Let Me Go Page 12

  They had agreed to a partial open adoption: they would tell their baby he was adopted from the beginning and allow the attorney’s office to keep the file open, rather than sealed. On or after his eighteenth birthday, if he wanted, he could reach out to Gabby, finding her information with Mr. Sparrow. Gabby was allowed to write a letter to her son for his file, explaining her decision if she wanted to, but Gabby wasn’t allowed to know who or where he was and agreed not to try to reach out or interfere with his life. Gabby was satisfied with that agreement. She wanted plenty of time to get her own life together so if one day they did meet, he would be proud of her, not ashamed.

  All her questions had been answered to her satisfaction and she was sure she’d chosen the right couple. At the end of the call, Gabby told them she wanted them to have her baby. They were ecstatic. Mr. Sparrow said he would be back in touch later and the call ended.

  “Okay, Gabby, now that you have this couple in mind and you’ve asked all your questions, if you ultimately decide to follow through with the adoption, what do you want for the baby?” Mr. Sparrow asked, looking at Gabby over the top of his glasses perched on the end of his nose.

  “What do you mean? I think I was pretty clear on the call with those people as to what I wanted,” Gabby answered, confused at the question.

  “No, what I mean is... are you looking for something for yourself, maybe monetary, in exchange for your baby?”

  “No way! I’m not trying to sell my baby,” Gabby exclaimed, insulted.

  “I’m sorry I had to ask that. In this state, selling a baby or exchanging anything of monetary value for a baby is illegal. I just wanted to be sure that’s not why you are here,” he explained. “Of course it is standard and legal for the adoptive parents to pay any and all attorney fees and medical care, including prenatal up to the delivery, and for any complications that result from the same... if the child is placed in their legal custody. Do you understand?”

  “Um, yes, I think so. They will pay for my lawyer bill and the doctor’s bills unless I change my mind and keep the baby. If that happens, I am responsible for the bills, right?”

  “That’s right, Gabby. Sounds like you understand completely. Now what about the birth father? Will he have any problems with your decision because he will have to willingly sign his rights away, since you have acknowledged him without question as the father?”

  “No... there won’t be a problem there, Mr. Sparrow. Although he’s a good-looking guy who seems intelligent when talking to him, he obviously makes a lot of bad decisions. He’s been arrested recently for running moonshine over state lines. It could be tried as a federal crime, and he has another girl pregnant too. We’re due about the same time. He doesn’t want his baby—either of them—and is hoping it will all just go away so he doesn’t have to pay child support. I’ll give you his number and you can call him to get his medical history and arrange his signatures.”

  “Okay. Well, you have my number if you have any questions between now and the birth date. The paperwork you signed is not final and binding. That cannot be done until a full three days after you deliver. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you for your help,” Gabby answered gratefully, getting up to leave. “You are sure about your people, though? Have you checked them out? Run criminal background checks and checked with their local police to see if there’s been any disturbance or domestic violence calls on record from their home? You’ve done all that, right?”

  “Gabby, I receive thousands of requests from people hoping I’ll help them make a connection to adopt. I pick only the best of them and only contact them after thoroughly having them checked out. I promise you, they are as they seem. Good people,” he answered patiently, smiling at Gabby, looking impressed by her concern to uncover any inconsistencies that would affect her child’s life.

  “Okay, then, Mr. Sparrow. I’ll call you when he’s ready to come out,” Gabby said with relief and turned to walk out the door.

  “Thanks, Gabby. But you’ll be hearing from me before then. We’ll be setting up your prenatal care and getting you an appointment immediately. So we’ll call you in the next few days to confirm. If you need a ride to the doctor’s office, we’ll arrange that for you. It’s important to get in there and be sure everything is all right, especially at almost five months along.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks... I guess,” Gabby said, trying to smile and falling short, realizing in there probably meant her first gynecological exam—ever—and who knew what else?

  CHAPTER 16

  Gabby’s dad sat in the corner of her hospital room, reading the newspaper, trying to disguise his awkwardness at being in the hospital with one of his girls—having a baby. The paper was blocking his face so she couldn’t see his expression. He probably wasn’t even reading it. She knew he was tense, how could he not be? Dad had always been embarrassed about ‘female’ stuff as they were growing up. Even the word period could not be used around him. It was always a quick and easy out if he tried to tickle them or play mercy. They’d just claim they were on their period. That sent him running immediately in the opposite direction. And this was about as female as it could get.

  She sure as heck wasn’t comfortable either; she had been in labor, with the contractions worsening every hour for the entire day. Each time they checked her cervix she prayed she had dilated enough to get the show on the road and get this baby out. She was already so tired and just wanted this to be over. They had finally given her an epidural about an hour ago, and it couldn’t have come too soon. She had tried not to struggle through the contractions, or make any noise at all. She was mostly successful, with a few exceptions, at which Dad began freaking out, asking if he should get someone... what he should do, did she want him to hold her hand, did she want more ice chips? He was so lost in all this. But at least he was here. That was something. Otherwise Gabby would be completely alone.

  All she really wanted was Olivia. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to deliver a baby, in this cramped room, alone... without her sister there. The room barely had space for the bed and Dad’s chair, but the nurse assured her the bed would become much shorter when it was time to push, and Dad wasn’t staying in the room for the grand finale. He just couldn’t.

  The door swung open and a nurse came in.

  “Gabby, there’s a young man out there asking to come in and see you. His name is Gabe. Do you want to see him?”

  “Oh my God, no!” Gabby panicked. She hadn’t seen Gabe since the day he signed over his rights to the baby. Refusing to meet at the attorney’s office, they’d arranged to meet him in a parking lot. They’d spread the paperwork out on the back hood of the attorney’s car to go over and then sign... just a few moments of his time in a rush, then vamoose, never to be seen since—similar to how she got into this mess.

  Before then, the last time she’d seen him was the night of her birthday, the night her baby was conceived. If he was here, did that mean he was having second thoughts? This could not happen!

  Gabby looked desperately at her father. “Dad! Can you get rid of him? This room is kinda small and I don’t want any visitors. Especially not now!” Gabby’s face began to turn red as she felt the pressure of another contraction coming. She started huffing and puffing.

  “Gabby... calm down, I’ll take care of it.” Dad answered patiently, folding his paper under his arm and looking relieved to have something to do that was more up his alley. He followed the nurse out of the room.

  Dad left to deal with Gabe, and Gabby’s thoughts went back to Olivia. If she’d been here, she wouldn’t have to be told to get rid of Gabe; she’d probably snatch his head off. She didn’t show her temper in public often, but in this situation, Gabby thought she’d make an exception.

  A few minutes later, what seemed like eternity to Gabby as she went through the contraction alone, Dad came back in.

  “He gave me his number and went downstairs to the cafeteria. He said if you wanted him in here, he would com
e. He also asked me if you were sure the baby was his and if it was, were you sure you didn’t want to keep it?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course I’m sure the baby is his! He knows that. And yes, for the thousandth time, I’m sure I want to give the baby up, Dad!”

  “Gabby, I wasn’t asking... he was,” Dad answered, ignoring the bite in Gabby’s voice.

  “Okay. Sorry. But yes, I’m sure. If he comes up here again, get rid of him. He didn’t want a baby either, and he sure didn’t want me, so I don’t know why he’s even here. I’d like to know who the hell told him I was having it today... I just want this to be over, Dad,” Gabby answered, even more irritated now than when she began the conversation.

  She was definitely not in the mood for this. She huffed. She didn’t want to run Dad off; he was the only one there for her. Although she was bitchy, she was scared and wanted him to stay. She wished again that Olivia could have found the money to fly back from the Midwest to be with her, but since her sister was safe from Billy, she hadn’t wanted to push the issue. She could do it alone—or at least with just Dad by her side.

  Gabby’s dad gave her a reassuring smile, then sat down and raised his newspaper to read (hide behind) again.

  “Hi! How are those contractions coming now?” Nurse Sally asked, coming into the small room with a smile.

  “I don’t know. Just tell me when to push,” Gabby answered, knowing she sounded impatient and petulant but unable to help it.

  “Uh-oh... are you wearing out on me? Can’t do that... The hard part is just about to begin,” she said cheerfully, standing next to her bed, reading the contraction chart that was dangling to the ground.

  Gabby’s dad stayed hidden behind his newspaper.

  After reading the chart, she began to mess with the bed. She pulled out what looked like foot rests—cold metal stirrups—and Gabby sucked in a huge breath, wondering if she’d actually have to spread her legs that far.

  “Watch your legs, honey, I’m going to drop the bed,” the nurse instructed.

  Watch them how? What did she want me to do? Gabby thought as the bottom of the bed quickly dropped right out from under her legs, leaving them dangling on the short bed now.

  Dad stood up and cleared his throat.

  “What are you doing?” he asked hesitantly.

  “We’re having a baby, sir. Will you be staying in for the delivery?”

  “Uh, no. Unless.... Gabby, do you need me to?”

  Gabby watched the color drain from his face, and he hadn’t even seen anything yet.

  I’d love to say yes and freak him out, Gabby thought. But that would be mean.

  The room felt heavy with silence as Nurse Sally looked again at the latest reading on the contraction chart.

  “No, Dad. I know you can’t handle the delivery. But can you stay with me until we really get started?” Gabby could feel her face blushing, starting at her neck and moving straight up, hot as fire. She sucked in a huge intake of breath and exhaled, trying to cool down. She hated to ask anyone for anything, even if it was one of her parents.

  “Yeah, sure. Of course I will.”

  Dad walked to the side of the bed, opposite the nurse, and awkwardly took Gabby’s hand. His big hand was sweaty and he seemed shaky. Their family was not a touchy-feely family. It was unusual to touch at all, even hugs—except for Emma. Everybody loved on Emma. But physical displays of affection for her or Olivia were very rare growing up: hugs, kisses, pats on the back or just holding hands rarely ever happened. Dad must really be freaked.

  Gabby wondered if he was holding her hand, or she was holding his.

  “Gabby, do you want me to get your mom in here to help you during the delivery?”

  “No. I can do this. If she’s not here... then she’s not here. I’m not asking for her,” Gabby said stubbornly, trying to brush off her need for someone—anyone, to help her through this. “I can handle it, Dad. I don’t want to talk about her.”

  Gabby was angry at her mom. Up until the last moment her mom had supported her decision to give the baby up for adoption. Now she was questioning—causing Gabby to doubt herself—if this was the right thing to do. She just wanted her mom to be a typical mom, just this once: support her decision and be there rooting for her... not against her.

  “Gabby, your mom may not be here for you now, but she was here for you before. She did this same thing for you, times two. Double the trouble. And then again for Emma. When you see your son for the first time, and know you did all this for him—even if this is the last thing you do for him—I hope you’ll feel some gratitude and forgiveness towards your mother, who went through hell for all you girls, too.”

  The nurse cleared her throat.

  “Okay, sir. You may want to leave now. It looks like we’re probably ready for Gabby to start pushing. I’m going to get Gabby fixed up and ready and we should be having a baby here soon. I’ll page the doctor while you say good-bye. And we’ll let you know when you can come in and say hello to your new grandson.”

  She could feel the tears spilling out the corners of her eyes at the mention of the word good-bye. She hoped her dad wouldn’t see them standing where he was. She didn’t want anyone to think the tears were for dread of the delivery, or regret about her decision. The tears that she was trying to hold back now were for her son. Every moment closer to delivery was one moment closer to not having him. She was holding back tears in fear of their good-bye—not their hello.

  Dad squeezed Gabby’s hand and knelt down to kiss the top of her head before he left. She could see he was too choked up for words, and she was thankful. She was pretty choked up too.

  Childbirth sucked, but Gabby got through it. After two days of taking care of the baby herself, she had just a small break while the baby underwent some tests. The nurse returned with him and laid him in the pallet Gabby had made for him on the side of her bed, just beside her hip but separated by a rolled-up blanket. She wanted him where she could still reach him to feed him or change him when necessary but didn’t want to be too close to him. He was hungry; he started crying the minute the nurse tucked him in. Luckily, she’d brought a bottle in with her, anticipating it may be time, and handed it to her. Gabby’s mom stood there as if she wanted to snatch the baby and the bottle from them and do it herself.

  “Can’t you feed him, just this one time?” Gabby begged the nurse, not wanting to do this in front of her mom, attracting unwanted attention and oohs and ahhs during the feeding.

  “No, I’m sorry. Like I’ve told you before, we aren’t allowed to do that. The birth mother has to do everything for the baby for the first three full days. This gives you a fair chance to bond with your baby and make the right decision before signing the legal documents,” she explained patiently for the third time in two days.

  Gabby sighed, resigned, and gently rubbed the nipple across his lips until he latched onto the bottle. She propped up her arm with a pillow so she could take the weight off while she prepared to keep it extended for a while.

  “Gabby, why don’t you hold him to your chest, in the crook of your arm? He’ll calm if he feels your heartbeat. It’s what he’s listened to for nine months, and it’ll be easier on your arms and back if he’s up close to you while you feed him,” Gabby’s mom instructed her.

  “No, Mom! This is how I’ve been doing for the past two days before you showed up... I got this. You don’t get it, do you? I lay him there, as far away from my heart as possible, because he needs to get used to the beat of his new mother’s heart and forget mine!” Gabby screamed spitefully at her mother, finding it hard to maintain her strong charade, partly wanting her mom to just wrap her arms around her and comfort her, tell her she was doing the right thing—a good thing—and that she loved her, and partly wanting to lash out at her for being who she was and this turning out this way.

  The nurse cleared her throat, a quiet admonishment for Gabby’s temper around the baby, and soundlessly left the room.

  “
Gabby. I told you I couldn’t come up here and watch that baby be born, knowing you were going to give away my grandchild to strangers! I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, but that’s asking too much, don’t you think?” Mom asked, infuriating Gabby by making it all about herself.

  “Don’t you think it’s too much to not be here with your child having a baby, knowing I’m still seventeen years old and my twin sister is over a thousand miles away and I had no one else except Dad, who tried his best, but couldn’t handle being in the delivery room? Don’t you think it’s too much that the only two people that were with me during the hardest struggle of my life were strangers? A doctor and a nurse? Really, Mom?”

  “Gabby. Calm down. I changed my mind about coming up here for a reason. Mark and I talked, and rather than you give that baby to strangers, we’re willing to adopt him and raise him as our own,” Mom said, smiling, as if that were the best news Gabby could possibly hear.

  “Are you crazy? Why do you think I’m giving him away in the first place, Mom? I don’t want him to live the life we live. I don’t want him to grow up around the bullshit you constantly surround yourself with. I don’t want to walk in and find Mark playing hide-the-undies with my son one day! I wouldn’t let Mark adopt a stray dog, no less my son! You are so in denial when it comes to him. How many more times has he roughed you up since Tim intervened, Mom? I know I hear you guys in there fighting all the time now. He’s really taken off his mask and laid the law down on you now, hasn’t he? And you let him. You guys don’t go anywhere. You come straight home from work where you’re busting your ass to make enough money to pay ninety percent of the bills, while he hangs out at the house sleeping all day or eating the food you pay for, then goes to his dumpy-ass bar to hang around a bunch of drunk women and doesn’t come home until the ‘bar closes’ at two or three in the morning! All while you just work, work, work and wait, wait, wait... You’re pitiful, Mom. You’re right back where you started—a willing victim of abuse. Face it.