Pregnant!I expected it, but hearing it confirmed by a doctor threw me into a state of shock. Tears spilled from my eyes. The doctor passed me a clean handkerchief.
"I understand, Mrs. Parker," the doctor said reassuringly. "This is such an emotional time for you."
You have no idea, I thought, dabbing daintily at my eyes. "Thank you, Doctor," I sniffed. Right away I knew that I had better be a better actress than Grace Kelly!
Just thinking of Grace Kelly made me sob even harder. I wanted to have a big, big wedding with a dress just like Grace Kelly's. I saw my Dad walking me down the aisle to give my hand in marriage to a faceless prince. I remembered dreaming of my wedding night. My husband would carry me over the threshold, I'd change into a lacy negligee, we'd sip champagne from an iced bucket...
I snapped back to a country doctor's office, unwed, pregnant, and all alone. "I..I..guess I'm so emotional because I haven't been sleeping well," I murmured softly. "Is...there anything that you could do for me?"
"Why sure, honey," he replied, scribbling out a prescription. "These pills will fix you right up. And here's your prenatal vitamins. We want a big, strong baby!"
"When is the...um....baby (I had a hard time even saying that word) due?" I asked.
"I'd say the stork should come calling about Valentine's Day!" he smiled. I'd like to blow that damn bird away with my daddy's hunting rifle, I thought.
"Thank you, Doctor," I said, rising. I knew that I would never look at his face again, but it would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. I paid the nurse and raced for my car.
I had a long time to think on the drive home. I was trying to decide if I should just kill myself first, or go to Jack's house, find him necking with another innocent girl, and take him to Hell with me. I clutched the bottle of sleeping pills tightly.
Then I began thinking about my family.
My family had endured war, suffering, the Depression, illness....My Daddy always talked about how his friend's father had shot himself when the stock market crashed and how his friend's mom had to go to work as a maid to feed her son. How his friend had been devastated. I thought about Daddy fifteen years earlier, flying all over Germany while the Krauts tried to shoot down his plane. I thought about Great Grandfather Hampton I writing home that he had dysentery while trying to fight the Yankees.
I was alive, safe, loved, and had a shining future.
No baby was going to stop me from having the life that I deserved!
I could still have the college graduation ceremony. Even the wedding night. Maybe, one day, far, far into the future, my husband and I would hold hands as the doctor told us we were expecting....
What could I do? Where could I go?
My girlfriends knew how much I loved college. I loved it all. Shopping for books. Having a coke at the diner, feeding the jukebox. New plaid skirts and loafers. The long hours practicing the piano. Even the boring, tedious Music Theory classes. What excuse could I possibly give them for leaving for a year?
I had to talk to wiser heads. I couldn't tell my parents. Seeing the light die in their eyes as I stood before them a broken woman. No!!! No!!!! I clutched the bottle of pills. I would rather die than face my parents.
I decided to drive to Richmond to talk to my Uncle Hampton IV. He'd know what to do.
Next: Uncle Hampton has a plan.
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6 comments:
God you are talented. You've got the era down pat, even if the particulars might have varied a bit. This must be tough for you, but I hope its helpful.
Fascinating. You are very talented.
My question for you is, what is the better way for the adopted parents to handle things if not "she loved you enough that she carried you to term and gave you to someone who could take better care of you."
I am an adoptee. A pretty darn happy one; I love my "adoptive" parents to death. I was never told much about my birth mother, save that she was a grad student. I just found out that my birth father probably doesn't know I exist, and that I can possibly access information about my birth mother "easily."
And I freaking burst out laughing upon reading the line about drinking "all that purple passion." What you are doing is a fascinating exercise. Thanks for sharing.
This is fascinating Lorrie (yes, I know it's a word that has been used several times already but I can't think of another to describe it), I can truly imagine it all right with you. I wonder if you feel a detachment telling this story or whether it still hurts a little. Not that you need to answer my curiousity, there are probably some things better left private.
Take care...
As I read your entries, I can't help but think that no matter what an adoptive parent tells or does not tell (b/c she simply does not know) her child regarding their birth story/early life/birth family -- it is natural for one to fill in the blanks for her/himself. The child will do it, the a-parents will likely do it as will extended family members.
I'd like to think that I'll be able to have discussions with my child about what she thinks about the unanswered questions in her life...throughout her development and as the story in her thoughts evolves/changes. My hope is that she will feel that Mom is a safe person to share that stuff with.
Again, I am grateful for your openness in sharing your story with us. You have spurred so many thoughts for me.
I always felt great sympathy and understanding from her. I was raised to have just as much horror and fear of an unwed pregnancy as I am sure she was.
The brushoff hurt but she said that she had never told her husband. Apparently she found her fairytale ending, and I'm still not invited into it. I guess I can even understand that.
Although it still hurts a little.
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