Dear Life

“Maybe you do,” Ethan replies. Setting down his pizza, he stands with me. “Jace, you made a huge sacrifice, one of the biggest sacrifices a person can make. You have to give yourself time to heal.”

“It’s not that easy. I wish I could just forget everything, but it’s impossible. Every fucking morning, when I wake up, it feels like I have a three-hundred-pound man sitting on my chest, making it practically impossible to breathe. And when I do get out of bed and out of my place, I have to face the world. You can’t believe the amount of people who actually have babies. You never notice them until you’re missing yours. It’s a fucking punch to the gut every time I see someone carrying their baby, walking them in a stroller, making them giggle. It’s like everyone in Denver with a baby decided to make my life a living hell by following me around everywhere. It’s torture.” I throw my hands up in the air, gesturing to my surroundings. “This life is torture.” I never thought I’d know this type of pain.

“Damn. I’m sorry, man. I wish I could relate, I really do.”

The ring of my cell phone cuts me off before I can answer him. Sighing, I pull it out of my pocket and see June’s number pop up. What could she be calling for?

“Uh, it’s Hope’s adoptive parents,” I say awkwardly.

Ethan holds up his hands. “Say no more. I’ll get out of here. Call me if you need me. You know I’m here for you.”

I nod and answer the phone. “Hey, June. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, hi, Jace.” June’s voice seems weak, quiet as she talks. “I know we’re to only call for important things.” She almost sounds like she’s been crying. “But I had to hear your voice.”

“You can call me whenever you need, June.” I really don’t mean this but when I feel uncomfortable, I say anything to try to make the situation better. The fact that she’s calling me right now has me on edge, like my life is about to fall apart with her next sentence.

“I appreciate that.” Sniffing, she continues, “I just . . . Ugh, I’m not doing well, Jace.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stick straight up in the air, warning lights threading their way into my brain, and my stomach starts to churn at a rapid rate, making it impossible to swallow the sudden tidal wave of saliva in my mouth.

Taking a deep breath, I ask, “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Hope, with Alex?”

“Yeah,” her voice becomes quieter. “Alex actually doesn’t know I’m calling you. She would be furious with me, but I had to talk to you, Jace. I haven’t been able to stop crying. I can’t stop thinking about the look on your face when you handed Hope over to us, the pure devastation in your eyes. It’s slowly eating away at me.”

“You and me both, June,” I answer honestly.

Tightness clamps her voice. I can hear her tears and feel her pain through the phone. It’s the same pain I’ve suppressed for the last few days. “I took your baby, Jace.” Her voice cracks. “I stood in that hospital room and took your baby away from you. She isn’t mine, she’s yours. I can’t . . .” Her pain sears me through the phone. “I can’t be the mother you want me to be, the mother she deserves. She doesn’t belong to me.”

“June,” I say in a tortured voice. “Stop.” Taking a deep breath, I collect myself, making sure to hold back anything that might further upset her. Between the both of us, she needs to be the well-composed one, so I can’t set her off any more than she already is. “Remember the first time we had dinner together? You told me all about how you’ve felt deep down in your soul that you were meant to be a mom one day? How you knew you were put on this earth to mother, to nurture? Are you telling me those feelings have changed?”

“No,” she sobs into the phone.

“Then what’s changed?” I swallow hard, the next words leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. “Hope was meant to be with you and Alex. If I didn’t believe that, I would never have handed her over.”

“It’s just . . .” she pauses, a sniff coming from her, “watching you say goodbye, seeing the total desolation in your face when you gave her to us, it’s broken me, Jace. It’s stuck with me to the point that every time I look at Hope, all I see are the tears in your eyes and the regret in your face.”

“There’s no regret,” I say quickly, surprising myself ever so slightly with the confession. “Fuck, am I sad? Yeah. Do I wake up, hating every aspect of my life? I do, I won’t lie to you about that. But do I regret helping you become a mom? Do I regret seeing the pure joy on Alex’s and your faces when you said hello to your daughter for the first time? I don’t. Those memories, the meaning behind the connection we’ve made, that’s what’s getting me through each and every day. Please, June, please don’t take that sliver of happiness away from me. Believe me when I say, you didn’t take my baby, you’ve blessed me . . .” I choke on my own tears, trying to find the right words.

Blessed.

The thought never really came to me until just now, until talking to June. Blessed. Is that really what this bond with June and Alex is? A blessing?

Taking a deep breath, I say, “You’ve blessed me with the comfort in knowing that I’ve made the right decision. You and Alex, fuck, you’re perfect for Hope. I only wish I was as lucky as her growing up.”

An empty childhood in a run-down foster home with a lack of warm arms to welcome me home. I would have given anything to have people like June and Alex as parents.

“I think it’s going to take time,” June replies after a short silence. “This might sound strange, but I feel like I’m mourning your loss, that I’m carrying the weight of my emotions as well as yours on my shoulders. And I never thought I would feel that in adopting.”

“No need to carry mine, June. Move on and enjoy your new family.” I take a deep breath and say, “I hate to cut this short but I have to take off.”

“Oh . . . no problem,” she stumbles. “I’m sorry if I bothered you, I didn’t know who else to talk to. Alex doesn’t like to talk about it. She’s harboring her feelings right now and no one else I know has even remotely gone through the same thing we did. I know it’s been exponentially harder on you, but you’re the only person I could relate to. I’m sorry if I was out of line contacting you.”

I press my fingers in my brow, wishing I wasn’t having this conversation with June, because every word that comes from her mouth makes me feel guilty. Why the hell do I feel guilty? Maybe because I want to lash out at her right now. But why? Because she’s struggling with carrying my grief? That’s not something I should be mad at her for. Shit, that’s something I should be relieved about. It shows the kind and caring heart she has.

“You aren’t out of line, June. Please don’t think that. I’m just going to need some time, you know?”

A sniff comes from the other line on the phone. “I understand.”

Meghan Quinn's books