My hand probably felt like a dead, sweaty fish when I took hers, but she was kind enough not to react.
“Nice to meet you.”
When she’d released my hand, I wiped my palm on my jeans while Hilary began rifling through the leather briefcase she’d carried in, talking the whole time.
“There’s a lot to go over about what you should expect andwhat’s expected of you, as well as your options. We also have some paperwork for you to sign. It’s going to be overwhelming, but don’t forget that I’m here if you have any questions or concerns. I’m your counselor, and it’s my job to make this as easy for you as possible.”
She pulled a thick stack of forms from the briefcase and laid them on the table between us. I’d never bought a house, but I imagined the mortgage papers wouldn’t be nearly as thick as the contract I was about to sign was. It was overwhelming and had my dread intensifying. Why were there so many forms? What the hell was I about to be thrust into?
Most of the papers were white and filled with words, but there was also what appeared to be a brochure on top of the pile, which was what Hilary focused on first.
“This goes over the basics of what to expect,” she said, passing the brochure to me. “It gets to the point without bogging you down with legal terms, which I think a lot of women find helpful.”
Her smile was nothing like the receptionist’s, which had seemed practiced and matched the façade whoever had designed the waiting room had wanted to create, and I tried to let it comfort me as I stared at the brightly colored brochure. It was trifold, the front pink and half taken up by an image of a smiling woman staring down at her round stomach, the wordsMaking the world a better place one baby at a timefront and center.
Even though I had no desire to read the thing, I opened it and scanned the pages.
The information wasn’t new, but I still took the time to absorb each and every word. It talked about the pandemics and decimation of the human race before going into the decline in fertility over the last twenty-five years, then the passing of The Fertility Act in 2047. The wording was upbeat and hopeful, like whoever had written it thought they could fool women into thinking all of this was normal if they just worded it right, but it didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, and when I’d finished reading it, I couldn’t help wondering what the point had been.
I set it on the table and focused on Hilary, waiting for her to get into the meat of the situation.
“Okay.” She clapped her hands, her smile widening. “Now we’re at the part where you ask your questions.”
“I don’t have any.”
Her smile wavered, but only for a moment before returning to its full grandeur. “That’s good. But remember, if at any time you do have one, be sure to speak up.”
“I will,” I said, my tone flat.
Again, her smile flickered, making me realize that while it didn’t seem as practiced as Department of Fertility Barbie’s had, I shouldn’t let this woman fool me. She wasn’t my friend.
“The first thing we need to go over,” Hilary began as she shuffled through the papers, “is how you want to go about this. You know there are options, of course.” She waited to see if I would say anything, then went on. “You’re free to choose your own donor, either a spouse, significant other, or friend. They will have to be tested to make sure they’re healthy and fertile as well, but fewer men have been affected by the pandemics, and most of the time, that isn’t an issue. Is that something you’d be interested in?”
I hesitated, thinking about Trevor.
He was right. No one was going to give a gay man a baby these days, not even one who was in a relationship. Not that Trevor was. Lesbian couples were different since, assuming one or both were fertile, they had to participate in the program just like straight women, and just like straight women, it was up to them whether or not they kept the baby. Gay men, however, only got a child if they knew someone who was willing to parent with them. There were too many people desperate to adopt these days, and even though the government didn’t come right out and say it, they favored heterosexual couples. It wasn’t fair, but that didn’t mean I thought the task of providing my best friend with a baby should rest on my shoulders. The idea of seeing the child I’d given up every day for the rest of my life was repugnant. We could co-parent like he’d suggested, but that wasn’t something I wanted or even thought I could do. I wasn’t mom material.
“I don’t have anyone,” I finally said.
Hilary hesitated once again but her smile didn’t falter in the least when she proclaimed, “A donor it is, then!”
Her jubilation was so at odds with my mood that it was impossible not to cringe, but to her credit, she pretended not to notice and went on.
“I’m sure you know about the opt-out clause, but I’ll go over it anyway,” she continued. “While it’s important for fertile women to work to continue the human race, the government understands that not all women want to or are capable of being mothers. Which is why you will have the option of giving your baby to a stable family after it’s born. This isn’t a decision you have to make right now and no matter what you decide, you can change your mind at any time up to twelve hours after delivery. Once the deadline has passed, however, you cannot under any circumstances have your baby returned to you and where it goes will never be revealed. Do you understand?”
It was my turn to hesitate. “Will I get a say in who adopts the baby?”
“No,” Hilary said firmly. “There are literally thousands of applicants, and each one is vetted by the government before they’re put on a waiting list. It should also be noted that your child will not be given to a family anywhere near you. This is done for multiple reasons, one of which being that we can’t have you interfering with the child’s life down the road, but also because of bloodlines. We have donors who go through the program multiple times, and we can’t risk kids who are biologically related potentially having a romantic or sexual relationship.”
I shuddered and hugged myself. “That would be awful.”
As if me expressing an emotion she approved of lifted her mood, Hilary gave a genuine smile. “The government does keep close tabs on these kids, so the odds of that happening are very slim.”
Talk about Big Brother.
“I won’t be keeping my baby,” I said despite the dread twisting my insides into knots.
Hilary twisted her mouth into a sympathetic expression. “Iknow you think that now, but remember, you can always change your mind. And women do. It’s not easy giving up a baby, and becoming attached is understandable. And remember, if you choose to keep the child once it’s born, the government is here for you, so don’t worry about being alone just because you’re single. We won’t abandon you. No matter what.”
