Letting Go
Harrison broke through my walls and got to me more than anyone has in a very long time. Always keeping everyone at a distance hasn’t been easy, and it’s been overwhelmingly lonely. Of course, it doesn’t really matter since no one can fill the void inside of me, fill the missing piece. No one can replace my baby.
Yes, my baby. Half my soul lies in that little boy who is now growing into a young man.
For once, I allowed myself to have more than sex, more than a release. Harrison was my lover, but more than that, he was and is my friend. He was willing to give me everything. He was willing to be the one to catch me when I fell. The thing is, I fell years ago and never picked myself back up. As much as it pains me, I can’t give him or anyone else what they truly deserve.
If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it’s yours forever. If it doesn’t, then it was never meant to be. Well, I was forced to let my baby go. Now I can only wait and pray he comes back. No matter what, I’m his mom forever. No one can take that away from me.
When I was once again faced with the need to let something go, I did. Harrison is free from whatever our relationship was. I’m sure the betrayal of my holding something so big back for the past three years is going to take us years to move past, even as friends.
Maggie, Dina, and Kenna are a different set of problems. Will they understand why I have held back all this time? How can I call myself their friend when I have kept such a secret from them?
Dina is a mom now; she certainly won’t understand my situation. Sure, she will know I feel the loss, but I took the settlement and saved my mom. I gave up my son for my mother.
My hands long to hold the ten precious fingers of my baby. In my dreams, I’m haunted by the desire to have those tiny fingers wrap around my index finger and hold on for dear life. My life, his life, forever entwined.
The smell of his hair, the feel of his baby soft skin, the first smile, the first coos, his first words, steps, heartbreak, and so much more can’t be given back to me. All these were ripped heartlessly from both of us, just as he was ripped from my life.
Will he understand? Can anyone understand that feeling of infinite longing?
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. The choices of my past, the choices of others, and the domino effect on my life are inconsequential now. What’s done is done, and it most certainly can’t be undone.
The pregnancy wasn’t easy. At fifteen, my body wasn’t ready, and the heartbreak of knowing, once he was born, it was all over, weighed heavily on my mind daily.
Trenton Joseph Thurman —my boyfriend, my love and, at that time, my life—turned his back on me in the ultimate betrayal.
My mom started working for his dad when I was five years old. Trenton helped me learn English since my mom only spoke Spanish to me. School was hard, and I got teased a lot, even with a teacher who specialized in students with English as a second language. Trenton always looked out for me and took care of me. He was my best friend.
Trenton by no means had an easy life, despite the beautiful home, the money, and the lifestyle the ranch afforded his family. No, Trenton lived with a tyrant of a father. Wayne Joseph Thurman was anything but nice, loving, and supportive.
He acquired my mother as his housekeeper when he, through some shady dealings, bought out our previous employer’s property. They were struggling yet surviving when Mr. Thurman went out of his way to buyout the ranch at a huge undercut on the market value.
When we were packing to move, he presented my mom with a job offer that included our housing. When no other options presented themselves, and Mr. Thurman threatened to report her to the authorities as an illegal alien, she reluctantly accepted, and we moved into the nightmare that Trenton was born into.
Trenton was never good enough, never did anything right, and was never given any support or encouragement. The level of expectation on him from an early age was unattainable. He was smart, worked hard, and tried every day to become something his dad could be proud of.
His mom had left before we moved in. I never asked what happened or why Trenton didn’t visit her. She was the skeleton that stayed buried in the closet. You didn’t dare mention her name around Mr. Thurman.
Over time, the dynamic of my feelings for Trenton changed, as did our relationship. My best friend grew into so much more. Trenton was always solid for me in a world of unknowns, a world of wondering when his dad would send my mom away.
Looking back now, I can easily see the attraction and progression from friendship to love. Lately, however, I find myself wondering if it was really love. We were so young and clueless.
If it was really love, it certainly wasn’t strong enough to fight against the powerhouse that was his dad.
When he found out I was pregnant, my world was quickly turned upside down. What should have been a time when I realized what life really is, it became the time I wished for nothing more than death.
He was clear on what would be happening. The little beating heart growing inside of me was going to be taken from me. I was no good, the mistake that would be washed from his son and soon to be grandchild’s life. No way would his precious Thurman blood be tied to the likes of me.
We may live in the modern times, but Wayne Thurman held some long-lasting prejudices.
The papers were drawn up, my mother’s freedom threatened, and my entire world crashed around me. If my mom was deported, where would I go? At fifteen, I couldn’t support myself, much less myself and my newborn baby. My options were limited. Therefore, I signed the papers, not understanding the full extent of the details.
The reality of it all finally dawned on me when I was in labor. The morning began with cramping that I was hoping would go away. Only, it didn’t. When I arrived at the hospital, Trenton didn’t stay with me. He stayed outside the door. His father wouldn’t allow it, and he wasn’t the kind of guy to push his dad.
My mom held my hand as I pushed through every pain while my young body was ripped in the most intimate of places. Somehow, the all-powerful Wayne Thurman had enough influence to make sure I was given no drugs and that my baby was born in the most natural way possible.
My tiny body was ravaged as the baby who had spent all these months growing inside of me made his entrance into the world. Delirious from the twenty-six hours of active labor, my body was crying out for sleep as I strained to take in every moment he was with me. Only, my little boy wasn’t with me.
He crowned; I pushed. The fourth push, he was out. Looking down, I saw him for a split second as he opened those tiny lips to cry out for his first real breath. A sheet was then quickly raised by a nurse, hiding the rest from my view.
Typically, in a natural birth, the baby would be placed on the mom’s belly, but that didn’t happen. No, the doctor cut the cord and passed the baby off to a nurse who took him over to a tiny baby cart to measure and clean him up. I was trying to watch, but the doctor got my attention as he began to push hard on my sensitive abdomen to deliver the afterbirth.
I heard the nurse call out an APGAR score of nine. My little boy was strong and healthy with ten fingers, ten toes, and weighing in at eight pounds, twelve ounces. The little linebacker who came out of my tiny frame left me amazed.
My baby was wheeled out without me ever seeing him again. My breasts soon cried out in fullness, my body aching to continue to give sustenance to my child, my life. Instead, I was left with an empty heart and an empty hand as I tried to pick up the pieces.
I was discharged from the hospital then directly boarded a plane with my mother. As part of the deal, my mother was placed in another job in Georgia, and our trip expenses were covered with a little money to get ourselves established.
My body may have left the state of Texas, but my heart would forever remain with the little boy I left behind.