"They want us to come in together."
The office was all glass and gray carpet.
Mr. Pierce sat behind a desk wider than my whole kitchen. Richard and Vanessa sat to one side, not looking at me.
"Emma, thank you for coming," the lawyer said. He slid a folder across the desk. "My clients have made a difficult decision. Given the diagnosis, they won't be accepting the child after delivery."
I stared at him. I waited for someone to laugh or take it back.
"What do you mean, not accepting her?"
"Section nine of the surrogacy agreement you signed last spring," Mr. Pierce said, tapping the folder.
"My clients have made a difficult decision."
"In the event of a confirmed fetal abnormality, my clients retain the right to decline placement. The infant will be transferred to the state foster care system following birth. My clients are released from all parental obligations," the lawyer read.
It felt as if someone had emptied a bucket of ice water over my head! My ears rang.
"You can't be serious!" I turned to Vanessa. "She's a baby, your baby!"
Vanessa folded her hands in her lap.
"We wanted a family, Emma. Not a project."
"You can't be serious!"
Richard finally looked up. His eyes were tired, not sorry.
"It's better this way. For everyone."
I walked out without signing anything. I didn't need to.
The clause had been waiting in that folder since the day I'd put my name on the original contract, back when none of us imagined we'd ever read it again. I made it to the parking garage before my knees gave out.
"It's better this way."
The rest of my pregnancy passed in a blur of double shifts and quiet panic.
One day, Marcy found me crying in the break room and didn't ask questions, just sat next to me with a paper cup of bad coffee.
"Whatever it is, kid," she said, "you don't have to figure it out tonight."
I worked until my ankles swelled past my shoes. I read everything I could find about foster care, even though I already knew it, having lived it.
Dr. Nguyen squeezed my hand at one of my last appointments.
"She'll be loved, Emma."
I didn't answer, but something inside me had already started saying the word "mine."
"You don't have to figure it out tonight."
The delivery room was bright, loud, then suddenly very quiet.
They placed the baby girl on my chest, and her tiny hand curled around my finger as if she'd been waiting for me.
I looked down at her face and knew.
A social worker came in later with a clipboard. Behind her, Mr. Pierce stood in the doorway like a shadow.
"Emma, if you're prepared to sign the release —"
"I'm not releasing her," I said, cutting the social worker off.
The room went still.
