She gave birth quietly and wanted to give her baby away
I’ve been a midwife for more years than I’d care to admit, and in that time I’ve seen every kind of situationpleasant, not so pleasant, and downright bizarre. Usually, the nursing staff doesnt get involved in the personal affairs of expectant mothers and their families, but recently I had to step in for the sake of a young university student who delivered a beautiful baby girl and promptly insisted on giving her up.
The student was named Harrietyes, entirely English. She was admitted to the maternity ward having carried her baby for the full nine months, yet had never once visited a doctor. Not wanting to answer my questions about it, and with the labour already underway, there wasnt much time for detective work.
Harriet gave birth with a quiet efficiency that would make every participant in a antenatal class look like amateurs. She barely made a peep through labour, followed every instruction to the letter, and before you knew it, I was holding a squalling newborn in my arms, heralding the arrival of a new person like a tiny town crier. Harriet, watching her little daughter bellow, shed her own tears. I assured her the little one was perfectly healthy and suggested we all share in the joy of such a marvelous baby girl.
But on the ward, Harriet broke the news: she wanted the baby adopted and insisted we notify the necessary officials. We tried to persuade her to reconsider, warning that she was acting in haste, but the young mum wouldnt breastfeed her child and asked to be left in peace.
Unlike other babies, the new arrival wouldnt touch the formula, stubbornly turning away, but every time she caught the scent of milk, her mouth opened wide and her head craned eagerly as if shed mislaid the map to the nearest chest.
She started losing weight, so on my next shift, against everyones advice, I took her back to her mother. I explained that Harriets behaviour was jeopardizing her daughters health, and, channeling my inner headmistress, nearly demanded she breastfeed the child. When Harriet finally obliged, the little girl latched on with gusto while I excused myself for an urgent matter, leaving them alone.
Returning half an hour later, I found them both fast asleepHarriet curled protectively around her little one. When they woke, Harriet emerged onto the corridor, sat beside my desk, and began to tell me her story.
Turns out, the babys father is a locally renowned entrepreneurthink Range Rover, suit, and a house in Surrey. Unfortunately, hes also married. The news of Harriets pregnancy failed to spark paternal joy; instead, he offered solutions better left in Victorian novels. Harriet refused outright. Learning her decision, the businessman confessed all to his wife, who graciously forgave him and promptly turned on poor Harriet, demanding she sort it out. Neither bribes nor threats swayed her, and soon the businessman vanished for an unspecified sabbatical, leaving his wife pressing for adoption.
At the end of her story, Harriet looked me squarely in the eye and said, I want to keep her, but I havent a clue how Ill manage in student halls and skint.
I praised her honesty and gave what encouragement I could. Fortunately, our consultant is well-connectedevery town has one, usually doubles as cricket umpire. A phone call later, we reached out to the father. Astonishingly, he didnt dodge; he showed up a few hours later, and together we hashed out plans for Harriet and the babys future. To everyones surprise, he was quite civilised.
When Harriet was discharged, she secured a flatwith the babys father paying the rent a year in advance in good old pounds sterling. He also handed over a comfortable sum to get her started and promised to be involved in his daughters life. I suspect some pang of conscience had nudged him into recognising his responsibilities. As for Harriet and her little one, Ive no idea what the future holds, but I dearly hope she builds a loving family and raises a wonderful daughterwho, with any luck, will save the drama for her own teenage years and not for the maternity ward.
