She Named You Donna - a memoir - by Julie Kerton

Author:Julie Kerton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paper And Prose Publishing

Part II

Engagements, Weddings, Clomid and Lauren and Sean

Chapter Eight

On the flight home from Paris, I hesitate to drink the wine. I am positive I’m pregnant. I’m not. I’m certain it will happen next month. It doesn’t. It just is going to take a while. I probably should go to a doctor. I do. He gives me Clomid. I know this is going to work. It doesn’t. There’s always Pergonal. I’ve heard they use the hormones from Catholic nuns to make Pergonal. No doubt it will work. Every morning I’m jabbed with a needle. My hormones are doing back flips. My breasts are sore, my stomach bloated and I hate my husband. It will be worth it. My HCG levels are not humanly possible. I’ll have five babies. I don’t. I’ll try a specialist at Yale. They can get anyone pregnant. Not me. I try not to hope each month, but I do. The bright red drops swirl to the drain, and now I am really angry with God. “Are you telling me to adopt!?” I demand, then dry off and call Catholic Family Services to sign up for the mandatory adoption workshop.

***

I almost married once before. I was twenty-one, almost twenty-two. I really just wanted to get off the ride. The ride that would help me forget about my baby. It had been four years, and I still couldn’t forget. They told me I would. That my life would be good. But I’d been on the ride of promiscuity, running from my pain, my memories ever since. Marriage would be my way to my parents’ idea of success and salvation for my sins. I settled on a really smart lawyer who was into civil liberties, exposing the evils of society, legalizing marijuana and loving me. He was counsel for a state senator, so he split his time between Albany and Manhattan.

We spent our time in Brooklyn reading Mother Jones and Brecht, having sex and moving my car due to alternate side of the street parking regulations. He thought it would be a good idea to get married. So we did all the engaged things. Told our parents, picked a date. Chose a diamond that was to be set in platinum. He had lunch with my father in the city. Everyone was happy. Especially my grandmother. She would finally have a Democrat in the family. Someone who cared about politics. Someone who actually hated Reagan as much as she did. Someone who would agree how ridiculous it was for Nancy to change the perfectly good fine china at the White House. My grandmother kept all her birthday greetings from Tip O’Neill and was overwhelmed with pride when she heard my fiancé on CBS radio discussing the struggles of senior citizens. I let my mother choose the invitations, flowers, food. She found the wedding much more important than I did. I picked my bridesmaids. I chose a wedding gown, the first one I tried on. Ivory with a train. I didn’t recognize the person in the three-sided mirror, but everyone thought I looked beautiful, so I put money down.

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