Who Forgot Their Baby?
a situation I hope never to be in
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This week, a story about a couple that raised a baby they found on the subway in NYC went viral. I guess it went viral again. From what I can tell, this story made a strong splash when the baby was originally found (c. 2001/2002) as well, but this is the first time I’ve heard of the whole situation.
If you aren’t going to read the article linked above, here is the TL;DR. A man found a fresh-born baby on the subway twenty years ago. He called the authorities, and then a judge was like, “want it?” He eventually adopted the child. He and his husband raised the kid, and now they have a twenty-year-old son. Happily ever after.
Since reading it, the story has been stuck in my head because it’s a perfect what would you do?
Something about the subway-baby scenario pulls at my heartstrings. It pulls so much that it almost makes me believe that I would want to keep the kid too. Twist! Right? Maybe it is just because I’m a big mush for a good story, and this is an objectively good story? Or maybe it’s because finders keepers? Unclear.
In most of these what-ifs, I assume that I would absolve myself of responsibility and let someone else take the kid. There are so many couples eager to adopt, and it seems like finding Baby a home would be pretty easy. In fact, I can think of several couples I’m personally acquainted with going through the adoption process right now. It seems brutal, and I respect the hell out of y’all who are strong enough to weather that process (and the process of parenthood altogether).
It’s funny that the subway thing makes me lean toward the keep it because I’m not super eager to be a parent. For a long time, I even felt that I actively disliked all children. That turned out to not always be true, though. When my dear friend Catie had her firstborn, Lyla, I felt that true love thing people are always going on about. I didn’t even know that I had the capacity for such feelings, but it did happen, and I was like, “Huh. Growth.”
All of this to say, kids are not entirely off the table for Blaine and me. One of the understandings we had between us when we got engaged, actually, was that they are on the table, but we’re technically undecided. When it comes up, we often talk about the idea of kids vs. the realities of kids, and what that would mean for us. We negotiate all the typical stuff like money, travel, politics, and the likelihood that our dependents would probably bear the stress of humankind’s literal end (you know…climate change, war, Facebook, etc.).
As the years go by, it seems that we are getting farther and farther away from wanting children of our own, but who knows. We have a lot of life ahead of us, and I guess I’m supposed to “never say never.”
The story about the man finding the baby on the subway also reminded me of a one-minute play I wrote called Who Forgot Their Baby?
Here is that script.
—
Who Forgot Their Baby?
A subway car.
An unaccompanied baby sits in a stroller on one end of the car, and RHODA steps onto the other end of the train. They are the only people in this car.
RHODA looks around for another person.
RHODA: Shit…I see you over there. Don’t look at me. I can’t help you.
BABY: ---
RHODA: No. Nope. I don’t get it - I don’t know why you’re alone, but no- not today. I’m late for work. I’m already late for work, baby!
BABY: ---
RHODA: Why are you by yourself?
The train stops at another station. No one enters the car.
RHODA: Dammit, baby. Are you good? What do you need?
BABY: ---
RHODA stares down the baby. She walks up to the stroller, grabs it. She looks at the baby tenderly.
The train stops at another station, and the doors open. RHODA pushes the stroller onto the platform and gets back in the car while shouting through the doors.
RHODA: Hey - hey lady! I don’t know who’s baby this is. You gotta take it. I’m late for work.
The doors close, and RHODA continues on the train.
End of Play.
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