I was a surrogate for my sister and her husband. They exclaimed, “This isn’t the baby we thought it would be!” when they saw it.
What do you do when love comes with strings attached? What do you do when others call the child you carried in your belly “unwanted”? When Abigail’s sister and husband saw the baby she had given birth to for them, they exclaimed, “THIS ISN’T THE BABY WE EXPECTED.” Abigail had to deal with the discomfort. WE DON’T WANT IT.
I’ve always thought that love is what makes a family. Rachel was more than simply my younger sister when I was a kid. She was my best friend, my partner in life, and the one I could trust with my secrets. We all had clothes, secrets, dreams, and an unbreakable faith that we would one day raise our kids together. But Rachel’s fate was different. Her first miscarriage made her heart ache.
She cried all night, and I held her. The second miscarriage took the light out of her eyes. By the third, Rachel had changed in some way. She stopped going to my boys’ birthday parties, stopped talking about babies, and stopped seeing friends who had kids.
It pained to see her go away, piece by piece.
I vividly remember the day when everything changed. My older boys, Jack (10), Michael (8), and tiny David (4), were running around the yard dressed as superheroes for Tommy’s seventh birthday celebration.
Rachel’s eyes were hard to see as she stood at the kitchen window, wanting to be with them.
She touched the glass and said softly, “They’re getting so big.” A lot of the time, I think about how our kids should have grown up together. Abby, six rounds of IVF. 6. The doctors said I couldn’t do that anymore. She couldn’t finish what she was saying.
Jason, her husband, went forward and put his hand on Rachel’s shoulder at that point. “We’ve been talking to experts. They talked about surrogacy. He gave me a really serious look. “They said a biological sister would be best.”
The only sound in the kitchen was my kids yelling as they played outside. Rachel turned to look at me. Her eyes were full of fear and hope. She mustered up the strength to say, “Abby, would you…” but then she stopped. “Will you think about having our child?” I know I’m asking for too much, but you’re all I have. This is my last chance to be a mom.
After quietly loading the dishwasher, my husband Luke stood up. “An alternate? It’s a tough choice. We should discuss about the topic in a good way.
Luke and I snuggled in bed and murmured to each other that night after the boys went to sleep. He responded, “Four boys is already a lot,” and he was talking about my hair. “Another pregnancy, the risks, the emotional toll—”
“But when I look at our boys, I always see Rachel in the background on the sidelines,” I said. Luke, she deserves this. She should know that we are happy.
It was hard to make the choice, but it was worth it to see Rachel and Jason smile when we answered yes. Rachel held on to me and cried, saying, “You’re saving us.” “You’re giving us everything.”
My sister came back to life because she was pregnant. She talked to my developing tummy for hours, decorated the nursery herself, and went to all of my appointments. My boys also got involved and fought over who should be the best cousin.
Jack would say, “I’ll teach the baby baseball,” but Michael would read to him before bed. David just patted my stomach and said, “My buddy is inside,” when Tommy indicated he would share his superhero collection.
The baby is ready to come out. Rachel and Jason still weren’t there, and the contractions came in waves, each one stronger than the one before it.
Luke held his phone close to his ear as he strolled around the room. He continued, “Still no answer,” and his eyes were full of anxiety. “This isn’t like them.”
Rachel wouldn’t let me forget that I murmured, “Something must be wrong,” in between contractions. She has had it for too long and too much.
Hours went by in anguish and worry. Luke’s hand held me firm while the doctor calmly told me what to do with each push.
The shout cut through the shroud of sleepiness. It was strong, gorgeous, and defiant.
“Congratulations,” the doctor said with a smile. “You have a healthy baby girl!”
Her rosebud mouth, small fists, and lovely dark hair made her look exquisite. As I held her and counted her lovely fingers and toes, I felt the same love I experienced for each of my boys.
I kissed her on the forehead and said, “Princess, your mommy will be so happy.”
Rachel and Jason came two hours later and made a lot of noise in the hall. I assumed I would see happiness on their faces, but instead I saw something quite different. My heart stopped for a moment.
Rachel’s eyes were wide with horror as they moved from the baby to me. ” The doctor basically told us what was going on in the waiting room. She said, “THIS IS NOT THE BABY WE EXPECTED,” her voice cracking. “We don’t want it.”
The words were bad. “What?” As I talked, I reflexively brought the baby closer. “Rachel, what are you talking about?”
“It’s a girl,” she murmured, as if three words were enough to explain everything. “We wanted a boy. Jason needs a boy.
Jason stood stiffly beside the entrance with a look of anger on his face. He stopped and clenched his teeth. “We thought you had four sons…” He turned around and left without saying anything else.
“Have you two lost your minds?” Luke’s voice was shaky with rage. “This is your daughter.” Your kid. That one was with Abby for nine months. The one you’ve always wanted.
“You don’t understand.” Rachel replied, “Jason told me he would leave if I brought a girl home.” He argues that his family needs a male to keep the name alive. He told me I could either be with him or bring home a girl. She pointed at the infant, but there was nothing she could do.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” I asked.
“You had four healthy boys, Abby.” I didn’t believe we needed to talk about that anymore.
“So you’d rather not be with your child?” I said the words. “This poor newborn girl who hasn’t done anything wrong other than being born a girl? My sister used to say, “Love makes a family.” What happened to her?
Rachel said in a low voice, “We’ll find her a good home,” but she didn’t look at her. “Maybe a safe place.” or someone who seeks a girl.
As she moved in my arms, her tiny hand wrapped around my finger. I felt both angry and protective. I said, “GET OUT!” Leave until you remember what it means to be a mom. Until you remember who you are.
“Please, Abby!” Luke stepped in when Rachel called.
You heard her. Leave. Think about what you’re doing. Think about who you are becoming.
There were a lot of feelings in the next week. My boys came to say hello to their cousin with big smiles on their faces.
Jack, my oldest son, seemed very protective of the newborn. He said, “She’s adorable.” “Mom, can we take her home?”
I looked down at her gorgeous face and felt something powerful and unbreakable grow in my heart. That was when I made my decision. If Rachel and Jason couldn’t get over their biases, I would adopt the child myself.
This important infant needed more than just a place to stay; they shouldn’t have been turned away just because they were a male or girl. If her parents couldn’t, I would give her the family she needed.
I already had four good-looking boys in my heart, but I could make place for one more.
Days went by. Rachel arrived to our place on a night when it was raining. She was different. Larger, yet in a way smaller. She couldn’t find her wedding band.
“I made the wrong choice,” she whispered as she held baby Kelly and watched her fall asleep. “I let his bias change everything I did.” I choose him that day at the hospital because I was afraid of being alone and of not being able to be a good single mother.
She reached out to touch Kelly’s cheek, and her fingers shook. “But every minute of every day, I’ve been dying inside, knowing my daughter is out there and I left her.”
She began to cry. I told Jason that I wanted to end our marriage. He said, “I was wrong to put our marriage above it.” But now that you see her, she’s not a mistake. She is the best. I will spend the rest of my life making up for those first terrible hours because she is my daughter.
I told Rachel it wouldn’t be easy, but she never stopped looking at Kelly.
“I know,” she said in a quiet voice. “Can you help me?” What can I do to be the mother she needs? Will you please show me how?
When I looked at my sister, who was shattered yet determined, bold but scared, I could see echoes of the girl who used to tell me all her dreams. I meant what I said when I stated, “We’ll figure it out together.” “That’s what sisters do.”
The next few months were both challenging and magnificent.
Rachel moved into a modest apartment nearby and threw herself into being a parent with the same drive she had for her profession. My guys became Kelly’s ardent defenders as four honorary big brothers who loved their newborn cousin very much.
Before she could walk, Tommy taught her how to throw a ball. After school, Michael read her books every day. Jack acted like her bodyguard at family events, while little David merely followed her about in awe.
You wouldn’t believe how hard things were for Rachel and Kelly at first when you see them together now. When Kelly calls her “Mama,” she smiles. Her eyes light up with enthusiasm every time she performs anything correctly. When she braids Kelly’s black hair, she is incredibly kind and gentle. It is like watching a flower bloom in the desert.
When we are all together as a family, I sometimes see Rachel looking at her daughter with love and sadness. She once said to me, “I can’t believe I almost threw this away,” while seeing Kelly run around the yard with her family. I can’t believe I let someone else’s bias stop me from seeing what really matters.
I told her, “What matters is that you chose love when it mattered the most.” You picked her.
Kelly was not the child my sister and her ex-husband expected, but she became something much better: the daughter who showed that family is not about matching expectations or fulfilling someone else’s dreams. It means letting love surprise you, change you, and make you better than you ever thought you could be.