i bought the tie-dyed onesie at a hippie store in a college town in the mountains. at 10 weeks along, and slightly excited about being pregnant, i snatched it up and turned it gently over in my hands.
"this kid will look so good in it"
the tie-dyed onesie made the 1700 mile trip back east, nestled in the bag with my underwear and socks. the next time i held it, 2 months later, i had just gotten my apartment and had started to formulate an adoption plan. again, the onesie lived among my unmentionables, as if it was unmentionable as well.
i took it to the hospital, knowing full well it would be too big. i thought maybe i would give it to them. thinking maybe they would treasure the very first article of clothing bought for him. but i didn't. i couldn't know for sure that they would realize the gravity of a brightly patterned cotton romper.
the tie-dyed onesie resides in a plastic box, with our correspondence, photos & other treasures. his cap, spit cloth & bracelet sealed in a ziploc bag. the crib card for the "first fotos" that i swiped from my hospital chart.
this weekend, while shuffling items around in my storage room, the top came loose from the box and the onesie tumbled into my hands. reminders of how it all may have been different.
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- Barb
- coffee drinker, cigarette smoker, sociology book reader, birthmother. among many, many other things.
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7 comments:
I love the way you wrote this, the reader can really feel what you feel. Thank you for sharing yourself with us.
((Barb))
It's the worst. Thinking, what if things had been a little different... what if I were a little bit stronger... today, I'd be a mother. And people would know it.
i never really considered parenting an option after a certain stage in pregnancy. this was more in wonderment regarding many of my choices.
I have a hanging mirror mobile outside in the trees which is sort of sacred to me. Every year my little daughter asks me do I remember what day it is today Mum...July 29th...of course I do...how could I ever forget. She was too ill to keep her baby...having what we know now was glandular fever and something else which made her so ill she couldn't keep weight on nor food nor fluids... its more important that the mother survives and later has another go... but yes ever year on july 29th we both remember...that there was a child which could not be born. Life is full of these unspoken things...but as long as there are one or two you can share these dates with it helps.
I wish I could have waved a magic wand over my poor daughter as she has never recovered physically from this...develloping infection from the termination and having a bad reaction to the anaesthetic... along with the glandular fever and multiple allergies which beset her at this time and nearly killed her.
How many bear this alone.
I love this. I love how it instantly reminded me of the duality of my own first pregnancy -knowing I wouldn't parent my child but that I could still enjoy being pregnant, could enjoy bonding with a couple who were very excited about parenting my baby and holding onto just a few things that mean more to me than they ever will to them or my child.
hey Jayne! happy to see you!
I am an adopted child, and it is really valuable for me to read how a birthmother feels. I found mine but her husband said she couldn't handle meeting me. I'm respectful of that, but at the same time, your entry helps to answer some of my questions for her.
Thank you.
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