Chapter 18 - In My Own Way...

     This was her third pregnancy. It was unexpected and she was devastated by the news. “What am I going to do!” she cried. “Abortion is not an option for me, and yet, I can’t imagine having another kid,” 

     A deep sadness permeated her pregnancy. She tucked away into a sorrow that no one could reach. Even after she felt movement she could not connect to her child. She went through the motions and her baby grew well, but she remained emotionally distant. Nothing anyone said or did seemed to bring her solace.

     I expressed my concerns, as did her husband and pastor. Her bond with her other two children was strong and she was a wonderful mother, but with this pregnancy she was on complete disconnect.

     She said, “Trust me. I can not explain why I have fallen into this chasm, but I will get through it in my own way.” Still… I worried. I had never seen her like this. 

     When her contractions eventually began she labored in silence, as if her heart was separated from her body. I watched over her as a mother would when her child has lost her way. She sat on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, her husband and I sitting on the floor at her feet, each of us with a hand on one knee forming a triangle, providing a ground to keep her tethered.

     An hour passed. The sun was setting and the light was golden in the room. When the next contraction finished I felt a subtle shift in her energy. I looked up at her. It was eerie—like she wasn’t in there. Was she checking out! I felt my breath quicken and I became anxious.  My hand slid up to her wrist to feel her pulse. It was strong and steady. Her husband sensed that something was different and we looked at each other. Her contractions had stopped. I took a deep breath. I was in uncharted territory. I don’t know why but I sensed that she was going to be okay. We sat and we waited. I kept my hand on her pulse.

     A long ten minutes passed. She sat there in utter stillness. Then, she shivered and her eyes opened. They were soft and clear. She was back…

     “I will be pushing after three more contractions,” she prophetically announced. “It’s another girl. Everything will be fine.”

     She nestled back into a mound of pillows on the bed and started to gently massage her belly. She smiled. “Okay little one,” she whispered. “You can be born now. I am here and I want you to come into my life.”

     Exactly—in three contractions—her body began to bear down. After a few pushes she reached down to feel the head as it eased out. As the shoulders delivered, she lifted her daughter to her breast. She massaged her back as a warm blanket was laid across her wet body. 
     “I listened and I heard you. Do not worry. Your mommy is here,” she murmured.

     I sat back and watched as this mother and daughter bonded to each other. What had happened in those ten silent moments?

     Later, I asked if she wanted to talk about what happened, but she just smiled mysteriously and replied, “Like I said…in my own time, in my own way...” 

     

Chapter 17 - Noel Baby

     We were just starting to unwrap our presents when the phone rang. “Lisa’s water broke and her contractions are five minutes apart,” he said. “We’d feel better if we were in the birth room because we live so far out, what with the weather and all. Sure sorry to ruin your Christmas. Say…why don’t you bring your husband and daughter along. We wouldn’t mind at all. We could bring enough food from my deli for all of us.”

     Tony was a big bear of a man—a gregarious Italian, originally from San Francisco, and while I didn’t doubt his sincerity, I did not believe for one second that Lisa would appreciate having my family in attendance at her birth! I chuckled. “Go to the hospital and get yourself settled. I will join you soon.” I replied. “Maybe after the baby is born they can stop in.”

      I kissed my family goodbye and stepped outside. It was silent and still—the kiss of gently falling snow caressed my windshield. My car left virgin tracks as I slowly drove down the winding, mountain road. Christmas lights twinkled in houses tucked back into the trees. It felt like a magical morning. It had been a few years since I had had a Christmas birth.

     I walked quietly into the room. He was hovering over his wife who clearly did not want to be hovered over. “ Tony, PLEASE…I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. I don’t need a cold washcloth on my head…No, I’m not thirsty…Yes, I know you love me. I love you too, but could you maybe just go and sit on the couch for a while?”

     Sitting on the couch was a big problem for Tony… He’s a hands-on guy who cares about people. He hovers over the customers at his deli and he hovered over his wife throughout her entire pregnancy. It wasn’t possible for him to NOT hover. It’s what he does.

     “Tony, for God’s sake. I can’t talk to you right now…”

     “Yes, yes, sorry my love. I’ll just go sit on the couch a little bit, and then I’ll be right back. Are you sure there’s not something I can do?”

     “NO!”  “Sorry, sorry…”

     It went like this for hours. Up—down—up—down.

     When it came time for her to push, I had an idea. “Tony, go wash your hands and come here. Would you like to deliver your baby?” Oh my God, he was needed! He was back from the sink in seconds.

     With simple guidance, and his unwavering focus, his son slipped into his hands, as he wept, overcome with joy.

     Some time later there was a soft knock on the door. My husband and daughter tiptoed in. “Can we see the baby?” I looked around. Tony and the baby had disappeared.

     Puzzled, I went outside in the hallway and looked…nothing. I walked up and down the corridors. They weren’t anywhere to be seen. Hmm…I wandered over to the convalescent wing.

     There he was, grinning, coming out of a patient’s room. “They think it’s the Christ Child come to see them on Christmas!” he exclaimed. I stood by and watched as he placed his wrapped-up son into the arms of every single elderly patient on that ward and wished them Merry Christmas. It was his gift to the elders. He let them kiss and cuddle his son, and when they were all done, he returned to the room to break out the wine and food in celebration.

     I doubt they’d let a newborn child come into a convalescent ward these days, but back then, it seemed the right and natural thing to do on that magical Christmas afternoon.

     

Chapter 16 - A Family Affair...

      “We’re going to do this as a family. Right, gang!” announced the mother with a booming voice. She was a formidable woman at 250 pounds, her hair pulled up into a bun on the top of her head. They had all piled into the room, and were gathered around her like little chickens— grinning and nodding their heads. Mary, the oldest child, was twelve—then JR, who was ten. Last came Frank who was seven.

     Her husband, Cecil, was a small, quiet man. He stood next to her as she sat on the exam table, holding her hand, fidgeting. Suddenly he blurted out with uncharacteristic passion. “Our kids were born at a military hospital, and those darn doctors never let me in with my wife. Said it wasn’t a man’s place to be there—that I’d just be in the way. Well, I’m not in the military now, and by God, nobody’s going to keep me away this time. No way!” he said, “And not just me," he continued. "We want our kids to be there. I was raised on a farm. There ain’t nothing wrong with kids being at a birth. It’s just a normal part of life.” He squeezed his wife’s hand and pumped it up and down, as if to make a point.

     They came to every prenatal visit as a unit. The first part of the exam the kids sat quietly in the waiting area on the couch. Then, after the preliminaries were out of the way…

     ”FRANK, JR, MARY,” she’d shout. ”You all come in now. Time to hear the heartbeat!”  They’d march in single file, like stair steps, youngest to the oldest. They put the stethoscope in their ears, each patiently taking a turn. First, they’d look serious—concentrating. Then as they heard the soft thumping of their sibling’s heart, a big smile would beam across their faces. It went like this, month after month. They never seemed to tire of the routine.

     As the birth approached, each child was given a job. Mary had the assignment of standing by with the apple juice. JR was to be ready with a cool washcloth to wipe his mother’s brow when she needed it. And Frank…he was to stand by the tape recorder, and as the baby was being born, he was to push the start button so they could record the whole event.

      By the time she went into labor, they were well rehearsed. The three kids sat kneeling at the foot of the bed…waiting, responsive to their mother’s cry.

     “MARY!” She’d leap up and bring the apple juice.

     “JR!” He’d leap up and wipe her forehead.

     Frank waited in the wings—excited—waiting for his cue.

      As she was having a lot of back pain during her labor, I suggested she get on her hands and knees. Her husband jumped on the bed and turned himself into a human ottoman so he could support her. She draped herself over his back.

     After a period of time I started worrying about him. His arms were trembling. When I suggested he might want to take a rest, he looked me in the eye firmly and enunciated slowly and clearly— “I’m helping my wife. This is the first time I have been able to be important to her in this way. I am NOT moving. If I die here, I will die a happy man!” And he didn’t move…for a long time… Finally the baby turned and began to descend down the birth canal.

     She flipped over. Lying on her side with her one leg balanced on my shoulder, she started to push.  But first… “FRANK, FRANK, GET READY SON! IT’S TIME,” she shouted. “HIT THE BUTTON NOW. HERE IT COMES…”

     A little girl pushed out into the world. They called her Lily. She let out a little cry, and then opened her eyes wide, taking in this big boisterous family. The kids started cheering and whooping and hollering. Cecil whispered in his wife’s ear, tears streaming down his face. “My beloved, we did it…our family did it together.”

     Even though they eventually moved away, every year they returned in the fall.  They would come to visit me to take a picture of all of us for their annual Christmas card. I had become part of their “family” that “did it together”.