Page 33 of The Surrogate Mother
“Well, you can record it with your phone,” Dr. Wong says.
And she does. She gets out her cell phone and records the sound of the heartbeat for much longer than I feel is necessary. Like, a minute. A minute doesn’t sound very long, but after ten seconds, it’s a bit repetitive, isn’t it?
It makes me think of when she first got the positive pregnancy test, and how she wanted to save the pee stick. I wonder if she still has that stick. She wouldn’t really have saved it, would she?
“Are you planning to do the First Trimester Screen?” Dr. Wong asks, after the recording is (finally) finished. “That’s a blood test to look for signs of chromosomal abnormalities and an ultrasound to look at nuchal translucency, which is the fluid beneath the skin behind the baby’s neck. It’s pretty accurate in screening for birth defects. We could do it in a few weeks.”
“Oh.” Monica laughs. “Well, I’m only twenty-three. I’m sure the baby is fine. It’s not like we’re using Abby’s eggs.”
Gee, thanks.
“The risk is lower,” the doctor admits, “but not nil. I’d recommend the test. Plus you get to have an ultrasound, so you can see your baby.”
Monica’s eyes widen. At first, I think she’s going to askme what I think, but instead, she blurts out, “Yeah, that sounds great.”
She should have asked me.I’mgoing to be the mother of this child. But I suppose she’s the one carrying the baby. Anyway, I’m not going to make a big thing of it. Idowant her to get the screening test, so there’s no need to intervene. She’s doing exactly what I want her to do.
So why do I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach?
13
“So how isthat womandoing?”
My mother stubbornly refuses to remember Monica’s name. She only refers to her as “that woman.” Needless to say, she’s not entirely on board with using Monica as a surrogate. I believe her words were:Abby, have you completely lost every bit of your common sense?Or something along those lines.
“She’s doing great!” I say into the phone with enthusiasm I hope doesn’t sound forced. “The pregnancy is going really well. And everything is going according to plan.”
“The plan being a beautiful young woman is pregnant with your husband’s child.”
“Yes,” I say through my teeth. “Thatplan.”
“Mmm.”
My right hand squeezes into a fist. That always seems to happen when I’m speaking to my mother. “You told me you weren’t going to be judgmental.”
“I’m not! I just said ‘mmm.’ You’re the one who interpreted that as me being judgmental. It must be becauseyou’re insecure that a beautiful young woman is pregnant with your husband’s child.”
The fist tightens. One day when I’m talking to my mother, I’m going to punch a wall and break my hand. “You know Sam and I can’t have a child on our own and the adoptions keep falling through. This is the only way.”
“Yes, so you say,” she murmurs. “And how is Sam doing, anyway?”
“He’s fine.”
“Yes, I’ll bet he is.”
My mother’s dislike of Sam was almost instant when they met. Sam quickly agreed to drive up to Long Island to meet her and my father when we had been dating about three months, which I thought was a great sign of his commitment to me. He was adorably nervous about the whole thing—he wore a suit and tie, and he purchased both flowersanda box of chocolates. He spent ten minutes in the mirror, trying to get the knot on his tie perfect.
I would say the moment things went wrong was when my parents’ housekeeper Imelda opened the door, and Sam mistook her for my mother. I am still baffled at how he messed that one up, given Imelda is a dark-skinned Mexican and my complexion is about as pale as they come. When I asked him about it later, he muttered,Sorry, Abby, I don’t come from a house where we have servants opening the doors for people.
After that, it was all downhill. Sam called golf “boring” before being informed it was my father’s all-time favorite sport. He offered to carry the carrots to the dining table, then dropped them all over the floor. His finale was backing into the mailbox on the way out of the driveway and knocking it over.He’s lucky he’s good-looking,my mother told me on the phone the next day.
She eventually warmed up to him though. Well, sort of. Mostly, I try to keep them from getting together very often, a strategy that everyone seems happy with.
“Listen,” I say. “You know, Sam has been great through all of this. Not every guy would be so understanding about… everything.”
“So I’m supposed to be thrilled he didn’t dump you when he couldn’t get you pregnant?”
I let out a huff. “That’s not what I’m saying, Mother.”
