I stare down at the little boy wrapped in my arms as he gives me a full, gummy smile. “I’m going to miss you,” I coo at him. He lets out a little giggle, reaching out and tugging on a lock of my dark hair. He looks so much like his mother. I wonder if my baby would look like me.

I’ve been with the Dickens family for three months now and it’s time for me to go. Leaving is the hardest part of my job. It always is. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going on like this. Each baby takes a little more from me and I can’t bear much more. As much as I love being around babies, it’s hard when it’s something I want more than anything in the world, something I can remember wanting since I was a little girl and held my first baby doll in my arms.

I glance up at Mrs. Dickens. She’s got her lip between her teeth. “You’ll be fine,” I try to reassure her. Baby Samuel is her first baby, but she’s a great mom. In all honesty I don’t think she even needed me, but some parents really like having a live-in baby nurse when they bring their little ones home from the hospital. It puts them at ease, and even more so with first-time parents.

“I don’t know how we’re going to do this without you.” Worry laces her words as I walk over to her and place Samuel into her arms.

“You’ve got this. You’re more than ready.” She looks down at her baby with so much love. I fight back my own tears as I say my goodbyes and grab my bag.

It’s not until I’m in the back of the taxi that I finally let a tear slip free. I know I’m going to miss little Samuel. I love each baby I care for. I can only imagine the love I’d feel for my own. It’s beyond my comprehension. I know you can’t understand that love until you hold your baby in your arms for the first time.

I stop at the bakery down the street from my mom’s place and grab our favorite sticky pecan rolls before going home. She’s been working like crazy for the past few months after someone quit at the hospital. I haven’t seen her in weeks and I miss her.

“Mom, I’m home,” I call out when I enter through the backdoor. I thought when I went to college my mom would move into the city and out of the suburbs, but she never did. She’s always been the one who loves the hustle and bustle of the city. I’m more low key and like being on the outskirts.

I moved back in with my mom after I graduated from college. I’m not sure you can call it “living with her” because technically I only stay with her in my old room when I’m between jobs. Which isn't often. It’s not hard to find a job in my field. Live-in baby nurses can be hard to come by. Plus, I’d graduated top of my class and my list of recommendations speaks for itself. Many times families would try to get me to stay on longer, but I always said no. I’m scared I’ll get too attached. And a bigger part of me thinks that one day I’ll be starting a family of my own. That day hasn’t happened yet, and I’ve decided to do something about it.

I pause when I see my mom standing over the dining room table with my folders scattered out on top of it. My mom is a pediatrician and scrubs make up her entire wardrobe. She’s in light blue today.

I guess loving babies runs in our blood, though my mom only ever had me. She works at the local hospital a few miles away and I still remember when I was little she would take me to the hospital with her. I never liked that she didn’t get to spend much time with each baby. That’s why I chose to be a nurse. Then when I heard about live-in baby nurses I thought that couldn’t be more perfect for me.

She looks up at me with the same rich brown eyes I see every day in the mirror. Only hers have a few fine lines around them.

“You’re going to move out, too?” she asks, holding up one of the real estate ads I printed out.

“I was just looking,” I admit.

I step into the dining room and set the box down on the table against the wall before walking over to my mom. She pulls me into a hug and it feels like home.

“I know you want to do this, and I’m on board. I’ll support you, Ella. I just thought you’d be staying here. I could help more that way.”

My mom would do anything for me. I know that. That’s why I didn’t want to stay here. She would never ask me to leave if she needed space.

“You’ve got your own life, Mom. You barely signed up for having one baby. I’m not going to push another on you.”

She pulls back with a look of shock on her face. “Eleanor Newman!” she snaps at me. “I might not have planned for you, but you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You bet your tush I’m going to be a part of my grandbaby’s life.”

I know I wasn’t a planned baby. She was fresh out of medical school and she fell in lust with a doctor at the hospital she used to work at. Soon into their fast love affair my mom knew he was no good. She broke it off with my biological father and soon after she found out she was pregnant with me. My father, or “sperm donor,” as I often refer to him, said he wanted nothing to do with me. He already had a family of his own.

He tried to get my mom to get rid of me, but my mom said she knew the moment she found out she was pregnant, I was meant to be her baby girl.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean it like that,” I tell her as guilt hits me. My mom never made me feel like a mistake. She loves me with her whole heart. I never longed for a dad because she loved me enough for two parents. I just didn’t want my life choices affecting her.

“I thought if I was going to start trying for a baby that maybe I should get a place of my own.” I’d been saving like crazy since I graduated from college. Pretty much all my checks go straight into my bank account so I can afford getting pregnant, along with taking a big chunk of time off once I finally have my baby.

“You’ll stay here. This is your home. You don’t have to do this alone. I know I work a lot, but I can help when I’m here.” I see the determination in my mom’s eyes. She isn’t going to back down.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Some tension leaves my body, because I know that I won’t be doing this alone. My mom gathers up all the real estate listings and throws them in the trash, only leaving behind the packet about artificial insemination.

I reach down and pick it up. The pages are worn because I’ve read them over and over. I’ve kept it in a folder hoping that I wouldn’t ever have to use it. That one day I’d find the perfect guy and I wouldn’t need it. But I’m sick of waiting.

I know part of it is my fault. I’m painfully shy when it comes to men. The only time I seem to be okay around them is when I’m working. And that’s probably because they’re all married.

My mom comes walking back into the dining room and picks up the box of pastries before sitting down at the table.

“I’ve already made an appointment,” I admit.

“I figured.” She smiles over the top of her coffee cup before taking a sip. She’s always two steps ahead of knowing what I’m about to do. I hope that’s a skill I pick up with my own child.

“I’m going to keep taking jobs until I get pregnant,” I add, hoping it only takes a few tries. I want to save as much money as I can so I can stay out of work longer once the baby finally arrives. I smile thinking about that moment.

I turn the brochure over and see a happy couple on the back holding their baby. A lump forms in my throat. I love my mom and the family we have. It’s only the two of us and I loved my childhood. But I’d be a liar if I said I’m completely okay with doing this on my own.

I want it all. To be head over heels in love with a man who wants a family with me as much as I do, but that’s just fairy-tale thinking.

“You’ll find him one day. You won’t even be looking and he’ll be there.” I look back up at my mom, who’s studying me.

She never dated. Heck, I’ve never even seen her show interest in a man. It was always work and me, with not much else. She always seemed more than happy with it, so why can’t I be, too?

I shrug, not wanting to talk about a man who might not even be real. What I can focus on is getting my baby.