“Birth Mother”

Hannah Jordan

The day you turn sixteen is supposed to be a celebration,
But my gift was two vivid blue lines on a pregnancy test.
I knew there would be nothing sweet about this sixteen.
How could I tell him?
He was promised a full ride to college, 
A pregnant girlfriend would trap him like a rabid animal in a hunter's trap.
Thoughts of motherhood stole my sleep, 
I felt like someone was smothering me with a pillow.
What could a junior in high school offer to a baby?
"It's a girl."
Visions of hot pink dresses and ballet classes flooded my thoughts,
In all these visions I was a single mother. 
I knew I could not raise the baby girl, so young and alone. 
The following moths brought on many papers signing away my parental rights.
I met a new Mark Brady and Carol Martin every month.
They may have been cookie cutter parents,
But none of them seemed worthy of the baby girl that made my belly grow, 
Until the Jordan's walked through the agency's doors. 
The woman's eyes glassed over from tears when she saw my swollen belly, 
Every woman before her painted a fake pearly white smile on their faces.
The man shook my hand firmly while other men were shaky with nerves, 
My baby girl would be like a porcelain doll shattering on a hardwood floor if they held her.
This couple would be the ones to bring up my nameless baby.
After ten hours of labor, 
Pain coursing through my body like every nerve ending was being pinched by a hot iron. One final push and she was there,
The baby I was just a temporary home for.
The nurse places a mucus covered baby in my arms, 
For a minute I was her mother. 
Then the Jordan's came into my hospital room,
And their family of three became a complete family of four.