"Hello, Baby!" - A Short Story
Rachel stood by the bathroom sink, her hands shaking. Her eyes were fixed upon a small, square window on a little stick-like object in her hand. Specifically, Rachel’s eyes were fixed upon a very definite cross that had just appeared there. It meant only one thing: Pregnant! For more minutes than she could remember, Rachel stood there, hopelessly trying to find ways to deny the reality that was beginning to assert itself to her like an unstoppable tide. Instantly, her life changed. Her carefree future evaporated. A weight settled upon her heart and she reached out and turned on the shower. Soon, a hot stream of water was rushing past her ears. Maybe if she stayed in there long enough, it would all go away!
Peter woke to the usual sound of his phone alarm blaring out his favourite dance track. He waited a few moments before jumping out of bed and stretched his arms and legs. The college student switched on his music player, plugged in some earphones and began his morning workout on the treadmill he had pestered his parents for at Christmas. Ten minutes later, he stepped off the machine, grabbed his towel and took out his earphones. He was puzzled to still hear music until he realised his phone was ringing. He looked at the screen and saw his girlfriend’s name. ‘Hello, baby!’ he grinned, as he held the phone to his ear. It was their usual greeting and he knew Rachel loved to hear it. Moments later, his face dropped and his smile vanished!
Rachel sat on her bed, closely watching her boyfriend’s face as he paced the room. Peter was thinking furiously. ‘You have to get rid of it!’ he said. ‘What will your parents say?’ he continued. ‘What will my parents say?’ he added with some panic, as if the thought had just occurred to him. Rachel dropped her head onto her arms and cried into her pillow.
* * *
Patricia closed her eyes. She was extremely nervous. It was to be her first day of outdoor work for the pro-life group she had joined earlier in the year. A trained midwife, well used to seeing new babies, she had wanted to spend some time contributing to this cause dear to her heart. At first, Patricia had been happy to stay in the background, printing flyers while others took up position outside the local abortion clinic. That is so not for me, she thought, as she had joined. I don’t know how they do it! Gradually, however, Patricia worked up the courage to do something more. Now, her big day had arrived. Maybe I can help someone today, she thought, as she closed the front door behind her.
Rachel stood before Peter and his parents. She had not had the courage to tell her own folks, but Peter had not been able to hide his anxiety, and his mother and father had drawn out what had been worrying him. She was aware Peter’s father was speaking to her, but the words seemed to float around her head. Some got through… ‘We’ll help, of course…too young…whole life ahead of you…don’t worry…we can tell your parents if you like…clinic…all over before you know it…’ As Rachel listened, her eyes went to some family photos on the wall. There was Peter with his mother at the hospital, on the day of his birth…there was the studio photo of his first birthday, in bright yellow dungarees – a toy monkey by his side. In spite of her misery, Rachel allowed herself a little smile. He hated that photo and was always hoping it would just fall off the wall. ‘So that’s settled then,’ she heard Peter’s father say. The young girl snapped out of her daydream and hugged her arms around her belly.
The following week, Rachel put on her overcoat and pulled the front door closed behind her. The walk into town seemed so much longer today, she thought, as she passed her old school, noticing a slight twinge in her heart as she did. There seemed to be so many mothers pushing strollers and prams today. Why are there so many? she thought, with no small discomfort. Maybe she just never paid any attention to them before. As she rounded the corner, she saw the clinic. She was taken aback to see a group of people nearby, holding posters and handing out leaflets. Head down and eyes half-closed, Rachel walked past them and up to the clinic door, trying to ignore the words and images she had seen on the posters.
Patricia stared after her. It was the first girl she had seen going in. She’s so young, she thought. And how scared she looks. Her heart went out to her. Inside, Rachel sat on a cold, hard plastic chair, waiting to be called. Her eyes went around the waiting room. Unlike Peter’s house, there were no baby pictures here. Their absence made her as uneasy as the images outside the clinic had. She jumped as the buzzer rang to call her in.
Twenty minutes later, Rachel was back in the waiting room, return-appointment card in hand. Words swam through her mind, words she had heard in the examination room – termination, products of conception, foetal matter. She felt as if someone else was hearing them, not her. How did she ever come to be in a position like this? Rachel walked back out past the people outside. Again, she put her head down and hurried by. A short distance away, however, Rachel could not resist an urge to look back. One young woman was staring right at her. She saw no judgement there, just a look of steady compassion on her face. Rachel glanced down at the poster she held: ‘Give me a chance, Mom!’ it read. Her heart felt another twinge. The image on the poster burned in her mind as she turned away. That was no ‘foetal matter’ or ‘products of conception,’ her mind told her. It was so clearly a baby! Rachel tried to ignore her mind as she re-examined her appointment card. ‘It’s for the best,’ she said. She was still saying it to herself as her phone rang. She put it to her ear. ‘Hello, baby!’ she heard.
The following week, Rachel put on her overcoat and pulled the front door closed behind her. The walk to the clinic was even longer than before. She tried to close her ears as she passed the school. Why did I have to pass at break-time? The laughter died down as she rounded the corner and faced the small group on the footpath once more. The woman she had seen the previous week turned to look at her. Rachel saw she was holding a different poster. The words went through her heart like fire: ‘Hello, baby!’ it read. Rachel put her head down and ran up the steps. Patricia’s heart sank as the young girl ran past her. The words she heard brought tears to her eyes and she lowered her head in sadness. ‘I’m sorry!’ Rachel had whispered, as she raced past.
* * *
‘So, did you go?’ Peter asked, glancing sideways at her as they walked together the next day. ‘I did,’ Rachel replied. Her boyfriend let out a long sigh. ‘It’s for the best,’ he said, after a while. ‘It is,’ Rachel agreed. For some time they walked in silence, the absence of words concealing a symphony of thoughts. As they reached the door of Rachel’s house, Peter leaned in to kiss her but Rachel drew back.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her heart breaking. ‘I can’t see you anymore.’ Peter lowered his head. ‘I understand,’ he said. Rachel turned the key in the lock and looked back at her former boyfriend. Tears welled in her eyes. ‘Goodbye, baby!’ she said, and, closing the door, fell to her knees and cried from the depths of her heart.
* * *
Patricia packed her lunch and collected her poster from under the stairs. She looked forward to her turns outside the clinic with great enthusiasm, now that the initial fear had passed. She still remembered that poor girl from her first outing, all those months ago. She hoped that, some day, she would come into some healing for what she had done. She thought of the unborn child the girl had brought into the clinic in her womb. If we can save but one, it would be such a victory, she thought, as she put on her coat and closed the door behind her. Walking towards the clinic, Patricia suddenly realised, with a great sense of irony, that all people seeking abortion had actually been given the chance to be born. What if their mothers had crossed the threshold of that clinic, she thought. Do they ever think of that?
‘Hello, Dave,’ she said, as she recognised another member of the group arriving by the clinic. She took a flask of coffee out of her bag. ‘Fancy a cup?’ she asked. ‘It’s cold today!’ Patricia sipped her coffee and stared down the street. Nobody had come near the clinic that morning, she had been told. That’s good, she thought. Maybe we are making a difference. She smiled as a young mother approached, wheeling a pram. The mother smiled back from under her woolly hat and scarf. Patricia leaned over the pram for a look. ‘Aww, she’s lovely,’ she said. ‘It’s a girl, isn’t it?’ she asked, noting the pink blanket and accessories. ‘Yes,’ the mother replied, pulling the blanket back for her to have a closer look. ‘She’s just two weeks old,’ she added. ‘So precious,’ Patricia replied. ‘It makes my heart strong just looking at her.’ She gave a nod towards the clinic behind her. ‘I don’t know what you think of abortion, but we try to help pregnant mothers think twice about going in here,’ she said, her voice tinged with sadness. ‘I know,’ Rachel said, as she replaced a soother in her daughter’s mouth. ‘Maybe you don’t recognise me,’ she added, removing her hat and scarf, ‘but I have a little story – and I think you will be very happy to hear it!’
*
Peter woke to the usual sound of his phone alarm blaring out his favourite dance track. He waited a few moments before jumping out of bed and stretched his arms and legs. The college student switched on his music player, plugged in some earphones and began his morning workout on the treadmill he had pestered his parents for at Christmas. Ten minutes later, he stepped off the machine, grabbed his towel and took out his earphones. He was puzzled to still hear music until he realised his phone was ringing. He looked at the screen and saw his girlfriend’s name. ‘Hello, baby!’ he grinned, as he held the phone to his ear. It was their usual greeting and he knew Rachel loved to hear it. Moments later, his face dropped and his smile vanished!
Rachel sat on her bed, closely watching her boyfriend’s face as he paced the room. Peter was thinking furiously. ‘You have to get rid of it!’ he said. ‘What will your parents say?’ he continued. ‘What will my parents say?’ he added with some panic, as if the thought had just occurred to him. Rachel dropped her head onto her arms and cried into her pillow.
* * *
Patricia closed her eyes. She was extremely nervous. It was to be her first day of outdoor work for the pro-life group she had joined earlier in the year. A trained midwife, well used to seeing new babies, she had wanted to spend some time contributing to this cause dear to her heart. At first, Patricia had been happy to stay in the background, printing flyers while others took up position outside the local abortion clinic. That is so not for me, she thought, as she had joined. I don’t know how they do it! Gradually, however, Patricia worked up the courage to do something more. Now, her big day had arrived. Maybe I can help someone today, she thought, as she closed the front door behind her.
Rachel stood before Peter and his parents. She had not had the courage to tell her own folks, but Peter had not been able to hide his anxiety, and his mother and father had drawn out what had been worrying him. She was aware Peter’s father was speaking to her, but the words seemed to float around her head. Some got through… ‘We’ll help, of course…too young…whole life ahead of you…don’t worry…we can tell your parents if you like…clinic…all over before you know it…’ As Rachel listened, her eyes went to some family photos on the wall. There was Peter with his mother at the hospital, on the day of his birth…there was the studio photo of his first birthday, in bright yellow dungarees – a toy monkey by his side. In spite of her misery, Rachel allowed herself a little smile. He hated that photo and was always hoping it would just fall off the wall. ‘So that’s settled then,’ she heard Peter’s father say. The young girl snapped out of her daydream and hugged her arms around her belly.
The following week, Rachel put on her overcoat and pulled the front door closed behind her. The walk into town seemed so much longer today, she thought, as she passed her old school, noticing a slight twinge in her heart as she did. There seemed to be so many mothers pushing strollers and prams today. Why are there so many? she thought, with no small discomfort. Maybe she just never paid any attention to them before. As she rounded the corner, she saw the clinic. She was taken aback to see a group of people nearby, holding posters and handing out leaflets. Head down and eyes half-closed, Rachel walked past them and up to the clinic door, trying to ignore the words and images she had seen on the posters.
Patricia stared after her. It was the first girl she had seen going in. She’s so young, she thought. And how scared she looks. Her heart went out to her. Inside, Rachel sat on a cold, hard plastic chair, waiting to be called. Her eyes went around the waiting room. Unlike Peter’s house, there were no baby pictures here. Their absence made her as uneasy as the images outside the clinic had. She jumped as the buzzer rang to call her in.
Twenty minutes later, Rachel was back in the waiting room, return-appointment card in hand. Words swam through her mind, words she had heard in the examination room – termination, products of conception, foetal matter. She felt as if someone else was hearing them, not her. How did she ever come to be in a position like this? Rachel walked back out past the people outside. Again, she put her head down and hurried by. A short distance away, however, Rachel could not resist an urge to look back. One young woman was staring right at her. She saw no judgement there, just a look of steady compassion on her face. Rachel glanced down at the poster she held: ‘Give me a chance, Mom!’ it read. Her heart felt another twinge. The image on the poster burned in her mind as she turned away. That was no ‘foetal matter’ or ‘products of conception,’ her mind told her. It was so clearly a baby! Rachel tried to ignore her mind as she re-examined her appointment card. ‘It’s for the best,’ she said. She was still saying it to herself as her phone rang. She put it to her ear. ‘Hello, baby!’ she heard.
The following week, Rachel put on her overcoat and pulled the front door closed behind her. The walk to the clinic was even longer than before. She tried to close her ears as she passed the school. Why did I have to pass at break-time? The laughter died down as she rounded the corner and faced the small group on the footpath once more. The woman she had seen the previous week turned to look at her. Rachel saw she was holding a different poster. The words went through her heart like fire: ‘Hello, baby!’ it read. Rachel put her head down and ran up the steps. Patricia’s heart sank as the young girl ran past her. The words she heard brought tears to her eyes and she lowered her head in sadness. ‘I’m sorry!’ Rachel had whispered, as she raced past.
* * *
‘So, did you go?’ Peter asked, glancing sideways at her as they walked together the next day. ‘I did,’ Rachel replied. Her boyfriend let out a long sigh. ‘It’s for the best,’ he said, after a while. ‘It is,’ Rachel agreed. For some time they walked in silence, the absence of words concealing a symphony of thoughts. As they reached the door of Rachel’s house, Peter leaned in to kiss her but Rachel drew back.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her heart breaking. ‘I can’t see you anymore.’ Peter lowered his head. ‘I understand,’ he said. Rachel turned the key in the lock and looked back at her former boyfriend. Tears welled in her eyes. ‘Goodbye, baby!’ she said, and, closing the door, fell to her knees and cried from the depths of her heart.
* * *
Patricia packed her lunch and collected her poster from under the stairs. She looked forward to her turns outside the clinic with great enthusiasm, now that the initial fear had passed. She still remembered that poor girl from her first outing, all those months ago. She hoped that, some day, she would come into some healing for what she had done. She thought of the unborn child the girl had brought into the clinic in her womb. If we can save but one, it would be such a victory, she thought, as she put on her coat and closed the door behind her. Walking towards the clinic, Patricia suddenly realised, with a great sense of irony, that all people seeking abortion had actually been given the chance to be born. What if their mothers had crossed the threshold of that clinic, she thought. Do they ever think of that?
‘Hello, Dave,’ she said, as she recognised another member of the group arriving by the clinic. She took a flask of coffee out of her bag. ‘Fancy a cup?’ she asked. ‘It’s cold today!’ Patricia sipped her coffee and stared down the street. Nobody had come near the clinic that morning, she had been told. That’s good, she thought. Maybe we are making a difference. She smiled as a young mother approached, wheeling a pram. The mother smiled back from under her woolly hat and scarf. Patricia leaned over the pram for a look. ‘Aww, she’s lovely,’ she said. ‘It’s a girl, isn’t it?’ she asked, noting the pink blanket and accessories. ‘Yes,’ the mother replied, pulling the blanket back for her to have a closer look. ‘She’s just two weeks old,’ she added. ‘So precious,’ Patricia replied. ‘It makes my heart strong just looking at her.’ She gave a nod towards the clinic behind her. ‘I don’t know what you think of abortion, but we try to help pregnant mothers think twice about going in here,’ she said, her voice tinged with sadness. ‘I know,’ Rachel said, as she replaced a soother in her daughter’s mouth. ‘Maybe you don’t recognise me,’ she added, removing her hat and scarf, ‘but I have a little story – and I think you will be very happy to hear it!’
*
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