“I know,” I said. “It’s unbearable to think about.”
“I just can’t stand how Grace must be feeling right now.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” I looked her in the eye. “They’re really going to need our support, Jen,” I said.
“I think we should have gone with Tara to the room,” she said.
My daughter was braver than I was. “You want to be with Grace?” I asked.
Jenny nodded.
“All right.” I got to my feet. “Let’s go find them.”
58
Grace
Mom was being her usual self, chatting up Haley and Anna as we waited on the couch in Haley’s room for a nurse to come swab my cheek. Someone had brought in another chair so everyone could sit and I was still cold, even though I knew the temperature in the room was fine. I had the blue blanket wrapped around my shoulders again and it felt like armor. I didn’t know what to hope for. If I was a match, I was afraid of what would happen to me next. If I wasn’t a match, Haley could die. When I thought about it that way, I knew I had no choice.
My mother was just as nervous as I was. She was talking a mile a minute, which wasn’t all that unusual, and within ten minutes she knew everything there was to know about the neighborhood where Haley and Anna lived in Virginia and what Haley liked in school and all that typical stuff. She was acting like the always-on Tara Vincent, but her eyes were darting between Haley and Anna and the open door of the room and she had moved her chair right next to mine and hadn’t stopped touching me since she showed up at the hospital. I was glad of that. I belong to her, I wanted to say to Anna. I know I’m your baby and it wasn’t fair someone ripped me off, but my mom raised me and I belong to her, okay?
The whole time my mother was talking, Anna and Haley kept staring at me like I was a peach in the grocery store and they were trying to decide if they wanted to take me home with them or not. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Everyone please stop staring at me,” I said. Mom moved closer to me on the sofa, but Anna and Haley just laughed.
“We can’t help it,” Anna said.
“I would so seriously like some of that hair,” Haley said.
I wondered if I could give her some of it. Have it cut and donate it to the Locks of Love program so they could make it into a wig for her. Could you specify who you wanted to receive your hair?
While I was thinking about how I could donate my hair, Emerson and Jenny suddenly showed up in the doorway.
“Knock, knock,” Emerson said. “We just wanted to see how Tara and Grace are doing.”
Anna stood from her chair like someone had poked her with a stick, and Haley suddenly sat up straight in her bed.
“Holy shit,” she said.
Then everything turned upside down.
59
Noelle
Wilmington, North Carolina
1994
She’d had taxing deliveries before, scary deliveries where a birth she’d expected to proceed without complications suddenly turned into something that made her pulse race. But Tara’s delivery of Grace would forever remain one of the most frightening experiences of her professional life.
Tara had called early that morning to tell her that her contractions had started, so Noelle didn’t take her morning cocktail of drugs for her back pain. Instead, she put pinches of turmeric between her cheek and gum and made a thermos of red clover tea, without much hope of relief. There was something to be said for herbal remedies in childbirth, but they were failing her when it came to her back. Her pain was worse than ever these days. The only thing that helped were the drugs, and she blessed the inventors of Percocet and Valium.
With each hour of Tara’s long, grueling labor, Noelle’s back seized harder until she occasionally had to mask her tears of pain, not wanting Tara or Sam to worry about her when they needed to be concentrating on themselves. Her own concentration was split between the task at hand and the pills she had in her purse. Just one Percocet, she thought to herself over and over again. Just enough to take the edge off. But she fought the need for the drugs and kept on going.
Around four in the afternoon, Emerson called to say that her water had broken and a neighbor was driving her to the hospital. Ted was in California at a Realtors’ convention and she was facing labor alone. She cried on the phone, and Noelle felt torn in two.
“Ted’s on his way to the airport,” Emerson said. “He’ll get the first flight out, but he has to change planes in Chicago. It’s going to take him forever to get here.”
“You’re in excellent hands, honey,” Noelle assured her. Without Ted or her two closest friends by her side, Emerson would suffer emotionally, but medically, she’d get good care and that was what mattered most right now. Everything had to go well for her. After the two lost babies, Noelle couldn’t bear the thought of Emerson having anything less than the smooth delivery of her healthy baby girl.
She kept in touch with her by phone, comforting her and cheering her on as she labored. Once Tara gave birth and she was certain both mother and baby were stable, she’d talk to Tara and Sam about bringing in the postpartum doula she’d been working with for the past couple of years. Tara knew Clare Briggs and would be comfortable with her. Then, if Emerson was still in labor, Noelle could run over to the hospital to be with her.
Late that night, while Ted was stuck in Chicago and Tara was fighting fear and pain, Noelle called the hospital and learned that Emerson was having an emergency C-section. Oh, how she wanted to be there to hold her sister’s hand! She kept in touch with the hospital—she knew nearly every nurse in the unit—and she breathed a sigh of relief when Jenny was born and both the baby and Emerson were reported to be healthy and stable.
She poured apple juice for Tara, Sam and herself, and between Tara’s contractions they toasted the birth of Jenny McGarrity Stiles. Sam alone knew her relationship to that baby. He squeezed her hand as she sat on the edge of their bed. Noelle couldn’t wait to see her niece, but first she had a baby to deliver.
Midwifery was always physically taxing. The bending, leaning, twisting and supporting were part of the process, and for the first time Noelle wasn’t sure she’d make it through. The red-hot torture in her lower back wouldn’t let up and she once again toyed with the idea of taking one of her pills. Just one. She could almost hear them calling to her from her bag in the kitchen. She’d be more effective if she could move with less pain, she told herself, but she knew better. She knew the danger. This delivery was too risky. She was dealing now with posterior arrest: the baby was stuck and she knew her only option might be to transport Tara to the hospital for Pitocin to strengthen her contractions. Tara wept at the idea. “Your healthy baby’s more important than a home birth,” Noelle said, but she assured her they would try everything else she could think of first. She wanted to separate Tara’s actual need for transport from her own longing to be in the hospital near Emerson and her baby, as well as her desire to have this delivery behind her so she could take something for her back. She and Sam worked together, physically supporting Tara, changing her position on the bed, walking her around the room, giving her tincture of cohosh and other herbs—in short, doing everything she could think of to help the little girl who was trying to be born.
With only one option left to her short of transport, Noelle attempted to manually rotate the baby. The delicate maneuvering seemed to take forever, though she knew it must have seemed far longer to Tara. Noelle wished she’d had an assistant—she needed four hands to manage the rotation. Maybe five. She let out an enormous sigh of relief when the baby finally turned into position, her fetal heart tones strong and reassuring. A short time later, the infant slipped into the world and Noelle wasn’t sure which of the four of them in that hot, dark room was the most exhausted or the most relieved.
She was bathing the infant in the kitchen when Sam came into the room to watch. “She’s all right now, isn’t she?” he asked. “Tara?”
“She’ll be fine,” Noelle said, and she knew that when Tara had briefly lost consciousness after the delivery, he’d been afraid. She knew how much he loved Tara. She saw it every time she was in the same room with them, and she felt both happiness for the two of them—two people she loved—and a searing envy that had never eased up. Now they had a child to bind them together even more tightly. She was glad she was only a couple of months away from marrying Ian. For the first time in her life, she had someone to fantasize about the future with. Her longing for children, for an out-in-the-open family tied together by blood, would someday soon be a reality.
She sent Sam back into the bedroom to be with Tara while she finished examining the baby and calling Clare Briggs to come over. Then she wrapped the baby in warm receiving blankets, resting her carefully on a thick towel at the rear of the kitchen counter as she rummaged in her purse for her pill bottles. Finally. This delivery was over. Clare would be here in a few minutes. She could afford some relief now.
She carried the infant back into the bedroom and found Sam and Tara huddled together on the bed. Tara smiled tiredly and reached for her baby.
“We’re going to name her Noelle,” Sam said. She knew in that instant that he’d forgiven her for the night on the beach, but although she was touched by the gesture, she couldn’t let it happen. It was so wrong. There were moments when her guilt from that night could still find her, and this was one of them.
“Oh, no, you’re not,” she said. “Promise me you won’t saddle this baby with my name.”
She must have sounded even more vehement than she felt, because they quickly backed off and she was relieved. She couldn’t allow Tara, in her ignorance, to name her baby after her.
Clare arrived, bustling into the house with the self-confident attitude that always put new parents at ease. Noelle made sure everyone was as comfortable with one another as possible, then left for the hospital. She was beyond exhaustion, but she couldn’t wait to check on Emerson and see her niece. This was a child who might actually look like her. Wouldn’t that be something? She only hoped she wouldn’t look too much like her. Not enough to bring attention to the fact.
She took another Percocet before leaving Sam and Tara’s house. The past twenty-four hours had simply been too grueling for her back. By the time she was driving to the hospital, she felt the drugs soften the prickly edges of her pain. The muscles in her back loosened ever so slightly and her clenched jaw relaxed. She felt deliciously floaty as she walked from her car to the entrance of the women and new born unit. The relief from pain combined with exhaustion and the excitement of being minutes from seeing Emerson’s baby made her feel almost giddy.
She loved the unit at night when it was dimly lit and nearly silent. The unit was broken into pods of four rooms each. A small nurses’ station designed for one or two nurses sat at the center of each pod.
Noelle found the correct pod for Emerson. Jill Kenney, a nurse Noelle had known for years, was bending over one of two clear plastic bassinets next to the counter, changing the diaper of a caramel-skinned baby. She looked like she’d had as long and hard a night as Noelle and she gave her a tired smile.
“Hey, Noelle,” she said quietly. “I bet you’re here to see the Stiles baby. I thought you’d scrub in for that one. The mom’s your best friend, isn’t she?”
“I had a home birth of another friend.” Noelle returned the smile. “I’m going to ask them to time their babies a little better next time.” Standing inside the doorway of the pod, she felt as though she were in a dream. It was a pleasant, welcome sensation. Her back seemed to be made of cotton, soft and yielding and, finally, pain-free.
“She named her Jenny.” Jill straightened up from the bassinet and moved to the sink to wash her hands. “Not Jennifer. Jenny. I think that’s cute.”
Noelle walked toward the bassinets. “Who are these two?” she asked.
Jill sat down at the counter. She rubbed her temple with her fingers, her face pale against her short dark hair. “Well, this one’s mom needed a break.” She pointed to the darker-skinned infant.
“Do you feel all right?” Noelle asked.
“Actually, no.” Jill frowned. “Migraine. Therese is going to relieve me soon and I’m going home. It’s been wild tonight, too. It’s always that way, isn’t it?” She glanced at one of the monitors on the counter, then pressed a couple of buttons on her keyboard before looking up at Noelle again. “The time you don’t feel well is the time all hell breaks loose.”
“That seems to be the way it goes.” Noelle looked at the second bassinet. “Why’s this other babe out here?” she asked.
“Oh, that one’s really tragic.” Jill said. “Mom stroked out and is in a coma.”
“Damn.” Noelle peered into the bassinet. The baby’s wispy brown hair fringed her little pink knit hat. She was six and a half pounds, Noelle thought—she could judge a baby’s weight by looks alone—and her color was excellent. Whatever had befallen her mother didn’t seem to have had an adverse effect on her.
“They’re getting ready to transfer her mother to Duke.” Jill punched another few buttons on the keyboard. “I don’t know if they’ve decided whether to move the baby with her or send her to the peds unit.”
“Prognosis on the mom?” Noelle rested a hand against the counter. She felt a little unsteady on her feet and was looking forward to sitting down in Emerson’s room.
Jill shook her head, then winced as though the motion had done nothing to help her migraine. “Doesn’t look good right now,” she said, “and the dad is deployed, do you believe it? Mom was four weeks early and traveling here on business, so there’s no family. We’ll call Ellen first thing in the morning unless they take the baby with the mother tonight.”
“Good,” Noelle said. Ellen was the social worker for the unit. “So which room is Emerson’s?”
Jill pointed to the door behind her. “She’s sleeping, but I was about to change the baby and give her a bottle. Would you like to?” She looked so hopeful, Noelle laughed.
“You really need to go home to a dark room, don’t you?” She smiled with sympathy. She knew all about pain. Her own had eased up nicely. She loved the floaty sensation that now filled her head.
Jill looked at her watch. “Can’t wait. Therese’ll be here any second.”
“I’ll take care of the Stiles baby,” Noelle said. She rested a hand on Jill’s shoulder. “Hope you get out of here soon.”
Emerson was sleeping soundly in the softly lit, quiet room. She looked beautiful and Noelle was filled with tenderness as she leaned over to kiss her forehead. “You finally have your baby, Em,” she whispered. “Your little girl.” She wished she could have been here for her. She hated that Emerson had felt alone and deserted at such a difficult time.
She set the bottle Jill had given her on the small table near the recliner. Then she scrubbed her hands at the sink and moved to the bassinet.
For a strange moment of déjà vu, she felt as though she’d already seen this baby. There was the little pink hat fringed by honey-brown wisps of hair. The delicate facial features. The six and a half beautiful pounds. It took her only a fraction of a second to realize it had been the baby at Jill’s station she’d seen a moment ago, not this little one. Only a fraction of a second, but long enough to let her know she was more out of it than she’d thought.
“Hello, precious,” she whispered, beginning to change the little diaper. The baby—Jenny—began to stir, a small frown on her face, a tiny whine coming from her throat. Noelle’s eyes filled and she bit her lip to stop it from trembling.
When Jenny was clean and diapered, Noelle lifted her from the bassinet, then sat down in the recliner, the baby cradled in her arms. Jenny’s eyes were starting to blink open and closed, the frown deepening between her barely-there eyebrows, and her tiny perfect lips parted in the way Noelle knew preceded a good howl of hunger. She teased the baby’s lips with the nipple and felt a little surge of pride when Jenny started sucking with
out much prompting at all. The infant’s hand rested against her own, each finger a tiny sculpture in perfection. Noelle bent low to kiss her forehead. She’d held hundreds of babies in her life, and for the first time she whispered the words I love you to one of them.
60
Anna
Washington, D.C.
2010
When the girl showed up in the doorway, I took her in with one glance and that was all that was necessary for my heart to lurch toward her. My body, though, stayed frozen in shock. I stood next to Haley’s bed, one hand on her tray table, the other pressed to my chest. Tara moved toward the girl and her mother. She was speaking, words that may as well have been a foreign language. Making introductions that were no more than white noise. Haley grasped my hand where it rested on her table, pressing her fingertips into my wrist and I knew that, like me, she no longer saw Grace and Tara. She didn’t see the other woman, either. All either of us could see was the girl.
The white noise of Tara’s voice suddenly stopped and she was staring at us.
“Mom,” Haley said. “Say something.”
“What’s going on?” Tara asked.
If Haley and I had seen this girl on the street on one of our trips to Wilmington, we would have chased her for blocks, for miles, until we caught up with her. We’d been looking for her for so long. We would have known we’d found her, just as we knew that now.
“Did the midwife—” I had to clear my throat “—Noelle… Did she deliver you, too?” I asked the girl, although I already knew the answer. The woman in the doorway put an arm around her, tugging her close.
The Midwife's Confession Page 31
