haven’t been ready to stop for so long. I just wasn’t ready to let go. I’m not sure if I really am, but I do have to accept that my husband is dead. That I won’t be having his baby, because...because I just can’t.’ Abbie’s chest felt as if it had a thick weight pressing on it. ‘I tried. God knows, I tried.’
Twisting the edge of the duvet in her fingers, she rallied. ‘So, I’m moving on. I’m going to leave NICU because I just can’t face working with those little ones every day. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m determined that this time next year I’m going to be in a new job. At least, maybe my career can be my baby instead? That’s something to look forward to, right? I’ve actually made the decision to let go. It hurts like hell, but...’ Actually, it felt like a betrayal for everything she’d promised Michael, for everything they’d worked towards. She was betraying him and it felt like a knife in her heart. But... ‘Anyway, no more hormones, so that’s a relief. Well, happy Christmas to me. I may even put a tree up next year too. Who knows? Oh, and I got you both a present but they’re at home. Right. What do you think?’
‘Oh, honey, I know what it’s taken for you to say that. I think you need a break and some rest and some time.’ Emma wrapped her in a hug. ‘But it is lovely to see you being positive.’
Abbie blew out a long sigh. ‘Okay, so you don’t think I’m giving up too easily? Good. Thanks. So, what do you have to tell me?’
‘Rosie, love... Let me show you how to do this. Look, you can draw pictures...’ Emma sat her daughter on a chair and gave her the little tablet device. After promising she wouldn’t let technology become a babysitter, maybe she was learning it could be a good distraction tool for a few minutes. ‘Okay, Abbie. I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching. I...don’t actually know how to say this...’ Emma laughed nervously. ‘I want to do something for you. Nursing a husband through cancer is bad enough, but losing baby after baby was killing you. And I love that you want a new job and everything instead of a baby and that you’re trying to be brave, but I also know that that’s something you’ve always dreamt about since we were little. You’d be a fabulous mum. You of all people deserve to have a baby—yours and Michael’s. So...’ Emma slipped her hand over Abbie’s. ‘I want to have it for you.’
‘You...what?’ Joy swam across Abbie’s chest, swiftly followed by panic and anxiety and...well, guilt and shame that she couldn’t do this herself. But, immense gratitude. And hope. Yes, hope fluttering in her chest—it was strange to feel something like this after so long. ‘You want to have a baby for me? What? How?’
‘I want to be the surrogate, the oven. I’ll cook your baby.’ Emma’s eyes narrowed and she looked a little panicked now too. ‘Is that a really bad idea? It’s okay. I just thought—’
Her baby. Michael’s baby. Carried to term. Their baby. A precious tiny gift. ‘But there’s so much... I don’t know... It’s a surprise. It’s a miracle.’
‘A good one?’
‘Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Thank you. I can’t even... I just don’t know what to say. Wow. How? I don’t know...’
‘Ways and means. Let me do this for you, please. I’ve seen the way you look at Rosie and it breaks my heart that you have so much love to give. You’ve been with me every step of the way through the good and the bad and...’ Emma smiled softly over at her daughter and Abbie knew she was referring to Rosie’s dad ‘...and the very ugly. You’ve been my rock and now I want to be yours. Please say yes.’
Abbie’s heart felt as if it would explode. But there were so many questions running through her head too. How would she feel with her baby inside someone else? What would they tell other people? Rosie? Would she understand? Would their families?
What if you change your mind?
Surrogates did. And battles started. Friendships broke. She shoved that away. That would never happen. Their friendship was tight, and, oh, what a gift. A baby. ‘Yes! Yes. If that’s what you want. Yes. I’d love it. Oh, my God! Imagine! Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you to bits.’
‘Yeah, you’ll do too. Oh, and happy Christmas.’ More tears glistened in Emma’s eyes. Commitment shone through, and love, as she hugged her again for the zillionth time in twenty-odd years. ‘Excellent. Right then, let’s get cooking.’
Ten and a half months later...
‘ER... I THINK we’re having an alien.’
‘Or a windmill. Look at those arms and legs moving.’
Trying to make out the shapes on the black and white screen was getting easier the further the pregnancy progressed. Today, they could see the baby in its entirety, filling the screen, all the features as clear as day. A stubby nose. Like Michael’s? The bow lips. Mine? The rapid-fire heartbeat filled the room. Wow.
With a mix of sadness and epic excitement Abbie blinked back tears and squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Oops, it’s pass-the-tissues time. I’m being such a wuss, but I just can’t believe it’s real.’
‘You’ve said that at every scan and every appointment. And a million times every day since the positive test. Not believing it’s real hasn’t stopped you shopping up a storm, though.’ Laughing, Emma patted her swollen belly. ‘Should we find out the gender?’
The sonographer looked up from the scanner screen. ‘You want to know?’
‘No. No.’ It didn’t feel right for some reason. Abbie stared at the screen and convinced herself the images weren’t that clear really. She wasn’t ready to hear she was having a mini-Michael. When she thought about him she wished he were here with her, getting all gooey about their child. He should have been here, holding her hand. Hell, she should have been the pregnant one, not Emma. But life hadn’t granted her all the wishes she’d had and everything was happening out of sync. Suddenly, she felt a little deflated. ‘Let’s leave it as a surprise. Is that okay, Em?’
‘Hey...it’s your baby, after all.’ Emma grinned and Abbie just knew her friend was watching to see the sonographer’s reaction. The story of their baby was pretty unusual; surrogacy wasn’t something they came across every day in little old Queenstown. ‘Anyway, I think I know what sex it is and I bet I’m right. I’m one of those people who knows they’re pregnant before the test shows up positive, and I’m convinced I know the gender because I’m carrying in a particular way. But my lips are sealed.’
‘The main thing,’ Abbie ventured, because this was a question continually on her lips, in her thoughts—and after everything that had happened, who could blame her for having just the odd nugget of panic? ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Absolutely fine.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Here’s a picture for you both so you can see just how perfect baby is.’ The sonographer smiled. ‘I’ll sort you out a DVD too. Yes, Abbie, baby is doing just fine for thirty-four weeks. And Mum...er...sorry, Emma is doing great too.’
Awkward. But it wasn’t the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Emma wiped the jelly off her belly and sat up. ‘I feel great. And don’t worry, we get that
