Molly Stearns (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
losttheright) wrote2017-09-02 04:04 am
losttheright) wrote2017-09-02 04:04 am
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This has been such a long time coming.
It's only now that they're here, that this is becoming real, that Molly has let herself think about it like that at all. She doesn't regret waiting, either, taking her time, making sure everything was right. Hell, because she did, she's wound up with a better situation than she would ever have envisioned — someone she knows and trusts, who's become a good friend of hers, whom she knows will be the kind of parent that she couldn't raising Abigail. She just also knows that this is, deep down, what she's wanted since the first morning she woke up in an empty bed, the father of her child gone. If anything, she thinks she's wanted it since before then. Her options were limited from the start, with what she was unwilling to do (again); Lee had a different approach, his own set of limitations, things he wouldn't have considered.
When it was the two of them, she could at least tell herself that maybe they could make it work, if only out of sheer determination alone. Molly isn't sure that she ever really believed that, the months after she told him she was pregnant and he walked out spent holding her breath, waiting for him to decide to do the same again, but she'd nearly convinced herself of it. Really, though, this has never been quite right and she knows it. Her days of wanting to settle down and start a family left her a long time ago, and these past months — this past year — has been more difficult than she's admitted to anyone, even herself.
Maybe now, she'll actually be able to focus on herself, to get her head on straight. She's already been approved for an apartment, ready to move out of the place she's never stopped thinking of as Lee's as soon as she's moved everything she needs to over to Jessica's. It's a step in the right direction, at least. Anything else, she'll need to work up to, but at least she'll have that chance.
She's turned it over and over in her head, and comes to the same conclusion every time: it's kind of perfect. Jessica will have a child here. She'll be able to see Abigail grow up and know that she'll be happy and healthy without having to be a parent — just a friend of the woman who's about to become her mother, a known entity in some regard but not a caregiver. And with as long as she's spent thinking about it, she knows she won't regret it. It's been almost a year since she gave birth, and never once has Molly felt like a mother. Abigail deserves better than that, and she deserves to be able to take care of herself, not wind up trapped because she missed a dose or two of her birth control pill and then her boyfriend disappeared.
Everyone comes out of this in a good position. There's a quiet sort of contentment in that, a comfort that overrides any anxiety she would otherwise feel about making this official. Besides, she knows how well this can work. As much as it hurts to think about them now, for how much she misses them, she watched Katie raise Jamie for years no differently than if he'd been her biological son, and Russell, too, once they made the adoption official on his end. They were happy, the three of them. She likes to think that Jessica and Abigail will be, too.
And if any of Jessica's family from home ever arrives here, well, there will just be one more member of it for them to meet.
"I'm glad we're doing this," she says, smile soft and warm as she looks over at Jessica, knowing as she speaks that it's true. "I'm... glad you wanted to do this." She'd have made it work regardless, but there are few people here that she trusts as much as she does Jessica, and few with whom she's been as open, too, about everything she's been dealing with. This isn't a band-aid or a temporary fix. It's what she needs to do, and she thinks — she hopes — that Jessica will feel as good about it as she does.
It's only now that they're here, that this is becoming real, that Molly has let herself think about it like that at all. She doesn't regret waiting, either, taking her time, making sure everything was right. Hell, because she did, she's wound up with a better situation than she would ever have envisioned — someone she knows and trusts, who's become a good friend of hers, whom she knows will be the kind of parent that she couldn't raising Abigail. She just also knows that this is, deep down, what she's wanted since the first morning she woke up in an empty bed, the father of her child gone. If anything, she thinks she's wanted it since before then. Her options were limited from the start, with what she was unwilling to do (again); Lee had a different approach, his own set of limitations, things he wouldn't have considered.
When it was the two of them, she could at least tell herself that maybe they could make it work, if only out of sheer determination alone. Molly isn't sure that she ever really believed that, the months after she told him she was pregnant and he walked out spent holding her breath, waiting for him to decide to do the same again, but she'd nearly convinced herself of it. Really, though, this has never been quite right and she knows it. Her days of wanting to settle down and start a family left her a long time ago, and these past months — this past year — has been more difficult than she's admitted to anyone, even herself.
Maybe now, she'll actually be able to focus on herself, to get her head on straight. She's already been approved for an apartment, ready to move out of the place she's never stopped thinking of as Lee's as soon as she's moved everything she needs to over to Jessica's. It's a step in the right direction, at least. Anything else, she'll need to work up to, but at least she'll have that chance.
She's turned it over and over in her head, and comes to the same conclusion every time: it's kind of perfect. Jessica will have a child here. She'll be able to see Abigail grow up and know that she'll be happy and healthy without having to be a parent — just a friend of the woman who's about to become her mother, a known entity in some regard but not a caregiver. And with as long as she's spent thinking about it, she knows she won't regret it. It's been almost a year since she gave birth, and never once has Molly felt like a mother. Abigail deserves better than that, and she deserves to be able to take care of herself, not wind up trapped because she missed a dose or two of her birth control pill and then her boyfriend disappeared.
Everyone comes out of this in a good position. There's a quiet sort of contentment in that, a comfort that overrides any anxiety she would otherwise feel about making this official. Besides, she knows how well this can work. As much as it hurts to think about them now, for how much she misses them, she watched Katie raise Jamie for years no differently than if he'd been her biological son, and Russell, too, once they made the adoption official on his end. They were happy, the three of them. She likes to think that Jessica and Abigail will be, too.
And if any of Jessica's family from home ever arrives here, well, there will just be one more member of it for them to meet.
"I'm glad we're doing this," she says, smile soft and warm as she looks over at Jessica, knowing as she speaks that it's true. "I'm... glad you wanted to do this." She'd have made it work regardless, but there are few people here that she trusts as much as she does Jessica, and few with whom she's been as open, too, about everything she's been dealing with. This isn't a band-aid or a temporary fix. It's what she needs to do, and she thinks — she hopes — that Jessica will feel as good about it as she does.
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It's the right choice for Molly to give Abigail up for adoption. At least, it's the right choice now. There's a part of my brain that thinks that eventually, maybe after some time has passed and this strange man whom I've never met is long past in Molly's life, maybe she'll want to be a mother again. Maybe she'll want to be Abigail's mother again. And the thought which was hopeful before now feels a little scary, because now that it's becoming real and I'll legally be Abigail's mother, I'm already afraid of losing her.
I guess the thing that makes it easier is knowing that even if it comes to that, there's no reason why Abigail can't have two mothers. In some ways, my grandmother was like my mother for many years. My mother was always working hard, trying to make ends meet, so my grandmother often became the one who took care of our skinned knees and tears.
Families find a way to make things work, no matter what their shape.
When Molly tells me that she's glad we're doing this, I almost start to cry. I can feel my throat tightening as I pull Abigail just a little closer, not squeezing so much that it hurts, but... enough that maybe even a stranger can see that I'm picking up that protectiveness that comes with being a parent. It's as natural as breathing.
"I'm glad we're doing this, too," I murmur quietly, smiling back at Molly, even as I blink a little faster. "I've missed being a mother. I've missed that part of my life so much, and I know I can never replace my boys, but you've given me — you've given me such a gift. I feel like." I stop, I take a breath. "I feel like I'm going to be whole again."
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Never once has Molly regretted the choice she made to go through with having a baby once she found out she was pregnant, despite how trying that pregnancy was, mostly because she knows she couldn't have stomached doing otherwise again. Now, though, if she were the sort to believe in fate, she would have to wonder if it might have been for a reason. Jessica gets to be a mother again — gets to be whole, like she's said, a prospect that Molly doesn't fully understand but appreciates even so. She gets to have her life back. Abigail gets to grow up in the best sort of home possible.
They haven't even signed the papers yet, and already Molly feels an immense sense of relief, like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.
"You've given me one, too," she says, her smile soft as she turns towards Jessica. Just the sight of her with Abigail in her arms is heartening. They may not resemble each other in the slightest, but they look right even so. "I... I would have had a much harder time with this, I think, if I weren't doing it with someone I already know and trust. Someone I know Abigail already likes. She's going to be so happy with you." They'll all be happier, she thinks. It won't fix some of the shit going on in her head, but it's a big step in the right direction.
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There are tens of thousands of people in Darrow. The odds that I would have met Molly the way that I did, when she was pregnant; the fact that we built up a friendship that was made gentler and more intimate for the motherhood we knew we were going to share; the fact that now we'll still share motherhood in a way, even as she hands the reins over to me — that's fate. We were meant to meet each other, a mother who had lost her children and a woman who never chose to become a mother, and what makes me happiest is that we're closer because of it.
I press my nose to the top of Abigail's head, breathing in the smell of her. She's old enough to be responsive and interact with the world, but she still has that fresh scent of a young baby that I loved so much in my sons. Maybe it's just my imagination, but she smells even sweeter than the boys did, and I understand now why Louis wanted so much to have a girl.
"I hope you don't think that I'm... taking something away from you," I say quietly, meeting Molly's gaze. It's a happy day, but the worrying part of my brain just wants to be sure that Molly is ready, that today is the right day. "Because I hope that you will continue to be a part of Abigail's life. She'll be happy with you, but I think what makes me, what makes me so happy about all of this is that she isn't losing you. You get to live the life you wanted, but she can still see you, love you, know you."
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"Trust me, you're not taking anything away from me at all," she says with a smile, small and sincere. "You're kind of... giving me my life back. And a hell of a lot of peace of mind." With a stranger, no matter how well she got to know them, there would always have been that sliver of worry in the back of her head. That won't be the case now, not least because of the rest of what Jessica has said. "And yeah, I'd like that. To... know her, to not be a stranger. Just not as a parent." One day down the line, there will probably be questions, but it will, she hopes, make it that much easier if she's been present in Abigail's life in her capacity. She isn't abandoning her; she's just doing what's best for her, making sure she has a mother who actually wants to be one, who feels like one in a way she never has. "I can't think of anyone I'd be more comfortable with being her mother. Myself included."
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Here, the two of us are friends, the two of us plan on staying in contact. And even though the lawyers already gave plenty of warnings to us about how much complication that could cause later on (they warned me especially that staying in contact might cause regrets for the birth parent), I know in my heart that nothing of that sort will happen, and I think it's a relief to the lawyers that they don't have to immediately keep an eye on us. They can trust us to do right by each other for now.
The lawyer and notary are probably both waiting in the office as we speak, though they haven't rushed us to step in at the top of the hour. I'm usually very punctual. But I guess I'm taking it slow now because it's such a big thing, becoming a parent. With my boys, I was in labor for hours for each one of them, painful hours that made everything feel so... real. This is a stranger process. It's like my heart doesn't know which direction to run.
"I'm glad that you'll be able to have your life back. Even if I wasn't going to be adopting Abigail, I always feel like... you know, you only have one life, and you need to live it the way that you want. There are plenty of people who want a child in their life, and if there weren't any, it wasn't like you were going to abandon Abigail," I point out. "You're putting your needs first, which a parent would have to be able to do anyway. If you always felt like you weren't living your life anymore... Abigail would feel that, I think." I smile. "Instead, she's going to have the best aunt ever."
I look forward again, staring at the lawyer's office door. I guess we should step inside. Some part of me wants to wait for Molly to take the first step. Give her that sense of ownership, even here.
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A part of her wonders if she should feel worse, if she should be more conflicted. She's been given plenty of warnings as such, but as it is, there's nothing of the sort weighing on her. This is right. It has been from the start, really, but as trying as it's been for her, she's glad she waited this long to go through with taking any steps. Chances are, she wouldn't be here with Jessica otherwise, and might not be so confident about how this will work out.
"I think she would," Molly agrees, nodding. "Kids... know that sort of thing, I think. At least, that's what I've read." It makes sense, too. She'd never have said anything, never have acted on it, but she couldn't have pretended to feel anything other than what she did, either. Children are perceptive like that, more so than a lot of people give them credit for. To keep Abigail out of some sense of obligation wouldn't have done any good for either of them.
She feels like a broken record sometimes, telling herself the same things over and over, but she's come to actually believe them. It helps, reminding herself of the reasons she has to take this step. It keeps her conscience clear.
With a deep breath, she turns towards the door, nodding once to herself before she takes a couple steps in its direction. She looks at Jessica again then, smiling in turn. "Alright. Let's do this."
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I think, over time, Abigail will ask questions. I don't plan on hiding from her the fact that Molly was the one who gave birth to her, who spent nine months growing her and making sure she would be born healthy. Because that is a big commitment. You can always find a way to terminate a pregnancy if you have the money, but Molly wanted Abigail to live. Molly has love for Abigail in her heart, I know it — you don't have to want to be a mother to care for this child that you helped come into the world.
Also, clearly Abigail looks nothing like me.
I know there will definitely be challenges that I don't expect, raising a child of a different ethnicity. I am already expecting people to assume I'm the nanny (at least, those who don't recognize me as a congressperson), and I'm also expecting people to ask why I adopted a white baby instead of a Chinese baby. Let them ask questions. I don't care how much pressure I'm put under; it's Abigail that I want to shield but... not hide things from, either. I don't know how I'll balance that. I hope that I can do it well.
When Molly speaks, I blink and pull myself away from these thoughts. I'll have years to learn and navigate it all. Right now, I just need to have an open heart. My smile widens. "Yes, let's do this."
I wait for her to step inside before I follow. The lawyer is as kind as ever, a little neutral and distant, but I think that's best in a situation like this anyway. You don't want a lawyer making you change your mind. I don't know if I understand every single word, but then the lawyer looks to Molly to sign the papers first. Which I guess makes sense. I can't be Abigail's legal mother while Molly still is.
Abigail watches, quiet and observant, silently sucking on a thumb.
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There have been months, though, for her to think about it, and she's done all the thinking on the matter she needs to, spent enough time in meetings here and reading over the documents that she knows there's nothing more that needs to be done. When she picks up the pen, then, she's nothing but calm and certain, carefully signing her name and breathing in deep as she does.
Nothing monumental happens. Time doesn't stop or stand still; she doesn't at once feel some heavy weight lifted off her shoulders. Jessica still needs to sign before this will be completely official anyway, but she's done her part, making a moment like this a hugely significant one. What she does feel is what she's felt all along — that this is the right decision for her and what's best for all involved parties, no immediate, instinctive regret. There's nothing here worth regretting. Even when she knows there are plenty of complications that may yet arise, that it's not a strictly conventional situation, though more common than some might expect, it all seems worth dealing with, at least on her end. She won't just be gone, and there will be plenty of time anyway before Abigail becomes aware of anything that she might want to ask about. It's all the more reason to do this now, while Abigail is still so young. Were she even a little older, it would probably be something more difficult, though still worthwhile and not impossible, at least from her standpoint, that they'd be dealing with.
Instead, they're here now, and as she straightens, she turns to Jessica, smiling faintly, nodding once. "Alright," she says. "Your turn."
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I think, there won't be those days when people look at Abigail and say how much she has Molly's eyes, or how her mouth looks so different from Molly's that it probably comes from the man that Molly was with. It's a very serious mouth. It makes Abigail look older than she is, not in a bad way. People won't say these things to her because it's clear that I didn't have her. I think, it's too bad that I don't have those memories of carrying her in me.
But maybe that's okay, because the feelings here are special, too. This isn't something that just happened, like Evan did. I wanted to be Abigail's mother. I thought about it for weeks. So that when Molly hands the pen to me, I don't stop, I don't slow down. Molly already gave her motherhood up, and I don't want Abigail to be without a legal mother for any longer than necessary.
I drop the pen after I sign so that I can keep both hands on Abigail, and I smile at her, I brush the light strands of hair she has, so different than my boys.
"She's really mine?" I ask both Molly and the lawyer, laughing a little under my breath as I kiss Abigail's cheek. She scrunches her face up and tucks her face away in the other direction. "Oh honey, there will be many more of those soon."
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Jessica is cut out to be a parent in a way that she never has been herself, and very likely never will be. Had she not given birth to Abigail, or had she arranged something like this sooner, then Jessica wouldn't now get to have a child of her own again. Maybe something else would have worked out at some point, but she has no way of knowing what or when or how. This — it's as neat a solution as she could have hoped for.
"She's really yours," she says with a nod, her smile wide and pleased. The lawyer nods his assent as well, going over some of the finer points, though Molly is only half-listening. The important part is taken care of, and she's had enough meetings here over the last few months to know how things are meant to work going forward. Given her relief, her happiness, it's hard to focus on the particulars of it now. "You're going to be so wonderful for her."
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But I'm paying less and less attention to his words, and instead trying to get myself used to the idea of being Abigail's mom. I'm crying, I just realized. I'm crying, not so much that my makeup's going to run, but I'm pretty sure I can feel this damp spot in Abigail's hair and I feel a little bad about showing emotion, but not so bad that I'm going to stop everything and try to make myself stop.
Women are too often in places where they're told to stop being so emotional. I won't let this be one of them.
"She's going to be so wonderful for me," I tell Molly. And whoa, my voice is really going. "I get to be a mother here, I get to be a mother with a child. I can't... I can't thank you enough. I really can't."
Abigail starts to wiggle and whimper, and she's probably uncomfortable, so I turn my attention back to her. "Shhh, it's okay. We'll get to go home soon."
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That seems like a good enough sign on its own. She doesn't have any doubts or regrets, doesn't have to stop to wonder for a second if she really has made the right decision here. It's clear that she has, both for the way she feels about it and Jessica's reaction now. Molly is fairly certain she's never seen Jessica cry before, and there's no doubt in her mind now that it's for a good reason.
Some people are just cut out to be parents. Jessica, she has no doubt, is one of them. While she may have been once, though, that certainly hasn't been the case for her for a long time now, and it wouldn't have been fair to pretend otherwise and make herself — and probably Abigail — miserable in the process.
Only half-listening to what the lawyer says, having spent enough time going over all of this to be aware of what happens now and how this works, she smiles instead in response to what Jessica says, small and soft. "I'm glad," she says, "that you're so happy. That she'll be so happy. I couldn't have asked for anything more than that."
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And with that happiness comes other emotions. Fear, obviously. This is not the kind of city that I would have wanted to raise a child in. It's too unpredictable, too dangerous. Even if not many people die from the crazy things that happen here, they leave their mark in other ways. There are people who are a lot more afraid day to day after being here, or people who have given up on finding a regular order. I don't want my daughter to become one of those complacent people like the natives.
There are things that are strange about Darrow that I must raise her to consider strange.
But what makes me lost now is wondering how I should approach Molly now. She seems happy, she's almost glowing with it. And with the both of us so happy, normally I might ask if she wants to go out and celebrate, or have a nice dinner. But that's the motherly side of me, isn't it? And the relationship is a little more complicated now. I must give her the space. This is why we're here in the first place.
"And I hope you'll be happy, too. If there's ever anything that's on your mind, you know you can still come to me," I tell her softly, before I smile. "But right now, I'm guessing you might want to go out and treat yourself to something nice. Celebrate a little."
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There's too much wrong with her for that. On some level, she knows it, that her head hasn't been right for a long time now, but this is not the time to stop and try to focus on that. She'll have plenty of time later to deal with that. Right now, she's happy, Jessica's happy, and there's no law that says that shouldn't be the case. Hell, on some level, it's probably a good thing, however convinced a part of her might be that this should have been a little more difficult, more emotional, for her.
Instead, it just feels right. And it isn't like she intends to stop being Jessica just because Jessica is Abigail's mother now. She has no problem knowing her, seeing her, being around her. The right person is just Abigail's parent. She's felt detached from the beginning, anyway, never having a sense of motherhood settle on her, so it isn't as if she's lost anything here or has some arduous transition to make. As far as she's concerned, everything is as it should be. "And of course I will. Come to you, with anything."
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So I let out a little exhale, because it's done, and we're both happier for it. I hope that Abigail will be happier too, in the long run. I'm sure there will be nights soon when she cries because she doesn't know where Molly has gone. But with time, she'll realize that she can depend on me for anything.
"You should go out, really. Do something just for you," I encourage her. "And we'll do something for us. And that's how we'll know that all of this was exactly the right thing to do."
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And with her blessing, an encouragement that doesn't seem anything less than genuine, Molly doesn't think she needs to feel guilty about wanting to do something to celebrate — to do something for herself, which she's had so little opportunity to do since around the time she first found out she was pregnant to begin with. She's had nearly two years of being uncertain and uncomfortable, and now, finally, that doesn't have to be the case anymore. "I think I will. I... think we should all get that right now, anyway."
Jessica may have had plenty of time with Abigail, but they ought to have a chance to bond now, under these different circumstances, the way things are going to be from here on out. Just thinking about that makes Molly feel that much better about the whole thing, as if she needed that at all.