pregnancies after five or six weeks, poor thing. I don’t mean to get quite so technical, but Mrs. Whitfield needs someone to carry her eggs for her, you might say. You’re their last hope.”
Letitia Greene blew on her tea to cool it and gingerly took a sip.
“I think you’ll like them. Their situation is a little delicate, which is why I wanted to speak to you beforehand. The thing to remember, as a potential surrogate, is that you are providing a service to those in need. I don’t know if you’ve talked to any other organizations?”
“Just yours.”
“Well, they’re all quite different. Some look upon surrogacy as a contract. Plain and simple. You are there to provide a child and that’s that. There’s no contact with the family at all. Other organizations are more concerned with the emotional and psychological needs of the surrogate mother. It’s all very tricky to get the right balance. That’s what I’m trying to do - find the balance. I believe that contact with the client family is necessary so that the parents can experience the joys of pregnancy, too. Of course, the danger there is that you, the surrogate mother, can grow attached to the family. After the delivery, you might expect that relationship to continue, when, in reality, it can’t. Everyone must get on with their lives. Go their separate ways. Do you see what I’m driving at?”
“Of course.”
“That’s very easy for you to say now, Hannah, because you haven’t spent months and months carrying someone else’s child.”
“Are you afraid I’d want to keep the baby?”
“Not you, I’m talking generally. There have been cases. Thankfully, none in this agency.”
“That would be a horrible thing to do.”
Mrs. Greene sighed in agreement. “Yes, it would. Horrible and cruel. Especially, in the Whitfields’ case.”
Hannah raised her eyebrows and waited for Mrs. Greene to elaborate.
“They’re talking about an in vitro fertilization and embryo transfer. The eggs would be retrieved from Mrs. Whitfield - she can still ovulate - and they would be combined with her husband’s sperm in the lab. The resulting embryos would be implanted in you. So, you see, the child wouldn’t even be related to you. It would be the Whitfields’ child from the very beginning. You’d just be the incubator. You do understand that?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Greene paused to make sure the point had sunk in. “Good! Well, just listen to me, rattling on and on. They should be here any minute. Perhaps you have some questions you’d like to ask me.”
Hannah placed the tea cup on the edge of the desk and shifted in her chair, not sure where to begin. She couldn’t keep the truth from Mrs. Greene much longer. “I didn’t expect it to be so easy,” she said with a jittery laugh.
“What do you mean by easy, dear?”
“Well, since you called me, you must think I’m qualified to do this?”
“If all the medical tests turn out fine, and we have no reason to presume they won’t.”
“I guess I thought that I’d have to pass an exam or something.”
Mrs. Greene smiled expansively. “Heavens, no. Having a baby is one of the few things these days that doesn’t require any training. If you’re healthy, the body does it for you. I always say there’s a reason God tucks babies inside the mother’s tummy. That way, we can’t get at it and mess it up, like we do so much in this world. We can help it along with technology, but birth still remains a miracle.”
“So it doesn’t matter if I don’t have any…”
“Any what, dear?”
“Experience.” All at once the words came tumbling out of Hannah’s mouth. “The last time, you asked me if I had any relationships. And I said, ‘yes.’ Well, I do. But not those kinds of relationships, if you know what I mean. Not sexual relationships. I probably should have told you right away, Mrs. Greene. I’m still a….”
“Yes, go on…”
“I’m still a virgin.”
Letitia Greene sucked in