It wouldn't be right.
It wouldn't be fair.
As much as my head tries to deny it, my heart knows that this is the right thing to do.
Raising a child with a deceased father wouldn't be a problem – for normal women. There would be a couple of months of grieving and tears, but after that she would move on. Her child would be a constant reminder of her lover and how he was a brilliant person, and each day as they grew older she would know that her partner would be proud. For me, it isn't that simple.
I am Jane Shepard. Me and my partner served in the Alliance military. We faced terrible dangers together, but we wouldn't want to live any other way. The thrill of the adrenaline running through your veins as you would charge into a room filled with your worst enemies. The wonders of laughing in the face of danger as you slit their throats, knowing that taking this one life would mean that a million others would be safe. We loved this life – protecting the galaxy, fighting for what was right. But for some reason, it all went wrong.
After 5 years of knowing each other, we both decided that we would like to start a family. Although we would never be able to live the life we once did ever again, we both agreed that we would continue with our careers in the military. Whilst one of us was with the Alliance, the other would care for our child. Well, that was the plan before the accident.
It was an unusual day to start with. I was forced to move back to earth with my mother and father because I was too unfit to serve in the alliance in my state. 28 weeks through my pregnancy. I had lasted longer than anyone expected; I was too stubborn to go on maternity leave at the normal time. I wanted to savor the last couple of months with the love of my life, doing what we both adored together while we still could. A few days after I moved back in with my parents, I was sent an urgent message.
The mission he was sent on had gone drastically wrong. The squad that was investigating were brutally slaughtered, including him. His body wasn't even whole when they collected the pieces of him and put them in a box.
This child was meant to have a future with us. Fighting alongside us. Now his future has been stolen. Stolen by his fathers murders. I swear I will make them pay. One day. But first I need to take care of the child.
If I was to return to the Alliance, I didn't want to leave the child with my parents. I didn't want him to worry if his mother was still alive after doing a risky mission. I wanted him to now have a peaceful life. A normal life. With normal parents. I didn't want my parents to take the responsibility of caring for him.
It wouldn't be fair.
I took him to an adoption centre on earth, with a locket secured around his neck. The front had his name engraved in it and inside was a picture of me and his father. I wanted him to have a piece of us, as a token. I wanted him to know who we were and what we did. But I didn't want him to worry about us. About me.
The thing about becoming a parent is that you sign up to all the worries and shocks and burdens that come with having a child. However, that child does not agree to worrying about you. They shouldn't have to. Why should they?
I was told that he was given to a nice couple. I wasn't told much else. It was probably for the best. So I wouldn't be tempted to look for him in the future.
Now I can leave that behind me. Now I can start the next chapter.