Join Live, Love, Laugh and Books as we welcome our very own author, Victoria Wells for our March chat.
Key to My Heart by Victoria Wells Excerpt
Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, Ava struggled to wake from the endlessly taunting nightmare. Her restless body stirred and twisted, wrestling to keep the painful memories at bay.
The wailing cry of the healthy newborn pierced her trembling heart. What had she done? The question ricocheted throughout the corners of her mind as weary eyes followed the nurse who quickly wrapped the squirming babe and left the delivery room.
Noooo! Please, come back! I changed my mind! I want my baby! I want my baby!
Ava bolted from the nightmare. Her nightgown was drenched in sweat, making the thin cotton fabric stick to her skin. Taking in deep gulps of air, she covered her face with her hands. Tears fell from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks despite her tightly shut lids.
The nightmare always ended this way. It always ended with her screaming for her baby. Unfortunately for Ava, this nightmare was all too real.
On the day Ava gave her baby up for adoption, she pleaded with the doctor and nurses to see her baby. They refused. Without an ounce of compassion, she was told it would be for the best that she didn’t bond with her baby. When she tearfully begged to at least be told the sex of her child, each of the healthcare workers remained silent as if she hadn’t said anything at all.
So what if she’d foolishly made the decision to put her child up for adoption. Did that mean she didn’t have the right to know if she gave birth to a girl or boy? What gave them the right to withhold this information?
Finally one of the nurses, who couldn’t ignore Ava’s anguish, gently whispered to her, “You had a little girl. She weighed six pounds, five ounces.”
After Ava was settled in a room on the maternity unit, desperate to get a glimpse of her daughter, she shuffled down the hall to the nursery. She didn’t know which pain was more devastating—the aches in her freshly post partum body, or the shredding of her heart into a million tiny pieces.
Tears followed the thick lump that formed in her throat as she realized none of the babies behind the glass sleeping so peacefully belonged to her. Three of them were baby boys, snuggly wrapped in blue blankets. The last one—baby girl Wu—contentedly suckled a pacifier in her sleep.
Reliving that gut wrenching afternoon exhausted Ava. She felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. Wiping tears from her face with the palm of her hand, she placed unsteady feet on the floor.
After stripping off the damp nightgown, she padded over to the bureau on the other side of the room. Opening the third drawer, she pulled out a yellow nightshirt and covered her nude body. Before closing the drawer, her hand blindly searched in the dark for her most precious possessions.
Taking slow, measured steps, her hand trembled as she hit the light switch on the wall. Holding on to her possessions with one hand, Ava used the other to shield her eyes for the few seconds it took them to adjust to the blinding light.
Moving back over to the bed, Ava slowly sat on the edge. Ever so carefully, she opened the first Ziploc bag, removing its content. Ava brought the tiny undershirt to her nose. If she inhaled deeply, real deeply, she could still smell the scent of her precious baby. Holding the soft fabric to her face, she said a prayer for the woman who had showed her some mercy.
“Please, Ms. Peretti, I’m begging you not to tell anyone I’ve done this. You understand I could lose my job?”
Ava numbly nodded her head. The hurt she was feeling was so deep her tongue had become paralyzed. This was all too much for her to take in. How could he do this to me?
The middle-aged nurse hesitated, looking over her shoulder and double checking that the door was firmly closed. Bringing her hand from behind her back, Ava noticed the two small, clear, plastic Ziploc bags she held. Coming closer, the nurse kept her voice soft and gentle. “I just felt so bad for you. After your baby was cleaned up and dressed, I went back to the nursery and took off her undershirt.”
Gingerly sitting next to Ava on the hospital bed, she continued. “And I clipped a lock of her hair for you.” Sadly smiling at Ava, the kind, older woman placed the baggies in Ava’s trembling hands. “Your baby has a beautiful head of thick, dark hair.”
The kind woman didn’t mean any harm, but hearing her refer to the infant as “your baby” further crushed Ava’s heart and spirit. She just wanted to die. The sob she released sounded like that of a wounded animal caught in a steel trap. Nothing could compare to this hurt, not even Langston’s betrayal.
Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Ava tenderly folded the tiny undershirt before laying it on her lap. Ever so carefully, she opened the other clear bag and removed the lock of hair, gently twirling the delicate strands between her fingers.
As she made the only connection she had with her daughter, Ava’s chest tightened to the point where breathing was almost difficult. She wanted her baby back. She had an innate feeling that her baby needed her.
To purchase a copy, visit Victoria Wells website: http://www.victoria-wells.com/
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