Autistic? Maybe. Part One

February 23, 2005- five months pregnant.1

     'I'm sorry, but your child is going to be autistic.' Those words played through my psyche incessantly. They plagued me. I looked at the sonogram of my retarded son. 'But he looks so normal.' That's right, he LOOKED normal. It's probably my fault he's a freak.. well, going to be one.2

     'It happens to the best of us.' Thoughts of denial flowed through me. I left knowing I had to be the bearer of bad news to my husband, Vaughn.3

                                                                           ***4

     'Autistic? Are you serious?' Vaughn sat on our leather couch in dismay. It groaned as though it were still a cow. 'Are you saying it's going to be retarded?'5

     'He... not it,' quietly I defended my son-to-be.6

     'I'm sorry; it's just,' he stopped at a loss for words, 'shocking.' I guess he found one.7

     With every step up to my room, the weariness of my body escalated rapidly. I finally reached my room, immediately my focus laid upon the phone. \That's it!\ I thought, \I'll call Marie!\ It was a revelation! I wasn't alone! My finger tips pushed upon the numbers: 651-7922.8

Busy?!?9

Okay, so maybe I was alone.10

     'Ah, c'mon, God! Of all times to give her a life outside of work, why now? I need her now!' The phone rang responsively. 'Thank you.'11

     I picked up the phone, 'Hello, is this Wynter Warner?' My heart sank; it obviously *wasn't* Marie.12

     'Yes, this is me.'13

     'Hi,' his voice was oddly cheerful, 'I'm Bob from Townbank. Your credit card payment is over due.' I hung up. Do they try to call at THE WORST times? The answer was easy: of course, they do. Why wouldn't they?14

     The phone rang again. Vaughn picked it up. Thank God, it was probably 'Bob from Townbank.'15

     'HONEY!' The sound of his voice bounced down the hall. 'It's for you; Marie is on the line!' Wow, something good happened today. Answering the phone, I had a smiling facade plastered to my face, 'Hello?'16

     'Hey! Did you call?'17

     'Um.. yeah, that was me.'18

     'What's wrong?' Marie was one of those people who didn't even need to see you to know something was wrong. She has to be some sort of psychic.19

     'My son's going to be autistic.'20

     'Think about your options. You don't have many, but they do exist.' She was right! I did have options. 'There's adoption, and if you must, there's abortion for about 500 dollars.'21

     'I'll think about it. I mean, I didn't go through months of morning sickness only to kill him or give him away.' I somehow managed a chuckle.22

     'Is that all? I'm sorry, but Townbank is on the other line.'23

     'Yeah, that's all.'24

      Click.25

                                                                               ***26

     'Mrs. Warner?' The receptionist beckoned me. Hesitantly walking towards the doctor's office, I already was drowned with my regrets. Would you kill your own son? Is a life time worth destroying for 500 dollars? Tears flooded my eyes, and I couldn't help but run away, far away.27

     I drove and drove and drove. I have no idea where I was going, but I was going somewhere.28