The Gift

“I want to give it to you,” Maribeth said again. “I want you to have it. I can't do this, Liz,” she said, crying softly, and Liz took her in her arms and held her. “I can't … I'm not strong enough … I don't know how … I can't take care of this baby …please …help me …make it yours …no one understands what it's like, knowing you can't, and wanting the right thing for the baby. Please,” she looked up at her desperately, and both women were crying.

“You could always come back here anyway, you know. I don't want you to stay away if we do this. No one has to know the baby is yours … the baby wouldn't have to know …just us…. We love you, Maribeth, and we don't want to lose you.” And she knew only too well how much she meant to Tommy. She didn't want to spoil anything for him, out of selfishness, or her hunger for another child. It was a rare opportunity, an unthinkable gift, and she needed time to absorb it. “Let me talk to John,” she said quietly.

“Please tell him how much I want this,” she said, clinging to Liz's hands. “Please … I don't want my baby to go to strangers. It would be so wonderful if it were here with you …please, Liz …”

“We'll see,” she said softly, cradling her, trying to comfort her and calm her. She was getting overwrought, begging Liz to adopt her baby.

Liz made her some warm milk after that, and they talked about it some more, and then Liz tucked her into Annie's bed, and kissed her good night and went back to her own bedroom.

She stood still for a long moment, looking at John, wondering what he would say to her, and if the whole idea was more than a little crazy. There was Tommy to think about too, what if he didn't want them to? There were a thousand considerations. But even thinking about it made her heart pound in a way that nothing had for years …this was the gift of all time … the gift of life that she couldn't bear … the gift of another baby.

John stirred slightly as she got into bed next to him, and she almost wished he would wake up so she could ask him, but he didn't. Instead he wound his arms around her, and pulled her closer to him, as he had for years, until tragedy had struck them both numb for the past year. But she lay there in his arms, thinking, about what she felt, and what she wanted, and what was right for ail of them. Maribeth had made a powerful argument for them taking it, but it was hard to know if that was the right thing to do, or just very appealing because it was what she wanted.

She lay there for a long time, unable to sleep, and wishing him awake, and finally he opened his eyes and looked at her, as though sensing her anxious-ness. He was more than half asleep when he opened his eyes and spoke to her. “Is something wrong?” he whispered in the darkness.

“What would you say if I asked you how you felt about having another baby?” she asked, wide-awake, and wishing that he were more than just semiconscious.

“I'd say you were crazy,” he smiled and closed his eyes again, and drifted back to sleep in less than a minute. But that was not the answer she wanted.

She lay there awake next to him all night, and she only slept for a half hour before daybreak. She was too wound up to sleep, too worried, too nervous, too filled with questions and terrors and concerns and longing. And she finally got up, and went to the kitchen in her nightgown and made herself a cup of coffee. She sat there staring into it for a long time, and sipping it, and by eight o'clock she knew what she wanted. She had known it long before, but she hadn't known if she would have the courage to pursue it. But she knew she had to do it now, not just for Maribeth and the child, but for herself, and John, and maybe even for Tommy. The gift had been offered to them, and there was no way she was going to refuse it.

She took her cup of coffee and went back to their bedroom and woke him. He was surprised to see her up. There was no rush to get up this year, no reason to dash into the living room and see what Santa had left under the tree. They could all get up in good time, and Tommy and Maribeth hadn't stirred yet.

“Hi,” she said, smiling at him. It was a small shy smile he hadn't seen in a long time, and reminded him of when they had been a lot younger.

“You look like a woman with a mission.” He smiled and rolled over on his back, stretching.

“I am. Maribeth and I had a long talk last night,” she said, as she approached the bed, and sat down next to him, praying he wouldn't refuse her. There was no way to doctor this up, to delay, or stall. She knew she just had to tell him, and she was terrified to do it. It mattered so much to her. She wanted it so much, and she desperately wanted him to want it, and she was afraid he wouldn't. “She wants us to keep the baby,” she said softly.

“All of us?” He looked startled. “Tommy too? She wants to many him?” John sat up in bed, looking seriously worried. “I was afraid that would happen.”