It had been several weeks since Owen and I found out we were expecting a baby girl.
I still couldn't believe it, I would be bringing my and my best friends baby into this world in about four months. It was an unreal feeling and although my feelings for Owen hadn't changed, I knew we would figure it out as we went along. Right now, all that mattered was our daughter.
"Hey, how are you and my sweet pea doing?" Owen asked as he came into the living room, where I was snuggled up reading a book, one hand resting on my everyday bigger baby bump.
"We're fine," I smiled, "I love it when you call her that."
Owen handed me a cup of chamomile tea and knelt down by my bump, kissing it softly.
"I love her so much. Teddy. I can't even believe how much I love her already." Owen said with tears in his eyes.
Right then Allison did the softest of kicks against her daddy's lips.
"She loves you too," I said, starting to cry myself.
"I can't wait until she becomes bigger and her kicks are stronger!" Owen said excitedly.
"Oh, yeah! That's going to be a blast!" I scoffed while laughing and rubbing my belly.
"It'll be amazing, because you and our daughter are amazing." Owen said.
We just started at one another in silence for a few moments. Suddenly Leo's cries interrupted us in the other room, he had been napping for over two hours already.
"I've got him," Owen smiled and patted my knee.
This truly was amazing. The fact that I was pregnant, that my best friend and I would have a daughter. I was immensely happy, but suddenly I felt a wave of sadness. I could have had this so much sooner. A child, a family. But I was young, focused, determined to be a doctor.
The first time I became pregnant, I was 16 years old and about to be a senior in high school. It was so unlike me. I was one of the "good ones." But I fell in love, or at least I thought I had fallen in love with my first boyfriend. Jonathan and I waited until we had been together six months. I thought I was ready. My parents always said, "don't have sex unless you're in love, Teddy Bear. But even then, you have to be cautious because, you can't take it back." That was their realistic approach, abstinence just wasn't a thing with most teenagers.
I wish I had waited. It would have saved many people a lot of heartache.
It was July 4th, Jonathan and I were at my family's annual barbecue. I was so nauseous. All of the food I would normally devour was making me want to vomit just at the site of it.
"Babe, aren't you hungry? Your dad just put out some burgers, you love burgers." Jonathan said.
"No, I-I just..." And with that I ran back into my house and heaved up what little I had eaten that day.
"What the hell?" I had said out loud, gathering myself. And then I had thought about the date. I was late. Beyond late.
I sat alone on my bed, for what felt like hours. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I was so scared.
I am just shy of 17, I'm going to be a senior, I'm a straight A student, going into pre-med...I can't have a baby. I kept running it in my head over and over until Jonathan found me.
"Babe, what the hell? Where have you been? You okay? You look like shit..." he said.
"Gee thanks..." I said, tears building up.
"Whoa, I'm sorry its just-what's going on?" He asked, actually concerned.
I slowly looked up at him, biting my lip.
"I think I'm pregnant."
The silence could have been cut with a knife.
"P-pregnant? But we only had sex like, twice!" Jonathan started to panic and pace around my room.
"Yeah. I'm pretty sure it only takes once time, genius." I shot back.
"Right I'm just a dumb jock and you're the star student who's going to be a doctor but don't talk down to me. Why aren't you on birth control if you're so smart DOCTOR Altman?!" He yelled.
"Don't put this on me! You said you used a condom!" I was shaking, putting my hands to my face I screamed, "I can't have a baby, I can't have a baby...!"
Suddenly Jonathan sat back down next to me, putting his arm around me and took a deep breath.
"Okay, okay, breathe honey. I'm sorry for yelling." He was suddenly so calm.
"I can't have this baby Jon, I can't...I have so many plans. We, have so many plans..." I cried.
"But we're going to have a baby, Ted." He said maturely.
"What?" I looked up at him.
"I know you're scared. We both screwed up but, now we have this little life we created on the way. We're going to go to the doctor on Monday and we're gonna figure this out babe."
This was not the reaction I was anticipating, I thought Jonathan would have been out the door as soon as I said the word "pregnant." For a moment, I had considered having his baby, and possibly marrying him after high school. College, well, being a doctor seemed out of the question for the time being. As sweet and supportive as Jonathan ended up being, I couldn't do it. I couldn't be a teenage mother. Giving up college, med school, my dream career. Not only that, we were so young and inexperienced with life. Our child deserved better. But I had the baby. I carried it, and knowing how it was going to end was the hardest thing my young heart had ever endured. Jonathan stayed by my side the whole time, but as the pregnancy progressed and decisions were made we began to drift farther and farther apart. He wanted to keep the baby, I wanted to give it up for adoption because that's what I felt was best given our situation. I was set to go into pre-med at Columbia University and Jonathan had a full ride to UCLA to play football. Our baby deserved mature, financially stable, loving parents. I loved my baby and that is why I gave him away.
At only 17 years old, starting my senior year three months pregnant, going into labor in the middle of a history presentation, going through that labor for 15 hours and pushing a human being out of my body was the most humiliating, amazing, and heartbreaking experience I had ever endured.
On my final push, I slumped back into the bed as I felt the relief of my baby finally being born. But it was far from over. My mom had been holding my hand the whole time. Jonathan didn't come to the hospital when I went into labor, he said he didn't want "to see me throw our child away." It was so hurtful. We were done. We had been done for awhile. But I knew I had made the right decision. But the next words I heard broke me.
"It's a boy! Congratulations, Theodora." The nurse said.
I began to cry. I couldn't look at him. I didn't want to get attached, but I already was. I had grown and felt this beautiful little boy inside me for months. We had been through so much together.
"Honey, you can still change your mind," my mom said, crying and stroking my sweaty hair away from my eyes.
"No, no. This, this is the right thing to do, for him." I choked.
"Okay, okay baby." My mom said, smiling sadly and looked over at the baby getting cleaned off and wrapped in a blue blanket.
"How is he?" I asked.
"He's beautiful, Teddy Bear. Looks just like you did." She said.
I sat up, slowly.
"Can I-can I hold him?" I asked carefully.
"Of course you can sweetheart." The nurse said and handed me this incredibly sweet, perfect little boy.
I took him gently in my arms. I marveled at his perfect face for so long, amazed at how much he really did look like me. For a moment, I wanted to change my mind, and hold onto my little boy and never let him go. I laid there, holding and talking to him until I felt I was ready to let him go.
"You're going to have the best life little man. I just wasn't ready to give it to you. But I will always have a place in my heart for you. I will always think about and love you. Forever." And I kissed his little forehead and handed him back to the nurse, who prepared to bring him to his adoptive parents. And I cried for hours. Days. Years.
The second time I became pregnant, was with Henry. My dear, sweet Henry. I had found out I was pregnant two weeks after he died, and I couldn't bare it. My physical and emotional state clearly took its toll, because as soon as I got used to the idea, at about 8 weeks, of having Henry's baby, I miscarried. That was more painful than giving up my baby boy all those years ago. My husband had died and now my child was dead. The physical and emotional pain of a miscarriage was something I never wanted to endure. But it made me appreciate life more. But after that, I never thought I would become a mother.
Sitting here, gently stroking my growing baby bump, feeling my little girl squirm inside me, felt like a dream. I sat thinking about my teenage pregnancy, my miscarriage and I realized, Owen never knew about any of this. I never told him despite everything we've shared.
"You okay?" Owen startled me as he came back in the living room, sitting beside me and placing his hand back on my bump so he could feel our daughters movements.
"Just fine," I said halfheartedly, "How's Leo?"
"Oh he's fine. Just got a little restless is all." Owen smiled.
I must have gone back into thought because Owen noticed something was off right away.
"Teddy. I know you, somethings not right..." Owen pressed.
I was about to have a child with this man, embark possibly on a real relationship with him. I had to be honest.
"Owen...our little Allison, she isn't my first child..."