What I can’t imagine is having a baby and then giving it up to some unknown future. The thought must tear Margie apart.
“Do you know who Kristin Chenoweth is?” she asks me.
“Everyone who has ever heard ofWickedknows who she is.” I add my two cents, “While Ariana Grande was great in the movie, Kristin Chenoweth is the epitome of Glenda the Good Witch.”
“She was adopted,” Margie tells me.
I kick off my shoes and put my stocking feet up on the coffee table before wrapping myself in the throw draped over the back of the couch. “I didn’t know that.”
“When she was five days old. She celebrates her gotcha day every year.” Margie hurries to explain, “You know, the day she was adopted by her parents.”
“That’s cool,” I tell her. “She’s turned out pretty great, hasn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Margie says. “But I wonder what her birth mom would think if she knew what became of the daughter she gave away.”
“I bet she’d be proud,” I tell her.
“I bet she’d be devastated,” Margie declares.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because she lost out on the chance to raise such an amazing human.”
“But what if Kristin Chenoweth never became a big star had she stayed with her birth mother? What if her birth mother couldn’t have afforded to help her pursue her dreams?”
“It isn’t really the fact that she’s a star that matters. I guess that just makes her story more visible for people like me to speculate about.” She explains, “I think her mom would be upset that she gave birth to such an amazing person and she never got to tell her how much she loves her.”
Poor Margie is really putting herself through it, but I suppose there’s no other way. Giving your baby up for adoption is a huge deal. “But you can keep your baby, Margie. And tell her every day how much you love her. Once she gets here, she will be your world.”
Margie bursts into tears. So much for comforting her. “She already is my world,” she says. “All I think about is how I’ll be able to keep a roof over her head and food in her mouth. Even if I buy all her clothes at garage sales, I have no idea how I’ll be able to afford everything else.”
“Jordan legally has to help,” I remind her.
“You mean the guy who’s off to look at colleges like there’s nothing to worry about? The one who gets to move on and have a life while I sacrifice mine?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “That guy. But I’m sure once the baby comes, your parents and his will be unable to keep from falling in love with their grandchild.”
“I’m not sure why you think that,” she says. “There’s no way I can do this on my own.” She’s quiet for a long time before adding, “I had an idea, but I don’t really know how to bring it up.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“What if I want to know my baby but I don’t want to be her mom?”
My eyes narrow like I’m trying to solve theNew York Timescrossword puzzle in German. And, this just in—I don’t speak German. “I’m not sure how that would work,” I tell her.
“It’s called open adoption,” she says. “I’ve been doing a lot of research, and it essentially means that I would put my baby up for adoption, but the parents would send me pictures and maybe even let me see her once in a while.”
I have heard of that, and I’m surprised I didn’t think to mention it to Margie. “What would the baby call you?” I ask.
“Margie, I guess.”
“Wouldn’t that be hard for you?” I can’t imagine visiting my child without having any say in how they’re being raised.
“I don’t think it would be any harder than giving her up and never knowing what happened to her.” Margie wraps her arms around a throw pillow and holds it tightly.
“Then I definitely think you should consider it,” I say.
“I want to have a life, Allie.” She starts to cry again. “Iwant to apply to colleges. I want to become an actress like Kristin Chenoweth. I know I’ll love this baby …” —she sobs loudly before continuing—“but I don’t want to resent her. I don’t want to look at her as a constant reminder of how my life ended before it even started.”
