Second Chance

Second Chance
Chap. 1
The Phone Call

The baby boy was born March 25th, 1986. He was blond, blue eyed and perfect. The boy’s mother however, was terrified.

It was May 12th 2010 when the call came, the phone call that nearly put me into cardiac arrest. It was about 8pm. I had just settled down on the sofa with my lap top to get some writing done, when the phone rang.

“Who is it?” I called to my son Christian who had just started to clean up the dinner dishes. Thank goodness for caller ID, I thought.

“I don’t recognize the name,” he said.

“Well, bring it here.” I sighed. It could be someone calling about Creative Memoires I thought. A new customer was always nice, especially one with an order to place.
Or maybe it was someone from work who needed a sub. I was always getting calls from other Weight Watcher receptionists. Living in Whitmore Lake I was pretty close to a lot of different centers, so I was often asked to work in Howell, Ann Arbor and many other places besides my normal center in Brighton.

“Hello?” I said into the receiver.

“Hello, is this Laura Ann Weis?”

I didn’t recognize the young woman’s voice on the other end. She sounded a little nervous. “Yes, at least I used to be.” I added with a laugh. Her use of my maiden name told me that it wasn’t someone from Weight Watchers or anyone wanting to order Creative Memoires products. A former class mate perhaps? One of my classmates from Huron High School and I were trying to pull together an informal 25th year reunion. Maybe this was about that. “May I ask whose calling?”

“My name is Jamie Musch and this is going to sound like a weird question, but… my husband has been looking for his birth mother.” She paused and cleared her throat. “Did you have a child 24 years ago named Michael Norman?”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me under water, struggling for breath. “Yes I did” I heard myself say.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “We’ve been searching and searching but we had your name spelled wrong and Mike’s dad said you lived in Ann Arbor so we’ve been looking there…”

“I don’t live there anymore.” I said, quietly. “How did you find me?” I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Well, we had your name spelled with two “s”s, so I thought we should try dropping one of them. I just went on Face Book and ...”

I began to feel faint. A day or two before I had gotten an email about the dangers of Face Book. It warned users to be sure of their privacy settings. “You don’t want just anyone to be able to get information on you.” Yikes, I thought. I’d better check mine. But of course, it moved further and further down my “to do list”.

I had been invited to join Face Book by my husband’s cousin as well as many others. I was hesitant at first but got sick of the invites from so many people. So I signed on thinking, at least the annoying invites will stop. I didn’t necessarily have to go on it all.

But I discovered that it was a fun way to catch up and stay in touch with people. I was also thrilled to discover that I could use it to find old school friends. Because many wouldn’t know my married name, I posted my maiden name on my profile page.

I remembered the day I sent it up. I was having fun looking up fellow Huron High School class of 1985 alumni. I started chatting with some old friends, seeing what they were up to. Maybe this whole face book thing wasn’t such a bad idea. I had never expected this…

I stood up unsteadily and moved toward the basement where my office was.
“I have to tell you,” Jamie was saying, “You’re a grandmother. Michael has three year old daughter from a previous relationship and we’re expecting a baby boy in September.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed, gripping the stairway hand rail so tightly my knuckles turned white. I racked my brain for something to say. “So…how long have you been married?”

“It will be a year in September,” she said. “I have to be honest with you, Mike has been in trouble, been in jail a couple of times. But he’s doing better now.”
I plopped down on my desk chair and rubbed my forehead with my hand. “He must hate me,” I said, fighting tears.

“No, no” she assured me. “He would just like to know why…”

“I was so young,” I cried, “young and stupid. I couldn’t provide for him, I…”

“Can I have him call you when he gets home from work? It will be kind of late, around 11 o’clock.”

“That will be fine,” I said. What was I going to say to him? I set the phone down on the desk and stared into space, trying to wrap my brain around what had just occurred. I had to tell my husband. I wanted to put it off at first, wait till I spoken with Michael himself, but decided it really couldn’t wait.

Dazed I slowly walked back upstairs.

“Everything okay mom?” Christian asked concern in his voice.

“Yes Chris I’m fine.” I said from far away.

Most kids with autism aren’t real sensitive to the moods of others. In server cases, they’re so into their own worlds that they rarely even acknowledge other people at all. Christian, being the far end of the spectrum with Asburgurs syndrome has gotten pretty good at “reading cues.” Especially when the cues say “upset or distraught,” so he could tell, something was wrong.

I expected him to follow me upstairs, ask who was on the phone, press for details, but he didn’t. I would have to tell him about Michael soon and my daughter Ashleigh too. They had an older brother I had never told them about. What would they think, say, feel? I was always planning to tell them, but it’s one of those discussions that need the “right time.” You don’t just bring it up at the dinner table.

I walked into the bedroom, still completely stunned. Fred was lying on the bed.
“Who was that on the phone?” he asked curiously.

I sat down heavily on the bed. “Remember Michael, the…baby I had?” I didn’t look at him. “That was his wife…they’ve been looking, found me on Face Book…” I dissolved into tears. The memory of that night and the agonizing days that followed, engulfed me like a nightmare.

Fred drew me into his arms. I sobbed on his shoulder and told him what Jamie had told me. “She’s going to have him call me when he gets home.” I sniffed. “What am I going to say? What am I going to do?”

“Whatever you decide honey, I’m behind you,” Fred softly in my ear. “Just as I was back then.”

“What am I going to tell people? No one I’ve met since even knows he exists. How will I explain…? What are people going to think?”

“No one is going to judge you,” he said. “At least nobody that really matters.”

“It was always so painful for me to talk about,” I said wiping my eyes.

“I know,” Fred said tighten his arm around my shoulder. “I had a feeling this would happen sooner or later. That’s part of the reason I thought we should get a house with four bedrooms, in case he ever came to live with us.”

I was surprised. He had never mentioned that before. Fred would have been willing to take him into our home, another man’s child. I was reminded of what a wonderful man I had married.

“I never wanted to force him on you,” I said.

“He’s a part of you and I love you.”

As I lay there in my husband arms I let myself go back in time, 24 years and beyond. I was a different person back then, a person I had tried desperately to forget.
Now she was back, creeping on the edge of my conscience. That person I had been for a time during my adolescence. It was time to stop running. It was time to face the consequences of some poor choices. I only hoped others would understand how and why it happened. And not to judge me too harshly.