Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 148949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Will they be good people? Was Blue’s process enough?
I shivered, held Emilio closer to me, and studied them.
The first was a curvy black woman with fiery red hair that cascaded down her back in loose waves. Her features were striking, with high cheekbones and full lips.
The second woman had sleek black hair pulled back in a tight bun, and her smooth skin was flawless. She had a regal air about her, with a strong jawline and piercing brown eyes.
Dr. Ivy stood next to me. “Emily, do you have any questions for them?”
I looked at the red-haired women. “What is your name?”
An accent laced her words, but I couldn’t pick up the origin. “My name is Abena.”
“And where are you from?”
“I grew up in Ghana. My mother is a midwife. Her work brought her to Russia.”
“And you have experience with breastfeeding?”
“I have helped countless mothers and babies.”
While it was possible for a woman to lactate if she was not pregnant. Inducing lactation tended to involve a complex process that usually involved hormone-mimicking drugs.
Most likely, these women had kids which made me wonder about that. Kaz and I flew around a lot. It would mean that they might be away from their children most of the year. I didn’t like the sound of separating a mother from her kids.
I raised my eyebrows. “How many children do you have?”
Her bottom lip quivered. “I. . .no longer have my child.”
Oh no.
I quirked my brows.
“She passed away at. . .two years old.”
My heart broke. I couldn’t even comprehend the pain she must have been going through.
I also didn’t know if I could breastfeed other babies after that. It would have made me insane.
But, Blue made sure that all the women had their mental health checked out, so she had to be on an even psychological playing field.
Dr. Ivy gave her a sad smile. “And how did your daughter pass, Abena?”
I widened my eyes, not wanting to make the poor woman go there.
Abena’s voice went low. “She was bitten by an infected mosquito. Next thing I knew. . .she had a high fever with shaking chills and pain. Soon. . .she fell into a coma.”
Oh my God.
My eyes watered.
This is so fucked up.
Dr. Ivy slowly nodded. “It was malaria?”
Abena nodded her head.
I shivered. “I’m so sorry.”
“It has been six years. Healing has come.” Abena swallowed. Her quiet strength was evident in the way she held herself, with a calm confidence that was both reassuring and inspiring. “And sometimes I still feel her near.”
“I’m sure she is.”
“Now. . .I have dedicated my life to children.” Abena’s eyes sparkled with warmth and kindness. “I love being around other kids and watching them grow. I believe. . .my daughter would be happy with that decision.”
All business, Dr. Ivy gestured to the other woman. “And you?”
The second woman stepped forward. For some reason, she appeared older to me, but I wasn’t sure. It didn’t show on that flawless face, but I could see the maturity in her eyes.
I studied her. “What is your name?”
“Chidi.” She smiled. “I grew up in Nigeria. At eighteen, I became pregnant with my son.”
I widened my eyes.
“He is now twenty and at University.”
I smirked.
Alright. She’s 38, but looks 28.
Chidi continued, “I began working with a lactation program that brought me here. I have served as a wet nurse for three different families. As you will see from all of my reference letters, they were very happy with me. Many cried when I left.”
I thought of Olga and could see how that could happen.
Dr. Ivy turned to me. “Do you have any other questions, Emily?”
To my surprise, I talked to them more, still trying to figure out which one I would pick to be a part of our family.
Abena spoke of her upbringing in Ghana, where she had learned the value of hard work and determination from her parents. She shared stories of her community, of the joys and struggles that came with life in a small village. Her passion for helping others shone through in everything she said.
I really like her.
Chidi, on the other hand, spoke of her journey to Russia, of the challenges she had faced as a black woman in a foreign country. She spoke of the discrimination she had encountered, but also of the strength and resilience she had developed as a result. Her determination to make a better life for herself and her family was evident in her every word.
She reminds me so much of Olga.
As the interview came to a close, I knew that either woman would be an excellent choice as a wet nurse for Emilio.
They both exuded warmth and kindness, and their experience and passion for helping others made them the perfect candidates.
Blue arrived and stood on my right.
Dr. Ivy watched me. “Which one would you like to hire, Emily.”