It was insanity, she realized. OK, no it wasn't, there were totally legitimate reasons to hand your child over to someone else. The teenager who got knocked up by her jerk boyfriend and abandoned. Horror stories about rape babies. Just knowing someone else could give your baby a better life. Except, Shelby was an adult, albeit very young. She'd gotten pregnant by choice, and while she wasn't overwhelmingly fond of children, was pretty sure she wouldn't ruin one.
Yet she was lying in the bed, cursing like a sailor, sweating and tired. She'd kissed her flawless figure goodbye (hopefully she'd regain it quickly) and hadn't gotten a good look at her ankles in months. She'd been a vegetarian, but that had gone out the window when she gave into a beef jerky craving. And the baby that she was trying to birth wasn't hers. Although that baby had resided in her womb for nine months and had half of her DNA, it wasn't hers. It was theirs, the nice gay couple that had payed her a fortune to have their baby for them. It had seemed like such a good idea when she agreed to it. She just hadn't realized that'd she'd grow so fond of It.
Shelby hated it when people called babies "it". She even knew the baby was a girl- but she couldn't think of it as "her". If she thought of it as "her" it would stop just being the baby, it would be a baby girl, which would turn into her baby girl. Which would kill her.
So the baby was It. Not some creepy thing, like that Stephen King novel or anything. She was almost fond of It, even though she wished she wasn't. The baby had delightful quirks, already- Shelby had felt It kick for the first time during a midnight viewing of Funny Girl. She was obviously the offspring of a wannabe Diva and a gay man. OK, so that was terribly stereotypical, but she was giving birth, it was excusable.
The Berry couple had picked Shelby. She was Jewish, like they were. She had a gorgeous singing voice (and knew it) and was a talented actress. She was beautiful (and knew that, too), as well as intelligent. She didn't have any horrible vices- had never smoked, rarely drank. Was physically fit, in good health and her family had no history of scary diseases or mental problems. She was flattered that the two men had chosen her to mother their child.
No, not mother. They'd chosen her egg for their child, and she was just housing the little thing for nine months. It was more like she was a glorified baby-sitter, really. Taking care of someone else's kid for a little while. Except baby-sitters didn't get stretchmarks.
She didn't expect to cry, but she did when she heard that first cry. She tried to sit up to see- she was pretty sure she saw some dark hair on the little head. It was so tempting to ask to hold her, just once. Was that unreasonable? Would the Berrys go for it? She peeped through nurses, trying to get a glimpse of the baby. She saw the little face turn. She realized that babies, particularly ones fresh out of the womb couldn't focus their eyes, but that little girl was looking right at her. Shelby was staring right into her daughter's face, probably for the only time.
Although everyone had been focusing on her minutes before, as soon as it was clear that she was fine, everyone in the room was focused on the baby- particularly the proud new daddies. "We'll call her Rachel, Rachel Barbra Berry" she heard one of them say as the nurse placed the baby- Rachel in his arms. Shelby just tried not to think, staring up at the ceiling. There were legitimate reasons to give up your daughter. She guessed signing a contract was one.