Chapter 5 - WHY ABIGAIL WANTED A BABY
Claire assumed the pregnancy was Richard’s idea.
She was wrong.
Abigail had wanted another child for years.
She had Claire at twenty-two.
Then a second pregnancy ended at nineteen weeks.
After that, Matthew did not want to try again.
Abigail accepted it.
Mostly.
She built a life.
Raised Claire.
Worked as a school librarian.
Cared for Matthew through cancer.
After he died, the old grief returned in a different form.
Not:
I need a replacement child.
Abigail hated that language.
More like:
I thought that door was closed because of marriage and time. Then medicine made me ask whether I still wanted it closed.
Richard initially said no.
Not because of age alone.
Because he was seventy.
He worried:
Would he be alive for high school?
College?
Would Abigail become a widow again while raising a child?
Reasonable fears.
They spent a year in counseling.
Medical consultation.
Financial planning.
Genetic counseling.
They considered adoption.
Then donor-egg IVF.
No spontaneous miracle.
No secret pregnancy after one romantic night.
A deliberate, heavily discussed decision.
Claire read the clinic notes later with Abigail’s permission.
One line stayed with her:
Patient understands age-related pregnancy risks and parenting-longevity concerns and wishes to proceed after independent counseling.
Independent.
Not Richard forcing her.
Not desperation.
Choice.
Claire later asked Abigail whether she had wanted Richard’s money.
Abigail did not become offended.
She answered.
“I wanted the freedom his money gave us.”
Claire stared.
“That sounds like yes.”
“It is partly yes.”
Honesty again.
Richard’s wealth meant they could afford:
donor-egg IVF,
high-risk prenatal care,
childcare,
future guardianship planning,
and the possibility that Abigail would stop working entirely.
Money mattered.
Pretending otherwise would have been romantic dishonesty.
Then Abigail continued:
“But wanting security is not the same as marrying someone for money.”
Claire nodded.
“Did you love the life too?”
“Yes.”
“Travel?”
“Yes.”
“The house?”
“Yes.”
“His money?”
“Some of what money makes easier, yes.”
Claire almost smiled.
Messy truth was more trustworthy than purity.
Claire still had questions.
“Why didn’t you tell me before treatment?”
Abigail said:
“Because I knew you would say I was too old.”
Claire opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She probably would have.
That made the secrecy more understandable.
May you like
Not wise.
Understandable.
