Chapter 3 - Two Eggs, One Baby
"Did you know the clinic still had one of your eggs?"
Marta nodded. "I knew there was one left."
"Why didn't you use it?"
Her whole face changed, and I knew right away I'd stepped on something raw.
"I tried."
I turned around.
"My husband and I tried for years. We made several embryos. None of them made it."
Her voice dropped. "Then my husband died."
I didn't say anything.
"Car accident. Two years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"After that, I couldn't make myself walk back into that building."
She stared at the carpet. "I kept paying the storage fee because getting rid of that last egg felt like shutting a door I wasn't ready to shut."
That landed harder than she could have known.
I knew exactly what she meant.
"Yesterday they called and said there might have been a mix-up. They said there'd have to be DNA testing."
"And they gave you my address?"
"No."
I frowned. "Then how did you find me?"
"They said your full name during the call. By accident." She looked down, ashamed. "I looked you up in public records. I know I had no right."
"You had no right at all."
"I know." Her voice broke. "I didn't come here to take your daughter."
I looked at her.
"I didn't say you did."
"You were thinking it."
She was right.
"I just needed to know if there was really a baby." She swallowed. "Then you opened the door holding her."
I looked down at Nora. One small fist was pressed to my shirt.
Something came up in me then, fierce and total.
"If the test says she's biologically yours, what happens?"
The color drained out of Marta's face. "I don't know."
"Would you want custody?"
She didn't answer right away.
That pause scared me more than any answer could have.
"I asked you a question."
"I know." She finally looked me dead in the eyes. "I've wanted a child almost my whole adult life."
My throat closed up.
"So have I."
"I know."
"No. You don't."
Her face fell apart. "You're right. I don't know your life."
I sat back down.
For a while neither of us said a word.
Two women.
Two frozen eggs.
Two lives bent out of shape by decades of waiting.
And one sleeping baby between us.
"I've had three days with her," I said, barely above a whisper.
Marta looked at Nora.
"I've had none."
That hurt.
I hated that it hurt.
I wanted so badly for Marta to be the villain. I wanted her to say one selfish, ugly thing so I could hate her with a clear conscience.
Instead she just sat there, completely wrecked.
Nora started to fuss.
I stood and rocked her gently.
"You're okay, sweet girl."
Marta turned her face toward the wall, but I saw the tears running down it.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I heard myself ask, "Do you want to hold her?"
We both looked startled.
Marta stared at me. "Are you sure?"
"No."
For half a second, she almost smiled.
So did I.
I crossed the room slowly.
She held out her arms.
I lowered Nora against her chest.
Marta went stiff as a board.
Then Nora settled.
Marta made a small, broken sound and pressed a hand over her mouth.
"She's so little."
"Seven pounds, two ounces."
She smiled through the crying. "Hi, Nora."
I watched the two of them.
Jealousy came first.
Then fear.
And then, underneath both of those, something I hadn't planned on.
May you like
Compassion.
Somehow that was the hardest one to feel.
