I never thought being overweight would be the biggest blessing in my life.
I never thought I’d be able to pull this off.
I never thought I’d be telling my story.
But all I can hope is that my baby darling will read this someday.
I conceived a child with a former friend of mine who, as of publishing, has never acknowledged that he is the father of a human being on earth. We aren’t and weren’t married, but were fooling around, having fun. Fun has consequences. I tried letting him know to give him the opportunity to know, to meet the child during the two weeks I got to know her, but nary a call got answered or a text read.
When I discovered I was carrying a child, I froze. My whole life fell apart.I am a relatively public individual in the frum community I lived in, a place I want to stay. I’m also single, with hopes to marry.
For the first three months, I cried and prayed I would miscarry.
For the next three months, I confided and planned with the people closest to me.
For the last three months, I cried and hid.
For three weeks, I dreaded the day.
For two days, I labored alone in a hospital.
For two weeks, I hid in a friend’s apartment with a baby.
And for eight months, I’ve wondered.
Where she lives, what she’s like, what she’ll think of me, if I’ll ever cross paths with her and if I made the right decision.
But no one else in my community even noticed. Outside of the comments “Wow, You’ve lost so much weight!!” or the occasional “Where were you over the summer?” No one’s been the wiser, but me? Now I’m a momma, but I don’t have a daughter.
I opted for a closed adoption with placement in a frum home, I’m told she is happy, she is settling, and is a very sweet baby girl.
But inside, I wonder, if I wouldn’t be ostracized from my community, if I knew my child would have a school to go to, if I knew I would have a job as a single and never married mother, would I have been brave enough to keep her?
What if I had heeded the advice of some and moved to Israel where no one had to know, could I have kept her?
What if I would have heeded the other advice I got and gotten rid of her? Would I be able to live with myself more? Would I feel like my Shidduch prospects would be less limiting?
Of course, I plan to share with my future husband the ghost I hold in my closet, but how many ghosts can a human being handle?
At nights, I cry myself to sleep and wish I was still pregnant, with her close to me, inside me, my secret.
By day, I numbly walk through the streets, observe the mothers with their carriages and the children running with their siblings. I bite my lip and wait till I get home to cry.
Because I’m a Momma, who hasn’t been allowed her daughter.