Lydia had always dreamed of this momenther first child with her husband, James. For nine months, hed been her rockescorting her to university, shielding her from harm, especially when icy pavements made every step treacherous. But fate had other plans. Just before the birth, James was sent away on business. He could have refusedhed already planned to resign once the baby arrived. No man should be away on shifts when his wife is left alone with a newborn.
The contractions began the moment he was gone. The pain was unbearable, and worsehe wasnt there. This wasnt how shed imagined welcoming their first child.
The baby was healthy, but Lydia couldnt bring herself to call James with the news. Let him hear it from someone else, she thought bitterly.
She glanced around the ward. Opposite her lay a woman in her forties. Nearby, a younger girl chattered on her phone. By the door, another woman wept silently, face turned to the wall.
Exhausted, Lydia sank into the stiff hospital pillow and fell into a deep sleepas if the world outside no longer existed.
“Are you going to feed your baby?” The nurses voice sliced through her drowsiness. Heart leaping, Lydia turnedbut the nurse was speaking to the woman by the door.
“Well? Say something. At least hold her. Look how beautiful she is.” The woman didnt move.
“Youre quick enough to spread your legs, but taking responsibility? Maybe you shouldve given her up.” The nurse lingered a moment, then left.
The older woman, Margaret, spoke first, her voice sharp with disapproval.
“You think I wanted this? Im forty-three, my sons marriedIll be a grandmother soon! But here we are. The babys innocent. If you didnt want her, you shouldnt have carried her this far. Now shell rot in foster caredid you even think about that?”
Emilythe weeping womansobbed harder, shoulders shaking.
“What good are tears now?” Margaret snapped. “Take your baby, feed her, and stop being a fool.”
“Maybe she was raped,” piped up Alice, finally setting her phone aside. “Or what if the fathers someonesomeone close?”
Lydia listened, guilt twisting inside her. Here she wasloved, cared for, yet always finding reasons to sulk. And there was Emily, utterly alone. And the babyinnocent, unwanted.
That little girl would grow up bitter. Maybe her parents drank. Maybe the man who promised to marry her had vanished the moment he learned of the pregnancy.
No balloons to celebrate her birth. No flowers for her mother. No home to go to.
Shame and pity tangled in Lydias chest.
“What if you had somewhere to go?” she asked softly. “Would you keep her?”
Emily stared at her as if she were mad. “Of coursebut thatll never happen.” She turned back to the wall, silent.
Hours later, Lydia announced, “Youll stay in the halls. My mothers the warden. Youll clean floors, but theyll give you a room.”
“Oh!” Alice perked up. “Ive got a spare discharge blanketmy husband can bring it. Weve got twono need for both.”
“Ill bring clothes,” Margaret said. “My daughters old thingswashed and pressed. No use to us nowweve only grandsons.”
By morning, women from other wards cameoffering prams, blankets, tiny socks.
“Ive nothingbut Ill buy formula,” offered a young mother. “In caseyou knowshe doesnt have enough milk.”
Emily wept againnot in despair, but overwhelmed.
“Ill pay it back,” she whispered. The older women patted her shoulder. “Pass it on to someone else who needs it.”
That night, drifting off, Lydia smiled. Emily would be all right. Shed find a good man. Her daughter would grow up loved.
What more could anyone want?
