Chapter Seven

EMMA’S POV

"Mum, how are you feeling?" I sit beside her on the plush couch, hanging her a bowl of chicken soup spiced with vegetables.

"I feel better," She says, letting out a small smile, "thank you, Emma." She scoops some soup into her mouth.

I heave a sign of relief knowing that we no longer live in that tight house with a kitchenette. After the first installment, I paid for mum's complete health care, paid for the spacious house we now live in,—a three bedroom bungalow, furnished with nice couches, springy beds, ventilators and a large kitchen—started a personal saving plan, stocked the storage and refrigerator with food supplies.

For a moment, I feel alive. Being able to take care of our needs is a relief but the price—surrogacy journey—is one I have to face alone. I haven't had the courage to tell my mother about this deal.

"Work is paying off well." Mum asks in between thick coughs.

I scratch the sudden itch in my hair, "Yes. Plus savings. It was tough but we did it." I end with a smile.

"I am sorry for putting you through this untimely stress," She sighs, "You deserve to go through school without hitch and good grades like you always have."

"It's fine, mum. I'm glad you are getting better. You look much lively." I nod my head, I don't know how else to assure her.

My

"Eat on, I'll see you later. Hilda would see to your lunch."

*****

As I approached the clinic, I can not help but notice how serene it appears, almost like a haven of peace cradled amidst the bustling city. Its exterior was a testament to calmness and healing but for me, a business center.

The building itself is an elegant structure, adorned with creeping vines that cascade down its walls, painting a picture of nature's harmony against the cold, urban backdrop and from afar, I can see the huge name shaped in what looks like shiny glass, Willoughby Clinic.

A cobblestone path led to the entrance, flanked by meticulously maintained flower beds breaking out with colors—pink, blue, white flowers—that whispers promises of a better life.

I walk to the reception area. The large, potted plants seem to breathe life into the space, their leaves rustling softly as the gentle breeze wafts through an open window.

The hushed tones of the receptionist's voice and the soft instrumental music that played in the background added to the ambiance of peace and serenity. I feel a sense of calm wash over me, as if the worries of being a surrogate had fled.

I take a good look around me. The walls were adorned with serene landscape paintings, the scent of lavender and chamomile hung in the air, a fragrant balm for the senses.

I approach the door to my meeting, the door with the "IVF" tag above it. I mutter some affirmations under my breath, hoping to see the clients in person.

"Welcome, Miss Johnson. I have been expecting you." It sounds like the voice of a growing teenager. I look to see, and an image of an old grey-haired lady welcomes me.

I almost gasp out my surprise. Her voice

"Good day, Nurse." I now slightly, calculating how old she could be from her chubby dropping chin.

"Good day, my dear. Have your seat." I feel her eyes peel through me.

Moving towards the seat over the table filled with drugs and equipments, "Thank you, ma'am."

"It's time for your check-up. We would discuss further on your wellbeing as a pregnant lady," She gives me a warm smile, motioning for my palms.

I take a quick stare at my tummy. I haven't started feeling changes yet. I do not know how to feel especially now that I am not experiencing any symptoms.

"I suppose you don't feel sick yet." She asks, her index finger bringing the flesh around my eyeballs to a wider girth.

"No, not yet."

"Have you been following the lists of foods given to you?"

"Yes." Even though I skipped lunch once. I look at the name tag on her breast pocket.

"Alright."

"Nurse Stella."

She looks at me keenly. I thought I only whispered her name. I smile to cover the flush of embarrassment.

"It's okay. I can call you Emma, yeah?"

"Sure."

"Let's get to the examination room."

She leads me a cozy, softly lit examination room. I recline on the examination bed clothed in light blue sheets, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. The gentle rustle of the privacy curtain makes me nervous but Nurse Stella warm smile instantly puts me at ease.

"Nurse, I am a bit anxious, to be honest." I blurt out, pretty sure she has the understanding of the mix of emotions that often accompanies a pregnancy checkup.

"That's completely normal. We're here to take good care of you and your baby. Do not be anxious, okay."

With practiced ease, Nurse Stella measures my vital signs—blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. I admire her skilled hands and her professionalism.

I watch her scribbling in a small thick notepad. Afterwards, she gently explains the process of the examination.

"Now, Emma, I'm going to perform a physical examination to ensure everything is progressing as it should. It might feel a bit cold, but I'll be as gentle as possible."

I nod, grateful for the nurse's auspicious words. As Nurse Sarah began the examination, I close my eyes briefly, focusing on my breathing to calm my nerves.

She uses a fetal Doppler to listen to the baby's heartbeat, a moment that brought tears of joy to Emma's eyes.

"There it is," Nurse Stella says with her usual warm smile as the rhythmic thumping fills the room. "Your baby's heartbeat is strong and steady. Sounds like two."

My heart swell with emotions, I am overwhelmed with joy and worry.

"Everything looks great, Emma," Nurse Stella pats my shoulder. "Your baby is healthy, and you're doing well. If you ever have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to come to me. The journey might be overwhelming but, we're here to support you every step of the way."

"Thank you."

My mind drifts to the portrait on the wall as we leave the examination room. I stare at Nurse Stella's calm face over the computer. A part of me wants to ask about the intended parents.

I yearn to know who exactly I am rendering my services to. I itch to know the family that hired me. I yearn to know who is worth nine months of my life but, I remember the contract.

I clearly saw it,

5.Do not go in search for the family. Keep it extremely confidential.

I let out a loud sigh unknowingly, recalling the list of things I signed up for.