Genetics Unknown

She sat there, staring at the wall, eyes brimming with tears threatening to fall at any moment. My heart broke for her, as I had just given her the news.

“What do I tell my mother?”, she asked with her quivering little voice. “She trusted me, and now I have to tell her that she is going to be a grandmother” The fear and uncertainty in her eyes was more than I could bear. “You are only sixteen, but there are options to consider”, I told her. “There is adoption, or abortion, or you could keep the baby. But I cannot tell you what to do. You have to decide for yourself.” I gave her a handful of pamphlets on the topics, and watched her walk out the door, her steps slow as if she had something else to say. She turned and said, “Thank you, Doctor. May I make an appointment to bring my mother in to discuss the options?” “Of course,” I said.

After she left that day, I began to think of myself at that age. I had been sixteen when I heard those same words. Only, back then, abortion had been illegal. I began to have that same feeling again. The same feeling that comes every night, and has for the past thirty years – regret. I wondered what she looked like now. I had given her up so long ago. Was she beautiful, successful? Was she married? Did she have children? I wondered these things every night. But this time, it was different.

I had seen myself in the girl in the office. Those eyes looking to me for guidance were the same as the ones I see in the mirror. Those piercing green eyes, setting off the firey red curls. I had to know.

Two weeks later, I was staring into those eyes again. Only this time, there were two sets of them. As we sat and talked, I gave them the information on the topics of abortion and childbirth, and teen motherhood. When the subject of adoption arose, the mother revealed to me that she had been adopted. She was an advocate for adoption because had her mother aborted her, she would not have her beautiful daughter.

This information peaked my interest. I asked if I could ask her some questions. After she gave the ok, I asked when she was born. “June 9, 1967” she said. I got excited. “Where were you born” was the next question. “Right here in Columbus” she replied. My excitement was growing more. Then I asked if she knew anything about her birth mother. She said she had been trying to locate her, but the last information she got was that she was still in town, but did not know her name as the agency would not tell her.

I explained to her that I had had a daughter on June 9, 1967 in Bartholomew County Hospital. I said that I had been sixteen, and was not ready to have a child, so I had given the baby up for adoption. I too had been looking for her, but the agency would not give me any information other than to say that she was still in Columbus.

At this information, we scheduled DNA match testing. The wait for the results was the longest two weeks I had ever known. As we sat in my office again, nervous. We read the results. Then I discovered that my granddaughter had decided to keep the baby.

Genetics Unknown


North Vernon, United States

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