Surro-Ghost Writer

Feeling like an empty bag nowadays; skin crumpled up like a piece of paper. I have delivered a story—someone else’s child, the one I carried for almost nine months–to her mother. Had I known the pain of separation, perhaps I would not have taken on the role of surrogate writer (ghostwriter) in the first place. Perhaps, I would not have become so attached listening for that first heartbeat as the story started to take shape. Perhaps, I wouldn’t have sung lullabies to Baby in utero, I wouldn’t have given up the gym, spicy foods, or Tequila. Oh, those sleepless nights where I lay awake listening, turning and twisting trying to get comfortable as Baby kicked, screaming to be heard.

When choosing a ghostwriter or someone to carry your baby; someone to take control of part of your DNA, it’s important to do a background check first. The new mother and I first met at the end of last summer. For us, as I listened, it was serendipitous–love at first sight. I did my homework, researched the woman, finding her to be credible. I’d already given birth to other children and wanted to make this woman happy and so we agreed to make a baby.

And finally, the bittersweet moment has arrived and I must say goodbye to the baby who carries part of my DNA; some of my quirks and mannerisms. She has my eyes and ears; and as hard as I tried to avoid it, she also has my voice. The new mother has offered to let me visit whenever I want, but from now on, I will only watch Baby grow from the shadows. Maybe, I’ll be invited to birthday parties and other celebrations. I can only hope that Baby will grow up to be the star that the mother dreamed of. I can only hope and pray that Baby wins some awards along the way and that she ultimately makes her mother proud. Perhaps, she’ll make it onto Oprah.

I have to say goodbye to Baby now. Maybe it’s selfish to think this way, but it hurts as much or more than killing off all of the other little darlings I’ve given birth to.

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