“I am just so afraid that I’m going to mess him up,” Marta confessed as soon as the car door was pulled shut. “I’m not at all where I thought I would be by the time I was having a kid. I should have been better prepared, and I just want to do right by him. Shouldn’t I give him up if I’m afraid of messing him up?”
A hundred things came to mind in response to that. All them were probably “right” things to say, some just seemed more right than others. Unfortunately, the most right things were not the things I wanted to say.
“I can only give you selfish advice.” I warned her, “I can only tell you what I want to happen, and how I’m justifying it in my own head.”
Marta sniffed and dug a tissue out of her purse before nodding to me. “Yeah, you’re afraid. I’m afraid, Bradley’s afraid. It’s very possible that we could do something wrong, that we aren’t going to be the best parents in the world. But if we give him to someone else, whose to say that they won’t mess him up just as badly? I want to help you raise this kid. I want to love him as he grows. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to suck at times. But I think we can do it, just you and me and Bradley if he wants to stick around and help. I’m really starting to get excited about this kid. And it is your choice. If you want to give him up, then I’ll support you. But, if you don’t, I’m here one hundred percent, and I’ve got some name suggestions.”
Marta took a deep breath, and buried her face in her hands. “I love him so much.”
“Okay.” I offered her another tissue.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Marta didn’t want advice anymore—she wanted sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
We sat in silence for about ten minutes. Marta sat up a little straighter and put the tissues into the trash bag. “Okay. Let’s go home. I’m not promising anything–But I need to talk to Bradley.”
“Okay.” I tried to keep the smile off my face as I put the car into gear. “Let’s go home.”