The first time I met you
An early draft of a chapter from my memoir-in-progress: a dual-perspective adoption story
(Note: This is an early draft of a chapter from my memoir-in-progress: a dual-perspective adoption story told by one person, myself, as the adoptee I was and the birthmother I became.)
I did not expect the room to be so quiet.
Labor scenes in the movies lied. I expected chaos, scurrying staff, and to scream my way into becoming some sort of wet-haired heroine. Instead, under lights dimmed to a soft glow, a nurse spoke to me in a voice meant for someone fragile. Who did she think she was talking to? A fragile person wouldn’t be preparing to give the most precious piece of herself away to strangers.