Wilder Hearts: Once Upon a Pregnancy

“In confidence,” Simone added.

“Of course.” Isobel laid down her spoon and pushed her cup of soup aside. “This sounds serious.”

“It is.” For a moment, Simone sat on her secret, clung to it, but she felt safe with Isobel. Still, the words came out softly, tentatively. “I’m…pregnant.”

Isobel picked up her napkin and blotted her lips. “How do you feel about that?”

“Flabbergasted. Overwhelmed. Foolish. Afraid. Awestruck.” Simone shrugged. “I think that about covers it.”

Isobel placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward slightly. “What are you going to do?”

“Give the baby up for adoption.”

“And the father will be okay with that?”

Simone’s thoughts drifted to Mike, to the young paramedic who seemed to think she’d make a good wife and mother. The guy who had a slew of nieces and nephews and would love to have a kid of his own someday.

“I haven’t told him about it yet,” she admitted, “but when I do, I hope he’ll eventually be able to see the wisdom in my decision.”

Actually, she was afraid Mike would react positively to the news. And that he’d try to talk her into marrying him and keeping the baby.

But what would he say when she was forced to level with him about the past, about her shortcomings?

The emotional scars that she carried would cause him to resent her someday.

Hadn’t Simone come to resent her mother for the same reason?

She’d tried to tell Mike that he was barking up the wrong tree when it came to a long-term commitment. But he seemed to think that, with time, everything would work out between them.

Simone knew better, though. And she suspected that, as a social worker, her friend would agree with her.

“Is there any chance that you and the father might want to raise this child together?” Isobel asked.

“No. In spite of an age difference, our family backgrounds are completely opposite. So nothing lasting could ever come of a relationship with him.”

Besides, Mike wanted so much more than Simone could give him.

“Sometimes opposites not only attract, but bring out the best in each other,” Isobel said.

Simone reached across the table and placed her hand over her friend’s. “I’ve told you about some of the pain I went through as a child, but I held back on the worst of it.”

“You’re a strong, dependable and resilient woman, Simone. It seems to me that you’ve overcome the emotional obstacles you faced.”

Some of them, she supposed. “But I never learned the emotional skills needed to parent. Not by example, anyway. And for that reason, I’m afraid I’ll fail the baby just as badly as my mother failed me.”

Isobel’s gaze snagged Simone’s, soothing her in a pool of compassion and understanding.

Over the years, Simone may have shared certain details about past events with Isobel, but she’d never revealed the depth of her feelings, her fears.

“Adoption is best for everyone involved.” The words came out sure, steady. Yet for a moment, something waffled inside. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You’ve got time to let your options simmer for a while,” Isobel said. “And, after you do, I’m sure you’ll make the right decision—whatever that might be.”

“Thanks.” Simone withdrew her hand and leaned back in her seat.

“There’s something else you should keep in mind,” Isobel added. “Just because you had a bad role model doesn’t mean you’re going to make the same mistakes. I happen to believe you’d make a wonderful mother someday—to this baby or to another.”

Unfortunately, Simone didn’t share the same faith or the same vision that Mike and Isobel had.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I can’t even begin to think of myself as a mom. Not with the mothering I had.” Simone chuffed. “And even now, our mother/daughter relationship is limited to Christmas cards and an occasional phone call.”

Isobel didn’t comment. Other than sympathize, what could she say?

Of course, maybe she was thinking about how close she’d been to her own mother and how tough it had been to lose her. From what Simone had gathered, Isobel had moved in with her dad after her mom passed away. The two were very close.

Simone could hardly imagine a relationship like that. She reached for the cellophane-wrapped packet of crackers that had come with her soup. “My mom recently found a lump in her breast, and even though I’ve tried to contact her several times and left messages, she won’t return my calls. She’s completely shut me out.”

“Fear of breast cancer can blindside a woman.” Isobel took a sip of water. “I’m not trying to make excuses for the mistakes your mom made when you were growing up, but she may find it difficult to talk to anyone right now. You might need to be patient with her.”

“You’ve got a point.”

They returned to their meal, but Simone focused on the saltines she’d unwrapped. Looking right through the little squares as she pondered the only real option she had.

“How do you feel about open adoptions?” she asked Isobel. “Do they work? Would it be difficult watching a child grow up in someone else’s home if everyone knows each other?”

“It depends upon the people involved. In my experience, open adoptions work out beautifully if the biological and the adoptive parents are able to put the child’s best interests ahead of their own.”

“I’ve got a couple in mind,” Simone said. “But you’re right. There’s time for me to think things through. And if I should decide not to give the baby to someone I know, I’d like you to recommend a good agency that will help me find just the right parents.”

“No problem. Tomorrow, when I have a chance, I’ll give you the names of several organizations I’ve worked with in the past.”

Simone ought to feel relieved, yet handing over her child to strangers made her uneasy, too.

But how could she even consider dumping all her personal baggage on a poor defenseless baby?

Besides, even with the few friendships she had—Isobel and, more recently, Ella—she always held back—just as she feared she would do with a baby.

On top of that, children needed a primary caregiver, someone they could trust to see to all their needs, physical as well as emotional. They needed someone to kiss their owies and to make them cookies. Someone to tuck them in at night.

How could Simone give up her job to be a stay-at-home mom?

She loved everything about being an E.R. nurse—the pressure of being in a life-or-death situation, the competent and dedicated medical staff with whom she worked, the patients who rushed in with complaints and symptoms that were sometimes hard to diagnose.

Why, she even loved the hours she kept, never complaining about a night shift or two.

No, her life wasn’t conducive to motherhood.

And she was a fool on those rare occasions when she allowed herself to think otherwise.