A New Leash on Life Read Online Free PDF Page A

world class tennis star, or the creator of the next big technological device capable of changing the world as we all knew it. Maybe, just maybe, my baby would invent a transportation device that would allow us to beam ourselves from China to The Keys faster than we could blink.
    Aside from all of these wonderful benefits my baby would acquire, I couldn’t help but worry if the child would be loved enough. Would she sit and worry about how others viewed her? Would she stumble over insecurities of not being loved enough because her mommy shipped her off to strangers? Would she recognize me one day, twenty years or so into the future, when we reunited with the help of a good lawyer? Would she hate me for sending her off into the arms of people who wanted a prize baby they could show off to their rich friends?
    When that sunny Monday morning of my baby’s birthday arrived and I stood in a puddle of my fluids, my aunt shuffled me to the car. She drove like a mad woman, weaving around buses, cars, pedestrians to get me to the hospital. She stood by my side, covering my hand with hers, blanketing my forehead in wet towels, urging me to push and breathe. Five hours later, when I pushed my baby out into the world into the arms of a waiting doctor, I cried. I already missed her.
    I feared for her life without me.
    I wailed when the doctor handed her to me all slick and innocent. I kissed her slippery face and smoothed her dark hair, loving her before the nagging moment when the joy of this precious baby would be sucked from my life forever. My aunt wept along with me, stroking my hair and cradling me as I stared into those unfocused eyes and fell in love with my baby girl. Aunt Marie and I cradled her tiny fingers. She wriggled. Our souls connected.
    I prayed that God would help ease the blow for the couple waiting on their new baby because no way in hell was I handing her over to anyone.
    My life corkscrewed out in front of me, going off in a tangent far removed from the life I envisioned I’d be living with Olivia one day. I kept telling myself as the weeks turned into months and then finally into a year when my daughter, Ayla, blew out her first birthday candle, that one day I’d get back to her and confess the whole messed up story. I’d tell her everything because time healed all wounds, even ones created out of dark secrets.
    I’d introduce my baby to her father and he’d rescind on his idea that aborting her would’ve been the best choice for us. He would take one look at his beautiful girl and hug her and cry for time wasted. He’d blame me and forget he ever told me to abort her. He’d fault me for keeping such a gift from him that whole time.
    I’d take the blow for Ayla.
    As the years passed, I could only assume that Olivia probably hated me for not attempting to contact her. I prayed that she didn’t view me as a spoiled brat starring in off-Broadway plays and allowing money and fame to consume my every waking moment. I hoped that she didn’t envision my life to be one filled with caviar, fine champagne, a dazzling beauty nestled into the crook of my arm, attending one lavish party after another, ending the day spread eagle in a pile of my money, laughing, giddy with selfish pride over my artistic luck.
    How surprised she’d be to see me changing shitty diapers and playing with My Little Pony.
    My sacrifice.
    When Facebook arrived, I signed up and waited patiently for Olivia to catch on and sign up, too. When she did, I pored over her profile day after day, studying pictures of her working with a variety of dogs, cats, horses, even turtles. Her bio stated she attended college and was studying to become a vet. One day, she’d like to open a shelter, “one that didn’t kill animals.” I could picture her pounding the keys on that note.
    Ayla loved animals, too. She and I rescued several cats from our local shelter, giving Oony Gato even more of an air of authority. Ayla would giggle at them, pointing,