I couldn't believe it was her. It was her inside me all those months. She never seemed real until I held her in my arms. I didn't let her. But there she was, cradled in the nooks of my elbows and forearms, looking up at me. I couldn't help but wonder if she knew me - if she knew I was her mother.
I suppose that doesn't matter now. Only minutes later, she was gone. No, she didn't die. She wasn't ripped away from me - though my heart felt like it was ripping apart as I handed her over to her new mommy. To the woman who would raise her. And soon, she wouldn't recognize me as her mother. I wouldn't even be a thought in the back of her mind. Not until she was much older, anyway. Even then, would she care? Would she ever miss me as much as I already miss her?
Stop it! I told myself. Stop! This isn't helping! She's gone. You have to deal with it.
Except I didn't. At all. Deal with it, I mean. Something you should know about me, I'm amazing when it comes to hiding under a blanket of denial. I could almost force myself to go a whole day, not thinking of her for any more than moments at a time, because if I did, I knew I'd break. I'm an actress, and I guess my acting abilities are even stronger when it comes to fooling myself.
I had to hide from my feelings. I had to be strong. I gave her up - not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I wanted her to have the best, and I wasn't ready to be a mom. No matter how hard I wished, I couldn't make it happen. I was sixteen. Only months before her birth, I'd gotten out of rehab. It was an hourly struggle to stay sober. And I'll be honest, I relapsed for awhile after I gave her up. I'm better now. For the moment.
Maisie. My sweet baby girl. And I'd never know her.
-o-o-o-
"Adrianna Tate-Duncan," I say, picking up my cell phone. There's silence on the other end. "Hello?"
As if suddenly brought back to reality, a woman's startled voice comes through, "Uh, hello! Ms Tate-Duncan? This is Francine Gray. I'm a social worker with DCF."
"Uh, hi?" Why are they calling me? What the hell?
"I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"What is it?" I ask. Every possible scenario runs through my head. Someone was hurt - now who? Navid? Naomi? Silver? One of my bandmates? Karen? Taylor? Josh? But why would DCF be calling about any of them?
"Greg and Leslie Colt, the couple who adopted your daughter," I cringe as she says those words, "were involved in an accident. Unfortunately Greg died on-scene, and Leslie followed a few days later."
I'm silent. I have no idea what to say - is there anything I should say?
"I'm just going to cut to the chase. Unfortunately, it seems Maisie has no where to go," Francine continues. "We're hoping to find her a permanent and stable home, otherwise she'll have to go into foster care. We were hoping you could provide that home."
"Wait, wh-what? But, I, um, I gave her up," I stutter. By the end of that sentence, my words were barely squeaking their way out. "But, I mean, doesn't she have other family?"
"Sadly, no. Greg had no siblings and Leslie's sister is traveling the world. She's not willing to settle down with Maisie. Greg's parents are both in an assisted-care facility and Leslie's father is not fit to raise a child. She has no one else."
"I-I see."
My head hasn't spun this much since my first night after giving up coke. Even then, I probably had a clearer train of thought. I just went from zero to headache in about five words. She has no one else.
"We understand this is a big decision," Francine rambles. "You don't need to answer right now, but sooner would be better."
"Okay," is all I manage to get out.
In the background I can hear a tiny voice crying that she lost her dolly. "Just a moment," Francine tells me. Heels click so loudly on the floor that I can make out their sound through the phone. "She's right here, sweetie," Francine replies soothingly, before redirecting her attention back to me. "Sorry about that."
"Um, sure, no problem. W-was that...?"
"Yeah."
"Oh."
"Well, please get back to us if you have any questions or once you've made your decision. My number is 555-7864. We look forward to hearing back from you, Ms Tate-Duncan."
"Okay, uh, thanks." I'm so stunned I can't move, but just as she's moved her face from the phone to click the 'end' button, I hear myself yell, "Wait!"
"Yes?" she asks, moving the phone back to her ear.
"I'll-I'll do it. I'll take her."
"Are you sure about this?" she asks, hesitant.
"Yes," I reply, though I doubt I had any confidence behind that answer.
-o-o-o-
Okay, now what the hell have I gotten myself into?
