Day 11

We spent that long morning and afternoon in tense conversation. Sarah didn’t say much but Ben did enough talking for the both of them. He lectured me on how far I’d strayed from home and hoe heartbroken Momma and Daddy were. That knowing I was pregnant out of wedlock would kill both of them. I carefully explained that calculated lie I’d used to great effect all pregnancy, that I wasn’t technically pregnant with an illegitimate child, that I was acting as a surrogate mother out of a combination of wanting to help an infertile couple and to raise funds to pay off my student loans. When I spoke of giving up the baby was the only time that Sarah Rachel would speak up, she kept asking, “How can you give up a baby you’ve carried all these months, a sacred gift.” and I’d said plainly, “It’s not my sacred gift.” I described the Collins to them, explaining that the baby would have all the material advantages every child deserved, that they were good people, honest, churchgoing people. I left out the part that I was deeply in love with John Collins.

Turns out that my siblings had a car and were on their way to a Bible college in Pensacola, Florida but had decided to take a weekend to drive down to Biloxi and try to persuade me back into the family fold. Apparently Farmer Henson was still waiting for me to come to my senses, return home and marry him. I told them yet again that I would not be doing that. We ended our visit on something of a stalemate, they disapproving of my life and me unwilling to go back to the family way.

In fact, during their short stay I tried to talk to both of them about the opportunities and pleasures available out in the wide world that we’d all been needlessly sheltered from as children. That not everyone living differently than the family was evil and worldly, that most people had a core of decency and goodness within, even if they didn’t believe in God. My words fell on deaf ears.

I’d been not entirely decided in buying a condo or what I would do but after my siblings disturbing visit I plunged headlong into ownership, going to the beach front development and signing on the dotted line to buy the last condo available in the development, the model home, complete with the furnishings and all. It was about as far as you could get from the sprawling farmhouse I’d grown up in.

Predictably when I got home I got a phone call from my parents. Ben and Sarah had ratted me out and Momma and Daddy furious I’d done this. They equated my surrogacy with prostitution and demanded I come home. This lead to one of the worst fights I’d had with them. Before hanging up my father stated I was now dead to the family for my sins. Fine, I shouted, if you had any real Christian love in your heart you’d understand but all you have is religion and man made laws before I hung up on them.

It didn’t matter anyway because I was packing to move in with the Collins for the last few weeks of my pregnancy. I packed quickly, in a fury to get out of there and get away from my sick family. Even my beloved sister Cynthia Rose was starting to scare me with her various plastic surgeries and how hard looking and sleazy she’d become.

I looked forward to starting my new life, in a new place, after giving birth to this child.

The drive up past Macomb, Mississippi to the Collins house seemed to take forever and I was glad when their house came into view and they both greeted me, excited to a fever pitch to be getting that long wanted child.

The days passed slowly those two weeks, I ate, I slept, I read, and I sat in the sunshine. Annie would not allow me to lift a finger to help out, she buzzed around doing all the cooking, dishwashing, and cleaning, insisting I was to rest. Time seemed to slow down with nothing for me to do.

On the day of the baby’s official due date I was surprised to see the midwife at their home. I asked what she was doing here since I wasn’t in labor and she informed me she was here to break my waters to start the labor. I really didn’t want to do this, having thought I would just wait until I naturally went into labor so I stalled, arguing with the midwife and, for the first time, with Annie. I fled from both to lock myself in my bedroom and call up Cynthia Rose, spilling out how unnerved I was by the insistence of Annie and the midwife that it was time to start my labor.

“What do you care?” Cynthia had laughed between drags on her cigarette, “Let ‘em do what they want to do because the sooner you pop out that brat the sooner you can have your life back. They’d not going to do anything that would harm you or the baby. They want that baby too badly.”

What Cynthia said made sense and I felt a modicum of calm, I came out of the bedroom and agreed to go along with the water breaking before allowing myself to be lead into the extra bedroom they’d set up as a delivery room.

What followed was a day, night and another day I would never forget. The midwife ruptured my waters and the pains began within a few hours, starting off slowly and building to a level I didn’t know if was possible to live through. I was caught in a hell of pain and panic until around five pm the following day I managed to push out a perfectly formed six pound baby girl. Seeing the look on John’s face make it all worth it. He was over the moon over his new daughter. Annie was thrilled too, but her forcing the issue of my water being broken to bring on the baby made me detach just slightly from her. I started thinking that she didn’t give a damn about me, my safety or health, and during the labor I got the distinct feeling that she would have gladly sliced my belly open with a kitchen knife regardless of how it hurt me just to get to the baby. It was a weird eerie feeling.

While I was resting after the birth John snuck into my room while Annie was busy with the baby to tell me how proud of me he was and how deeply he loved me. He sat with me awhile, smoothing my damp hair from my sweaty brow, whispering endearments.

Even though Sarah and Ben had said I would feel something for the baby, some love, I felt nothing. It was simply the byproduct of a not so good moment in my life, a mistake. So I couldn’t begrudge Annie her complete absorption in everything about the baby. I barely saw her after the birth, the midwife came in to check on me and the housekeeper they brought in brought me my meals in my room.

On the fourth day after the birth I was given a clean bill of health by the midwife and told it was time for me to go home. I drove myself home, very shaky and weak and it was only then that the enormity of what I’d really done hit me. I’d ended my place in their household, the first place I ever truly felt unconditionally loved for exactly where I was and I knew it was unlikely I’d hear from John again. I wept and wailed all the way home, pulling off the hwy several times because the tears were coming too hard and fast to see the road.

When I slowly crept up to my front door I saw a sealed envelop taped to it. A handwritten note from my father begging me to come home. I crumbled it and threw it away before crying some more. I felt completely empty in a way I never had before.

As I lay on the sofa crying a soft knock came at the door and John came in, the first time he’d dared to come to my actual apartment. Wordlessly he came him and wrapped me in his arms, shushing my tears and telling me he loved me. Nothing had changed between the two of us. He spent the night with me, a sexless night with him taking care of me after telling me that he’d told Annie he had neglected business to take care of at one of his offices. I felt immediately better. I was loved.

And we fell back into our old habit of being together several times a week from prying eyes and nosy people. Even though I was recovering from the birth and unable to make love we still flew into each others arms. John told me how the baby was doing, showing me photographs. I smiled, nodded and made all the right noises but I still felt no connection to that child even as I’d given birth to it. I kept asking about signing the adoption papers and birth certificate but John said that the midwife had filled out the birth certificate in his wife’s name so that there could be no paper trail leading back to me in years to come. My anonymity was protected. I thought this sounded somewhat off but I said nothing, after all he was a lawyer and knew about these things and I was uninterested in having this child, Emmie, turn up on my doorstep as an adult.

Yeah, they named her an amalgamation of my name, Emily and Annies, Emmie. I groused when I heard the name that it sounded like a televised award show, not the name for a precious little girl.