“But what do you want to do, Lils?” Sophie turned to me. “Your parents have nothing to do with this, not really.” I snorted at that, thinking she was mistaking my parents for her mum, but she continued to gaze into my eyes. “This is the most personal thing a woman can go through. Have a baby, decide not to proceed with a pregnancy or adopt out the child. You’ll be dealing with each one of those things well after your parents are dead and gone, so you can’t use them as a means to make your decision. This is your body, your choice.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest, ready to refute that, gathering all the ammunition I had to destroy her argument, when I stopped.
It was hard to imagine my life once my parents were gone. It felt like they loomed so large in my existence right now, like somehow I knew they were eternal. But that was part of adulthood, wasn’t it? Realising they were flawed, ordinary people, just like you were. That they made decisions, good or bad, all the time. Like I had to right now.
“I see her,” I said in little more than a whisper, but Sophie’s eyes widened. “In my dreams, I see this little girl. She has his blonde hair and my brown eyes and she’s a little ball tearer. She lifts her chin, obstinate as hell and she dares me to end her existence.”
A little sob escaped me then.
“I always told myself if I got pregnant I’d get an abortion, but, Sophie…”
A sharp cry cut through the air just then and we both turned around. In the playground across the road, a little girl had landed badly, coming down the slippery slide and was wailing in the sand. Her mother rushed over, scooping her up and then holding her to her chest, stroking and soothing the child.
“You want to keep her.”
Her, that was the shift for me. We’d all been very careful to refer to the baby as the foetus or it, because right now, that’s what it was. Just a potential for a human being, one that might become a whole person or one that nature might have other plans for. But I only had control over one aspect. And when we called the baby her, we were doing something else. Choosing to give her that chance to grow and thrive, in the hope that one day she could run and play and trip over, just like the kids in the park.
“I want to keep my baby,” I said with a slow nod, and when I finally articulated a thought that had been percolating inside me since the news broke, I found a peace settled over me, one I hadn’t anticipated experiencing. My hand went to my stomach and when I did, I felt a small curve there that hadn’t been there beforehand. Sophie reached out and put her hand over mine, giving a squeeze.
I knewSophie was my soul sister. I felt far closer to her than my actual brother, and her mother responded far better than mine did when I broke the news. Carmen and Sophie waited in the car as I went to collect all of my stuff from my bedroom, then wait for Mum and Dad to come home. When their faces fell, when they started shouting, I listened for a while, nodding along as they predicted a dire future for me and my child. I just stared at their red, swollen faces, saw their eyes flash and their spittle fly, and I promised, promised right there and then, I would not do this to any child of mine. Then when they exhausted themselves and I was told to get out, I gathered my things and left.
I didn’t cry until I was in the car. Years later my therapist explained that I always waited to break down in a safe space, and the family home wasn’t that. So when we drove away, the two of them just stood on their doorstep fuming, too constrained by upper middle class bullshit to shout after us.
I stayed at the university as long as I could, completing my classes despite the raging morning sickness and lethargy. Carmen had spoken to the dean and cleared me for external study when required. Once the baby arrived, once she was born, I’d continue my studies externally. Sophie and I moved back into her family home. And when Carmen turned her home office into a nursery, I’d dissolved into a bucket of hormonal tears.
“But you can’t!” I’d wailed, at six months along.
“I can and I did,” Carmen replied briskly. “Lily, I couldn’t get into my line of business without loving babies. I could only have Sophie…” She’d looked over at her daughter, misty-eyed, and then my friend had started frantically blinking in response.
“God, stop, Mum, or I’m gonna cry too.”
“So this is a blessing of sorts. We’ll all help as best we can. It’s tough work, having a baby, but…”
Her hand on my shoulder, that squeeze was all I really wanted and needed right then. Someone older than me, wiser than me, telling me it would be OK.
Which waswhat I had right now.
I was squatting on the floor, my body supported by this weird little stool thing, exhaustion and pain fighting a full-scale war with my body.
“One more push,” Carmen said, sweat sticking her hair to her brow. “One more and I think you’ll be ready to meet your little girl.”
“I can’t…!” I wailed. We’d been in here for hours and I was so tired. It was like four in the morning, my body felt like lead and—
“You can.” Sophie’s face swam into view. “You’ve fucking got this, you hear me? You’ve gotten through everything so far. You can’t give up now. Push, Lils! It’s time to make me an aunty!”
So I did, every damn muscle in my body straining, my hands clenched around theirs as I pushed and pushed and pushed…
“Here she comes!”
Everything was a rush then of sensations, sounds and one frantic little gurgle.
“Here’s your baby!” Carmen said, holding out a quivering little red scrap towards me.
I just blinked, trying to reconcile this tiny being with what she was.
“Why does she sound like that?” I asked, a rattling little sound coming from her throat.
“I just need to clear her airways and do a wellness check,” Carmen replied. “But you can hold her first, if you want.”