I was worried I would turn into one of those hormonal women you see on TV who absolutely cannot get it together, but I mostly just felt like I had PMS. Mom and Mrs. Thaysden might have caught the side effects instead. They had lain on each others’ shoulders, clutching handkerchiefs and crying. Mr. Thaysden had muttered a bit about “real men,” and my dad opened the bourbon. But, all in all, it could have been worse.
I mean, I had obviously had at least one full-on freak-out. I was becoming pregnant with my neighbor’s baby. A freak-out was in order, right? It had started out quietly, as mine mostly do. I’m a serious internal processor, so I tend to keep things bottled up, which, as we all know, isveryhealthy.
I’d had some mounting concerns as implantation day got closer. And by “mounting concerns,” I mean an endless supply of worst-case scenarios coursing through my mind on anendless loop. Fun thoughts like that I could hemorrhage and die or that God had made me so I didn’t make eggs so I wouldn’t have babies, and now I was absolutely going to die because I was bucking the plan. Or that both embryos would take and one of the babies die in utero and I’d have to deliver both of them and one was stillborn and the other one was way too premature. Or that both eggs would split a bunch of times and I’d end up on the cover ofStaras the new Octomom. Or that Parker would freak out, change his mind, and I’d end up having to keep this baby I never wanted because it’s not like I would just give it to a stranger.
Did I mention any of this to Parker? No. Of course not. Because keeping it all bottled up and not bothering anyone with your problems is amuchbetter idea.
Two nights before the implantation, I was up panicking (this time because I hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks and that was for sure going to keep the embryos from implanting). Nothing calms you back down and puts you right back to sleep quite like panicking about not sleeping. But finally I couldn’t stand the gentle whir of the ceiling fan or the feel of the world’s softest sheets and heaviest but also coolest comforter on my body. So I got up and walked out of the glass door in my bedroom, tiptoeing across the deck, across the yard, and to the end of our dock, which was closer than Parker’s. I walked down to the end of the floating dock so I could submerge my feet in the cool water. I wasn’t even pregnant yet, and already my feet and ankles felt a little swollen. I briefly envisioned a shark breaking the perfect silenceand stillness of the night, soaring up out of the water, and chomping my foot off.
Parker and I didn’t have a clause in the contract about whether I would still carry the babies if I’d had a recent dismemberment.
I heard a noise on the dock behind me and turned to look. Not a land-walking, oxygen-breathing shark. Just Parker.
“Oh, good,” he said. “I didn’t want to scare you.” He sat down beside me and squeezed my knee. “I know. I’m freaking out, too.”
I felt like I finally exhaled for the first time in about six months. “You are?”
“Are you kidding me? Lia, I’ve literally never held a baby. Not once.”
I laughed. “Well, you seem very confident and unflappable.”
“I have to. Can you imagine if I showed even an ounce of weakness to those vultures?” He pointed to the two big houses. “They would eat me alive. TheI told you sos would be heard ’round the world.”
I laughed. “I’m worried about everything, Parker. But, if I’m being honest, my biggest worry is that this isn’t going to work, and it’s going to be all my fault, that I got your hopes up and then dashed them in the ultimate way.”
He squeezed my knee again, and I was suddenly aware that I was wearing striped flannel pajamas. Parker looked me straight in the eye and said, “Amelia, this is the first time my hopes have been up in more years than I’d like to say. If high hopes are all that comes out of this, that’s enough.”
I couldn’t help the tears rolling down my cheeks. I wanted to say something about how between his brother and Greer he had been through so much. But I couldn’t. All I could do was pray to God or the moon or the still, cool water or anyone who was listening that I got to give Parker Thaysden something to feel happy about.
“Are you sure you don’t want to be involved in their lives?” he asked me for the thousandth time. But we had talked about this over and over again. It was even in our contract.
“Park, I just can’t. My job here is to give birth to your children, help you get acclimated for a few days after and walk away. I’ll see them. I’ll be Aunt Amelia.”
“And they’ll know you gave birth to them,” he added firmly.
“They’ll know,” I said. “Of course, they’ll know. I gave birth to them, but Greer is their mother.” I looked over at him, as he was looking out over the water. His cheeks were sun-kissed from the boat and his hair slightly disheveled. I loved him most like this, in an old pair of gym shorts and Summer Splash and Fish tournament T-shirt, his guard down. The Palm Beach man in the suit was powerful and sexy. But this man was vulnerable and kind. I squeezed his shoulder, and when he turned to look at me, I nearly melted. And I allowed myself to envision, just for a moment, what it would be like if I stayed.…
Now, postimplantation, I was back to being sure that the only option I had was to walk away. It was too complicated otherwise. After a soft knock at the door, Trina, who hadbeen waiting on the front porch of the octagon house to help me when we got home, walked in carrying a tray of steaming soup, while Parker fluffed my pillow for the tenth time. Everyone was treating me like I was sick, not potentially pregnant.
The doctor had advised twenty-four hours of bed rest, and then I was supposed to somehow figure out how to wait two entire weeks to figure out whether I was pregnant. It would be the longest two weeks of my life, even longer than the two weeks that my parents had shipped me off to a camp where you actually camped. Like outside. In tents. With no bathrooms. It was full-on atrocious.
“Your shoulders feel tense,” Parker said, sitting down beside me on the bed, rubbing them, his strong, callused hands feeling manly and good through my thin cotton dress. I closed my eyes as his fingers ran up the back of my neck.
“This is my special, super-duper pregnancy soup,” Trina said, making me open my eyes again. She had had three boys in three years, so I meant it when I said, “Seems like it works!”
She laughed.
Anything that might help me not let Parker down was fine by me. So, the memory of his touch on my skin lingering, I sipped the fertility soup. I think it was just chicken noodle, but whatever.
“I hope this works out,” Trina said. “You would be such a good mom.”
Maybe I hadn’t been clear enough with Trina. “No, no,” I said uneasily. “Parker is their dad. I’m just the surrogate. Nine months and my job here is done.” I looked at Parker to makesure Trina’s comment hadn’t rattled him and saw a cloud pass over his face.
I gestured to the stack of books on the table. “Well, friends, I need to do my implantation meditation.” (Yes. I was visualizing the embryos implanting. What could it hurt?) “And then I think I might dive into one of these amazing books and take a little nap.”
Parker jumped up. “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need the TV remote or anything?”
“Honey,” Trina said, raising her eyebrow, “you’d better take him up on this while it lasts.” She paused. “And trust me. It doesn’t last long.” I shooed them both out of my room. I closed my eyes, visualizing the babies implanting, the way my stomach would grow over the next nine months or so, how I would give birth to these two big, happy, healthy babies. As my visualization continued, though, Parker wasn’t taking them home from the hospital alone. I was there, too.
