The Secret Daughter (31 page)

‘Another few weeks?’ I repeated, and glanced down at Sabina, who was
finally
asleep in my arms after a marathon night of wakefulness. The fog rushed back in at me, thicker than before, and my living room seemed to darken and shrink in around me.

‘Is that still okay?’ Lilly asked hesitantly. ‘I appreciate everything you’re doing for us, Megan. I really . . . can’t thank you enough, honestly. If it’s too much . . . I mean, I can try to speed it up, we can apply to the court for a licence but the solicitor said that would take a while and without Tata’s consent it might not work anyway.’

‘No, no it’s fine,’ I cleared my throat. ‘You just call me when you’re ready, and let me know if I can do anything to help the process along, okay?’

‘Okay.’ I heard the smile leap back into Lilly’s voice. ‘And is she well? Is she sleeping for you and growing and . . . is she okay?’

‘She’s doing beautifully,’ I said. ‘Actually I think I hear her waking up so I’d best go, good luck with everything and keep in touch, okay?’

I managed to hang up just as the sobs bubbled up, but they were mine, not Sabina’s. I was disappointed and confused, and so tired that even the effort required to get Sabina back to the bassinet in her room seemed beyond what I could manage.

I sank into a chair and looked around my living room through my veil of tears. There was a huge pile of clean nappies and baby clothes on the floor near to the laundry, and groceries by the door that I still hadn’t unpacked from the previous day. Something about the chaos made me suddenly, irrationally furious and I felt the muscles in my arms contract as if I might squeeze the baby in punishment.

And then, of course, the tears came faster and harder because I realised that I was blaming an innocent child for the state of a house and none of that really mattered and none of it was her fault at all. What kind of
monster
did that make me?

It was my darkest moment, wedged tightly in a period of so many dark moments that I’d look back on it for years and wonder how we both survived. I was more than ever certain that I was not cut out to adopt a child. Surely
all
of this would be easier if I actually had a baby of my own, my own flesh and blood. Those fleeting glances of affection I had towards Sabina would surely be more steady and solid if this were
my
child. The instinct that I lacked would come naturally if only I’d been pregnant and given birth myself.

I’d love my baby, instantly and automatically. Maybe I was growing to love Sabina, but it was happening too slowly . . . she’d be surely back with Lilly before I even came to
like
her.

But, as difficult as it all was, I was stuck. What choice did I have? I had committed to helping Lilly and James, and I couldn’t very well return the baby to the hospital and say it was too hard, I’d changed my mind. I had to stumble and fumble my way forward, and wait for Lilly to return to be a
real
mother to her daughter.

The most frightening part of the whole affair was that this was my first taste of motherhood, and it was not what I thought it would be. I expected it to be joyous and transformative.

I did not anticipate endless, monotonous days which blurred until life was both unenjoyable and unrecognisable.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Sabina—April 2012

We were waiting for dessert when Dominic decided he was ready for his milk. The twins had been playing in the pram, coo-ing and kicking and content, but Dominic roused to protest his hunger in an instant, moving from near silence to a furious, demanding cry.

‘Here we go,’ Simon sighed, and reached into the pram to withdraw him. ‘I suppose at least they let us eat this time, huh?’

‘Sometimes we have to take turns eating,’ Emmaline explained to me, as she bent down to pick Valentina up. Lilly immediately reached forward and Emmaline grinned as she passed her daughter across the table. ‘Don’t get me wrong, we adore them . . .’

‘So you keep saying,’ I laughed.

‘If we just keep telling ourselves that . . .’ Simon grinned at me. He was fumbling now in their nappy bag with his free hand, and withdrew two small bottles of milk, which he sat on the table. Then he adjusted his son in his arms, and offered him a dummy. The baby sucked it greedily, and Simon glanced at me. ‘Want to hold your nephew while I go get these heated up? You probably need the practice.’

‘I
do
need the practice. And I’d
love
to,’ I accepted the squirming baby into my arms and peered down at him. ‘Hi, Dominic.’

Ted rested his chin on my shoulder, staring down at the baby with obvious longing.

‘See, you’re a natural,’ he said softly. I smiled a little nervously and offered my finger to Dominic, who gripped it tightly in his fist. Then he spat the dummy out and tried to manoeuvre my finger into his mouth.

‘Whoa, no,’ I laughed, trying to pull my finger away, but he would not be deterred. He was grunting now and craning his neck to reach. The grunts quickly turned into outraged cries. Beside us, Valentina was starting to grizzle too.

‘Oh, you are cranky children,’ Lilly gently scolded, then she reached down to nuzzle Valentina’s cheek. ‘Delicious, but cranky.’

Simon returned with the bottles, which he automatically handed to Lilly and I, and he sat back beside Ted and resumed a conversation about seed harvesting. I watched Lilly test the milk on the inside of her wrist and did likewise.

‘What am I testing for?’ I asked.

‘It should be lukewarm, you shouldn’t really feel it,’ she told me quietly.

I moved the bottle towards Dominic’s mouth, and he lifted his head to grab it, obviously impatient with my unpractised technique. He gulped down the milk much quicker than I expected, and then I again copied Lilly, lifting him onto my shoulder and gently patting his back until he gave a big, satisfying belch.

‘They’ll be getting tired now and they’ll probably start yelling again, we’d better head home,’ Emmaline said, but she seemed reluctant to go.

‘Oh, please stay for dessert,’ Lilly pleaded. ‘We can hold them and keep them quiet, can’t we, Bean?’

The casual use of the nickname left me feeling warm and
known
. Loads of friends had called me variations of Bean and Beanie over my lifetime, and Ted
never
really used my full name, but there was something particularly special about the way Lilly said it. She wrapped the word in softness and familiarity, as if she’d been infusing the sound in maternal longing for decades.

‘Speak for yourself, Lilly,’ I murmured. ‘I’m just copying you and hoping Dominic doesn’t realise that I don’t know what I’m doing.’

‘You’re doing just fine,’ she said firmly.

The desserts arrived. Neesa’s appetite had suddenly returned, just in time for her ice-cream. I sat Dominic on my lap and dodged his determined attempts to hijack my spoonful of tiramisu. Valentina’s energy faded first, and soon not even the tiny tastes of Lilly’s ice-cream she was managing were enough to placate her. Lilly lifted her onto her shoulder again and began to rock gently, and then I heard her humming a tune under her breath. I glanced at her, and smiled at the image of it, Lilly in all of her maternal perfection, enjoying her granddaughter.

Dominic let out a squeal on my lap, and I jumped, having forgotten for a moment that he was even there. Ted reached down and lifted him away from me, passing him back to his father.

‘Maybe we should go,’ Emmaline said softly. Lilly passed Valentina back too, and as she did so, she leant close to me.

‘It’ll be your turn soon,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll visit us with your baby, won’t you?’

‘Of course,’ I promised. ‘Of
course
I will.’

THIRTY-EIGHT

Megan—September 1973

In those early weeks, I rarely left the house. The prematurely grey roots of my hair began to grow out, but I didn’t notice, because I no longer had time to fix it or even shower most days. Whenever we did venture out, it was usually just when we were desperate for groceries. Those outings were inevitably an exercise in humiliation and panic.

Sabina was most settled a few hours after a feed, just before the hunger started again. I timed it with military precision and I sprinted through the aisles, throwing groceries into my trolley with little care or attention to what I was purchasing. Inevitably she was screaming by the time we reached the checkout and people stared at us. I was sure they were wondering how someone so clueless managed to get a baby. I was sure they were concerned for her welfare, and maybe they
should
have been. I was too tired to be rational most of the time. My thoughts spiralled often and I struggled to control the trajectory.

Sometimes, darkness would settle over me and I would pace the hallway with her in my arms, thinking things that were too dark to even acknowledge. Each time those moments passed I found myself terrified that Lilly and James wouldn’t hasten enough and that I’d lose my mind completely before I could hand Sabina back.

Grae said it might have been easier if we’d had time to prepare; just a little time to read up about newborns. Or if we lived somewhere warmer, or if my mother was here to help, or even if I had a friend that I could turn to just to give me advice.

I could snap myself out of the darkest moments only by reminding myself that things
would
get better . . . because Sabina would soon be with her real mother, instead of me. I felt there would be an instant change in her, and she’d go from an unsettled baby to a happy one in a single instant, if someone could just provide her with the right care.

I’d hear Sabina cry in the middle of the night and feel a furious resentment that my sleep was so
constantly
being broken. I hated that if I ignored her, Grae would swing his legs over the edge of the bed and tiptoe to her room, and I’d hear him whispering cheerily to her as he prepared her bottle. It was only guilt that kept me from ignoring her every single time she cried at night – after all, he still had forty hours of work to do each week, he needed his sleep.

I was torn between wanting to let him help, and feeling like it was my job to handle all of her care on my own, besides which I was increasingly concerned that Grae was enjoying this temporary arrangement rather
too
much. The spare room had once contained only a borrowed bassinet, but was rapidly morphing into a little girl’s room. Grae was loading it gradually with toys and items that Sabina wouldn’t need for years, and whenever I protested, he’d shrug and remind me that it was nice to send her off to her family with a few special items to remember us by.

Our life had become a fragile chaos; with me counting down the hours until we could pass Sabina back to her real family, and Grae clearly dreading that day more and more. Some days, he greeted me at both lunch time and after work with a hesitant,
did Lilly call today
? And I’d watch him visibly relax when I mumbled my disappointed
no
in response.

During those long days at home alone, I planned to sit him down once Sabina was gone and to tell him once and for all that I just could
not
adopt. This experiment had been a miserable failure. I had warmed to her somewhat, but not nearly enough given the time and effort I’d put in, besides which – it was just
too
hard. This entire experience was an ominous precursor to our own inevitably failed adoption down the track.

I had decided that we would simply have to find a way to have a baby of our own. Maybe we could seek out a new specialist, maybe a younger doctor with some fresh ideas, maybe we could visit a university clinic and see a professor.

There
had
to be a way.

THIRTY-NINE

Sabina—April 2012

It was a very late night.

Lilly and I sat up talking outside until it just grew too cold, and then we moved back into the dining room and we looked through the photo albums Mum had prepared for us. This time, the conversation flowed, and it was easy. I had wanted for Lilly to see the beauty of my childhood; here was my chance, and I ran with it.

I filled in the blanks for Lilly, explaining where I’d been and what I’d been doing when each photo was taken. I relived the birthday at Disney World, the day I finally graduated from speech therapy and Mum surprised me with a trip to a concert at the Opera House, and the day we moved into that big house in Balmain.

It was a rapid-fire synopsis of my life. Every significant moment had been captured in some kind of photo or memento, and me telling Lilly my story was as close as she could ever come to being a part of it. I shared the details as I recalled them, like the tastes of the awful cakes Mum had made me until I turned ten and I finally insisted she buy them, and the smell of the lavender in Mum’s sitting room.

And when I remembered moments that
weren’t
captured by a photo, I just shared the emotion – in
this
moment I was happy, in
that
moment overwhelmed, but in
all
of these, I was
loved
.

I had relived each of those memories, only recently, when I learned about the adoption, but I had remembered them through a lens of confusion, and I had viewed each incident with suspicion and a sense of shame. At the dining table with Lilly that night, I corrected that perspective. It may have been birthed in pain and deceit, but I
had
grown up in a family which truly did revolve around me, and I’d had two parents who had given me a wonderful, blessed life.

I saw Lilly change too, as the hours wore on. She listened intently, but as we talked, the
intensity
was gradually fading from her gaze. She was living what she’d missed, decades too late, and it would never be what it might have been, but I was
there
now. We would make the most of it, even the catch up of the years we’d spent apart.

I certainly didn’t
intend
for that time to be a testimony on Mum and Dad’s behalf, but even as the hours wore on, I was aware that I was proving to Lilly just how well I’d been cared for. Every now and again I’d think back on her threat earlier that day to take my birth certificate to the police. There had been such fury and anger on her face in that earlier discussion, but even by the time that I’d turned the page on the last album, Lilly looked like a different person.