A Mother's Goodbye

I suppress the stab of hurt, as if she’s thinking something I haven’t. As if I haven’t agonized over this, again and again. ‘I know, Mom.’ I take a deep breath. ‘But we’ve made this decision and we’re sticking to it. I didn’t come over here to ask you for anything, or think about possibilities, I’m telling you what we’re doing.’

My mom blinks, looking like I’ve slapped her. I almost apologize, but then I don’t. No one’s walked in my faded, worn-out shoes. No one knows what it’s like to feel this trapped and cornered, fighting your way out. And no one can make this decision but me and Kevin.

‘All I’m asking,’ I say, my voice thickening a little, ‘is that you support us. Emotionally. Because I know there will be people – neighbors, friends – who won’t understand what we’re doing. Who will judge. And we’re going to need our family around us.’

‘Oh, Heather. Oh, honey.’ My mother holds out her arms and with a sniff I walk over to he

r. She smells like cigarette smoke and artificial sweetener and her arms are thin and ropey as they wrap around me. I press my cheek against her shoulder and breathe her in.

‘You know we’ll be there for you, Heather,’ my dad says gruffly, his gaze still on the TV, after I’ve returned to the sofa. ‘You’ve sure as hell been there for us.’

Later that night, buoyed by my parents’ acceptance, I sit the girls down to tell them. They look at me so innocently, eyes wide, lined up on the sofa, their hair damp from the bath, wearing their matching pink nighties. Kevin is in the La-z-Boy as usual, but at least he’s turned the TV off and he’s half-turned toward us.

‘So,’ I begin, trying to frame the words in my mind, ‘Daddy and I wanted to tell you about something that’s happened, a decision we’ve made.’ Blink. Blink. Blink. I can see Emma starting to look worried, chewing a strand of her hair. Amy is intrigued, eyes narrowed, and Lucy is picking her nose.

My love for them surges up, squeezing me, making it hard to speak. How can I explain this so they understand? So they’re not afraid?

‘I’m going to have a baby,’ I continue, gazing at each of them in turn, ‘but we’re not going to keep this baby even though we love her. We’re going to let someone else adopt her, a very nice lady who would like to have a child of her own.’

More blinking. Lucy kicks her legs, bored now. Amy’s eyes narrow to slits. Emma just stares.

‘What do you mean,’ Amy asks, ‘you’re not keeping a baby? Why wouldn’t you keep it? How can you just give it away?’

‘Well…’ I glance at Kevin, whose gaze is fixed beyond us, on the wall, ‘because it wouldn’t be… fair to the baby. Or to any of you.’

‘Fair?’ Amy looks incredulous. Not fair is someone getting two scoops of ice cream when she only gets one.

‘What Mommy is trying to say,’ Kevin interjects, surprising me with his steady tone, ‘is that we love you all so much and we want to give you the best opportunities that we can. And we won’t be able to do that if we have another baby.’

Emma’s eyes go even rounder. ‘Why not?’

‘I have a baby,’ Lucy announces. ‘I have a pink baby named Susie.’

‘Yes, you do, Lucy, and she’s very nice.’ A doll that cries and burps, a present from my parents a couple of years ago that makes me tense every time I hear its shrill bleat.

Amy makes a sound of disgust. ‘They’re not talking about that kind of baby, stupid.’

‘Amy—’

‘You mean a real baby, don’t you?’ Emma asks. She sounds so confused, and it makes me ache. Even though she’s two years older she’s far less streetwise than Amy. ‘You mean you have one in your tummy.’

‘Babies aren’t actually in tummies,’ Amy informs her. ‘They’re in ut-er-usses. I learned that at school.’

‘Yes, I do have a baby.’ I rest one hand on my bump and all three girls stare at it, noticing it for the first time.

‘I thought you were just getting fat,’ Amy says, and from the steely glint in her eyes I know she’s trying to hurt me, because she’s hurt. That’s how Amy works, and the news that we’re giving up her little sister for adoption is hurtful. Of course it is. I can’t take away the pain, maybe only blunt it a little.

‘Your mom is beautiful,’ Kevin says, and my heart swells with love. Despite the pain-glazed eyes and set jaw, he seems more like he used to be right now than he has in a long time, and I need that reminder. I crave it, this hint of who we once were, who we could be again. ‘She’ll always be beautiful. And we’re doing this, Amy and all of you, because we love you so much. The truth is since my back got hurt there hasn’t been a lot of money.’ Kev presses his lips together, and I know how hard, how shaming, it is for him to admit this to his own children, his little girls. ‘And we can’t afford to have another baby, not if we want to provide for you the way we do. So that’s why we’re doing this. For you, and for all of us, even though it seems strange and it’s hard.’

‘Would you ever give me away?’ Amy asks, jutting her lip out, and even though it’s totally unfair, I feel like shaking her. She knows we wouldn’t give her away. I can tell by the calculating look on her face, the angry challenge in her eyes. She’s acting up, and of course it stirs up Emma and Lucy.

‘Give us away?’ Emma cries, her lower lip wobbling, and Lucy launches herself at me and burrows herself into my belly, making me wince.

‘No one’s giving anyone away,’ Kev says, and he picks up the remote control, done with being sensitive. ‘Now go get ready for bed.’

‘We are ready for bed,’ Amy says, but he isn’t listening.

‘Come on, girls.’ I rise from the sofa, taking them with me. ‘We’ll have stories on my bed.’