The Surrogate (#25)

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Synopsis: A mother learns to say goodbye to a legal daughter, and hello to a goddaughter

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Synopsis: A mother learns to say goodbye to a legal daughter, and hello to a goddaughter.

ChickLit Prompt #25

Word Count: 1000

***
Tiny fingers spread out from a flawless palm, reaching a few millimetres across empty space to clutch the thin fabric veiling my chest. Rosy pink flesh, warmed by the strength of a minuscule organ in the cosmos of her body, a baby - my baby - turns to face me.

She has pale cheeks, a little flush from the warmth of the night visible along the sides of face. Her nose is a little too big for her face at the moment, rounded like a button. Her lips contrast to the rest of her skin, dark in colour.

Her eyes are almost shut, a small slither of hazel visible behind a pair of thick eyelashes. It used to scare me until I realised she sleeps with her eyes partially open. "Are you having sweet dreams, Everleigh?" I whisper, placing a kiss onto her forehead. The  flour-like scent of talcum powder fills my nostrils. It's a calming smell - a smell that assures me she's real, resting here in my arms.

Reedy thin lips wobble into a gassy smile, the pale skin at the edges of Everleigh's eyes crinkling with the action. Bubbles of spit drift from her mouth like delicate clouds  being swept clear by a soft breeze.

I slowly finger the silky expanse of black hair on her head, careful to avoid the slight dip of her soft spot. Each stroke against her head makes her small body curl further into mine.

"Ahh," She gargles bringing her full hand back to her mouth, unconsciously shovelling a handful of material into her hungry mouth.

I smile, caressing her chubby cheeks with my fingertips. Standing, I uncurl her fingers from my maternity dress, replacing it with my forefinger. Then,  I wobble on tired legs to a moses basket a few paces away from my bed.

The basket has tall slanted legs that intersect in the centre. A white handle is on the side that slides back and forth for transport options. Opposite this, is a bundle of material that stretches into a hood, shielding Everleigh from the brightness of above. A thin cotton blanket full of holes in the pattern of flowers lays on the mustard yellow bedding.

Making sure not to wake her up, I place Everleigh down, bundling her up so that the blanket reaches just below her armpits. Soft sighs come from her mouth in gentle a whoosh.

"Rest well, darling." I whisper, resting a hand on her cradle.

Outside the room, I hear feet padding against the carpet. Then, there is a quiet knocking on the door and the knob makes a discrete rotation.

A man with bright green eyes and a head of red hair that contrasts against my ebony hair pops his head around the white door-frame. Anthony - the man who helped to bring Everleigh to life eleven months ago.

A man who is there for me ceaselessly, Anthony is one of my closest friends. Him and his partner had been there for me every step of the IVF treatment, every misstep of the pregnancy and every flounder after child birth. He was fully committed to everything concerning his daughter, down to the fact he wanted her breast fed up till two months old, and wanted her to have as much skin on skin contact with us as possible so she could form strong attachments.

His eyes dart around the room, anxious until they rest on the sleeping form of Everleigh. After he spends a moment glancing at the up and down movement of her chest, he spares me a look.

"Kaitlyn," Anthony's voice is deep with anticipation, causing my stomach to stir with nerves. "Are you ready?"

Am I ready?  It's been two months since I first held her in my arms. Two months since my womb was left barren and our world was graced with the sounds of new life. Eleven months of strict eating. Two months of breastfeeding. Two months of doubting, reassuring, doubting some more.

Can I do this?

My hand clutches the edge of the basket, a slight crunch coming from the wooden wicker bassinet. I glance down at my daughter, wondering if I have the strength to stop calling her daughter and start calling her just Everleigh, as I should've been doing from the start. Anthony looks nervous in the corner, afraid I'll back out.

Afraid that today will not be the day when he and his partner are given the rights to his child. Afraid his surrogate will tell him she can't; I can't.

For a second, as I look at my angel, I consider it. But then I think to all the discussions Anthony, Alex and I have had about Everleigh and our roles in her upbringing.

Will she be confused that her godmother is her biological mother?

It will be hard, but as I look at the eyes of my friend I'm reminded that I'm not really leaving my baby. I'm giving parental rights to a couple that I love more than life itself. A couple that hoped for her, dreamed of her, yearned to shower her with parental affection.

Two months of ensuring she would grow strong and the time has come.

I nod, holding out my hand to him. His reassuring grip is immediate, and he hugs me close for a second before letting me free. "Thank you."

It dawns that this is the last time I'll truly be Everleigh's Mum. As she sleeps, I wonder how Everleigh will look back on my decisions when she grows up.  I hope that the love surrounding her helps her understand.

Going downstairs I see a series of documents on the table, outlining the requirements for a valid parental order. Within them, I see the acknowledgement form I'm expected to sign.

"Are you sure about this?" They check, rubbing my back as I shakily sign my name along the dotted lines.

My pen halts.

For the final time I ask myself: Am I sure?

I sign the documents.

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