Many from our village left to work in the capital, but when I was getting ready, I faced severe reprimands from my father:
– What do you have to do there? Strut along the avenues?
My mother helped—she gave money for the journey and wished me good luck, despite my father’s objections. A friend who already worked in the salon as a hairdresser, or as she called herself, a stylist, helped with the job. The salon owner was looking for a girl for the position of administrator but didn’t want to take city dwellers who disagreed with the proposed salary. For me, that kind of money was a fortune, and I joyfully accepted, especially since my friend and I could rent a cheap room in an inn
I helped my parents with money, often called, but I only spoke with my mother; my father did not approve of my choice, although, as my mother told me, he was glad that some free money appeared in the house.
The son of the salon owner was a fairly frequent guest in the seats of our masters. After a while, he started coming in for haircuts with flowers and began inviting me on dates.
Our meetings led to a natural result—I became pregnant, and Denis, upon learning this, simply disappeared. The hostess, aware of our relationship, claimed that nothing special had happened and did not comment on the events. It’s true that when I went on maternity leave and resigned, she gave me a significant amount “for the first time.”
I gave birth at the capital’s maternity hospital, and realizing that the baby’s father wouldn’t even inquire about her name, I decided to refuse and transfer her to the baby’s home. Moreover, I couldn’t imagine going home and talking to my father, who would surely say he didn’t listen, got angry, etc.
The midwife who delivered the baby, upon learning of my decision, stayed after her shift and spent several hours persuading me to change my mind.
She explained that the baby’s home is like a shelter for homeless animals, where babies are fed only with artificial mixtures, and diapers are changed not when necessary but strictly according to the established routine, without spending a single extra one. She said that after the children don’t feel their mother next to them, her care, they become completely different, experience developmental delays, and those who want to take such a child into the family will face challenging work on their social reintegration, which many cannot handle and return the children, constantly traumatizing their psyche.
This woman simply opened my eyes to all the consequences awaiting my baby in case of refusal. I burst into tears and talked to her about my strict father and villagers who love to gossip about everyone.
The midwife reassured me.
– Don’t worry; your mother will arrive tomorrow. She’s decidedly against your decision to refuse.
How did she know?
– The chief doctor called her, and it’s not at all difficult to find the phone now…
My mother really supported me and even forbade me to think about leaving Yulechka to “strangers.” Father was surprised. As my mother told me, he waved his hand, shouted, “What did I tell you?!” then became soft, ordered to set the table, and brought out a bottle from the cellar:
– Sit down, grandma, a granddaughter is born, let’s celebrate! When will they arrive?
He, like his mother, had no thoughts of refusal. After listening to my mother, I burst into tears, as I did during a conversation with a midwife, but these were tears of relief:
– Mom, thank you, but I’m a fool; I wanted to leave her!
Now that everything has been decided, it’s scary to even remember.