Never Give Up - Heidi Lis Page 0,37
from work, I went straight to my room. Less hassle that way. The days were long, and the nights were even longer. I never felt more alone. They were hiding me until I gave birth and gave my baby to the adoption agency. My aunt, civil at best, was as warm as my parents were. Peggy wholeheartedly agreed with them. To her, I was a loose girl who found herself knocked up by an older boy. When in reality, they had it backwards. I was a girl in love, and yes, although not planned it still happened. Life happens, and not always according to plan, either.
I tried time and again to explain to them; that Micah was no boy crush. He was my other half, I knew it, and had even explained it to Micah himself one afternoon. The reason I knew was simple, I’ve always believed whenever I found my soul mate, my reason for breathing, I would feel it all the way to my bones. It’s a feeling not easily pushed aside or thrown away. It’s there, and it grows until it reaches your soul, forever leaving its mark. Micah did all of that and more. No amount of time or space between us could ever touch or undo what I felt for Micah Taylor. To put it simply, he was the one. I didn’t care if I was sixteen or sixty, I knew it to be true.
The hard facts were, a loving couple would teach my little boy all the things Micah and I wouldn’t. They would wipe his tears when he cries, teach him to walk and write. In my mind, he would grow up being the spitting image of Micah. Although somewhat sad, it’s this thought that comforted me over the last few very lonely months. Our baby could not be with us, but at least he’d be alive. Just knowing he’s out there meant that Micah and I existed. We loved one another enough to create him. He’s my proof that love does exist.
Later that night, my depression and sobs tore through my body in a fit of shakes. Not having one single moment throughout my pregnancy of feeling love or even being wanted has left its mark. Scars on the outside now match the scars on the inside. I’ve now lost my last connection with him…forever gone. During my last trimester, I spent time running my hands over my basketball of a belly knowing a part of Micah was inside me. This connection and bond kept me comforted when I felt my heart and soul losing its grip on reality.
My door gradually opened as my nurse, Alisha Harkins, walked in, pausing to look behind her making sure she came into my room unseen.
“Elsa, sweet girl, I could not forgive myself if I let them take your son without you holding him, at least once.”
Walking over to stand next to my bed, as if it’s a natural thing, she hands me the baby cradled in her arms. My eyes fight back tears of nervousness, and my breathing ceased when I saw the baby in a pink hat. Confused, because my heart wished for a baby, but not this baby. My heart ached for a baby boy. Looking up at her utterly confused, I’m not sure why she mixed up the babies. Did she forget I had a boy? With a shake of my head, looking at her I ask, “I don’t understand, why did you bring me this little girl?” Keeping my voice soft making sure not to wake the baby in her arms.
Her eyes welled with tears. “No sweet child, this is your baby. The adoption agency had us put a pink hat on him so you could not pick him if you went to the nursery. It’s protocol in situations like these. He’s your baby boy. He needed to be sure who is real mommy is before the agency picks him up in the morning.”
She barely finished speaking when her tears now matched my own. Knowing she was most likely putting her job on the line, for what…a sixteen-year-old girl? I could not have loved her anymore at this moment. No amount of telling her how thankful I was could ever be enough. No amount of hugs could match it, either.
“Oh my God, you did this for me?” I ask, not taking my eyes off of my baby. “He’s so beautiful.” I had to admit, he was cute as a button. Gently