I brought the bin over to Dad’s desk and placed it on top, sitting in his large leather chair. I normally went through the contents during the last day of my trip, never on May 20.
This day was far too hard.
But something made me stare at the lid, really studying the name that was written on the top in black marker.
And I traced my finger over it and whispered, “Mom.”
SIXTY-THREE
HONEY
SUMMER 1988
“ANDREW, I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Honey said as she paced the small room in the Manchester hospital.
When they had been told where the birth mother was going to be delivering and they were given permission to be at the hospital, Andrew had arranged a private room for the two of them. Since they wouldn’t be watching the delivery or meeting the mother, father, or any of their family, this gave them their own space.
It also gave them their own restroom, which was specially important because Honey was pregnant, her nerves sending her to the toilet every twenty minutes or so.
“You’re just hungry.” Andrew went over to the table by the bed where he’d placed their cooler. Knowing how terrible hospital food was, they had brought their own.
“Hungry.” She walked to the window. “Anxious.” She went past the bed, rubbing her palm across her belly, haunted by thoughts of that teenager in the delivery room and what she was experiencing. Now that Honey was pregnant, she was on both sides, and they were emotional places. She paused by the door and looked at Andrew. “What if she changes her mind?” She took a breath, air ricocheting through her chest. She was facing her biggest fear, feeling it move through her throat. “What if she wants to keep it, Andrew?” Her voice softened. “I’m already so in love with our child.”
“Baby …” Honey saw his eyes turn heavy, pleading with her to stay positive, and then he held out his arms. “Come here.”
She swallowed, her head still moving in so many directions, but the one thing she saw clearly was the food he had been trying to get out of the cooler for her. She smiled, her emotions swinging again, to the point where she was even giving herself whiplash. “Please feed me.”
He laughed and placed a cold tinfoil-wrapped sandwich in her hand.
“Thank you.” She brought it over to the window with a small container of apple juice and used the ledge as a table. “We still haven’t even decided on a name,” she spoke behind her hand, alternating bites of ham and swiss with sips of juice.
“I thought you loved Jessica?”
Honey shrugged. “I just don’t know if that’s what we’re supposed to call our daughter.”
“Are you settled on naming him after my grandfather if it’s a boy?”
“Yes.” She didn’t sound convincing. “I mean … I really don’t know.”
Andrew walked over, standing in front of his wife while she ate. “Remember what Stephanie told us during our meeting last week. This is all going to feel extremely overwhelming, and it’s okay if we don’t have all the answers right now. That includes deciding on what we’re going to name our baby.”
Since her second trimester, Honey hadn’t been able to make a single decision. Everything was open-ended, and resolution felt like something she just couldn’t grasp.
She put her sandwich down, her hands dropping to her sides. The reality of where they were and what they were talking about was hitting her. And with it came wave after wave of emotion. “Will you ever tell me you’re scared to death?” Andrew didn’t have time to respond before she added, “On second thought, please don’t. I need you to be the strong one, especially right now.”
He moved closer, his hands going to her waist. “I know.”
She didn’t speak right away. “What if the baby hates us?” Her eyes locked with his. “What if we can’t handle two children at the same time? What if we’re so sleep-deprived that we accidentally leave a bottle on the stove and burn down our condo?”
He wiped her hair away from her face, keeping his fingers there. “We’re going to be new parents to two infants born pretty close together. Versions of all three are going to happen, but we’re going to handle it. We’ll take one day at a time, and we’ll do it together, like we’ve always done.”