two doctors, whose tense body language
appeared to be directed at each other. She didn’t like seeing her friends at
odds.
“You can stop fretting,” she told them. “I’ll be placing it, or
them, for adoption.”
Cole gave a start. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t pressure her!” Adrienne snapped.
“I wasn’t,” he replied sharply. “You should learn to
distinguish compassion from control.”
Great. They’d gone from glaring at each other to fighting.
Stacy hated to think how the rest of the Safe Harbor staff—already overly
invested in the belief that one person’s business was everyone’s business—might
react to the situation.
“Listen, both of you,” she ordered. “This is my decision, and I
don’t want the entire world weighing in. Let’s be clear on that.”
“ I’m perfectly clear on it,” Cole
said. “However, this pregnancy is my responsibility, too.”
“I’m aware that fathers have legal rights,” she said, all the
more irritable for her unwanted prickle of tears. “What are you planning to do?
Sue for custody and raise a houseful of kids on your own?”
His mouth opened in astonishment. Finally, he said, “That’s not
even close to what I meant.”
“Are you sure? I’d be happy to provide diapering lessons,”
Adrienne remarked drily.
“Very funny,” Cole muttered.
Stacy ignored the exchange. If, in spite of her efforts, the
doctors insisted on baiting each other, let them go at it. “There’s no reason to
broadcast my condition. It’ll just cause embarrassment for the egg donor
program, among other things.”
Adrienne’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t considered that. Oh, my.
What will Dr. Tartikoff say?”
“If he blows his top, I’ll tell him to suck it up,” Cole
said.
Stacy laughed. It felt good to have him on her side when it
came to the powers that be. “We’re not telling anyone anything until I’m ready,”
she told Adrienne. “That includes Harper.”
“I’ll be sure to watch my tongue when I pick up Reggie
tomorrow,” her friend replied. The little boy was spending the night again.
Although he stayed at a child care provider’s home on the weeknights Adrienne
worked, the sitter sometimes had family obligations on Fridays. “Eva will give
you prenatal vitamins and schedule the ultrasound in a couple of weeks. That’s
the earliest we’re likely to detect anything.”
“Thanks, Adrienne.”
When Cole helped Stacy down from the examining table, his touch
felt cool and steady. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said.
Stacy nodded. As soon as the pair had left, she began changing
into her clothes.
Now that the reality of the pregnancy had begun to sink in, she
wasn’t as distressed as she might have expected. Giving life to more babies was
a gift, not a tragedy.
Stacy recalled how, when she’d received Una’s text saying We’re mommies! a
profound emptiness had swept over her. Another woman was carrying her baby. Now
she had her own baby to carry.
And give to someone else.
Still, it was exciting to be part of the process, no matter how
strongly her brain protested that she faced a long, uncomfortable road ahead.
And that giving the baby up might be heart-wrenching.
Stacy’s mom had told her once that she had a gift for reaching
out to others. During high school, when her sister, Ellie, had gone through a
rebellious phase, it was Stacy who’d brought her and their parents together to
clear the air. When her mother went through menopause and became so grouchy she
and Dad suffered a rough patch, Stacy had waged a campaign to remind them of how
much they loved and needed each other. Now they were happier than ever.
She could endure a few tough months. The payoff would come when
she saw how much this baby meant to an infertile couple.
Stacy emerged to find Cole leaning against the wall, his
wistful expression brightening when he saw her. Suddenly, the next few months
didn’t look so bleak, after all.
From the waiting room came the
appeared to be directed at each other. She didn’t like seeing her friends at
odds.
“You can stop fretting,” she told them. “I’ll be placing it, or
them, for adoption.”
Cole gave a start. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t pressure her!” Adrienne snapped.
“I wasn’t,” he replied sharply. “You should learn to
distinguish compassion from control.”
Great. They’d gone from glaring at each other to fighting.
Stacy hated to think how the rest of the Safe Harbor staff—already overly
invested in the belief that one person’s business was everyone’s business—might
react to the situation.
“Listen, both of you,” she ordered. “This is my decision, and I
don’t want the entire world weighing in. Let’s be clear on that.”
“ I’m perfectly clear on it,” Cole
said. “However, this pregnancy is my responsibility, too.”
“I’m aware that fathers have legal rights,” she said, all the
more irritable for her unwanted prickle of tears. “What are you planning to do?
Sue for custody and raise a houseful of kids on your own?”
His mouth opened in astonishment. Finally, he said, “That’s not
even close to what I meant.”
“Are you sure? I’d be happy to provide diapering lessons,”
Adrienne remarked drily.
“Very funny,” Cole muttered.
Stacy ignored the exchange. If, in spite of her efforts, the
doctors insisted on baiting each other, let them go at it. “There’s no reason to
broadcast my condition. It’ll just cause embarrassment for the egg donor
program, among other things.”
Adrienne’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t considered that. Oh, my.
What will Dr. Tartikoff say?”
“If he blows his top, I’ll tell him to suck it up,” Cole
said.
Stacy laughed. It felt good to have him on her side when it
came to the powers that be. “We’re not telling anyone anything until I’m ready,”
she told Adrienne. “That includes Harper.”
“I’ll be sure to watch my tongue when I pick up Reggie
tomorrow,” her friend replied. The little boy was spending the night again.
Although he stayed at a child care provider’s home on the weeknights Adrienne
worked, the sitter sometimes had family obligations on Fridays. “Eva will give
you prenatal vitamins and schedule the ultrasound in a couple of weeks. That’s
the earliest we’re likely to detect anything.”
“Thanks, Adrienne.”
When Cole helped Stacy down from the examining table, his touch
felt cool and steady. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said.
Stacy nodded. As soon as the pair had left, she began changing
into her clothes.
Now that the reality of the pregnancy had begun to sink in, she
wasn’t as distressed as she might have expected. Giving life to more babies was
a gift, not a tragedy.
Stacy recalled how, when she’d received Una’s text saying We’re mommies! a
profound emptiness had swept over her. Another woman was carrying her baby. Now
she had her own baby to carry.
And give to someone else.
Still, it was exciting to be part of the process, no matter how
strongly her brain protested that she faced a long, uncomfortable road ahead.
And that giving the baby up might be heart-wrenching.
Stacy’s mom had told her once that she had a gift for reaching
out to others. During high school, when her sister, Ellie, had gone through a
rebellious phase, it was Stacy who’d brought her and their parents together to
clear the air. When her mother went through menopause and became so grouchy she
and Dad suffered a rough patch, Stacy had waged a campaign to remind them of how
much they loved and needed each other. Now they were happier than ever.
She could endure a few tough months. The payoff would come when
she saw how much this baby meant to an infertile couple.
Stacy emerged to find Cole leaning against the wall, his
wistful expression brightening when he saw her. Suddenly, the next few months
didn’t look so bleak, after all.
From the waiting room came the
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