The Unfinished Child

by Theresa Shea

  Marie even briefly entertained the idea of going away for half a year, without the kids, telling the rest of the family that she’d terminated the pregnancy, and then delivering the infant to Elizabeth under a veil of silence. But she didn’t want to leave her girls for four months, and her family would find it strange that Elizabeth had a baby that was exactly the same age that Marie’s would have been if she hadn’t terminated her pregnancy.

  But the truth was no good either. Dear kids, your parents didn’t want a baby with Down syndrome, but Auntie Elizabeth did. Absolutely not.

  What, then? Terminate the pregnancy and tell Elizabeth she was sorry? Tell her if we can’t have the baby, nobody can?

  “Marie?”

  “I thought about it all the way home,” she said quietly, staring at her hands as they went numb beneath the cold water. “Just because we don’t want it, does that mean that the baby has to die?”

  Barry let his head fall onto the table.

  The smell of frying onions and pork chops filled the kitchen.

  Barry stood, reached into the cupboard above the refrigerator, and removed a bottle of scotch. Then he poured a tumbler full and quickly drank it.

  “It would be one thing to give the baby up for adoption,” he said, clearing his throat. “That would be hard enough. But to give it to your best friend? I just don’t think we could do it. How would we explain that?”

  “You were the one who said we shouldn’t worry about what anyone thinks.”

  “Look, I’m not the bad guy here,” Barry said. “I’m not pressuring you to do something against your will. We’re supposed to be in this together.”

  Marie nodded. He was right.

  “Plus, she’s not even with Ron anymore, is she?”

  Marie shook her head in disgust. “You never listen to me. I told you that she and Ron are back together again. Elizabeth moved back home.”

  “And I’m supposed to remember that? And even if she is living with him again, you can’t exactly say that’s a very stable home environment, can you?”

  Marie tried to keep calm. Barry was slipping into his know-it-all stance. It irritated her when he pretended to be so sure of himself. What would it be like, she wondered, to live in a world where everything was black and white, where all the edges were sharp and never rounded.

  “You don’t know the whole story,” she said with resignation. “I hardly think you’re in a position to judge the state of Elizabeth’s marriage.”

  “The hell I’m not. Judge and be judged, that’s my motto. I can judge anything I want to. Like, for instance, what kind of friend she is. She thinks things come too easily for you, and now she wants to make something harder for a change. You call that being a friend?”

  “Look, I’m not interested in debating my friendship with Elizabeth right now, okay? That’s not the issue. We’re supposed to be deciding what to do about the baby. Why don’t you think about the baby for a minute, instead of yourself.”

  Barry sat quietly for a moment. “I can’t believe we’re even having this discussion. Do you honestly think that you could give the baby up once you’ve had it?”

  Marie tried to imagine the larger picture. She saw her water breaking. Packing a bag for the hospital. The contractions, slow to start and then coming on like a train. The sweating, the vomiting, the rocking back and forth trying to calm herself. Searching for a better position of comfort. Waiting for the drugs to kick in to stop the pain that foreshadowed her own death.

  She could hear, taste, smell, feel, and almost see the baby as it struggled to leave her body. The baby’s head crowning, the burning, the burning, and the splitting open, before its entire length slipped out. And then the incredible relief when the pain ended.

  For what? To swaddle the baby and hand her over?

  But if she agreed to do this, then Elizabeth would be in the room with her, and perhaps even Ron, to watch their daughter’s birth.

  Marie reimagined it. Elizabeth holding her hand, scared and excited at the same time, encouraging her, telling her she could do it, that she was doing just great. Elizabeth’s eyes widening with excitement when the head crowned, knowing her baby was almost there. Then Elizabeth’s tears as the slippery bundle was placed into her arms and she stared down at her own little girl, loving its sweet face, its tiny fingers, its perfect toes.

  “I don’t know if I could give it up,” Marie said softly. “But I do know that there’s nobody else in the world that I’d do it for but Elizabeth.”

  Barry listened quietly. “I’m scared,” he finally admitted. “We’ve pretty well always agreed on things, but what if we don’t agree on this? I’m having a tough time imagining Elizabeth and Ron walking away from the hospital with our baby.”

  “I know.”

  “What would the kids do?”

  “They love Elizabeth.”

  “Yeah, but do they love her enough to give away their baby sister?”

  “That’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? But we’ll still have to tell them something because either way there’ll be no baby in the house.”

  They were silent for a moment as the weight of Marie’s words settled into their bones.

  The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed six o’clock.

  “Maybe I’m just being a coward,” Barry said a minute later, “but it somehow seems easier to explain why the baby wasn’t born at all than why it’s not living with us.”

  Marie nodded. “I know. But are we going for what’s easy or what’s right?”

  Barry walked to the sink and put an arm around her. “We need to do what we think is best for us and the girls.” He pushed her hair off her face. “No matter what we do, we’ll probably have some regrets.”

  He was right. They had already talked. They would talk again. For now, she would do the next obvious thing—serve dinner. She walked to the top of the basement stairs and called down, “Nicole! Sophia! Dinner’s ready.” Then she moved back to the stove and began filling plates with food.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  1979

  Elizabeth was seventeen and in love for the second time in her life. Her body felt exciting, and it pleased her that her boyfriend’s hands could elicit such wonderful and exhilarating feelings; it was similar to how her stomach felt when the roller coaster ascended the rise to its highest point, slowing to a crawl just before it plunged down the steep slope on the other side. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. Her body was wanting more; she hadn’t gone all the way yet, but when that time came, she wanted to be prepared.

  Marie told her she should go to Planned Parenthood, for the anonymity, but Elizabeth thought that was a depressing way to begin one’s sexual journey, “planning,” as if parenthood was the only reason to have sex. Plus, everybody knew that women who went to Planned Parenthood were there because they hadn’t planned and had gotten themselves into trouble.

  She certainly didn’t want to go to her regular doctor because what if she wasn’t discreet and mentioned it offhandedly to her mother, who was also a patient? Elizabeth loved her mother, but there were times when she needed some privacy, some little bits of knowledge about herself that no one else could share. So instead of going to her family doctor, she looked Dr. Maclean up in the phone book and found he still ran his practice out of the University Hospital.

  “Dr. Maclean’s office,” the receptionist answered.

  “Hi, uh, I used to be a patient of Dr. Maclean’s, and I’m wondering if I might be able to schedule an appointment with him.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Elizabeth Crewes.”

  “And when did you last see the doctor?”

  Elizabeth counted in her mind. “Uh, it’s been about five years.”

  “Well, I’ll have to ask the doctor. Can you hold, please?”

  A few minutes later she was back on the line. “Dr. Maclean says he’ll be happy to see you. Can you come on Friday at two forty-five?”

  By the time Friday rolle
d around Elizabeth was embarrassed that she’d made the appointment at all. Once she stepped into his waiting room she remembered why she and her mother had stopped seeing him. There were three patients with Down syndrome who were waiting with their mothers. Two of the children were fairly young, under the age of ten, she guessed, but the third one was maybe in her mid-teens. She was bald and her scalp was covered with patchy bits of downy hair as if she’d come straight from chemo. Maybe she had. Elizabeth knew that some of the kids born with Down syndrome had other serious conditions. It hardly seemed fair; hadn’t this girl and her parents been dealt a difficult hand already? Why wasn’t that sort of thing spread around a bit more?

  She took a seat across the room, beside a woman with a baby on her lap. Elizabeth picked up a magazine and glanced surreptitiously at the child—sure enough, it bore the tell-tale signs of Down syndrome. She glanced at the mother again and noted how young she was, maybe only a half-dozen years older than herself. The baby sucked its fist while the mother clucked her tongue encouragingly and caressed the baby’s tiny, stockinged feet.

  “Elizabeth Crewes,” a nurse called, and she gratefully followed her into an examination room.

  Dr. Maclean looked almost exactly the same as when she’d last seen him, except that his hair had a bit more grey in it and he had the slight beginnings of a paunch. Other than that, he looked good, although he was more nervous than she’d remembered him.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “It’s good to see you again, Elizabeth. It’s been some time,” he said, clicking his pen open and shut, open and shut.

  “Yes, since I was twelve, I think.”

  “And now you’re . . .”

  “Almost eighteen.”

  “My, time flies,” he said, continuing to click his pen open and shut. “You’re finished school now?”

  “I’ll be going to university in the fall.”

  “Wonderful. What will you study?”

  “I’m enrolled to do a Bachelor of Arts.”

  “How are your parents?”

  “Good,” she replied. “Nothing new to report.”

  He laughed.

  Why was he looking at her like that? Had she forgotten something?

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

  The doctor smiled and laughed. “No, of course not. My apologies, I’ve had a busy week. Now, what brings you in today?”

  He’d known her since she was a baby. He’d treated her for chicken pox, measles, bronchitis, strep throat, and eczema. He’d also, she suddenly remembered, known her parents’ secret that she was adopted.

  She was glad she was sitting down because her legs felt unusually weak. For the first twelve years of her life, she’d believed she was her parents’ daughter, but then, out of the blue, a new narrative was placed before her, and Dr. Maclean would forever be linked to that discovery.

  A cough interrupted her musings. Dr. Maclean was staring at her, a prescription pad in hand.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said. “What was your question?”

  “Are you already sexually active?”

  Elizabeth felt her face redden. She knew it was silly. It was his job to ask personal questions.

  “No, not yet.” But soon, maybe. She was dating a nice boy, and he’d been hinting about wanting more, but given her personal history, she knew that a girl could get pregnant when she was young and have to make some hard decisions.

  “Anything else?” Dr. Maclean asked, handing her the piece of paper and hanging on to it a bit too long.

  She shook her head, suddenly eager to get out of the doctor’s office. “No. Everything’s fine,” she said, standing and smiling. “Fine.”

  “Well, you know where to find me if you need anything,” he said, extending his hand and smiling. “It was good to see you again.”

  She filled her prescription on the way home. Tiny pink and white pills housed in their own plastic wheel. One pill a day, every day. The seven white pills were for when she was having her period. Just to keep in the habit of taking the pill daily. And she did. Responsibly. Religiously. Even when she’d stopped seeing the nice boy she kept taking the pill, just in case she met someone new. Then Ron came along and after their marriage they no longer needed them. Oh, happy day! She remembered flushing three months’ worth of pills down the toilet.

  Such glorious optimism.

  THIRTY-NINE

  2002

  Elizabeth pulled the pasta from the oven. She moved with a nervous energy, wanting everything to be perfect. She tossed the salad and put the breadbasket on the table, along with some butter. Ron opened a bottle of red wine and lit the candles.

  “You look nice,” he said, coming up behind her and circling her with his arms.

  She’d brushed her hair out after work so it hung loosely down her shoulders. Then she’d dabbed some perfume behind her ears before slipping into a pair of leggings and a long black silk shirt.

  She moved her head to direct Ron’s kiss to her cheek. “Sit,” she said, motioning toward the table.

  She turned the kitchen light off and let her eyes get accustomed to the semi-dark. The flames on the candles flickered back and forth with the invisible air currents that circulated in the room. Soft music filtered in from the stereo in the front room. It was their first quiet meal together since she’d moved back home.

  Caught up in the festive mood, Ron lifted his wineglass. “To us,” he said, smiling. They clinked glasses and drank.

  “I had coffee with Marie today,” she began tentatively.

  “Oh yeah? That’s nice.” Ron finished a mouthful of lasagna and buttered another piece of bread. “How’s she doing?”

  “Not very well, actually.”

  He raised his eyebrows to show he was listening.

  “In fact, she had some bad news to share. Remember how I told you she’d gone to have an amnio done? Well, she got her results back, and it turns out the baby has Down syndrome.”

  Ron looked up from his plate and stopped chewing. “You’re kidding. That’s awful.”

  “I know. And now they have this big decision to make and Marie’s feeling terrible about it. She was talking as if they might terminate the pregnancy.”

  Ron shook his head. “God, I feel for them. That’s a tough one, for sure. It’s not a decision I’d want to have to make.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth filled with saliva. She swallowed hard and watched Ron return his attention to what was on his plate.

  “It’s a little girl,” she added.

  Candlelight reflected from Ron’s glasses. The lower half of his face was in shadow. From where she sat, Elizabeth felt as if she were looking directly into the flames. She picked up her wineglass and swirled the red liquid around. Then she took a big mouthful and enjoyed the feeling of the heat flowing down her throat.

  “She was really in a state about things. She didn’t feel that she had any options.”

  Ron nodded and continued eating.

  “Either she has to terminate the pregnancy or have the baby. I asked her if there wasn’t any other option, and she said she didn’t think so.” Elizabeth hesitated. Ron shook his head in sympathy, clearly imagining the pain involved with such a decision.

  “I was feeling so badly for her. I shut my eyes and tried to imagine what she was going through. It was strange, actually. I felt as if I had left my body or something, and suddenly I had this thought. Without even knowing what I was going to say, I told her I would take the baby if she didn’t want it.”

  Ron stopped chewing.

  Elizabeth looked down at the food on her plate and felt the kitchen walls close in. When she looked up she saw Ron put his cutlery down and wipe the corners of his mouth with the thumb and index finger of his right hand.

  “Say that again,” he said.

  “I told her I’d take the baby,” she whispered.

  Ron pushed his plate away and nodded as if he got it now, the special meal, the candles, the bottle of wine. She
could tell he felt set up. “I see.”

  A minute passed in silence before he spoke again. “And were you planning on discussing this with me? Or doesn’t it matter what I think?”

  “Please don’t be angry,” she begged, reaching across the table for his hand. “I honestly have no idea where the words came from. I didn’t even know when I went there that Marie had gotten her results back.”

  “And did you wish you could take them back once you’d said them?”

  She looked directly into his eyes. “No. I didn’t. It felt like the most right thing in the world.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She didn’t say anything. She was probably as shocked as I was. She just grabbed her coat and mumbled something about talking it over with Barry.”

  Ron shook his head. “Here we go again.”

  “But she didn’t say no,” Elizabeth added hurriedly.

  “I really don’t know what to say. You were never interested in adopting before. What’s changed?”

  “This is different. We’ve got all this shared history. Her kids are the closest thing I have to nieces—they’re almost like my own family.” Elizabeth struggled to make Ron understand the emptiness she’d always felt in not knowing any of her real family. She moved to the edge of her chair to minimize the distance between them. “I sat there and listened to Marie talk about how guilty she felt for not wanting the baby, and I thought, there must be another way. She shouldn’t have to go through so much pain. And then it was as if I knew that I was supposed to have that child. I knew it was up to me to give her that choice.”

  Ron didn’t look convinced.

  “I guess in offering to take the baby I assumed that you’d be here with me.”