“Is she okay?” Theo asks.
I get up and knock on the door. “Alice?” I can hear her get sick through the door. I wonder if she wants to be left alone.
“Just a second,” she says.
I hear the water run, and I glance at Evita and Theo. They look a little freaked out. When Alice opens the door, she looks pretty awful.
“I hate to say this, guys, but I’m not feeling good. I think it might be a bug or something I ate,” she says. “My stomach hasn’t been right all day.”
“That’s okay,” Evita says quickly.
“But our gig…,” Alice says.
“It’s fine. Go lie down if you aren’t feeling good.” Evita has this pinched, worried face.
Alice puts a hand on her stomach. “I still feel sick,” she says. She goes back in the bathroom.
Theo looks at me and whispers, “What do we do?”
“Alice?” I knock on the door again. “I know you probably want privacy, but maybe you could let me in?”
The door unlocks and I go inside. Alice is sitting on the toilet looking panicked. “I’ve got you, okay?” I tell her. Alice is always sunshiny and happy and relaxed, and seeing her this scared tells me that things are serious.
“I’m actually bleeding some,” she says. Her face is splotchy, and her eyes are filling.
“Hey, Evita?” I call calmly. “Maybe just call an ambulance to be on the safe side?”
Alice starts to protest.
“Theo, maybe wait outside for the paramedics?”
I focus all my attention back on Alice. “Tell me what you’re feeling?”
“My stomach’s just not right. Crampy and upset. I think maybe it’s a stomach bug and it made me bleed? Does that even make sense? I threw up, and I still feel sick.”
I nod. “I think you might actually be in labor.”
“No!” she says. “It’s too early!”
“It’s a little early. But not unheard of. Do you feel any pressure?”
She nods tightly.
“I’m gonna wash my hands, okay?” I go to the sink and take a couple deep breaths while I scrub.
“Lacey!” Alice says sharply. “Maybe my water broke?”
“Okay. I think that means you’re gonna meet Eli, okay?” I crouch next to her. “Do you want to stay on the toilet? We’re calling the paramedics, and we’ll get you to the hospital. Do you want a blanket or water or anything?”
“Did my water break?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Do you want me to look? I mean, I can’t do an exam or anything, but…”
She grips my shoulder and sits on the bathmat, leaving her underwear on the floor. She’s shaky and flushed and as soon as she sits, she spreads her legs and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s in labor, because I’m pretty sure I see Eli’s head.
“Evita!” I yell.
“Yeah?” She pokes her head in. She’s holding the phone to her ear.
“You need to get me all of your towels. And then … a trash bag.”
“The dispatcher is asking me if—”
“Evita, the baby is coming right now. Tell the dispatcher and say she has a doula with her. Just tell them what’s happening.”
“He’s coming now?” Alice asks. “I don’t want him to. Can you call my mom?”
“We will. Are you comfortable?”
“I think I should get back on the toilet,” she says.
“I don’t think you need to. I think you’re feeling Eli’s head. You can reach down and feel it if you want.” I swallow. This is happening. Right now. Before the paramedics get here, before we can get to the hospital. Before Eli is full term. I push aside thoughts of what I’ve learned about infant distress and just concentrate on helping Alice get through these moments.
“Alice, you’re doing really well,” I tell her. “Just think about it—you’ve been going through labor and you’ve handled it all, thinking you just had an upset stomach! You’re doing amazing.”
“Paramedics will be here in just a few minutes,” Evita says, dumping a bunch of towels on me.
“Tell them she’s almost crowning,” I say.
“I’m crowning? What does that mean?” Alice says.
“It means his head is very close to being born. Do you feel that pressure?”
She nods. Then she closes her eyes and groans. I feel her belly; it’s rock hard and I know she’s having a contraction. “Alice. Just take nice easy breaths and if you feel like you have to push, just do it gently, okay?”
She nods again. She’s pushing. I know that it’s an overwhelming urge that most moms don’t have to think about. I remember when Dylan was born, and it only took a few loud pushes from my mom until his head was out. And I think of that first mom I helped, Shana, who pushed with all her might but didn’t make progress for hours. I know that this experience is different for each woman, but I also know it’s a time they’ll never forget.
“Alice. I see him. I can see Eli’s head. He has blond hair like you do,” I say with a smile. “Even if the paramedics don’t get here in the next minute, I’m here. I’m ready to help you meet Eli, okay?”
She nods, and she pushes again. Evita pokes her head around the corner. She lets out a gasp, and I put a finger to my lips. Evita just nods, the phone still to her ear.
I put extra towels underneath Alice’s bottom. Because Eli is going to be here any second, and I’m going to be ready to wrap him up. I mentally go over what I need to do. I need to put him on Alice’s chest, check his breathing, be careful with the cord, rub his back if he’s not reactive. I need to keep an eye on her bleeding.
Eli’s head emerges. I can see a wrinkled, smooshed face. Alice wails and pushes again, and the rest of his small pink body comes swimming out. Alice doesn’t need instructions; she instinctively reaches for her baby, and I help place him on her chest.
“Oh my god. Oh my god,” she says over and over.
“He’s here!” Evita says. “You did it, Alice. Holy shit.”
Then I hear Theo’s voice as he guides in the paramedics. I drape blankets over Eli and rub his back. He’s still quiet, but he’s moving his little hands and feet. I rub and I rub, and he lets out a little shivery wail. We all breathe a sigh of relief. The paramedics crowd into the bathroom and immediately start taking vitals.
“Don’t leave,” Alice says to me, grabbing my hand. So I climb into the bathtub behind her and just marvel at little Eli with her.
“He’s amazing. Look at how he’s looking at you,” I whisper in her ear.
“Holy shit. Did I just give birth?” Alice says with a laugh.
The female paramedic looks at her. “You sure did, hon. In a second we’re gonna get you on the gurney and take you two for a little spin.”
“Evita, what time is it?” I ask.
“It’s three forty-five,” she says from the doorway.
“So we’ll say that Eli was born at three forty-four, okay?” I tell Alice. “Happy birthday, Eli.”
The paramedics help her out of the bathroom. Evita and I move the towels and keep Eli covered. The paramedics cover Alice with a blanket. “Did I hear a name for the baby?” the second paramedic asks.
“Eli James,” Alice says, beaming. She looks so much like her usual self now, radiant and happy and relieved. “Lacey can ride with us, right?”
“Sure,” says the paramedic.
“We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Evita says.
“Should we call someone?” Theo asks Alice.
“Oh my god. Yeah. Eric. Holy shit. Someone call Eric and tell him he’s a dad.”
It’s amazing how quickly new babies figure things out. As soon as we’re in the warm ambulance, I see Eli’s mouth searching for milk.
“Alice, I think he’s looking for your breast. We didn’t really talk that much about this. Were you going to breastfeed him?”
“Oh. Yeah. I think. What do I do? I thought maybe I would magically know.”
“It’s fi
ne, you guys will figure it out. For now, just lower your shirt and put him near the nipple and he’ll do his best.” I’ve done this before with other moms. I’ve seen my mom breastfeed. But I see the nerves on Alice’s face. It probably feels strange for her to lower her shirt. But she does. “You can kind of hold your breast and brush his cheek with the nipple and he’ll turn his head to find it. It’s a reflex.”
She does. Eli immediately does a hungry wide-mouthed yawn and smacks his lips. He latches on, and Alice’s eyes fill with tears.
“Is that it? Are we doing it?”
“That’s it. You’re so awesome.”
“Look at him!” she squeals.
The female paramedic looks at him again. She takes temperatures and counts pulses and breaths and before we know it, they’re wheeling Alice into the hospital and up the elevators to the fourth floor where Kelly is waiting for her.
“Someone was in a hurry,” Kelly says warmly. “He looks great. Good job, Alice. We’re going to a delivery room just until you deliver the placenta, and we’ll check you both over, but I think everything looks good.”
I stay with Alice and Eli. I’m there when Theo walks in and almost faints at the sight of the placenta. Evita happily high-fives everyone she meets and also informs them of how awesome Alice is. When Eric and Alice’s mom get there, we step out.
My knees feel wobbly. I’m shivering again. “I think I might be a little bit in shock,” I say to Evita and Theo.
“About the baby or the sex you guys had less than twenty-four hours ago?” Evita asks nonchalantly.
Theo nudges Evita. “I leave you alone for ten minutes and you’ve already talked about that?” he asks us.
“No. We were too busy delivering a baby,” I tell him.
“She didn’t tell me. But I guess you just did. So, congrats, on both,” Evita says.
“Yeah, but, Evita, virginity is just—”
“A patriarchal construct,” Theo and Evita finish.
“Shut up.” I laugh. My knees are still knocking together, so Evita and Theo wrap me in a giant hug.
“You are such a badass!” Evita says.
“Yeah. Pretty much,” Theo agrees.
“You did do amazing,” Kelly says, joining us. “I hope you don’t mind, but I called your mom. I thought she’d want to hear that you delivered a baby by yourself. She’ll be here soon.”
“That’s cool.”
“Oh, shit. I should call my mom so she doesn’t think I murdered someone in the bathroom,” Evita says, panicked. She rushes off with her phone.
“I’m glad you got to do some birth work, even without your internship,” Kelly says to me.
“I’m still so sorry about that,” I say.
“I just hope you sort it out so you can start again,” Kelly says. “You’re obviously a natural at this.”
“I hope so, too.”
Theo and I check on Alice and Eli again while Alice’s parents and Eric get coffee. Theo is a sap. He coos at the baby and remarks on his wispy hair and clear, alert eyes. Eli’s tiny. Just under six pounds. But he’s healthy.
When Eli falls asleep in Alice’s arms, she announces that she’s tired.
“He’ll probably take a good long nap, so you should, too,” I tell her.
“You don’t have to tell me twice. Though I do just want to hold him for a bit.”
“Absolutely.” I give her a hug and give Eli a small pat on his head. His little plump lips are open and his little fists have unfurled slightly. He is out like a light. “He’s perfect, Alice. Congratulations.”
“I could not have done that without you,” Alice says. “I’m sorry we missed the gig.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t care about that. This was probably an even better bonding experience for the Sparrows than a gig would ever be.”
“I love you guys,” Alice says. I give her a gentle hug, careful not to jostle Eli.
Back in the waiting room, Theo puts his arms around me, pulling me close. “You good?”
“Yeah. Wow. I really am.”
“So, I hate to admit this, but I can see it. I can totally see this future version of Lacey, strolling through the halls of a hospital, making all these moms and families feel at ease. You’re just so calm and positive and sweet, but, like, damn, you know what you’re doing.”
I smile at him.
“Though rocker-chick Lacey with the green top and sleek hair is pretty great, too,” he says. Then he gets really close to my ear to whisper, “So is naked Lacey, by the way.”
I elbow him when Evita rushes into the waiting room. “Okay, two things of note. My mom got home before I called her and she really did worry that there had been some horrific act of violence, so she might not forgive me for quite some time. And second: holy shit, you guys, I just got my acceptance email from Berklee!” She runs and dives into our laps.
Both Theo and I pull out our phones to check, but neither of us has heard. We submitted our applications the exact same second, but we applied to different programs, and since it’s rolling admission we might hear at any time.
Theo looks at me with a sad little smile. I know he’s still picturing nurse Lacey. Just like I am imagining a future as a midwife. But we can both just be happy for Evita, because she, without a doubt, is going to be in the right place for her.
She grins at me. “Lacey, I love you so fucking much and think you’re a magnificent unicorn, by the way. It deserves to be said.”
Thirty-three
“We have to leave in half an hour!” Evita calls.
I’m a bundle of nerves. Public speaking is not my favorite thing in the world, but Evita and Theo and my mom all insist that I be the one to introduce our cause at the school board meeting. There are eleven students besides Theo, Evita, Alice, and me who are meeting us at the high school. I don’t know why I thought our tiny town would have some sort of congressional meeting place. When I first pictured talking to the school board, I was picturing the US Capitol building that I saw last year on a field trip. It’s a little reassuring that it won’t be that formal.
Still, my hands are shaking. I keep going through my stack of papers. I have my written intro, the pages of signatures we collected, the printed-out anonymous comments from Tumblr, and my own speech. That’s the part I’m the most nervous about. It’s more than just citing facts and figures. I’m talking about shame and safety and what it’s like to be a girl at our school.
Theo rubs my shoulders. “You’ll be great,” he says. “If you get nervous, just take a peek at me and I will be smiling and giving you a thumbs-up.”
“Or at me, and I will be jumping up and down excitedly,” Evita says.
“Yes, me, too,” my mom adds.
“I might be bringing my stuffed herpes for luck,” I say, pointing to the plush microbes that have been overseeing the operation. “Do I look okay?” I ask, looking down at my dress. I feel like maybe I dressed up too much.
Evita nods. “You look serious and pretty at the same time.”
“Can we just get there early? I’m too nervous to sit around here,” I say. “Plus, Alice is meeting us there, and I’m dying to give Eli a squeeze.”
“Sure. Sure.” Evita starts grabbing papers and notes and shoving them in her bag. She won’t cop to being anxious like I will, but I think maybe she is.
“I wish I could come with you,” Charlie calls from the couch in the living room.
“Dylan’s so cute, he would distract from the cause,” my mom says. “All right, kids, pile in the minivan.”
“Shotgun!” Evita calls. “I have a playlist for this!”
“Of course you do.” Theo laughs.
When we’re in the van, I start to feel a little sick. It’s more than just the public speaking. I desperately want my internship back. After helping Alice, it’s all I can think about. I want the administration to realize that information isn’t lewd. I will be so disappointed if our pleas are ignored. I’ll be mad if I leave high school without mak
ing a lasting difference.
When we get to the school, I already see Paul and a couple kids from senior seminar and the GSA waiting by the main entrance. Cam is there along with another girl I helped, Amber. And some people I had to look up in the yearbook after they emailed me.
We gather around and go over the order we’re going to be speaking. Then Alice pulls up in her car. I hand all the papers to Paul and jog over to her.
“Can I grab something for you?” I ask.
“Thanks.” She hands me a diaper bag. “It’s so good to see you.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask her. She just left the hospital over the weekend.
“Super tired. Weirdly weepy and I’m basically leaking milk all the time. But I’m glad to be here.”
“Okay, well, if you need help with anything or someone to hold Eli, my mom is basically dying for the chance.”
“Thanks,” she says. She opens the back door and carefully pulls the car seat out. Eli is all bundled up and sound asleep.
When we get to the sidewalk, everyone crowds around to get a peek at Eli.
“I helped deliver him,” Evita says proudly to Paul. Paul looks suitably impressed. The way he smiles at Evita, I think he’s got it bad for her.
“She did,” Alice laughs, giving Paul a hug.
Once we’re ten minutes from the start of the meeting, we file into the cafeteria. There are a few other parents or teachers from the school district here, but it’s not as crowded as I thought it would be.
But then, with only five minutes until the meeting is set to begin, students start streaming in. The students have to unstack more cafeteria chairs. They line them up behind the rows that were already set up. My heart speeds up, but I’m exhilarated. Even Ms. George is here, looking coolly around at her students.
If I thought I got a lot of smiles and nods in the hallways, it’s nothing compared to the smiles I’m getting now. Everyone here seems excited. We’re taking a stand.
The board does some housekeeping, taking roll and going over the loose agenda for the meeting. And then they call on anyone who has “new business from the community,” and before I can really process it, I’m giving my stuffed herpes a squeeze and standing up with my notes and walking toward the center of our chairs. There’s no podium or anything like I pictured it.
The Birds, the Bees, and You and Me Page 22
