I could hardly wait for Jack to get home from work. I prepared a basket with a blue theme
on one side and a pink theme on the other. On the blue side, I put baby boy things and on
the pink side, of course, girl stuff. Oh, I had blue ribbons, pink ribbons, balloons, and a
doll for the girl and a teddy bear for the boy. I also put in a bottle of our favorite
champagne for a celebratory toast, and then placed the basket so Jack could see it as he
walked through the front door of our condo.
I waited. I was so excited I had to pee twice before I heard Jack's car drive up. Moments
later the front door opened and he stepped inside, oblivious to the basket.
―Hiiii, there,‖ I crooned.
―Amelia! Hi, honey.‖ He stood looking at me and then broke into a big smile. ―You're up
to something.‖
I walked slowly toward him, grinning from ear to ear.
―Oh, oh, you look like the cat that just swallowed the canary. Tell me.‖
―Jack, you walked right by it. Look behind you.‖
―What?‖
―The basket,‖ I said pointing.
He picked up the bottle of champagne. ―Wow.‖ He looked at me suspiciously. ―Okay,
Amelia. What are you up to? What do you want?‖
―I'm pregnant!‖ Jack's eyes were the size of saucers.
―No shit! How...I mean...you only began going to the in vitro guy a month ago?‖
I laughed. I had been thinking about the timing. ―Baby, remember, weeks ago now, when
you took me to Long Island for a dirty weekend, that's the way you Aussie's put it, isn't
it? Well, I think that's when I conceived.‖
Jack let out a hoot, picked me up and carried me to the sofa, hugging me as tight as he
could. ―What wonderful news, Amelia, for you, for us.‖ He lowered me onto the couch.
―I know how much you have wanted this. I've known how tough it's been on you, the
doctors, the hope, the heartbreak and despair at times.‖ He kissed me, crushing his lips to
mine. Oh, his kiss exploded through my body, a wonderful sensation of red hot passion
surging, consuming. Every part of me cried out for my husband. I wanted him in the
wildest way, and he took me, right there on the sofa.
Afterwards, we sat holding each other and reveling in the peace and easy conversation
that comes after making love when, suddenly, Jack sat bolt upright. ―Shit!‖
That startled me; frightened me, really. ―What's wrong?‖
―The promotion I was waiting for. It came through today. I'm being transferred to San
Francisco.‖
My heart dropped. I was almost too afraid to ask.
―When?‖
The promotion was a big deal, a breakthrough onto the fast track to the high altitude
levels of corporate management with one of the world's biggest, brand name
corporations.
―In two weeks. They provide a corporate condo for us to live in until we buy something.‖
―I don't want to move, Jack. I don't want to risk a miscarriage after all I've been through.
The doctor said the risk of me miscarrying was high. Bed rest would be crucial and
compulsory for the third trimester.‖ I paused and looked intently at the man I loved,
knowing what this promotion meant to him and us. ―Jack, there's no way I'll change my
doctors at this stage. You have to understand, I can't leave here until after the baby is
born.‖
―Yes, I do understand, Amelia, but I have to go. This is my chance, our chance, what I
have been working for. There may not be another.‖
So, that was it. I stayed in Syracuse. Jack went to work in San Francisco and commuted
regularly. Despite lots of scares along the way, the psychological highs and lows a
woman with a normal pregnancy would have to go through, and a car accident early in
the third trimester, everything worked out.
On the 4th of July, 1994, our daughter Abbey was born in Syracuse; simply the most
beautiful baby girl that had ever been born.
• • •
It was a wonderful and glorious time in the weeks that followed Abbey's birth, but it was
also very stressful. We were preparing for our move to California. We had bought a
house in a small town located on the coast near San Francisco.
All the family gathered for Abbey's christening in the Boston Grand hotel, the very same
place that Jack and I were married five years earlier, to the day. I was just bubbling over
with excitement and pride. Family and friends were fawning over Abbey. Adam was
coming with Susan, Cindy, Brian and the now the third born, Becky, who was about a
year old. I was growing apprehensive. They were yet to arrive, and my last conversation
with Adam had not gone well.
They had come to visit with us a couple of weeks after Abbey's birth and had already
been with us for a couple of days before I managed to catch Adam alone outside the
house.
―Adam, Jack and I have been talking, and we would like you to be Abbey's Godfather.‖
―Okay. I'd like Susan to be her Godmother, too. I know she would love to do it.‖
Here we go again, I thought. He just cannot be grateful for anything. There always has to
be something more.
―I won't be asking Susan.‖
Oh, my God, did he go off the deep end. ―Why not? What's wrong with Susan? What did
she ever do to you? You have never liked her, have you?‖ What was I thinking asking
him to be my baby's Godfather?!!!
―I have my own sisters to choose from. Why would I choose my sister-in-law with whom
I have never had more than a two sentence conversation in all the time I've known her?
And no, I don't like her.‖
After that, he got really pissed and abusive. I didn't mention anything to Jack, but I was
sure ready for Adam and Susan to go home. Two days with seeing how mean and
controlling he was with his children, and getting worse, had been a trying ordeal. Not
once did I see either of them pick up Becky, except to change her diaper or feed her with
only ever a bottle of milk. Did I ever see them hug Cindy or Brian? No way. Oh, they
were very affectionate with each other. If they didn't like the children they had, why did
they keep having more? I couldn't figure it out.
Poor Brian banged his head on our marble table; a heavy square table that did not budge
an inch! He ran into it a second time and cried.
―Stupid. You are stupid, kid. You hit your head once and you don't learn from it. You
deserve what you get,‖ said Adam.
He was a cute little boy. Susan never went to his defense. Sadly, I saw all of this going
on, and it really bothered me. What should I do, I would ask myself? The man yelled at
the children all the time and called them horrible names.
―Why don't you take the children out? There's a great playground at the end of our
street,‖ I said to him. We lived in a wonderful little neighborhood, and the kids never left
the house except for nighttime when they might get to go to the store.
―I didn't come all the way to Syracuse to take them to a park!‖ said Adam.
I was tired of being around him. Oh, there were the times when I would picture him as
my cute little brother and consider the concept of family and think that, maybe there was
a small chance he might change for the better.
Eventually, I reached the end of my rope, again. It happened as I was walking by the
playpen, carrying my newborn baby, Abbey. Acting on impulse, I reached down to pick
up Becky.
―Don't touch her! Leave her alone!‖ Adam yelled.
Abbey's eyes opened wide. I could see she was frightened. Becky hardly reacted. That
told me how used to the abusive tone of Adam's voice she had become. That was it!
―You frightened my baby, Adam. That's a major mistake. Now, get your things and get
out. Get out of my house! I want you out of here and on your way before Jack arrives
home.‖
So, here I am. Seven weeks post partum and thoroughly joyful and expectant of sharing
Abbey's christening with the people I love most in the whole world, my family. With
some relief, I saw my brother had arrived and was in the hotel lobby. With Abbey in my
arms, I went over to give him a hug. The bastard pushed me and my baby away.
―How dare you,‖ I barely managed to get out a little more than a whisper because I was
so upset.