Unrecognizable

The baby was unexpected: a daughter born to my adopted son and his girlfriend. They kept the pregnancy a secret until the size of Tanya’s belly exposed their deception, leaving me shocked and conflicted, emotions the birth of a granddaughter should not bring.

“Why didn’t you tell us about the pregnancy?” I said, “We could have given Tanya a baby shower.” Had they told me I could have shared the joy, helped them prepare, and become ready myself to welcome a baby.

“We’re keeping her,” Ben said. “My daughter’s not being adopted.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for that,” he said, leaving the room.

At thirteen, Ben told us he wished we had never adopted him. I understood his pain. He felt bitter and angry being abandoned by his biological family, even when embraced by our proxy family.

I developed secondary infertility after our son Sam was born, followed by years of failed fertility treatments. Despite the ten-year age gap between Sam and Ben, when the chance to adopt arose, we didn’t turn it down. Just as we did with Sam, Glenn and I constructed our lives around Ben. At age two, we taught him to fish, at five to swim, at eight to ride a roller coaster, and at ten, we attended his basketball games.

At thirteen, Ben told us he wished we had never adopted him. I understood his pain. He felt bitter and angry being abandoned by his biological family, even when embraced by our proxy family. Five years passed, our son turned eighteen but he remained angry. As a schoolteacher, I had seen this pattern in many young adults. I understood milestones. To cope, I told myself that by the time he turned twenty-five he would love us again. I wouldn’t give up on him.

Glenn told me, “Let it be. Let it play out.”

I couldn’t.

“Do you and Tanya want to get married?” I asked Ben.

“No.”

“Will you move in together?”

“Where would we do that? I’m not living with her mother.” His eyes penetrated my own as if he intended to pin me to the wall. “Are you going to let her and the baby move in?”

I didn’t answer.

“I thought so.” He slammed the front door as he left the house. A home never feels so empty as when the door bangs and the walls quiver with its reverberation.

***

Ben and Tanya named their daughter Kara after one of the Valkyries. “So she can kick ass,” Ben said.

Glenn and I drove to the hospital to meet her. A tiny package wrapped in a cotton blanket decorated with teddy bears. She had an entire head of brown hair, a small face, and startled blue eyes, as if she had just awakened from a dream.

I asked Tanya’s mother, “May I hold her?” She slipped the newborn into my arms.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Ben said.

“Yes,” I said. I searched Kara’s face, her hands, ears, nose, lips, eyes, anything that signaled she was mine—a part of me.

“I’m going to get a drink from the cafeteria,” Glenn said. He backed out toward the door. “Want anything?” he asked without waiting for an answer.

***

Just six months before Kara’s birth, Sam and his wife had baby Anderson. Holding my grandson for the first time, the constellations of our family’s genetic blueprint were indelible. Sam’s lips, my father’s ears, Glenn’s thick wrists and short fingers. His eyes as they glanced at me with an expression my mother sometimes wore, all reassuring signs that he and I were connected.

That first day I held Kara, I irrationally searched for anything familiar in her face, her eyes, her fingers. Was I just supposed to love her? Attach to her like a loving grandmother? What did it say about me that I searched her face and did not recognize love in myself?

“We have such a beautiful granddaughter,” Tanya’s mother said.

“Congratulations,” I said, but I sat apart from myself. One part of me was desperate to bond with the baby in my arms, while the other denied any connection to her.

How had I fallen so instantly in love with Ben eighteen years ago? He had been a stranger born of a stranger, yet from the moment his warmth penetrated my chest, he became my little boy. Why couldn’t I feel the same about Kara? I shifted in the chair and tried to position the baby’s face so that light illuminated her features differently, as if trying to see the facets in a jewel. I smelled the top of her head and felt her breath on my cheek. Nothing sparked my heart.

***

I invited my friend Eileen to our favorite diner for coffee. In a back booth, away from other customers, I said, “I don’t feel anything for Ben’s baby.”

“What do you mean?”

“I kept looking at Kara, but it’s like she’s a stranger. She doesn’t look like me or Glenn or my parents. I couldn’t see her as family.”

“Does she look like Ben?”

“I think so, but I can’t love her. I’m supposed to be her grandma, but I don’t feel anything.” I put another packet of sugar in my coffee.

“That’s the third sugar you put in your coffee.”

“It is?”

Eileen grinned and moved the sugar caddy to the far corner of her side of the table. “This has really upset you, but that’s okay.”

“I dreamed of being a grandma. And now I don’t even think I want this baby. Who rejects a baby? Who am I?”

She reached across the table and took my hand. “There’s no law that says you have to love a baby. It’s a shock. Maybe give yourself time.”

***

Back at home, I compared a photo of Ben as an infant to one I’d taken of Kara. I saw Ben’s features on her face: his cheeks, the shape of his eyes, his arched eyebrows. Could I behave as if I were her grandmother, and if I did, what would she feel when I held her without warmth? I had done the roles right, each time: Daughter, wife, sister, mother, friend, teacher, even grandma to little Anderson, but why? What about Kara? I felt like a foreigner in my own life, and when I visited my heart, I didn’t recognize myself.

After two months, Tanya and Kara’s visits ceased. I assumed their schedules had changed and felt a sense of relief not to be confronted by their presence in my home.

Ben’s attitude did not help. He increased his work hours at Taco Bell and brought Tanya and Kara to our house only twice a week. Ben and his family spent most of their time sitting at the picnic table in the backyard or locked in his bedroom. Like mother, like son. I opted to tutor students or visit friends instead of being around to hear the baby cry and coo.

After two months, Tanya and Kara’s visits ceased. I assumed their schedules had changed and felt a sense of relief not to be confronted by their presence in my home. Ben became quicker to lash out in frustration. Glenn told him to straighten up or move out. Ben stopped speaking to us. He walked directly from the front door into his room, and left his room only to exit the house. At night, I’d hear him in the kitchen and find signs the following day that he had heated soup, boiled pasta, or made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Sam broke whatever spell had paralyzed me when he called. “Ma,” he said. “What’s going on between Ben and his girlfriend?”

“I don’t know.”

“She’s posting negative stuff about Ben, saying he has other girlfriends and doesn’t want his daughter.”

“He doesn’t have time for other women.”

“I tried calling him, but he hasn’t answered. What’s happening?”

“Where did she post it?”

“Mom, you don’t need to see this stuff. Talk to Ben.”

“Is it bad?”

“I think she’s getting vengeance or something.”

“What?” None of what Sam said made sense to me. “I thought they were getting along. I’ll talk with him.”

I didn’t listen to Sam. Since we were “Friends,” I went on Facebook and looked up Tanya’s recent posts.

I scrolled down the page and found a photo of Kara: Here’s my beautiful baby Kara, and my man Ben is too busy running around to love her.

The next post: Where is my man Ben tonight? You know? Remind him he’s got our baby and me. What you doing Ben?
Another post: Cheat. Cheat. Liar. Cheat. My man finds time for other women. Left me and our baby girl waiting at home. Ever really loved me? Gave me a baby and won’t marry me or even change a diaper. You’re no man. Ben you’re a coward, cheater, and liar.

Responses to her Facebook posts included crying and angry faces. I stopped short of opening the written comments supporting Tanya’s position. My poor son. I couldn’t read more.

Then: Ben said no to marrying me. He left me and our little girl. He’s a cheat. Just was after sex, then dumped me. Left me a single Mom. Can he be trusted? Get on him! Tell him what you think of that.

Responses to her Facebook posts included crying and angry faces. I stopped short of opening the written comments supporting Tanya’s position. My poor son. I couldn’t read more.

And what if he was cheating? I always thought Tanya and his relationship would be temporary. I didn’t invest a lot in her as his girlfriend—and then, Kara.

This all made me doubt my son. What parts of Ben’s life had Glenn and I really been able to influence and what part was an inevitable result of genetics? My husband, Glenn, and I had not tried to have children until we were almost thirty. Like us, our biological son, Sam, had waited until he married, had a job, and purchased a condo before he had his little boy. Ben had made no plans, secured no real income, and established no home. He simply made a baby. What little I knew about his birth family was that several of them started having children young, at sixteen and eighteen, and a few continued having children with multiple partners. I never told him that his birth father had five children with four different women. Was my son more like that stranger, than Glenn and I? How could a little girl have broken my relationship with my son and my confidence—even suspended my compassion?

That night, I sat on the couch waiting to hear the front door open. When it did, I called, “Ben.” He didn’t answer. I called again.

“What, Ma?”

I lied. “I wanted to see pictures of Kara, so I looked at Tanya’s Facebook.”

He inhaled and exhaled. “Why?”

“I wanted to see photos.”

“You don’t even like my baby.”

“Yes, I do.” A lie tossed into my world, before I could modify it or express the nuance buried in the truth.

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t treat her the same as Sam’s kid.”

“I don’t know her.”

“Well, if you spent time with her, you’d know her.”

Glenn entered the room. “What’s going on?”

I remained focused on Ben. “Why is Tanya saying all those things about you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Glenn said.

“Tanya is posting derogatory things about Ben on social media, and her friends are joining in, piling on against him.”

Ben pressed his palms against either side of his skull. “Jesus.”

“Calm down,” Glenn said. “What things?”

“That he’s left her and he’s cheating.”

“Stop, Mom! Yes! Okay. Yes! Tanya thinks she can force me to marry her.”

“Really?” I asked.

“She wants to get married, and I don’t want to. I didn’t want to get pregnant and have a kid.”

“What about Kara?”

“Jesus, Mom! I want to be Kara’s dad, but don’t want to marry Tanya. I don’t know what she’s thinking, turning against me. I thought she was on the pill. It’s not going to make me marry her.”

Glenn stood sturdy, immutable in our living room. “You don’t have to marry her. You don’t have to feel pushed into a corner,” he said. “In fact, you’re too young and so is she.”

“Why didn’t you tell us she was pregnant?” I asked.

Ben shook his head. “I’m not putting my kid up for adoption. I want her to know who her dad is.”

I searched my husband’s face, his disappointment expressed by the shutting of his eyes and the tilt of his head. I watched Glenn recover and ask Ben “So, what about Kara?”

“What do you care?”

“She’s your baby.”

“I have the right to see her. I picked her up a few days ago and we sat in the car. I took her to McDonald’s, but she cried.”

“You can bring her here,” I said.

Ben stared at me. “Jesus. I did bring her here, and you never even picked her up or fed her. You stayed at school and helped other kids.”

“You spent all the time out back and in your room.” I paused. Why argue? He was right. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re my son, and she’s your baby. You can bring her here.”

“Okay. Okay,” Glenn said. “Things can change.”

“Yes. I’ll hold her and feed her.”

“And what about you, Dad?” Ben asked.

“She’s welcome here. I could get used to having a little girl call me Grandpa.” Glenn smiled and Ben nodded.

“Thanks,” Ben said. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Can I bring Kara here tomorrow after work?”

“I’d love that,” I said. I lied again, for my son and family, and it was easy.

The next weekend, after Glenn and I explained Ben’s rights to Tanya and her mother, Kara came to visit. She kept Ben up all night. I took her so he could sleep. I held her in my arms and gave her a bottle. She reached up in an attempt to feel my mouth. I brushed her spongy fingers with my lips. The entire time, I hoped she would fall asleep so I could release her from my arms.

When Kara’s eyes finally shut, and she leaned back her heavy head, I placed her on my bed. I watched Kara breathe, and then lay down beside her. Is anything more peaceful than a baby’s belly rising and falling as they sleep? She squirmed and I shifted, curling around her. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s okay.” Kara turned her head into my chest. I found it then, my heartbeat.