On Letting Go

I don't think this is better than the last story I've done, but I still feel like posting this.

On Letting Go

"You are beautiful," I whispered gently to her. The silence of nearly empty room calming me from the most excruciating and indescrible last ten hours I have ever gone through. Charished will be these final moments I have with her.

Cradling her in my arms, she looked back at me, eyes closed and unaware that the woman- or rather girl- that had bared her for over eight months would soon be handing her over. Priviledged she will be, no doubt about it. Her nonbiological parents offered a whopping thirty-five thousand leafy green dollars cash for compensation, or a possible strategy to make me fully convince myself that they would be better fit than I and my now, no where to be found, once-was boyfriend when it came to raising a living being.

"No thank you," I told them. There was no need for any money to persuade me to not keep the baby. "I am seventeen. I'm not even sure if I am going to pass Chemistry this year. Me raising a kid; a living, breathing, pooping kid? No way."

It is nice laying here, in this hospital bed, and having the small, but healthy six pound weighing baby squirm in my arms and feeling the light tugging of her pulling on my damp, sweaty hair.

"Stop that," I kidded, lightly pushing her tiny, pasty arms away. As her eyes began to open, they shown of a dark brown. Not due to my genetics, which are the opposite of the eye color; blue. Gregory, though I now loathe the look of his eyes, they look sweet apon the little person we accidently created.

I peered across of the room, glancing at the clock hanging on the sea-foam painted walls. 6:21 it reads, though the sun is continuing to shine as bright as daylight. Only minutes being left from them arriving. Them, being my parents, returning back from a second honeymoon and the baby's new mother and father after alerting them the prior night that my so-called "Water" had broke. Arriving to the hospital by car and alone wasn't actually as bad as it may sound. On the drive there, no one had to hear my embarrassing, if heard, frantic yammer.

Kissing and caressing her soft, blonde head, I am cognizant that this short moment will be the first and last maternity essensed touch I will give her.

The quick opening of the heavy, wooden door made me flinch, though still steadily holding the baby safely.

clack, clack, clack follows the entrance of the high-heeled tall, slender woman dressed in a long, white coat. Appearing to work for the hospital, I am waiting for her to speak.

"Have you had enough time alone with her, ma'am?" I hate being called that, "Ma'am." Yes, I had a baby come out of my vagina, but that ages me no differently.

Being confused of what exactly to say, I blabbed to her "Yes, sure, but my mom, dad, and the adoptive parents should be here soon."

A surprised expression sprung apon her face, which is doused with artificial, spray-on tan. "Oh?" she said in a high-pitched tone.

"Yeah," I added. I'm not the average, idiot teenaged girl willing to give up the rest of her life thinking I can raise a baby effeciently, I felt like telling her orange face.

"I'll come back in a few then," the woman said as she exited the room, the clack, clack, clack following her out the door.

I stared back at the baby, imagining what her life would be like without me. First steps, first words, and first day of school without me. I've always dreamed of having children, ever since I was a little girl playing with toy dolls. I dream of seeing them grow, raise them, and nurturing them, but mostly I want to provide for them.

My mother became pregnant with me at the age of twenty, and could not go through with college having to take care of her new baby. For the first eight years of my life, my mom couldn't financially support the two of us very well. Each Christmas, as a kid, I looked forward to see the possibility of seeing heaps of dozens of bright, colorful gift-wrapped presents from the chubby, rosey-cheeked Santa Claus. Each year was a let down, and our plastic, worn-down Christmas tree ended up bare underneath. I then discovered that the man called Santa only visited houses of people of wealth, and a well-off family to me at the age of eight was anyone who had more than two bedrooms and a single bathroom inside their home.

At the age of nine, and on the day that marks my birth, my mom announced to me that her "Good friend" Willard and she would be married soon. I didn't know what to think, all of my life I have not had a father, and I did not know how gaining a new one would make a difference in my life. "Dad," I soon called Willard. He may not be my true father, or may not have been there until I grew a bit older, but he was, and remains the only father-figure I'd ever had, and my dad being a Real-Estate agent, made a huge difference I was not expecting.

I am not a selfish person wanting to give this baby up to go back to an irresponsible life. I am not a baby-loather who never planned on having children. I am a high school student who knows from first-hand experience that caring for a child without a college degree or a well-paying career is not easy, for either the parent or child. I love this baby, which is the reason why I decided to do this for her.

My eyes filled with warm water, emotions starting to fill through-out my body. This post-pregnancy teary side effect was definitely starting to kick in.

"I just want to give you a better life," I said, wipping the wetness from my cheeks. "It's what you deserve."

"Knock, knock, knock!" said my dad jockingly, his head peeping through the door that was now ajar.

"Dad," I cried out, trilled that they had finally arrived.

Trailed in two couples that are both equally important this moment; Jeremy and Cindy, two people awaiting to have a child for nearly five years now, and picture-perfect parents to the one they are about to receive, and my own mom and dad, who are going to help me through all of this.

"Oh, honey dear, I am sorry we couldn't get here any sooner, and that you had to deliver without us," my mom said, rushing to my bedside to wrap her short arms around me, almost suffocating the little one still held in my arms.

"It's okay, Mom, I didn't want anyone to see that part of me anyway," I replied. My mom laughed at my comment.

"Look at her, she is gorgouse." Cindy said as she approached the baby, stroking her head. The rest of the adults gave a "Mhm" in agreement.

I feel of steering away any talk of how much or little the baby resembles my face. "Some lady working here came earlier asking what is the name of the baby. Have you guys thought of any?"

Jeremey and Cindy paused and looked at each other. "We came up with quite a few on the drive here, but nothing we can both agree on." Jeremy stated, folding his arms, seeming to be a bit aggravated.

"What were they?" my dad questioned while beckoning my mom to the other side of the room to put a stop to her fixing and combing my mane through her fingers. This is so like my mother, even in the most appropriate of times for me to be allowed to look a mess, she still wants me to look presentable.

"I really like the name Anna," Jeremy said. "It was my grandmother's name."

"And I like Sarahlynne, the name I've planned on calling my daughter for years," Cindy replied.

I chuckled. It is humorous to me that a couple who are both compatible on so many levels, and agree on almost everything, couldn't agree on choosing a name for a kid.

"Do you have any suggestions, Naomi?" my mom asked.

"What? No, and I don't think Cindy and Jeremy would want me to name their child."

Cindy was brought aback. "That's not true, Naomi. Since my husband and I can't seem to think of any together, I think it would be great if you were to throw in some other good possible names."

I could not feel that naming the kid that I was giving up and they were raising would just be otu of my place, but since Jeremy and Cindy suggested, I feel like pleasing them. "How about Annalynne?"

A look of realization of something so obvious spreads across both of their faces. "Of course," Jeremy said. "Why couldn't I thought of that?"

"You like it?" I asked.

"Yes," Jeremy and Cindy replied in unison.

I am surprised by both of them being all right with me getting involved with the baby's life even the slightest.

"Are you really okay with me naming her?"

"Yeah, Naomi." Jeremy said, his gray eyes full of certainty.

"Why so spectacle, Naomi Cambell's soup?" my dad questioned, calling me the nick-name he attached to me years ago.

Not sure how to express it and plenty of the hormone estrogen flowing through my veins, I could not hold back the tears filling up my eyes. "I suppose that I am just expecting for you guys to rather have me cut off all ties to her and hand her over, or I think it would be better and easier that way." I cried, letting the wet droplets fall from my face.

"Better that way? How could it be better that way?" Cindy asked, her face tightening. My mom coming over to console me once again.

Crying even more heavily, I replied. "So you and Jeremy can raise her as if she were your own, and I could just go back to being a regular teenager again."

"We are completely fine with telling Annalynne when she gets older that she is adopted. There is nothing wrong with adoption, so she should not feel ashamed, and you are more than welcomed, no, greatly welcomed to be in the baby's life. You are her birth mother, and you can be a regular teen if you have in her your life or not." Jeremy said, now joining my small-statured mom with embracing me in a hug, his shaggy hair rubbing against my most cheeks.

There is a huge weight lifted from my tired shoulders of explaining to them how I feel, I didn't know how long I would've lasted if I had kept it inside. I might have bursted like a balloon.

"You want to be in Annalynne's life, and that is okay, honey. Cindy and Jeremy will raise her, but that doesn't mean you can't also get to know her." my mother stated.

"We can call up the agency and discuss with them about an open adoption," Cindy brought up, running her fingers through her wavy, blonde hair.

I nodded. This was all I wanted for little Annalynne; to have a pair of amazing parents who can, and will, give her even more than love, and for myself, I yearned to watch her grow. The dream I thought I would have to wait years for could now be fulfilled, even if it is only partically. I would not miss seeing this little girl grow for anyting in the universe. Cindy Walker is her mother, Jeremy Walker is her father, and I, Naomi Harlow, was the first person to ever love her. Letting go of this baby will not be exactly what I thought it would be, and it now will not be anywhere as difficult.