Lorenzo and I had a child.

I had a child? My body had nurtured and cared for a child. I had brought a whole human being into this world. Sounded so surreal to me. I couldn't shake those thoughts away. Lorenzo never got the chance to speak to me. When he came back from work, I was already asleep. Florence had told me, how she watched him tuck me in and kiss me good night. I had no recollection of that, I didn't want to. I only wanted to find out more about my child, where ever they were. I had this yearning feeling to search for him/her. To know him or her... that's my child. From all the overthinking I'd done, I figure they were probably six or seven years old. Who were the Smiths family and—

— couple of years ago.

"Francisco Dos Santos!" Lorenzo envisioned leaning against the headboard. A bit out of it, I gave him a tired smile as I laid on his bare chest. I could hear his heart take rhythmic beats. I traced the trail of dark hair leading down to his abdomen and lower area that was covered by the sheets.

"Just because we stay in San Francisco—"

Lorenzo laughed. "It's actually a Portuguese name that I always took a liking to. It's merely a coincidence that we reside in San Francisco."

"Oh.. but remember it's going to be Francisco Smith..."

"Right..." The mood suddenly turned into a somber sad one.

"We should be glad they're allowing us to name him."

"I know bello..." Lorenzo replied sadly. "He is going to be one handsome very very handsome young man."

I smiled as I felt Lorenzo rub circles on my seven months baby bump.

"Very." I curtly replied then a thought crossed my mind.

"I hope he doesn't hate us."

Lorenzo frowned. "He won't hate us. He will thank us because this isn't a life to bring up a child into. It's a big sacrifice but he will understand."

-

We got ready for our appointment with the care-worker  who was taking care of our case. I had so many questions. At this point Lorenzo and the social worker's worst fear was that I'd change my mind last minute after all the preparations done been done. After selecting and meeting the adoptive parents. After the adoptive parents had joined in on every appointment and taken care and paid for all my prenatal needs and hospital bills.

For goodness sake, they had already bought him clothes and made him a themed nursery. It hurt, it hurt a lot that I couldn't do that for my own child. I couldn't afford to, we couldn't afford to. School and being pregnant was definitely hard to do but Lorenzo was always by my side and supportive in every way he could possible.

The Smith's had a nine year old adopted girl whom they were taking great care of, I knew they'd give my child a good life. I had also taken into consideration race and other things to take into accountability. It was great that the Smiths older child was mixed race as well. It would definitely make Francisco feel more comfortable and feel at home. Regardless of the Smith family being white, they had expressed how open minded they were in allowing their daughter to celebrate their her culture and where she comes from. Allowing her to know her background and heritage as well as her educating themselves on Black Lives Matter. I appreciated all their efforts. They were definitely excited. Lorenzo and I could tell Francisco would be welcomed in a loving home.

"I'm going to go through this agreement with you both that way you fully understand and make the right decision for Francisco." Sarah, our social worker/adoption agent told us. Lorenzo held my hand and gave it a light squeeze to let me know, he was here and we were doing this together. Sarah had been so caring and understanding, suppose it was her job. Hearing everyone call our child by a name Lorenzo and I had both decided on made me so happy. My little Angel, Francisco.

"In an open adoption, the Adoptive Parents and Birth Parents share contact during the pregnancy and after the birth. There is not one level of openness that works for all adoptions so this can mean sharing photos, phone calls, texts and sometimes even visits."

I smiled and turned to Lorenzo. "I'd love that."

"Me too." He smiled broadly.

"Most experts and adoption professionals will agree that an open adoption is the healthiest for those involved but they also stress that the level of openness should always focus on meeting the needs of the child, not the Adoptive Parents or the Birth Parents."

"Ofcourse." I nodded. This was about Francisco and no one else.

"In a semi-open adoption, Birth Parents and Adoptive Parents will share non-identifying information and the communication between Birth Parents and Adoptive Parents will typically be handled by their adoption agency/professional."

"We're still going to go with Open adoption. My wife and I want to meet our son and know how he is doing and watch him grow even if it's from a distance."

"Yes, Mr Dos Santos. I'm really glad but I'm just reminding you both of all the options. This is a big life decision."

We allowed her to continue.

"In a closed adoption, no information or contact is shared between the Adoptive Parents and Birth Parents." She then paused. "In the past, almost all adoptions in the US were closed, but today, most adoptions will have some level of openness. Alright now for your hospital plan."

She continued, we listened attentively.

"You will also have the right to decide on what level of contact you would like with the Adoptive Parents during your hospital stay. You may choose to spend time alone with the baby or you can choose to spend time with the Adoptive Parents and the baby. Whatever you decide, it is important to know that you have the right to make decisions during your hospital stay. I will help you create the right hospital plan for you and act as your liaison with the Adoptive Parents."

"We'd like to spend some time alone with the baby before we let the adoptive parents can come in." Lorenzo answered curtly looking at me for a response.

"Yes!" I added.

"Alright perfect." Sarah added with a comforting smile.

"The Birth Parents and Adoptive Parents may agree to share photo updates, phone calls, emails and/or visits, depending on the agreement and what is decided to be best for the child as they grow up. In many cases I've dealt with Adoptive Parents will give the Birth Mother or Birth Parents access to a private photo sharing site or a private social media account and post photos and updates there. This allows the Adoptive Parents to continue to share the photos and updates while allowing the Birth Family to view them when they are ready to do so."

"That will be lovely, We'd appreciate any update we can get."

—

"Great session Soraya! You're making a lot of progress. Before I leave, have you had any memory of anything you'd like to share?" Craig asked noting everything down on his note pad. Lorenzo had joined in, throughout he had no said much. He said he was here to support me and for some reason having him sat right next to me trying to hold my hand reminded me of the flashbacks? I had been having about the adoption process.

"...I have a son...named Francisco...he was adopted. I'm not sure if my mind is just playing games but—"

Lorenzo gasped, I didn't know if he was glad or it meant something different.

"Mr Dos Santos can you confirm?"

Lorenzo smiled, tears at the bottom of his green orbs. "I thought you'd never remember, why didn't you tell me? How long have you—"

"Let's not overwhelm her..." Craig chuckled.

"I'm sorry bello, I just got a bit too excited. We do have a son. He is six years old. Born on the 18th of November. His name is Francisco but it seems everyone calls him Frankie." I had never seen him so excited and speak so passionately. A smile found itself on my lips as he told me more and more. "He lives in Texas with his parents Brian and Sharon, he recently just started first grade. We visited him when he was three years old. We always said we were going to visit him again but... uhm our marriage has been a bit rocky. We decided we'd put off including him in this ruckus. We didn't want him to witness us fighting. We speak to him over the phone and he calls us aunt and uncle. Brian and Sharon thought that would be more respectful than having him call us by our names. He knows he is adopted, he is a smart little guy."

"...wow..." I muttered under my breath. It was a lot to process but it made me so happy.

—

I was about to go to sleep when I heard a knock, it was Lorenzo. With him an album that he set on my bed side. It had a brown leather cover on the front was an image of me in a hospital bed, Lorenzo by my side with a huge grin on his face. A tiny adorable baby in my arms. We looked so happy. In bold letters, it spelt 'We love you forever and always, Frankie' with a heart along side.

It made me feel emotional.

Lorenzo sat down on my bed, shirtless in his boxers. It was nearing mid-night. I figured he couldn't sleep, I hadn't managed to either. His mother was upset about the incident from the day before, supper was tense. I felt bad for Florence who had tried to initiate conversation but no one was in the mood.

Sitting up right, I grabbed the album. The first page was written in Portuguese. Almost seemed like a poem.

"What does it say?" I asked breaking the silence. Lorenzo then snuggled closer and grabbed the album.

"To the mother of my child, Soraya. My first love, my best friend.You've made me the happiest man. You've made me a father to a son.We've been through so much together and I'm glad to know I will always have you by my side. You never seize to amaze me with your selfless caring nature. You mean the world to me and I will never take—"

"Thank you, I think I will just stick to looking at the images."

The following images we all following my pregnancy, baby pictures of Frankie and more pictures of Frankie. He had his father's green eyes and curly brown hair. He had the most adorable smile, I thought as I looked at more of his pictures as a toddler. It left me with yearning, had we made the right decision? I knew adoption meant giving up your parental rights and I had no right to question if we had made the right decision. He is happy and healthy that's all that matters. Besides, I wouldn't have wanted for him to witness our fake marriage and infidelity.

"He deserves to see what real love, marriage and a family looks like. He looks happy." I said softly more to myself than anyone.

"We had that... just not financial stability."

"No... we didn't. I wouldn't have wanted you hiding him and pretending you didn't have a child with a black woman."

Lorenzo's smile dropped.

"Do you remember anything else..." he asked.

"Not anything in particular."

"I mean memories of you and I." He smiled and for a second, I got distracted. I immediately looked away. I didn't like how close he was sitting next to me. He seemed so comfortable, I wasn't.

"No, I don't think I want to."

"Fair enough..." He added. "When I met you, you were always so talkative and outgoing. Told me you had slept with so many guys. You portrayed yourself so differently. Portrayed yourself to be loose and reckless with life, love and sex. Then it finally happened and—" He chuckled. "You were a virgin. I was so surprised and shocked. You had this innocent side of you hidden away. Even after you kept denying that I had been your first. I couldn't tell if it was because of your feminism, I don't need a man facade or you were simply irked by the thought of having me as your first."

I hated when he spoke so softly, reminiscing about things I didn't remember.

"I remember when you locked yourself in the bathroom for nearly 2 hours all because you were embarrassed about the fart sound that came out of your vagina while we were having sex. I kept telling you it was normal but you weren't having it. Until I told you to google queefing then you finally came out."

This time I laughed with him.

"Really?"

"Yeah! You were always such a character."

So we talked, laughed and reminisced for the rest of the night. I thought nothing of it, ended up sleeping on his chest through out the night. He pulled me close, as if it was something we both used to do. I felt safe and sound until I remembered I was expecting yet another child with this man and he still had no idea.

—

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