Title: NEEDING HER
Genre: Women's Fiction
Word Count: 84,000
After finding out she’ll give birth to a second son, Victoria Logan is determined to make her third and final child a girl.
Victoria yearns to have a daughter who will fulfill her desire for a meaningful mother-daughter relationship, unlike the lackluster one she has with her own mother. She joins an online gender swaying forum, consults with a psychic, gazes up at the moon for just the right cloak of darkness, and tries out different lovemaking positions. During her quest, she battles pessimism from family and friends and a heartache that tests her will.
On the gender swaying forum, she meets Lacey Dalton, the mother of two daughters, scarred by her infant son’s death and possessed with the need to bear another son. Lacey can’t risk a mere fifty percent chance at obtaining him. While considering high-tech options, she pursues a gender selection method that comes with an almost ironclad guarantee, but one that her husband is morally opposed to, violating the fragile trust in her marriage.
When Victoria and Lacey meet in real life, it’s an experience that offers them perspective and insight into each other’s worlds. Both women discover the essence of what really matters.
I wanted to hear “It’s a girl!” for Christmas.
A sweet, baby girl I would sing dreamy lullabies to, wrap in my arms, and snuggle close. She’d be a beautiful springtime baby born just in time for Easter.
I envisioned my little girl wearing a dress with pink stripes over soft white linen. I could see her chubby cheeks, eyes as blue as mine, and my husband’s dimples. She would be the perfect match to our three-year-old son.
“Are you ready to find out?” my husband, Ryan, asked me.
We sat in the doctor’s office, waiting for our twenty-week ultrasound. Our son Wyatt played next to me with two dump trucks we brought along. “BAM!” Wyatt screeched, crashing one dump truck into the other. The loser rolled down off the polished armrest of the chair, careening to the carpet.
“Wyatt, pipe down,” Ryan said.
Our son grinned up at his father, one side of his lips hitched up higher.
“I still the baby’s going to be a girl,” Ryan said, flipping briskly through a sports magazine.
“I hope it’s my girl,” I said, for what seemed like the twentieth time that week.
My husband grimaced. “Victoria,” he chided. “The health of the baby is all that matters.
You know that.”
“I know, I know,” I let my words trail off. He knew all about my longtime dream to have a daughter, so I could piece together a part of the void that lingered in me.