I shudder, imagining little eyes staring at me while I sleep. “That sounds terrifying.” I soak in her giggles, the way her body rocks against me with her laughter. “What else surprised you? About adopting?”
She hums, making little circles on my chest with her fingers. “Lots actually. I hadn’t realized you needed to take classes to adopt. Like fifty hours worth.”
“Like parenting classes? How to change a diaper and all that shit?”
“No. They were about trauma and its effects on a developing brain. Attachment, FASD, the effects of opioids on the body…it was a lot.”
I’m not relaxed any more. Thinking about Mia and trauma makes my stomach churn. “I don’t…what is FASD?”
Evie’s body wilts like a flower damaged by the sun. “Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders. It covers a whole host of stuff from facial abnormalities to difficulties learning to behavior issues.”
“But what does that mean? Does Mia have that? Is she ok?”
“When a mother drinks alcohol during pregnancy, the fetus is exposed to that too. That’s why as soon as a woman realizes she’s pregnant, she should stop drinking. Women who are pregnant, but struggling with addiction, or who have unstable lives sometimes keep drinking during their pregnancy. Without knowing Mia’s mother’s history, it’s hard to know, but it would be reasonable to expect that if she was taking drugs, she was probably drinking, too. We won’t know what long-term effects that will have on her.”
“So Mia will have all of that?”
“No, it’s not that clear cut. It depends on what part of the fetus is developing when it’s exposed to alcohol. I’m sorry I don’t have all the answers for you. In the NICU, we handle getting the babies stable enough to go home. But after that, there’s a long road to walk. The adoption courses gave me a broad overview of all these things I may face as an adoptive parent. But it was so much, you know?” She sighs, her warm breath brushing my bare chest.
“I realized I had to just focus on parenting my child and handle her needs as they came up. I feel like I develop a new expertise every time Mia needs me to. I think every parent does that, though. It’s just with children from trauma, with adoption, you’re knowingly signing up for it.”
“And you did it alone.” She’s so fucking brave.
“Well, I hadn’t planned on the alone part. My parents are reserved people, but I honestly thought they’d welcome Mia into the family. They seem less stiff around my brother’s kids.” She rubs her eyebrow. “I didn’t expect their reaction to Mia’s skin, to the fact that she’s clearly not white. I don’t know how I didn’t realize my parents are racist. I think I was so focused on leaving them and starting my life that my gaze was never on them. It’s easier to avoid their disappointment than face it head on.”
I don’t like Evie’s parents. At all.
“They talked about race in the courses, but I think I was naïve about the complexities of race in Mia’s case.”
“How so?”
“Well, her mother refused to give the hospital anything but her first name, Camilla. The labor and delivery nurses said she was cursing in Spanish during the delivery. And that’s literally everything I know about her. I don’t have a picture for Mia. I can’t tell her about what her mother was struggling with, and I can’t tell her anything about her mom’s culture.”
I feel stupid, but I’ve never been afraid to ask the stupid question. “But you know she’s Latina, so…”
She smiles sadly. “There’s skin color, there’s language, but then there’s culture. I have no idea if her family heritage is Guatemalan, or Mexican or something else. I don’t know if she was religious or not. I don’t know if she’s a fifth-generation American, or if her mother is a new immigrant. It’s all a big black hole, and I’m trying my best to navigate it. But for Mia, it’s like all her tethers to the world have been cut, and we have to help her create new ones.”
Evie tilts her head, meeting my eyes. “I’m thinking about doing one of those DNA kits for her, so I can get a little more information to work off of. At least find out what part of the world her ancestors came from. It’s a start, anyway. And in the meantime, I’m just trying to raise her to be strong, and proud and confident. I worry every day that I’m fucking it up, though.”
“You’re not fucking it up. You care, and you’ll keep trying. That’s pretty fucking amazing.” I pull her closer. “I hadn’t thought about knowing where you come from like that. I have no idea who my dad was. I don’t remember him at all. But I turned out ok. I know Mia will too.” I’ll make sure of it.
“It’s different, though. You have connections to your mom, to your brother. Even if those relationships aren’t there anymore, you still had them grounding you for a long time. Mia has none. We’re starting from scratch. She has me now, and I see her building connections to everyone here. Those are all good.” She scrunches up her nose. “I asked Nick and Maverick to speak to her in Spanish. I’m learning, but my accent is fucked up.”
She surprises a barking laugh out of me, and I slap a hand on my mouth, afraid I woke up Mia. Evie and I freeze, listening, but relax when we don’t hear anything. We sit in the peaceful silence of her apartment, both lost in our thoughts.
“You were talking to your brother today.” Knowing the shit her family has put her through, I wonder how she’s handling talking to him.
She groans, burying her face in my chest. “Yeah. He’s been texting me and today he phoned.”
“He’s been texting you?” Something in my voice makes her raise her head. I’m usually better at hiding what I’m thinking. Clearly, though, not with her.
“I wasn’t hiding it from you,” she says defensively. “I’ve been ignoring him. It’s been a nonissue, but now he’s pushing it.”
Everything she told me tonight about connection runs through my head. “Do you think it might be a good idea to meet with them? Give them another chance?”
She pushes back until she’s sitting beside me, and I already regret opening my fucking mouth.
“They’re shitty people. My brother wouldn’t help me when the social workers took Mia away. And you want me to give them another chance?”
