25. Emily

25

EMILY

I got up and dressed, already dreading the day. I regretted telling my mother about the baby the instant I said it, but seeing her dressed and ready with her purse and keys out when I came out of my room for breakfast a little after nine just crushed me. She was serious about forcing me into an abortion. I let my shoulders fall and picked up a banana from the fruit basket and opened it.

“I’ve made the appointment. It is in thirty minutes, so I’m glad you’re already dressed. We’ll just have a consultation with the doctor today, but we can schedule the official appointment on Monday.” Mom’s tone was cold and uncaring. I knew she cared about me a great deal, but when it came to this, she seemed like a robot. I wasn’t sure if she’d been through something similar with her mother or something, but it was like she was on autopilot.

“Mom, I don’t want an abortion.” I took a bite of the banana and chewed slowly. Her expression didn’t change.

“We’ll just have the consultation today. You’ll see, Emily. The doctors say it’s very easy and painless, so you can just go on with your life like this never happened.” Mom stood and picked up her purse and keys. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

She walked out, and I lingered in the kitchen. I was frustrated with her, but I knew that ultimately, it was my choice. At the very least, the checkup would be good. I needed prenatal vitamins, and the doctor at the free clinic might be able to recommend someone good for my obstetrician. They might also be able to give me something for my morning sickness too, which had gotten so bad I feared I was losing weight instead of gaining like I was supposed to.

I slid my shoes on, grabbed my wallet, and headed for the car. Mom had it running, listening to an oldies station. We didn’t speak the entire way to the clinic, which wasn’t even in Bellville. It was two towns over in Troy, the county seat. It sat on the south side of town in a little plaza with a dozen other shops. The door had the words Women’s Clinic painted on it, but there was no official sign. It appeared rundown, like much of the other buildings on this side of town.

Mom led me into the building, and I found a seat next to a teenager who had headphones on. She wore all black clothing and had dark lipstick. She was alone, unlike me. Some parents didn’t care at all. Others cared too much—like my mother. At twenty-five, this was my decision, though it would take the words of the doctor to make it clear to Mom. This young girl beside me looked depressed and alone. I was thankful my mother cared. I just wished she’d give me room to breathe.

We waited for at least twenty minutes, and I wondered if they were this far behind already this morning, how long would I have had to wait if the appointment were in the afternoon? The young girl was taken back before me, then the nurse returned to the door and called my name.

“Emily Kline?”

I looked up at her round face and nodded. As I stood, Mom stood too. “Mom, I don’t need you to go with me. I’m an adult.”

“Nonsense, dear. I need to speak to the doctor too.”

The nurse eyed me, as if waiting for my consent, and I shrugged. “Fine.” I followed the nurse through the door down the narrow hallway, and she opened a door.

“In here, dear. Mom, you can sit in the chair. Emily, you can sit on the table. The doc will be right with you.” The nurse excused herself, and I climbed up and sat on the table, feet dangling.

The room was cold, but Mom’s scowl made it colder. “You didn’t actually think you could do this alone, did you? I’m your mother.”

“Yes, and I’ve been going to doctor’s appointments alone for years. I don't need a babysitter.” I didn’t want to be hurtful, but she was seriously overstepping.

“Yes, well this is different, now isn’t it?” Her peaked eyebrows frustrated me. There was a point where parenting needed to end, and we had crossed that line a long time ago.

The door creaked open and a tall, handsome man walked in, blue eyes, graying hair. He smiled and shut the door behind him before saying, “Emily? And this is Mom, I assume?” He shook my hand, then my mom’s.

“Yes.”

The doctor sat and looked at his notes. “I’m Dr. Yates. It says here you’re interested in termination of pregnancy?” His eyes scanned the page then looked up at me. “Is that true?”

“Uh, not really. My mom?—”

“Yes, it’s true.” Mom was curt and blunt. She interrupted me, and I scowled.

“No, Doctor. It’s not actually true. I realize that I probably need some sort of prenatal care, but I’m not interested in?—”

“Emily,” Mom snapped, cutting me off again, “listen to the doctor. He knows what’s best. You’ll see that once this is over, you’ll move on with your life and be much happier for it.”

The doctor held up his hand, and Mom quieted. “Alright, let’s start here. Do you want your mother present for this visit?”

Mom scoffed angrily, and my shoulders drooped. I wanted my mother to be a part of it, yes, but only if she could be supportive. Her being this way, insisting on an abortion, wasn’t helping me. No girl wants her mother to control her, least of all an adult with autonomy. I sighed and dropped my head.

“No,” I mumbled.

“Mrs. Kline, could you be so kind as to let me speak with Emily alone?” The doctor stood and opened the door, and Mom scoffed again.

“But I’m her mother.”

“Mrs. Kline, legally, Emily is an adult, and she alone is allowed to make decisions for her medical care.”

I felt the room thicken with tension, but Mom left without saying another word. When the door clicked shut, I felt tears welling up and I slouched, picking at my fingernails.

“Alright, then, Emily. Now we can chat properly. Tell me about this. What’s going on in your head?” The doctor sat on his stool again, wheeling it closer to me so I was forced to look up at him.

I cleared my throat and sighed deeply. “I’m pregnant. It’s been a huge shock because it wasn’t planned. I’m in a sort of awkward relationship with the father, but he doesn’t know yet. I’m not sure if he wants kids.” I grimaced and continued. “Mom obviously thinks aborting is a good idea. I don’t.”

“Alright, well it is your choice alone, so keep that in mind. Let me ask you, do you feel you’re ready for a child?” He looked at me with compassion, and I shrugged.

“I’m not sure I will ever be ready for that responsibility, but I know for a fact that I’m not getting an abortion. Even if I wasn't ready, I’d choose adoption. I’d never do that. Besides, I feel like no one is ready, that a baby comes along and you just do what you have to do because of love.” I pressed my hand to my stomach and knew in my heart that I was doing the right thing.

“Well, it sounds to me like your mind is made up.” He smiled.

“Yes, it is. I just hoped you’d get my mom off my back.” I chuckled and felt the tension wash out of my body. “I also hoped you could maybe refer me to a good doctor. I actually live in Chicago, but based on how things go with the father when I tell him, I may end up moving back here to Monroe County.”

“Of course. Well, let’s just get some info down first, and I’ll definitely point you toward a few great OB/GYNs.” He turned and laid his notepad on the counter, pulling out a pen to scribble some notes. “Your full name is Emily Elizabeth Kline?”

“Yes,” I told him. He rambled off several more questions, address, social security number, phone number. Then he looked up at me with a serious expression.

“Father’s name?”

“Daniel Jacobs, but that’s what I know about him. I don’t feel comfortable giving his number out, and I don't have his address memorized. I just know how to get there.”

“That’s alright. All of this stays private in your file.” He jotted down a few more things then asked, “Would you like to have a sonogram this morning? See the little guy growing?”

“What? I can do that?” I asked, feeling my heart swelling.

“Of course, and it’s free.” He stood and picked up his notes. “I’ll send a nurse in shortly. Just sit tight.”

It took a while. I waited at least twenty minutes in that cold room, staring at the various posters on the walls of babies in utero and the female reproductive organs. The thought of something that large coming out of my small body frightened me, but I reminded myself that every human on this planet came out of a body in a similar fashion and that I’d be okay, even if my mother chose to disown me after this.

When the nurse came in pushing a wheeled cart with a giant machine on it, I tensed. It had a computer monitor and what looked like an old rotary phone with a curly cord attached to it.

“Hi, Emily, I’m Heather. I’m going to do your sonogram.” She plugged the machine in and said, “You’ll need to lie down here and lift your shirt up.”

I did as she instructed. She took some napkins and tucked them into the waistband of my pants and pulled them lower over the small bulge in my belly that was barely noticeable.

“This will be cold,” she said as she squirted some jelly of some sort on my stomach. She used the paddle to maneuver around my stomach at different angles until I heard it—a perfect little heartbeat. I watched the monitor as she showed me the baby’s head and spine. His tiny little fingers and toes, and then something strange happened.

The nurse's forehead creased, and she twirled the paddle around my belly again and again. Something was wrong with the heartbeat, and it made my heart race. I felt like it was going too fast, like there was something wrong with the baby, but when Heather got a look of complete shock, I froze.

“Well, Emily, it’s too early to find the sex. And it's actually a little early for your belly to be this big. Here’s why,” she said, angling the monitor at me so I could see it more clearly. There on the screen were two perfectly round circles. I couldn’t tell at all what it was, but she grinned at me.

“What is it?” I asked, nervous for her answer.

“It’s twins. You’re having twins.”

“Twins?” I asked, relaxing back onto the table. She mumbled on about their measurements, how soon it would be before I found it if they were identical or fraternal. In fact, she did all the talking the rest of the appointment, and even on the ride home, I was still in shock. I endured Mom’s lectures, obsessing over this new revelation. I had a bottle of prenatal vitamins in my hand and a prescription for some pills to help with the nausea too, but now, everything had changed.

If one baby seemed impossible, two definitely were. There was no way I could do this on my own. When we got back to my parents’ house, I locked myself in my room and turned my phone on to call Charlotte. I saw I'd missed a few calls from Daniel, but my gut churned just thinking of telling him. I dialed Charlotte instead and waited for it to ring through as I tossed myself across my bed.

“Em, hey, how are your parents?”

“They’re fine. Look, Char, I’m freaking out. Mom wants me to have an abortion, and so I went to this pregnancy clinic, and goddammit—” I almost started crying. I wanted these babies more than anything, but now I knew I couldn’t do it alone. The idea of telling Daniel and his not wanting them was terrifying to me.

“What? What happened?”

“Char, I’m having twins.” I blurted my confession out and let the tears fall. “I can’t do this on my own at all. What if Dan hates me?” I sobbed, burying my face in my pillow.

“Oh, God, Em. That’s harsh. Your Mom actually said that?”

“Yes, she forced me to go to a pregnancy clinic this morning. And I got to see the babies on a sonogram, and I just feel scared he won’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“Calm down, Emily. You have to talk to him before you go all fatalistic on me. Okay? Just come back to Chicago. I’ll go with you if you want.” Charlotte was always so supportive of me.

“You will?” I asked, whimpering and sniffling.

“Of course I will. Just come home.”

She was right. I couldn’t get too scared of him rejecting me until I at least attempted to talk to him. And I would have plenty of time to deal with the result of that conversation afterward. Sitting around terrified only doubled my suffering because I was suffering now, and I could be suffering again later. I needed to calm down, go home, and tell him.