Page 8 of The Surrogate Nanny

The soft light from the nightlight illuminated the fresh tears in her eyes. Surely, my presence was unsettling and unexpected. Over the nine months, I’d gotten to know Simone on a personal level. She was kind, sweet, and nurturing—everything a mother should be. I had no doubt that she bonded with my child, and it was clear she took excellent care of her as if she were her own. But...she wasn’t hers...she was mine. Some might say I was cruel and heartless for what I was about to do, but I had no choice.

“Please...take a seat,” she whispered, pointing to a rocking chair in the corner of the room. I responded with a gentle nod and limped to the chair. The sound of my daughter babbling filled the bedroom as Simone gathered her from the crib. My heart swelled and galloped in anticipation. I recalled how nervous but prepared I was as Simone entered the final stretch of her pregnancy. She teased me about my “nesting.” She could be a wise-ass joker sometimes, but it was endearing.

“What is her name?” I asked, clearing the emotion from my throat.

“Nori...Nori Livingston.”

I chuckled ruefully. “Livingston, huh?”

“What else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t put your name on the birth certificate without you being present. It was either that or foster care.”

Simone held Nori close to her chest and buried her nose in a mop of black curls that were similar to mine. She closed her eyes and inhaled, most likely committing the scent to memory. I’d yet to see my daughter’s face, but I was already in love. It took everything in me not to make impatient grabby hands at her, but I had waited long enough. Simone kissed her head reverently and handed her to me. My outstretched hands shook nervously but ceased as soon as they made contact with her.

“She’s heavier than I thought she’d be,” I joked, trying to hold back a sob as I stared into my daughter’s gray eyes that mirrored mine. She curiously reached out and patted my face.

“Yeah...she’s a good eater.”

“What does she like to eat?” I asked, nibbling on a finger Nori shoved in my mouth. She snatched it away and glared at me before rolling her eyes.

I’m making a great first impression.

“Most fruits, but lately, she’s discovered the joy of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

That’s something we have in common. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk are the best snacks for restless nights.

“She looks like me,” I said absentmindedly.

“That she does. You’re basically twins.”

“Can you tell me more about her?”

The tears finally burst from Simone’s eyes as she wrung her hands in the middle of the nursery. “Y-you’re going to take my daughter away from me, aren’t you?”

“Look...Simone...I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, from agreeing to being my surrogate and sacrificing your body to carry her and loving and caring for her in my absence, but...we had an agreement. She’s my daughter...not yours.”

“She is my daughter!” she shouted, startling Nori, who began to cry in distress.

“I know you’re upset, but please lower your tone. You’re upsetting her.”

“Y-you can’t take her away from me. She’s all that I have.”

“Have you stopped to think about me and my situation, Simone? I feel for you. I do, but she’s all that I have. You know how much I wanted her.”

“How about we split custody?” Simone suggested eagerly. I shook my head.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“What about what’s best for Nori? You don’t think taking her away from me will mess her up?”

“I’m sure she’ll have difficulty adjusting initially, but children are resilient. Please, tell me more about Nori.”

Simone licked the tears away from the prominent cupid’s bow of her lush upper lip before sitting on the fluffy white rug that spanned most of the nursery.

“Nori’s a good baby—the best baby—the baby every first-time mother wishes to have. She makes parenthood seem like a breeze. She rarely cries. I want to think it’s because she’s always content and satisfied, but who really knows. She doesn’t like onesies with the feet because she likes to feel the carpet underneath her toes. She despises socks and will fight you every chance she gets, but she knows I won’t allow her to leave the house without anything covering her feet. She prefers that her back and bottom be rubbed counterclockwise when she goes down for the night. She’s an early riser. Sometimes I call her my little alarm clock.” Simone paused to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand. “N-Nori loves to dance. Sometimes, I’ll turn on music and rearrange the furniture in the living room so we can have a little dance party.”

“What does she like to dance to?”

“R&B,” Simone replied with a chuckle. “Mary J. Blige is her favorite.”

---