Page 16 of The Surrogate Nanny
Jonathan smiled and shook his head.
“Reach out to Simone. Call and check on her.”
I put my thumb to my ear and my pinky to my lips. “Hey, Simone! I know I just took my baby away from you, but how you doing? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Sounds good. Thanks again for everything! Click. That wasn’t one of your best ideas by a long shot.”
“Only because you sounded like a dick.”
“But you don’t think contacting her would be a little cruel?”
He shrugged. “You may be the last person she’d want to hear from, but she might sleep a little easier tonight.” I shook my head in disagreement and slid Nori’s milk toward her. She paused picking apart the sandwich to sip from the cup. “You’ve always been stubborn.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You need to figure out childcare for Nori.”
“A nanny? That’s a good idea,” I agreed.
“A nanny and daycare.”
“Why would I put her in daycare if I have a nanny?”
“Because Simone had her in daycare, and it’s important for children to socialize with one another. If you want me to, I can interview nannies and find a daycare for you.”
“You’d do that?” I questioned.
“Of course.”
“What’s the catch?” I asked skeptically.
“There is no catch. I’m just trying to help you out. I’ll see myself out. I’ll send you a bill once I’m done.”
“Bill?”
“I’ll be charging you my hourly rate.”
“Of course, you will. You’re nothing but a scam artist and an ambulance chaser on a good day,” I said with a huff.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page. It’s like they always say: you are the company you keep,” he mentioned before leaving the kitchen.
I turned to Nori. “I should keep better company, huh?”
There she goes again, rolling her eyes at me. She’ll give me a run for my money in the future.
***
It was 4:00 in the morning, and Nori had finally exhausted herself from all the crying and fell asleep. I read to her, rocked her, gave her a bottle and her pacifier, played a cartoon on TV, and bathed her in lavender-scented soothing baby wash—nothing helped. For a moment, while she cried for her Mama, I considered letting her go. I nearly packed up my daughter and drove her to Simone’s place, but I felt that if I did, I’d be admitting defeat and that I was never meant to be a parent if I couldn’t handle a night of crying.
I want to be happy with my daughter, but what if I’m hurting her?
I was on the edge of sleep when my eyes focused on the little white purse Nori had earlier carried. It hung from a knob of her white dresser drawers. I had to settle my curiosity. I opened the purse and found two folded letters: one for me and one for Nori.
Anthony,
I was prepared to curse you in this letter as no one has ever been cursed before. I wanted to call you every nasty name in the book. I was also willing to make up some words to get my point across. I wanted to tell you to go to Hell or that I hoped you tripped and impaled yourself on your gaudy cane, but anger and grief never make a good combination. I have a confession to make. When you arrived at my apartment and explained that you were in a coma, for the briefest moment, I wished you had never woken up. I’m ashamed of myself. I’m not one to wish ill on someone, but my life was turned upside down by a knock at my door. I apologize, and I hope you can forgive me.
I’m not an illogical woman. I understand the legality of our unique situation regarding Nori’s custody, but what kind of woman would I be if I didn’t fight tooth and nail for my child? I went into this custody battle knowing the odds were stacked against me, but I had to try. You understand, right? When it comes to Nori, I’m a selfish woman. I won’t apologize for that. Have you ever experienced true love? Has someone ever been your entire universe—the sun, moon, and stars? Nori is that person for me. Everything she does leaves me in awe—her first laugh, when she rolled over and sat up on her own for the first time, her first steps, the twisted look on her face she made when she leaned down and sampled my dill pickle without permission. She’s such a funny baby—a good baby.
I was nervous about bringing her home from the hospital. I wasn’t prepared to be a mother and feared messing everything up. I was afraid of being exhausted from constant crying and late-night feedings, but her cries were so soft that I had to turn the volume of the baby monitor to the maximum setting. My feet would hit the floor, and I was shuffling to her nursery in no time flat—eager to soothe her with milk and hums. If you’re reading this letter, that means I lost her, but I want you to know that being Nori’s mother was the best year of my entire existence. She will be missed but not forgotten. Please...take care of my girl.