Zoe put down the phone, then forced herself to sit down and think. She pressed her palms on the kitchen table, but her fingers still trembled. More than three years had passed since they’d agreed that Nadia would be a surrogate mother for Zoe and Lachlan, and finally the baby was coming. Today.
It wasn’t meant to happen yet; the baby wasn’t due for another four weeks. Nadia had gone to a routine check-up with the obstetrician, but her blood pressure was too high, and she was on her way to the hospital. They needed to get the baby out. Today. But Zoe wasn’t ready, and Lachlan wasn’t due home for almost two weeks. Then the shock subsided a little, and a swell of excitement took its place. It made no difference whether she was prepared or if Lachlan was away: her baby was coming.
Zoe picked up the phone again and called Lachlan’s mobile, but it went straight to voicemail. She scrolled through her contacts and found the site office number. It rang and rang, but no one answered. Zoe tried the mobile again, left a message, then sent a text message. She stood up, twisting her long dark hair into a bun and securing it with the hair elastic from around her wrist. She couldn’t afford to wait for Lachlan to ring back; she had to get to the hospital. At least she had the overnight bag ready. They had already agreed that she would stay with Nadia in her room after the birth so she could bond with the baby while Nadia breastfed to establish her milk supply; in preparation, Zoe had packed toiletries and clothes for herself, and pink outfits for the baby.
She thought back to the day of the scan when they’d found out the baby’s sex. Eddie hadn’t come; it was just Zoe, Nadia and Lachlan. Nadia lay quietly on the bed in the scanning room with her top hiked up while the sonographer ran the probe over her pregnant belly. She had wiped away a tear as the grainy images appeared on the screen on the wall, then turned her head away. Zoe had squeezed her hand, but Nadia had brushed her off, then sat up, wiped the jelly off her abdomen and pulled down her top. The sonographer had printed out the strip of black-and-white ultrasound images, then held them out to Nadia. They had all paused, and the sonographer blushed, mumbling that she’d print out a second set. Nadia had nodded, reached out her hand for the photos and stared at them; Zoe’s heart had pounded as she waited for her copies. That was how she had felt for the whole pregnancy: like an outsider hovering over her sister, waiting to be invited into the experience. She took a deep breath; it didn’t matter now. Her baby girl was coming, and this would be behind them.
Half an hour later, Zoe was driving to the hospital, grateful for the quiet midday traffic. She knew exactly where to park, thanks to the hospital tour she’d taken with Nadia, just like any other expectant mother. She knew there was no rush – Eddie had promised on the phone that they would wait for her – but she didn’t want to miss a moment. When she was a few minutes away from the hospital, her phone rang. She answered it, holding the mobile between her left shoulder and ear as she drove.
‘Lachlan, thank God! I’ve been trying to call you for ages. I told you, you have to be contactable all the time at the moment!’
‘Sorry, I just got the message. So the baby’s coming already? Where are you?’ His voice sounded strange: flat and distant.
‘I’m almost at the hospital. Nadia went for her check-up and her blood pressure’s too high and her legs are swollen and they say she has pre-eclampsia so they’re admitting her now. Eddie said the doctor wants to do the caesarean today!’
‘Shit. Are you OK? I’m —’
‘You have to come back, now! I’ll ask them to wait – you might just make it. When’s the next flight? Or can you get a car and drive? It might be quicker, although that’s, what, six hours? I just don’t know yet how serious it is and if they can do it at night or wait until tomorrow.’
Lachlan’s voice shook. ‘I won’t make it.’
‘What do you mean? Just try.’ Zoe paused as Lachlan sniffed. ‘Are you crying? Oh, Lachlan, it’s OK, you might make it. Don’t be upset, please … Just go straight to the airport and get on the next flight. They’ll make room for you if you tell them you’re about to be a dad!’
‘What about the baby? Will she be OK?’
‘Oh God, I hope so. I think so …’ Zoe had been so caught up with contacting Lachlan and getting to the hospital that she hadn’t really considered that her baby girl might not be OK. Until now.
She indicated left and pulled over. Eddie and Nadia were together at the hospital now, making plans without her, while Lachlan was six hundred kilometres away in the desert. She could picture him sitting in the site office that teetered on the edge of the super pit, the open-cut gold mine carved deep into the rust-coloured earth, terraced edges of rock descending deep into the ground, while giant trucks hauled tonnes of minerals up the winding road around the edge of the mine. Zoe had gone there with him once. She’d wanted to see where he spent half his life. They had driven east from Perth, past road trains caked with thick red dust heading to the city, past the villages of the hills, over the Darling Scarp to the wide open spaces of the desert. They’d followed the golden pipeline that pumped water from the Mundaring Weir to the towns of the goldfields, hundreds of kilometres away. As they drove, Lachlan had told her the story of C.Y. O’Connor, the pipeline’s engineer, who never lived to see the water flow, instead only ever hearing the attacks and criticisms of those who were convinced he’d fail. Thinking back to that long, hot drive, Zoe realised how far they were from each other now. She began to cry.
Lachlan spoke more steadily. ‘Zoe, it’s OK, it’s not that early.’
‘It’s four weeks!’
‘The doctors know what they’re doing. Don’t cry, it’s good news, our baby is coming.’
She could barely breathe. ‘But you’re not here, and you’re going to miss it.’
‘Zoe, stop. Stop!’
She held the phone away, slowing her breathing, then wiped her eyes and nose. Lachlan was right; she had to calm down. ‘Sorry. I’m just … scared. I need you here with me …’
‘Listen to me. Just get to the hospital. I’ll get there as soon as I can, even if I have to walk.’
Zoe laughed through her tears. ‘Don’t you dare. The last thing I need is you running off into the desert and getting lost. Just … just hurry, Lachlan. Please.’
His voice was thick. ‘I will. I’ll try … I just have to sort out a few things here.’
‘I know, but —’
‘I said I’ll try!’ he shouted.
Zoe froze, startled. Lachlan rarely raised his voice to her. He was usually the one who calmed her down, but then again, he must feel so powerless, knowing he was so far away. ‘That’s OK, babe, I know you’ll try. I’m just worried. It’s our baby, Lach.’
‘I’m doing my best!’ His voice cracked; it sounded like he was crying.
‘I know, I know, sorry … I love you, Lachlan. I just don’t want you to miss this.’ She spoke gently, trying to soothe him.
‘No, I’m sorry. It’s just crazy here at the moment. I love you too. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve sorted something out.’
Zoe ended the call and stared at the phone. Despair welled up in her at the realisation that she was going into this, the birth, on her own, but she breathed deeply until she felt in control again. She wasn’t alone; Nadia and Eddie were there, and they were all in this together. There was no need to be frightened; she should be excited. Her baby was coming. Everything else was insignificant.
Nadia gazed down at the little red face of the baby lying against her bare chest, at her swollen lips, still a little blue, and the sticky dark strands of hair on her head. But rather than having Eddie’s dark eyes, as Charlotte and Violet and Harry all had when they were born, this baby’s eyes were blue, like Lachlan’s – and her own. And the baby looked like her in other ways: her fair skin, and her strawberry-blonde eyelashes. But she was the aunt, not the mother. She had to remember that.
Nadia started to shiver; suddenly she was freezing. Her jaw trembled, her teeth chattered, her legs shook. Eddie pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. She held the baby closer to her, breathing her in. She wished she could have stayed pregnant and kept the baby all to herself for a few weeks longer, even a day; any time longer than now, when she had to let her go. Nadia couldn’t take her eyes off the child, but she could hear Zoe sniffling at the end of the bed, and she knew that her sister was desperate to hold the baby. Her baby. But Nadia needed a moment longer.
The infant opened her eyes, just a little, and squinted at Nadia, looking puzzled. She remembered that gaze from birthing her other children, that moment when a mother and child were bonded forever by something other than a physical connection. Nadia knew she had to hand her over now, before it was too late. She cradled the baby in her arms, then, as her tears began to fall, she closed her eyes and held out the little bundle.
‘Take her,’ she whispered.
‘Are you —?’ Zoe said.
‘Just take her.’
Nadia kept her eyes closed and felt the infant being lifted from her arms. She let her arms hover in the air for a moment, crossed at the wrists, holding nothing but the weight of air. She heard Zoe’s footsteps retreat to the far corner of the room, her whispered greetings to the child, her sobs of relief. The baby snuffled, mewled. Nadia could practically feel the oxytocin surging through her body in response, rushing to her womb, her breasts, her heart, the messenger of the most basic human instinct, to feed your newborn and hold her close.
She opened her eyes and looked at her arms, still held aloft, then let them slowly drop. She gripped the sheets, to ground herself and prevent herself from leaping off the bed. She couldn’t look over at Zoe, who was laughing and crying with the baby, so she turned her head towards Eddie. He was pale, and his eyes darted around the room. She could see how confused he was, how wrong it felt to have watched your wife give birth to a child, then watch her give that child away. She reached out for his hand; he squeezed it. They looked at each other, eyes wild, but neither of them said a word. Nadia put her other hand on top of her abdomen, just under her breasts, far away from the caesarean stitches; here, less than an hour before, her baby had slept and grown and kicked and tumbled. Already, it felt soft, doughy.
Empty.
‘Hello, baby!’ Zoe whispered through her tears. She laughed as her newborn daughter screwed up her face. She stroked the fine, downy blonde hair on her cheeks, traced her finger up the baby’s jaw to her papery ears, then back down to her chin. She had called Lachlan from the bedside as the baby was being born, narrated the scene for him so he could picture the obstetrician lifting the tiny creature from Nadia’s abdomen. He’d heard the baby’s first cry through the phone, and he had cried too, and then he’d had to go.
They’d all agreed in the plan, drawn up with counsellors and lawyers, that Nadia would hold the child first, as soon as she was born. They’d done their research: skin-to-skin contact was good for the baby. And Zoe had wanted to do that for Nadia; it seemed cruel to leave her lying on the bed as if it was an organ being removed and whipped away from her sight. But when she had seen Nadia open the neck of her hospital gown and lay the tiny infant face down on her chest, watched her gently pat the child’s back and murmur into her ear, she desperately wanted it to be her own heartbeat pounding through the baby’s body, soothing her. And when Nadia had gazed at the baby, and the child had stared back, Zoe had wanted to grab the baby so that it was her face imprinted on her visual memory. She knew that babies could recognise their mother’s voice from being in the womb; would Nadia’s voice be embedded in the baby’s memory forever? How could Zoe compete? But it wasn’t a competition, she reminded herself.
When did a child learn who its mother was? Was it at the moment the cells met and merged and multiplied, when a mother’s blood started to flow through the umbilical cord, or when the baby’s body reacted to its mother’s hormones when she felt fear, or shed a tear? Or was it the moment when a baby was born and looked into her mother’s eyes, then nursed from her breast? Zoe’s eyes filled with tears. No, a child was yours when she was made up of part of you, not just your genes but your love, your utter devotion to her. That’s what Zoe had, that’s what she could give this baby.
And now that she was holding the child, her child, Lachlan’s child, she didn’t ever want to put her down. She sat on a chair in the corner and just held her new daughter close as the nurses bustled around the room, writing, counting instruments, bundling laundry into a basket. They kept their eyes expertly averted as Nadia and Eddie hugged silently.
After a while, minutes maybe, the baby began to squirm, turn her head from side to side, licking her lips, opening and closing her mouth. Not yet, baby, not yet. This had been in their plan too: Nadia would breastfeed, just for a week, and then she would express milk. Just to give the baby the best start. But Zoe didn’t want to give her back now. She glanced over; Nadia was looking at them. Zoe smiled at her but dropped her eyes when Nadia smiled sadly in return.
Zoe swallowed, then stood up and walked to the bed. ‘I think she’s hungry,’ she whispered.
Nadia nodded. ‘Shall I try to feed her?’
And although it terrified Zoe to let Nadia and the baby connect again, she smiled at her sister, who had done so much for her, nodded, and handed the baby to her.
While Nadia started to feed the baby, Zoe left the room, went down in the lift, then walked through the hospital lobby, past the gift shop full of teddy bears and shiny balloons on sticks, and out of the sliding doors to get some fresh air. The sun was low in the sky. She rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms, then sat on a wooden bench and called Lachlan.
He answered straight away. ‘Hi, how’s the baby?’
Zoe let out a sigh, leaned back on the bench and looked up to the sky, smiling. It was so nice to be able to be excited without feeling guilty about Nadia seeing her happiness. ‘Oh, Lach, she’s perfect. I held her for ages, but then she needed a feed, so I’ve left her in the room with Nadia and Eddie. How are you? Any word on when you can leave?’
‘Yeah. I’m on the seven-twenty flight tonight, so I’ll get in by nine.’ He sounded tired.
‘Oh, thank God! That’s brilliant. Can you come straight here from the airport?’
‘Of course.’ His voice broke. ‘All I want to do is be there with you and the baby. It’s been a horrible day …’
Zoe couldn’t imagine how hard it had been for him, being stuck out in Kalgoorlie, unable to get back to see his daughter being born. ‘Oh, babe, it’s OK. You’ll be here in a few hours and then we’ll all be together. In a week’s time it’ll just be the three of us, at last.’
‘Are we still going to go to Nadia’s?’
Zoe hesitated. ‘Yeah. We agreed, just for a few days after they’re discharged. I wish we could just go home straight away, but we owe it to Nadia. Just to give her some time, and to get the feeding all sorted. It’s best for the baby.’
‘OK. As long as you’re sure.’
Zoe laughed. ‘I’m not. Not really. But Nadia can’t drive for weeks, and she needs time to say goodbye. Anyway, no point worrying about it – it’s in the plan, best to stick to it. Hey, look, I better go. I’m going to call Mum so she can bring in Nadia’s kids to meet their … cousin.’
‘OK, I’ll let you know when I get on the flight.’
‘Lachlan?’
‘Yes?’
‘We should give her a name. Our daughter. Do you want to wait until you get here, or are you still happy with …’
‘Louise,’ he said firmly.
Zoe laughed. ‘Louise. It’s perfect.’