| |
LEXIE SAT ON THE SOFA in the confines of her new living room. She glanced around briefly, paranoid and self-conscious of what the woman sitting across from her thought—about her appearance, her home, and most of all, the ability to give up the baby in her womb.
At least the house was presentable. She had worked tirelessly, the monotony of unpacking, decorating, and cleaning, a great distraction from her endless search for self. Most of the boxes had been either unpacked or put in the garage for storage. And as for her, she took the time to curl and style her long chestnut hair, applied her makeup carefully, and spent all morning trying on every maternity item in her wardrobe, which wasn’t much, until she settled on an ensemble that made her look less...heartless.
The physical manifestation of a heartless outfit: a knee-length khaki skirt and royal blue blouse.
The adoption agency representative sat with her legs crossed, clad in all black—a color Lexie thought fitting for today’s meeting. Her hair was cut severely to her chin and was an odd shade of eggplant, one of which, no doubt, came out of a bottle.
“As I said at the door, I’m Jenny Fletcher, and as you know, I’m from Building Blocks Adoption. I’d like to get started by telling you a little about our agency, and then we’ll get to know you a little better and get an understanding of your own needs and wants.”
Lexie nodded. She wondered who “we” was.
“What we at Building Blocks like to do is build an adoption plan with the mothers we work with. Our adoptive families are required to complete 36 hours of training, child abuse clearances, FBI and state criminal checks, financial background check, and have a minimum of three home visits with a licensed social worker to become approved as an adoptive family. We want to make sure you’re comfortable with the people who are going to be taking care of your child.
“Your comfort with the entire process is paramount, and we’re here to answer any concerns you may have along the way. We have licensed social workers and one will be assigned to you.” She leaned forward in her chair and placed a hand on Lexie’s shoulder. “We’re here to help you. You never need to be afraid to talk to us.”
Jenny paused. Lexie felt like she was waiting for some kind of response from her, but she didn’t know what to say. “Thanks,” she said lamely.
Jenny just smiled. “How far along are you?”
Lexie pursed her lips. “Um. Seven months.”
“Okay. So, twenty-eight weeks,” she said, then scribbled something on the clipboard in front of her. “Looks like we have a lot of work cut out for ourselves. We only have two months left. That’s okay though,” she said, glancing up from her writing. Lexie got the feeling she was talking more to herself than her. “Plenty of time. It’s never too late to find a loving home for your baby.” Her lips curled up sweetly at the corners, her smile saccharine.
Nausea swirled in her stomach, which Lexie found odd, considering she hadn’t had even an ounce of morning sickness her whole pregnancy. But suddenly, her stomach was a churning black hole.
Despite Jenny Fletcher’s wide smile, kind eyes, and her easy nature, her words were rehearsed, which didn’t help Lexie to relax.
She placed a hand over her stomach to soothe the violent urge to spasm, but the gesture no longer had quite the same effect, because instead of pressing against the convulsing organ, it pressed against the child within.
A quick nudge of movement poked Lexie’s hand, eliciting a quiver in her heart. Since she first felt the baby move, the sensations had become much more frequent, and the feeling of the niggling from within, while Jenny Fletcher sat only a foot away from her, filled Lexie with guilt. It was silly. But she felt like the baby knew what she was doing, knew that the woman who sat in front of her was there to take her away.
Jenny went on without notice of Lexie’s hand over her stomach, the sickly sheen to her face, and white pallor to her skin. “We have a counselor that will work with you—”
“Wait, I’m already in therapy.” Lexie’s gaze flew to the woman’s face. “I’ve discussed my decision to adopt with my therapist. Is seeing someone else really necessary?” Her thoughts flickered to Dr. Heart’s kind face, her feline eyes that penetrated to the truth of everything. The idea of seeing a counselor other than her was unthinkable.
Jenny gave her a sympathetic smile, one, that suddenly, Lexie wanted to wipe off her face. “I’m sorry, but it is necessary. These are counselor’s that specialize in what you’re about to embark upon, and this is a requirement for anyone who is giving their child up for adoption.”
Lexie frowned. She felt a stab of irritation but swallowed it down. There was no use arguing. After all, she had no choice. She had to get this done.
“At Building Blocks, you can pick the adoptive parents and you can even keep in touch with them through an open adoption throughout the child’s life.”
Lexie shook her head. “No. No, can’t you guys just pick the parents for me. I don’t need to, and I won’t be keeping in touch.”
Jenny’s smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a tight-lipped version. “Okay,” she said, in an exaggerated tone and scribbled something else on her clipboard. “After the birth, you are permitted to see your child. It will still be your child, after all. This, along with the right to choose the parents, as I mentioned, amongst other things, are all a part of the adoption plan.”
“I don’t want to see the child. As soon as I have her, I think it’s best if she’s just taken away.” Her nausea dissipated, leaving behind an ache in her gut that throbbed until it felt like it was directly connected to her heart.
Lexie wanted no direct involvement with the adoption from the very beginning, but her current desire for detachment stemmed from something else entirely. Since feeling the baby move, a stronger connection had formed, making it inherently difficult to prevent herself from attaching an identity to the growing life.
She found herself wondering about the baby unlike before. What would she look like? Would she look like her? Or him? Her negative feelings and animosity toward the child, lent her to previously envision her as something wicked. But lately, she saw the baby a bit differently. Would she have her chestnut hair? Her mother’s ice blue eyes? Her father’s easy demeanor? The thoughts and questions milling around the confines of her mind were becoming more frequent and somewhat hard to bear, considering after her birth she would be given away. Lexie was left with only one recourse—to swallow them down as soon as they started. Nevertheless, they burned in her stomach like acid.
The baby kicked hard. Her hand flew to her stomach, and Jenny looked at Lexie, her thin lips pressed together. “Alright. It sounds like, in your case, your adoption plan should be pretty easy and straightforward.”
There was no judgment in the woman’s voice, but Lexie’s still felt guilty, judged.
Lexie nodded, and the woman, rested her clipboard in her lap. “Well, then. Do you have any questions for me?”
Lexie shook her head, saying nothing.
“Okay. Do you know who the father is?”
Lexie’s eyes widened and her pulse quickened. She should have expected the question. But she hadn’t. She had been too preoccupied with her nerves, the ache in her gut. “Um, yes. I mean, no.”
Jenny raised her brows. “Well, which is it?
“No, I don’t.” Lexie hadn’t told anyone at the agency that she had been raped. She didn’t want the stigma to affect the child. Later in life, if she questioned her adoptive parents as to why she was given up, she didn’t want her to know the truth. Lexie could at least spare her that much—save her from the horror of her own conception.
“Okay. That shouldn’t be a problem then. If you knew who the father was though, we would need his consent,” Jenny said, eyeing Lexie as if she knew she was lying.
After Lexie said nothing, Jenny picked her briefcase up off the floor and placed her clipboard inside. She retrieved a thick folder of paperwork, emblazoned with the Building Blocks Adoption Agency logo on the cover, and handed it to her.
“Inside, you’ll find reading material about our agency, counseling services, support groups, and information about your rights and choices as the baby’s mother. It’s my recommendation that you read everything inside.”
Jenny stood up, and Lexie followed suit, walking with her to the door. Finding her voice, she mustered a smile, and said, “Thank you for coming.”
“Your counselor will be in touch this week to set up an appointment.” Lexie nodded and Jenny stepped through the door, but she must have sensed Lexie’s apprehension because she paused and placed a hand on Lexie’s arm. “Please. If you need anything, if you have any fears or doubts, please talk to us.” Then without another word, she walked out the door and to her car.
Lexie watched her leave before returning inside. She retrieved the folder Jenny had given her off the end table, where she left it, and opened it up to the first page. Pregnant? Considering adoption? Let us help make the right plans for YOU.
Lexie shut the folder, then went into the kitchen and chucked it in the trash.
She didn’t want to think about the adoption any more than she had to, and the urge to comfort herself surprised her. She tried to ignore her mind’s attempts at reason. Despite her efforts, one thing continued to run through her head. You just need to do this. Have the baby. Give her up. Then you can move on with your life.