”

“Consider it done,” Dad said. “I'll try to come visit you again when your mother isn't there. It was uncomfortable enough when we were separated. Best not to raise any ghosts, if I can help it.”

“Dad?” I said.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Thank you for being you,” I said. “It's hard enough to have to listen to Mom's disagreements. It would've been worse if I'd had to listen to yours as well.”

“You're welcome,” he said. “I try not to backseat-drive. Especially if I'm not even in the car when someone else is driving it.”

I smiled. “I wish I could hug you.”

“Save it for my next visit,” Dad said.

“Definitely,” I said. “Take care, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Kiddo,” he said.

We hung up. I laid the room phone on the mobile table near my bed.

I put my hands on my abdomen again. “How I wish things could be different for you. But at least you'll be free of my mother's influence. I wish, though, that I could introduce you to my father. You'd like him. Maybe as much as I do.” The baby gently kicked and I could almost imagine he or she smiling as they agreed with me.

---------

I laid back, trying to relax after the baby was born. The hospital staff warned me that birth labor was sometimes difficult and lengthy. They weren't kidding. More than twelve hours. A workout at a fitness center wouldn't have taken so much out of me.

The baby, my baby for not much longer, was a girl. A beautiful little girl. Probably similar to how I looked when I was born. I heard her cry and wanted so much to lay her on my chest, let her nuzzle and feed.

The nurse nearest me said, “There isn't much time left.”

“Please,” I begged. “Please just let me look at her one more time.”

“One more time,” he allowed.

I looked at my soon-to-be-not-my-baby-anymore baby girl. She wanted to be with me, I knew. She would calm down if she could stay here. But she couldn't.

“You be good to your adopted parents,” I told her. “Maybe someday you'll try to find me. I hope so.” I felt the tears flowing from my eyes. “I love you.”

The baby cried as the nurse gently picked her up and wrapped a soft, warm towel around her.

It probably doesn't get any easier each time for surrogate mothers, I thought.

The nurse took the baby out of the room. I heard a door open and close. I couldn't hear the baby anymore. It was as if she didn't exist anymore. I wanted to yell. I wanted to throw things. But none of it would bring her back to me.

She'll be taken care of by her adopted parents.

But not by me.

She'll forget all about me, unless her adopted parents tell her.

I slept the rest of the day, unwilling to talk to anyone. Not even to Nurse Shannon. She would sit near me whenever she had break-time. Silent like I was.

----------

I was discharged on Christmas Eve. Dad came and drove me home. My mother wasn't able to accompany him. She was playing the part of Amahl's mother in “Amahl and the Night Visitors”. But she would come home after it ended, she had promised Dad, stay as long as she could before going to midnight Mass at her church.

I laid on the living room couch, looking around myself. There were lights, candles, and decorations practically everywhere, not just on the Christmas tree.

Some were store-bought, some were handmade. A few were made by me when I was a little girl. One was a little Christmas stocking with a photo of me glued to the stocking's ankle area. The little girl was only 9 at the time, little knowing that she would briefly become a mother ten years later.

Dad gave me a mug of hot chocolate and sat down near me. He patiently waited for me to speak.

“I wish I had a gift to give you this year,” I said.

He smiled. “Your mother already did.”

“She did?” I asked.

He nodded. “She gave birth to you. Merry Christmas, Kiddo.”

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I said.