“We have to go,” I say, trying to pull her up. I’m a college student. I can’t deliver a baby. Yes, I’ve had some basic nursing classes, but nothing that would qualify me to do this. Nothing beyond what I’ve read in a book.
“Paigey Poo,” she says, pulling out her little pet name for me that she only uses when she wants something. “Don’t make me go. They’ll take the baby from me just like they took you.”
That makes me hesitate.
“You know how the system is. You want that?” she says. “You want to never see your baby brother or sister again?”
“Mom?” I beg.
“I’m barely using now,” she says. “You know I’m better.”
I look over at the needle on the floor. I don’t even want to think about how she got that. Did she use the money I gave her for food? Did she trade her body for it? Neither would surprise me. I’ve seen it all before. Better? I know she’s trying, but she has a long way to go, and I don’t know that she’ll ever get there.
“Ugh!” she screams out in pain. “I have to push.”
“No, don’t push,” I say. She’s never listened before, and she doesn’t now, bearing down, her teeth gnashing together.
“Shit,” I cry, moving between her legs. As much as I want to call 911, I know my mom is right. Social services would take the baby. I may never see my baby brother or sister again, and I know firsthand that foster situations aren’t always better.
“Get it out!” my mom screams.
I look down. God, I don’t want to see this. I don’t even have gloves. There’s blood and various other liquids, and all my mom’s private parts are on full display. She’s never been a shy woman and now is no different, spread eagle on the bed. My heart rate is through the roof. My mom has put me through some shit in my life, but this might take the cake.
She starts to bear down again, and I see the tiniest glimpse of the top of the baby’s head. “Oh my God,” I cry. “I can see the head.”
At that moment, my body settles. I know what I have to do. Get the baby out. I can’t focus on my mother’s screams, her drug use, none of it. My sole focus is on the baby.
I don’t know how long or how short of an amount of time it takes. It could’ve been two hours, or it could’ve been two minutes, but either way, it was the longest experience of my life. I just kept telling myself that women have given birth in worse conditions, in worse shape. Heck, I’ve even heard stories of a woman giving birth in fields, then attaching the baby to their back, and continuing to work. If they can do that, then I can do this.
Finn Albert Hudson entered the world at three thirty-three. I like to think that was good luck or something. My mom picked the name. I have no idea why or for whom. I didn’t ask. She’d told me she didn’t know who his father was, so perhaps she just liked the name.
I missed school the next two days to stay with them. My mom refused to nurse him. I don’t know if she was worried about drugs passing into his system, or she just didn’t want to be bothered. I’d been stockpiling formula and diapers for a couple of months but hoped she’d change her mind for monetary reasons. Breastfeeding is cheaper than formula, but she didn’t care.
Finn slept in my arms the first two nights of his life. Amazingly, he seemed totally healthy and normal. My mom wouldn’t let me take him to a doctor to be checked out. She wanted me to wait a week. She didn’t say it, but I know that was to make sure any drugs in his system were gone. Keeping her ass out of trouble was more important to her than her son’s life.
As I held him and stared down at him, I fell in love. I never love easily, but with him, it was immediate. He is my family. I always wanted to know what that would feel like. Taking care of him, I knew what love was for the first time in my life.
Those first few days, my mom mostly slept. She was just as indifferent to him as she was to me. By day three, I had to go back to school. Finals week. I needed to study, and I needed to take my tests. Even more than before, it was vital for me to do well and graduate to help take care of Finn.
Before I could leave, I wrote down his feeding schedule for her, reminded her to put the diaper cream on so he wouldn’t get a rash, and promised I’d be back as soon as I took my last exam.
Then it was time for me to go—past time, really. Placing Finn in my mother’s arms, I immediately felt sick, a huge pit forming in my stomach. It didn’t feel right. My mom could barely take care of herself, but I couldn’t stay forever, so I ignored the little voice in my head, warning me of trouble.
Those few days back on campus were the longest days of my life. I tried to study but couldn’t concentrate. I would try to call my mom between study groups and taking practice tests, but my mom never answered her phone the whole time. By the morning of the third day, I was so consumed with worry and fear I skipped my final and made the hour-long bus ride across town. I couldn’t get Finn’s little face out of my head.
If I didn’t already know that something was wrong, it was confirmed when I approached my mom’s apartment complex and saw her in the alley on her knees, some strange dirty man tossing one dollar bills on the ground as she sucked him off.
I don’t have any idea if she ever saw me, but I took off like a bullet into her apartment. All I could think about was Finn. Where was he? It was quiet. I was more scared than I’ve ever been. It was not a peaceful quiet, but quiet like when death comes. Somehow, the apartment looked even worse than it did before, a nasty smell now filling the place.
I found Finn on my mom’s bed. His lips were dry, the soft spot on his head was sunken in, and he was just lying there, almost lifeless. His eyes were open, and his face was scrunched—almost like he wanted to cry, but no tears or sound could come out.
I scooped him up, made a bottle, and stuck it in his mouth, praying he’d have enough energy to eat. His lips didn’t move. “Come on, Finn,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. This can’t be happening. He can’t . . . I wouldn’t even allow myself to think the word. “Eat,” I cried, running the nipple across his lips, wetting them. “I’ll never leave you again.”
His lips twitched a little, and I stuck the bottle in his mouth, continuing to move it around a little. I saw his cheeks pinch in one little sucking motion. Just one! Wiggling the bottle again, he did the same thing. He let out the smallest little cry, and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Leaning over, I kissed him and whispered, “I love you.”
Before I knew it, he finished the whole bottle.
I sat there holding him for hours, waiting for my mother to come back, wanting to scream at her, yell at her. She must have moved on from the guy in the alley to some other, or perhaps she was strung out somewhere. Whatever she was doing, the hours passed, and she never came back. Finn would’ve died there alone if I hadn’t come—and stayed.
That’s when I decided. That’s when I promised him that I’d do anything to give him a better life.
I packed a bag with what little my mom had in clothes, formula, and diapers, and walked out the front door with him, keeping my promise.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR