In The Garden of Good and Evil

I live in between two women, both whom I adore. Cynthia lives two houses down on my left and has been trying to adopt for eight months now. Stephanie lives two houses to my right and is about to give birth any day now. In these last weeks I have found myself being pulled in both directions.

Stephanie is a 23-year-old wife and mother of soon to be two. Her husband works in construction and they have very little monetarily. Just the other day their large 1980 Ford Van needed an emissions test done, but Stephanie feared driving the old thing. Seeing as how my first vehicle was a 1971 Ford Ranger with no power steering I volunteered to drive it for her down to the mechanics. At a recent garage sale on our street Stephanie looked on in awe at all the baby items but as I watched her walk away without purchasing anything I realized that she did not have any money. I went back after she'd gone and bought her the crib set and car seat she'd stared at for over fifteen minutes. And last night as I was sitting down to finish up writing another story she rang my bell in near tears and told me she thought she was in labor. So I sat her on the couch, got her some water, and we began to time contractions. When the first one hit, Stephanie panicked. She began to cry and moan, saying, "I can't do this ... I'm so scared." Stephanie and her husband have no health insurance and Stephanie will be delivering at home with a midwife. Drug free. And she is panicked. But when she came to my house at the start of what she thought was her labor I realized very quickly ... I just might be her only friend. It was not the onset of labor, unfortunately, and as Stephanie left several hours later I wondered if she'd come just to sit and have someone to cry with. I was blessed to be put in this house on this street if only to be a friend to someone in need.

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Cynthia is a 32-year-old wife and hopefully very soon, mother. Her house has the nicest yard and her vehicles are both brand new. She dresses right out of a magazine and her hair always looks like she stepped off the stage of an Oprah makeover. Cynthia is always bringing me new stories and articles to read, and she never fails to have special treats for all the neighborhood children. But just this morning, Cynthia became human to me. The doorbell rang at shortly after nine and there she stood, make up running down her face. I brought her in, just as I had Stephanie the night before, and put her on my couch. Cynthia was having an anxiety attack. I held her hand and coached her into a rhythmic breathing, trying to get her to calm down before she hyperventilated. It was an odd feeling ... reminiscent of Stephanie and I as we breathed through the five contractions she'd had. Once Cynthia had calmed I retrieved a glass of ice water for her and sat down to listen as she explained that yet another possible match had fallen through. After an hour and an entire box of Kleenex, Cynthia left my home with a smile on her face. Once again I realized that I was blessed to be put in this house on this street if only to be a friend to someone in need.

I can't help but feel that I live in the Garden of good and evil, here on my little neighborhood street. Smack dab in the center of two women with whom I can both relate and have compassion for. I find that my comforting words to each of them mirror themselves as I offer, "You have nothing to fear, you are going to be a wonderful mother when the time comes."

Cynthia and Stephanie have one very real thing in common. A mother's heart. Their journeys may not be similar but the emotions have been. I have held both their hands as they cried and I have stood before each of them when they released a painful anger. I have seen the ups and downs, and I have walked with them through this garden of good and evil. Each night as I lay down I can't help but gain a true peace from my own garden of good and evil and how it has enabled me to reach further than I ever thought possible.

Cynthia told me this morning before she left my home, "When you told me you were a birthmother I have to admit I was apprehensive of opening up to you. But I want you to know that you have been the one person in my life who, I truly believe, understands this pain." And last night as Stephanie was leaving my house I opened my arms to embrace her. She tensed for a moment and I realized that it had been a very long time since someone had simply hugged her. In my arms she cried. Just before I released her she whimpered, "Thank you."

In this garden of good and evil there are two women whom I adore. It is not they who define the good or the bad but rather their circumstances as they both journey into motherhood. As I look closer I am overwhelmed at the similarities of this garden, here on my street. But all I know is that I was placed here right in the middle of each of them if only to be a friend who had the capacity to understand because of the journey I've taken in my very own garden of good and evil.

Credits: Courtney Frey