Chapter 2: Baby Talk
Maura's POV
It was never your goal to become a single mom. Back when you were young, you took solace in the saying that there was a soulmate for everyone but the older you got, the more the certainty of your various shortcomings in the romantic department grew.
You are not good at relationships; due to your physical attractiveness and your feminine demeanor and attire (you know exactly which looks you can pull off and you only feel fully dressed when you wear clothing that actually suits you, and have put on your make-up) you've never had to wait long for someone sexually interested in you, but there is a difference between casual sex and short-term situationships and actually finding someone to build a future with.
You are too brash and too bold; you do not understand most figures of speech because your brain works too literal, and you have a hard time comprehending slang and nonverbal social cues. You talk either too much or too little or you choose the wrong moments to open your mouth or you talk about the wrong things, like that one time when you delved into a twenty-minute long monologue about the mating behavior of exotic birds on Borneo because your date's cellphone lock-screen showed an especially magnificent Wreathed hornbill.
You intimidate men with your vast knowledge in all kinds of areas and you intimidate them with your surname and your privileged upbringing and your profession and your expensive jewelry and the interior of your spacious home and the fact that you keep a tortoise as a pet.
You used to tell yourself that the right person would show up one day; that love is a force than cannot be explained in strictly scientific terms; that someone would sweep you off your feet at the least expected moment – but it never did happen, well, once or twice you experienced symptoms typical for being madly in love with someone, but both times, it did not work out and you secretly blame yourself.
You still entered your mid-thirties with an optimism you could barely align with your intellect; after all, it is a well-known fact that a woman's fertility already starts to decline at the age of 30.
Of course your razor-sharp analytical brain knows that your failed attempts at finding a suitable life partner are not on you alone, as less people out there are truly wanting to build a family nowadays, many men preferring staying independent over settling down. The traditional way of life has increasingly turned into only one of numerous valid options, and you have read the various sociological studies that closely examine the modern world of dating and the difficulties attached. Naturally, you agree with the modern diversity of lifestyles; it has, after all, enabled you to pursue such a rewarding and highly demanding career path that wouldn't even have been open to women not that long ago. You also deeply cherish the freedom the societal changes have granted people, especially the female sex. You cannot even imagine being a stay-at-home-mom whose daily highlight is pushing a babbling infant in a fancy stroller up and down the neighborhood streets. The older you get, however, the more you crave what you don't have. You start seeing children everywhere: The group of new mothers doing some post-pregnancy yoga exercises in the park together while their babies are placed on colorful blankets in the grass and chew on their tiny fingers; toddlers having a massive tantrum in the supermarket because they are not allowed a certain kind of candy; sweet little girls crossing the street on their mother's hands; adorable little boys riding on their father's shoulders, their hands reaching up high as if they were truly able to touch the sky with their fingertips.
One time when you go shopping, there is this young woman in the same aisle of the kitchen appliances store; she is absentmindedly blowing kisses on her baby's bald head while searching the shelves for a certain kind of frying pan, and the little gesture of a love so fierce, so unique in its protectiveness, affects you so deeply that you have to hurry into the next aisle, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes while you pretend to be interested in an Italian coffee-maker that online reviews have criticized so heavily that you wouldn't dream of buying it.
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The intensity of your own feelings is almost disturbing for you to witness; is this your biological clock ticking even louder now that menopause does not seem as far away anymore as your 40th birthday is now closer than your 35th one?, you wonder when you have to turn off a documentary about great apes teaching their offspring vital abilities to survive in the wild.
This was on a Friday evening; Jane and you both weren't seeing anyone currently, so you spent the beginning of the weekend together huddled up on your couch, and Jane had let you choose a channel.
She threw you a confused sideways glance. "Hey, Maur, why did you turn this off? I don't think I've seen that one before!" You knew she was not really interested in the educational program; she was asking to make sure you were okay because you normally get utterly enthralled in whichever documentary you are watching, offering additional facts or even correcting the narrator whenever the information given is not entirely accurate according to your (almost always, superior) knowledge.
You just shrugged it off. "It's nothing, I'm just tired and not in the mood for this kind of stuff, I guess."
You could feel Jane's suspicious gaze giving you a thorough once-over. "Why do I have this inkling that you're gonna break out in hives any second?" She just knew you way too well.
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When you started to consider other, less traditional options, you went about it methodically, reading academic papers and doing extensive research that kept you awake until the wee hours of the night. Your head swam with all the information you absorbed, and it took you a while to actually comprehend that what you were doing wasn't only an overly dutiful preparation for a work presentation, but something much more personal, something to potentially change the entire course of your existence.
For a while, you felt too frightened to act on the knowledge you had acquired; but then, you convinced yourself that waiting any longer would be foolishly naive – time was the one thing working against you, after all.
So you contacted the best fertility clinic in the whole state and drove there for your very first appointment only one week later.
Everybody was lovely. No one questioned your ability to be a good mother although you did not even have someone to accompany you. When the doctor realized that you had also studied Medicine, she started to use medical jargon that would probably have intimidated others but put you more at ease.
She talked you through all the steps that would have to be taken in a very scientific and methodical manner that you greatly appreciated; you had your first exam right that day and went home with a manila folder full of paperwork and even more information and a brochure consisting mainly of "success stories", showing smiling parents cuddling their toddlers and close-ups of angelic infant faces, their fertility journeys being described as "the last chance we seemed to have" and "a blessing for the family we otherwise wouldn't have been able to have!"
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A short while later, when you felt like you could not possibly keep this huge desire of yours to yourself any longer, you confided in Jane, your best friend and fiercest supporter.
She was skeptical, at first. You had invited her to a new restaurant where you could order the most delicious seafood, supposedly even the best oysters in town, but she eyed her plate with barely concealed suspicion like most times you'd managed to talk her into trying out something a little more sophisticated than burgers and fries at the Dirty Robber.
You instantly regretted bringing her here; you could see from the way she was squinting her eyes and chewing in a strained manner that the food so wasn't her thing but at the same time, your affection for her reached a new plateau when she swallowed another mouthful of her order and thanked you again for the invitation and proceeded to tell you that the meal was divine in the voice that seemed reserved only for you, so velvety and rich that you didn't even care she was lying.
But when you brought up the topic of your desire to have a baby and mentioned the fertility specialist you had consulted, she seemed a little confused and somewhat worried. "But... why would you do that, Maura? On your own, I mean – you are still so young, and you could have anyone you laid your eyes on, so-"
"Jane", you sat more upright while addressing her earnestly, "I am honestly flattered but while it is true that I could possibly live to 100 with the rapid medical progress, my fertility is not at its prime anymore, as studies have shown that women are most fertile in their 20s, which also means that I'd need to find a partner to start a family with very soon and this usually puts a lot of pressure on a relationship that's only developing. Plus, there's no guarantee I'd even meet someone suitable because let's be honest here, Jane, I haven't had the best trekking record with men in the past."
"Track record", she corrected as was her habit and puffed out her cheeks, giving your little speech some deeper thought.
"Well – I still kinda think this is a precipitate decision, but I've always imagined you having kids some day, so perhaps I should have seen this coming a while ago."
You tilted your head, unsure of her tone. "So, you'd – support my decision?"
She gave you one of her broad, somewhat mischievous trademark smirks. "It's not like you need my permission, Maur."
"I am not asking for your permission", you clarified, "I just – well, to be honest, I'd be terrified of going through all of this all on my own."
"Are you kidding me?" She reached for your hand with a surprising confidence, considering you were in this well-frequented restaurant in its first week of opening, but she seemed to not give a wink about anyone potentially seeing and misinterpreting the comforting gesture of her intertwining her slender, long fingers with your shorter ones, freshly manicured nails and all.
"Maura – listen to me, you will always have my back, okay? I – I just need a minute to process", she said, taking a generous swig of the beer she had ordered. You, as if on cue, took a long sip from your excellent Californian wine and when you set your glass down again, she already seemed to be back to her usual self.
"So you realize that I'm gonna be, like, your babe's cool auntie?", she asked, brow arched playfully.
You couldn't hold back your relieved laugh. "That sounds like a warning."
"It isn't. Well, okay, partly maybe. I'm just stating the facts, namely that I'm gonna be the coolest aunt in the whole universe. I'll teach the kiddo to ride a bike and climb trees and how to tie knots and when it's a teenager, I'll make sure to-"
"Jane", you tried to slow her down good-naturedly, "I am not even pregnant yet."
She winked at you and said, lightly, "Well, you'd better start trying soon, then, righto?"
