72 hours. That’s 3 days.The amount of time it takes for a zygote to become an embryo. The amount of time Jonah spent in the belly of the whale. The amount of time you have left to sign the consent documents lying on the hospital nightstand next to you. The amount of time you have left to decide whether or not the infant whose tiny body you cradle against your chest will be given up for adoption.
46 hours. You gaze intently at the miniature face of the baby sleeping in your arms, his tiny chest gently rising and falling with each tranquil breath. Nestled there between your tattooed wrist and elbow is a human being whose soul is utterly pure, who does not yet know of pain, sacrifice, sorrow, or heartache. In all of your 19 years you have never seen something so breathtaking, so beautiful in its innocence. Your baby. Made of your flesh and your blood. Ever since you picked the Haydens as the adoptive parents, you have thought of it as their baby kicking in your stomach, not yours. But now, looking at his tiny yet familiar features, you are not so sure.
29 hours. You love the Haydens; Lauren with her sparkling smile and love for gardening, and Conrad with his blue eyes and baseball card collection. They have been there for you when no one else has, from ultrasounds to the delivery room. Deciding to keep the baby would break their hearts. Living without him might break yours.
16 hours. Keep the baby? Become a mother? The thought of raising a child in your tiny dorm room is laughable. You are a 19 year old music theory major with no money, no job, and no one to help you. You are alone. Yet when your son is in your arms, the loneliness does not hurt as badly. Something courses through you that, until now, you had only read about in books. For the first time in your life, you find yourself experiencing love.
4 hours. As time passes you grow more frantic. You do not want to let go. But you have to let go. Haven’t you? Was it this hard for your mother when she made the decision to give you up?
0 hours. Time’s up. The Haydens walk in, grey-suited lawyer in tow. You still haven’t signed the documents. The lawyer holds out a pen.
“Have you made your decision?”
