The Choice (15 page)

“Any history of twins in your family?”

“No, but I'm not sure about the father's family.”

“It would depend on your genetic disposition, not his.”

“It was just a thought—”

“And a real possibility,” the doctor interrupted, “based on your development. You're at twenty-one weeks but measure more like twenty-six.”

“You're serious?” Sandy's mouth dropped open.

“The thought of multiples crossed my mind while examining you. If you're carrying twins or triplets, you'll likely deliver the babies around thirty-six or thirty-seven weeks.”

“Triplets?”

“Are very, very rare. But twins are enough of a possibility that you might want to mention it to the adoption agency. Who's your caseworker?”

“Mrs. Longwell.”

“She should know so they can have contingency plans.”

“Is there any way you can check and make sure?”

“X-rays aren't recommended. There are experimental machines that rely on sound waves to create an image of what's in the uterus, but nothing that's been approved for use with patients. Would the presence of twins affect your decision to place the babies for adoption?”

Hearing the doctor say “babies” made it seem much more real than the words spoken by a strange old woman at a gas store.

“I don't think so. I'm less able to raise two babies than I am one.”

Dr. Berman nodded. “We'll see how you've progressed at your next visit.”

Leaving the doctor's office, Sandy took the elevator to the third floor.

“I don't have an appointment,” she told the receptionist, “but if Mrs. Longwell has a few minutes, I'd like to see her.”

While she waited, Sandy felt that her baby or babies were growing larger by the second. The skin across her stomach was tight. She couldn't imagine what she would look and feel like in seventeen more weeks. The door opened. It was Mrs. Longwell.

“Hello, Sandy,” she said.

They went to the caseworker's office. Since her initial visit, Sandy had completed a battery of tests and filled out two long questionnaires. She'd learned that prospective parents had to complete even more paperwork.

“Thanks for seeing me,” she said when they sat down. “I had an appointment with Dr. Berman, and she told me there's a chance I might be carrying twins.”

“You mentioned that at our first meeting,” Mrs. Longwell said, raising her eyebrows. “A woman's intuition about those types of things can be uncanny.”

“It's nothing definite, of course, but the doctor said I should tell you.”

“Right. Better to be prepared for the possibility than scrambling around trying to find a family willing to take twins at the last minute.”

“Oh, I wouldn't want them to be placed with the same family,” Sandy said.

“Why not? Our preference is to keep siblings together.”

Sandy shifted in her chair. “But it's not a requirement?”

“No,” the caseworker responded slowly. “But that doesn't answer my question.”

Sandy started to tell Mrs. Longwell about meeting the old woman but couldn't bring herself to do it. It was a bizarre encounter, and to base a decision on it would make Sandy sound silly.

“I'd rather not say,” she replied.

Mrs. Longwell studied her for a moment.

“If you insist on separate families, it's a huge decision that will affect the lives not only of your babies but of a lot of other people.”

“I know. Could it be like the intuition thing you mentioned?” Sandy asked hopefully.

Mrs. Longwell tapped her pen against a pad on her desk.

“We have a psychologist who is available to meet with prospective mothers. Maybe you should see her. It doesn't mean there's something wrong with you; it's a way to gather information that will help you make the best decisions. Would you be willing to talk to Dr. Bondy? She's very insightful.”

Sandy was feeling trapped and regretted bringing up the subject of twins with Mrs. Longwell.

“I don't know.”

“Think about it,” Mrs. Longwell said in her kind voice. “There's no need to cross that bridge today.”

The caseworker swiveled in her chair and reached for a thick folder.

“I'm glad you stopped by. The results of your tests are in and have been collated with the answers on your questionnaires. I was going to discuss this with you when we met later this month, but it's not too early to begin thinking about placement options. You checked that you'd prefer a closed adoption without ongoing contact with the baby, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I talked to my parents, and we think it's the best way to go. That way, I can go on with my life, and the baby's family doesn't have to worry about me trying to meddle. Also, I went to high school in Rutland with twin girls who were adopted. They didn't know their birth mother and told me they didn't want to have any contact with her because it would make them feel confused, like they had to pick which mother to love. I don't want to cause that type of problem.”

“Were these girls adopted by the same family?”

“Uh, yes.” Sandy gave Mrs. Longwell a sheepish look. “But the Bergeson girls are identical twins.”

“Is there something about their relationship that makes you want to avoid a single placement for twins?”

“No.”

Mrs. Longwell waited, but Sandy wasn't going to explain.

“Okay,” the caseworker said. “Deciding whether to have an open or closed adoption is a decision that needs to be made early in the process. More adoptive couples prefer a closed adoption than an open one. If you go with a closed adoption, it gives you a broader selection of prospective parents to choose from.”

“That's good, right?” Sandy asked.

“It can be.”

“I want to do what's best.”

Sandy left Mrs. Longwell's office with a timeline for future steps and an extensive questionnaire about the type of parents Sandy wanted for her baby, or babies. Getting pregnant had been so random. The adoption process was painstakingly intentional.

ELEVEN

S
andy finished the semester with all As and spent Christmas vacation in Rutland. When Ben saw her, his eyes got larger.

“Wow,” he said. “You're really getting fat.”

“It's not fat,” Sandy's mother corrected him.

“It's okay.” Sandy laughed. “I feel as fat as Santa. His fat jiggles; mine wiggles. Do you want to feel the baby move? He's gotten a lot more active the past few days. I think he's practicing some wrestling moves.”

Ben backed away as if from a dog about to attack.

“No.”

“Don't tease him,” Sandy's mother said.

“How do you know it's a boy?” Ben asked.

“I have a fifty-fifty chance of being right,” Sandy answered lightly.

Later that afternoon Sandy helped her mother fix supper in the kitchen. While they worked, Sandy filled her mother in on the book she and Linda had been discussing earlier in the week. While she talked, Sandy expertly diced onions with a sharp knife.

“You've learned a lot living with Linda, haven't you?” her mother asked.

“Yes,” Sandy said, continuing to chop the onions. “And I think I did a lot better on the SAT than I did when I took it last spring. My body is making a baby, and my brain is getting smarter.”

“That's unusual. Most women suffer ‘pregnancy brain.' ”

“What's that?”

“Getting really absentminded.”

“That's not happened to me. At least not yet. I guess it helps that I don't have a bunch of extracurricular activities at school.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Yes.” Sandy put the onions in a small skillet. “But there's no use thinking about it.”

“When you go to college, you can get back into circulation.”

Sandy knew that was her mother's way of talking about dating. None of Sandy's current daydreams were about meeting the right boy.

“Linda told me about the advice she gave you before you married Daddy.”

Her mother was rinsing carrots in the sink. Turning off the water, she turned around and handed the carrots to Sandy.

“She shouldn't have done that, but Linda never has had a proper filter on her mouth. Don't believe everything she tells you. Just because an opinion is strongly held doesn't make it true.”

“I listen to her and don't argue.”

“Which is what I've done since we were girls. Eventually, she moved past her opinion about your father, but he's never liked her.”

“That's what she told me.”

“Until now,” her mother said. “When Linda offered to help you through this crisis by letting you live with her free of charge, your daddy was shocked. He'd always thought Linda was selfish and wouldn't believe me when I told him otherwise. One good thing that might come out of this is less tension between them. He even told me to invite her to spend Christmas Eve and morning with us.”

Sandy rapidly removed the skin from the carrots, then began slicing off thin pieces to cook in brown sugar and butter.

“Do you have any regrets about giving up the possibility of a career and moving to Rutland?” Sandy asked.

Sandy's mother gave a rare laugh. Sandy waited for a fuller explanation but none came. She put the carrots in a saucepan.

“I'm sure that I'm doing the right thing placing the baby for adoption,” Sandy continued. “If I'm ever going to be a mother, this isn't the way it's supposed to be.”

“I'm glad you feel that way. Even though you moved to Atlanta, I haven't been one hundred percent certain how your heart felt. I've had my struggles about adoption.”

“How?”

Her mother kept her back to Sandy.

“I believe it's the best decision too, but the thought that my first grandchild will be raised by strangers is enough to break my heart.”

It was Sandy's turn not to respond. Instead, she stirred the onions a bit more vigorously than necessary.

The only friend who came to see Sandy during the Christmas break was Jessica. They huddled up in Sandy's room, and Jessica bombarded her with an inexhaustible supply of questions about being pregnant.

“You'll find out someday when you're married to a wonderful husband and have thousands of dollars to decorate a gorgeous nursery,” Sandy said at one point.

“You're the one who's going to marry a handsome guy and have a picture-perfect family. After all you've been through, I believe God has someone special waiting in the future.”

Sandy thought about Brad's comment that she would be “used up.” She rested her hand on her swollen abdomen.

“I'm not sure what sort of shape I'm going to have after this is over. Most men aren't attracted to girls who look like an overripe pear.”

“Most of your weight is on the inside. You'll bounce back. But I didn't realize how fast the baby would grow. It makes me wonder if you might be having twins.”

Jessica was inspecting her freshly painted fingernails while she talked. She looked up and saw Sandy staring at her.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“Uh, no.”

It was Jessica's turn to stare at Sandy.

“Don't tell me. You think you might be having twins?”

Sandy nodded. Jessica screamed, then immediately clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Have you talked to your doctor about it? Isn't it too early to know that sort of thing? Can they take X-rays without risking damage to the baby, or babies, and find out?”

“Yes and yes and no,” Sandy replied.

Jessica looked at Sandy's stomach with increased respect.

“How long have you known?”

Sandy studied Jessica for a moment.

“What is it?” Jessica asked. “Is something wrong?”

Sandy spoke slowly. “If I ask you to keep a secret, do you promise not to tell anyone?”

“Not even my mother?”

“My mother doesn't know about this.”

“Wow.” Jessica let out a sharp breath. “You and I have only had secrets about little stuff that didn't matter.”

“It's something I haven't felt right talking about with anyone,” Sandy replied. “But I believe I can trust you.”

“I'll always be your best friend,” Jessica said, crossing her heart with the fingers on her right hand. “And I promise to keep what you tell me secret from anyone. Forever.”

Sandy told her about her encounter with the old woman at the gas station.

“I'm getting goose bumps,” Jessica said, rubbing her arms. “Were you freaked out of your mind when the old woman was talking to you?”

“It happened so fast, but at the very end I thought I was about to faint. I wanted to ask her some more questions, but when I checked in the parking lot and along the road, there was no sign of her.”

“Maybe it was an angel,” Jessica said in a hushed voice. “I mean, she mentioned Rebekah in the Bible.”