Archive for School

Maybug’s dad

January 31, 2008 · Filed under Maybug, Other things, Pregnancy, Real Life, School

I don’t think I’ve talked at great lengths about Maybug’s dad before.

I call him my boyfriend but in the strictest sense of the word he isn’t. Being that our only romantic interactions prior to this were the ones that were necessary to create Maybug, perhaps “baby daddy” is more accurate. He’s in love with me in a way that would be creepy and obsessive under different circumstances.

He wants to marry me. We can live in his parents’ basement suite. The TV room can be our room, the storage room the baby’s.  I told him that he couldn’t be so idealistic but he is anyway. Maybe I’m a cynical old bitch in the body of a sixteen-year-old. Maybe he’s the smart one. I don’t want Maybug to fall into a hole of living here, never leaving, never wanting anything else, never knowing anything but his or her grandparents’ basement.

“Don’t you want anything else?”

“I want to be with you.”

“I want to finish high school and go to university and get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Don’t you have your own dreams?”

“I want to be with you.”

He’s not stupid. He’s not like the other people who go to school with us, who think that this is it, it doesn’t get any better than this. But he loves me. He loves us–Maybug and me.

I love him too, of course. And because I love him I want to protect him. I want him to understand that he’s  got a life, that you can’t just marry the first girl you accidentally impregnate just because you accidentally impregnate her. You should do everything that teenagers do, like have a girlfriend and dump her for a newer model, like go to prom and speed and not have to worry about anything except your chemistry test. My life, at least for this year, has been upturned, but that doesn’t mean that anybody else’s should be.

Or should it?

I had my first therapy session today. It was after school, and I had to pick my little sister up from school before. Maybug’s dad said he would come with me, and he went to my house at lunch to get my sister’s car seat from my dad’s van so she could ride in his car. People made fun of him all day long for that car seat, but he never said a word.

I told all of this stuff to the therapist, of course, but I’m writing it here now too. She says the same thing all the other adults in my life say–that I’m very brave and intelligent etc. We didn’t talk too seriously about anything. I was nervous to, I guess, despite the fact that I have no problem spilling it on here.

I need him–Maybug’s dad, my boyfriend, whatever you want to call him. It sounds horrible, I know. But we–or I–have begun a sort of hibernation, isolation. People don’t talk to me anymore. Even my best friend, who was with me all this time, has quietly upgraded to new friends who can go out and do stupid teenage things such as sit in cars and drink alcohol in their parents’ basements then go and do stupid things to other teenagers. We tether each other, he and I, quietly. We’ve drifted away from everyone else, but we can’t drift away from each other.

People are always saying that babies don’t make couples closer but maybe they do. Even when Maybug is far away from us with his or her new family we’ll always remember that we were with each other this whole time. We’ll always be a family, always, all three of us.

Always.

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I got a phone call

January 23, 2008 · Filed under Adoption, Maybug, Other things, Pregnancy, Real Life, School

The adoptive parents called me tonight. I was in my usual non-computer position: laying on my side watching TLC and playing my Gameboy when the phone rang, and I was surprised to hear from the adoptive mom. We meet up or call every two weeks to catch up on baby-related business, and it was my turn to call next Monday.

They found a new biomom. She’s due in “less than a month” and she’s older than I am. They want to go with her instead because she’s had more time to think it over and she “knows for sure”. I know for sure, too. I’ve known for sure since September. I really liked this family. They were young enough to be cool but old enough to be mature. They already had a three-year-old son that they adopted. They were perfect for us–for Maybug and me. I don’t know what we’re going to do now, but I’m going to talk to the lawyer tomorrow to find out what she recommends. I’m pretty sure (but maybe someone more knowledgable could correct me, I’m going to do some research too, because that’s what I do) that it’s too late for me to join up with an agency. I feel so sad for Maybug for some reason. I thought that I had chosen a family who really wanted him or her and and they just…bowed out for some newer model. Now it’s just Maybug and me, two against the world, and I don’t know what we’re going to do.

I read a blog that’s linked on the side of my page pretty often called optionadoption. It gives me a good insight on the other side of what I’m going through, the parents’ side, and it’s given me a good perspective on why, exactly, I need to go through with this. There are so so many people like this and a woman who has commented here before (I really hope you guys don’t mind me singling you out) who want, genuinely want to have a baby who just can’t for some reason. I want those people to be able to someday hold a baby–their baby, and watch him or her grow and develop and be loved. I wanted to do that for someone because I know that I just can’t, at this point, do it myself.

I shouldn’t feel so shaken up about this setback, but I do. I don’t know why, but I do.

Although the baby’s dad (who I’ve never talked about before. This blog has really been the Me Show since I opened it, which isn’t fair to him, is it?), when I called him, brought up the terrifying proposition of raising the kid ourselves when I told him that they’d bowed out. I can’t say the thought never crossed my mind, but it was jarring to hear it spoken by someone else.

I wish I could better articulate what I want to say about the idea of keeping the baby. I feel bad that I can’t. And I feel even worse trying, but here goes nothing.

I have the vision or fantasy sometimes of what it would be like if something happened and we ended up keeping the baby. I guess it’s apretty normal teenage girl fantasy of what it would be like to have a baby, but it’s all that more real. I always think of Maybug as a boy–make of that what you will–and I imagine what he’d look like and sound like. I browse through racks of tiny baby clothes and pick out ones with firetrucks and bugs and puppy dogs and picture dressing him up in them with a little hat that matched. Maybe with ears. I found a car seat the other day at Wal Mart that had dinosaur print and I wanted to buy it for him. I could see my baby (in his puppy-dog sleeper) riding in that car seat. I pass by rows of formula and picture myself in the middle of the night making a bottle for him. He’s even cute when he’s screaming his head off.

I told someone once that I thought that if it was a boy I might not want to let him go. I think I was right. I don’t know why I’m so attached to the notion of having a son, and I don’t know what it means for me in the long run. I guess time will tell.

Although when I have those fantasies, I do try to be as unselfish as possible about them. I do remember how I got into this position, and I do remember that I was so scared and uneasy and I knew all along that I couldn’t keep the baby. And if that isn’t enough, I remind myself of all the people who want to be how I am and can’t, and I think of the way a baby would be a fantastic gift to them.

Sometimes, though, it doesn’t help much.

(As an aside, I checked my views before I logged on and I have 100 views and I’ve only had the blog for a week. Geez! I had no idea that my ramblings would be that interesting to people.)

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