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The money he gave me for abortion served me well. I just hung up with Mrs. Johanssen with the adoption agency. She told me they found parents for my little Dinah.
If I wanted to see them, she could sneak me in tomorrow morning, when they will come to pick her up.
I thought I’d be happy. Instead my whole body felt empty, emptier than after I gave her birth.
I went to the adoption agency when I was 3 months pregnant; I could not afford to keep the child. Had one before and my Mamma was raising him. I wanted to go to the city, become something. Didn’t happen. My Dad always said I ain’t smart enough.
I couldn't go back home and say: “Mamma, here’s another one”.
And an abortion: it’s too painful, and anyway, why not have the child?
My friend, Marla, was working for a couple who just adopted one. He was so spoiled. Maybe I can get mine a chance like that. I wish I was adopted. Maybe, if I went to some fancy school, they’d made me smart.
Now I was cleaning house for Mr. David. Good man, but terribly lonely. Dinah’s father was his driver. He promised he’d marry me, take me to Italy, live with his family on a farm. Oh, the dream I had.
He ran away the day I told him I was pregnant. Said he wanted to do more with his life: buy a cab, start a limo service. “What about Italy?” I asked. “Oh, that...why don’t you have an abortion? I know a clinic down on West side”.
He handed me some money and off he went. Mr. David asked me: “Where is Tony?”. What a bastard! I struggled with the pregnancy, I didn't want anyone noticing it. Wore these large sweaters. Not that anyone was looking. I was ashamed of Mr. David. But I got lucky; he went away in spring. They moved him to Milan for six months. What a kind man to keep me on. I wonder if he knew I was pregnant.
The lady with the adoption agency said that once I give birth to the child and sign those papers, I won’t be able to see my baby again. A little money went a long way there.
Tomorrow I’ll go see my baby’s luck, God bless her.
Took me a time to get my voice back. “Jon, Mrs. Johanssen called.. asked if we can go see a baby tomorrow. She’s 5 months old and her papers are cleared… ready to be adopted”.
We only got approved for adopting 2 weeks ago. I was not ready for this. But then, how does one prepare for such? I sat on the couch thinking: “This is it, I’m going to be a Mom”.
What a waste of time, all these years, doing what not to get me pregnant.
One of the doctors, concluding it was nothing wrong with us, recommended I’d sit in the shoulder stand pose for half an hour after making love. We had quite a laugh all those months I did that.
Then, this other loser put me on some hormones. He got me pregnant all right, only it was a weird ectopic pregnancy. They did not recognized it as such from the beginning. They thought I might have one baby in the uterus plus one in my left tube. Drove me nuts.
About a dozen doctors came to see me, arguing between themselves, while I was yelling at them all: if I did indeed have one baby OK, I want to keep her, do you understand?
Most of them said (to each other..you know how it is when doctors choose not to talk to you): oh forget about it, just cut her and make her well.
Then it went bad. I started losing blood and went into surgery. Barely made it out to I.C.
It was on my Mom’s birthday. She came visit. I was just laying there, could not speak a word, but heard them all right. I thought: what a birthday she’s having, her daughter plugged into all these machines, blood bags along my bed. So they could count them, they said. Make sure they put enough blood back in.
My Mom was brave, she did not cry. My Father did not come; he could not take seeing me like that. Jon came every day, made sure I was well taken care of. He was my rock.
I eventually recovered, and being the optimistic person I am, I tried again. In vitro. Fancy science huh...Was easy the first time. Really deceptive though. You get to see the embryos, and then they just die inside you. Life’s a bitch, really precarious balance on everything.
The second time, I was becoming an expert. Did all my shots myself. I was traveling a lot for business at the time, so I carried my hormone vials along around the globe.
Felt like a junkie doing my shots in the airport, on the plane (well, just another Mile High club I guess), during meetings, etc. The rigors of medication, what a treat!
When I excused myself from one of the meetings, down in Dallas, my colleagues there could not resist asking. After all, they all saw me putting my vials in the fridge, along with their Diet Coke. I told them:” Boys, I’m trying to get pregnant here, give me a break.” Bloody machos, they went: “Does Jon need a hand?”. Fuck them..oh, they wish.
The third time I don’t even remember. It became such a routine. The fourth time went wrong and almost took me out again. That’s when we gave up and decided to adopt.
Ten wasted years.
But it really doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be a Mom tomorrow. Thanks God for the woman who gave birth to that child. I hope she’s well.