by Glynis Astie
Following the last phone call, we heard a knock on the door. Dr. Bauer entered the room wearing a severe expression. She must have taken lessons from Kate. I immediately sat up straighter, waiting for my lecture to begin.
Louis stood up and held his hand out. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Dr. Bauer.”
She shook Louis’ hand warmly. “You’re welcome, Louis. I hope you don’t mind—your wife and I are going to have a very serious conversation.” She fixed her gaze on me. “How are you feeling, Sydney?”
I stammered. “Fine. Confused. Oh and, uh, worried.”
A hint of a smile showed in her face. “Indeed. Most people don’t pass out in the middle of shopping.”
I regarded her fearfully. “True.”
She clasped her hands together. “Sydney, I have determined that you’re suffering from gestational hypertension. Your elevated blood pressure caused you to pass out last night. It also explains the increased nausea and excessive swelling.”
I furrowed my brow. “But I thought the swelling, nausea and subsequent, um, barfing was due to normal pregnancy…stuff.” Nice articulation, Sydney. Definitely indicative of a person who graduated magna cum laude from Northwestern.
“These symptoms are common in pregnancies, but the fact that your blood pressure has consistently risen and has now topped one hundred and fifty over one hundred seals the deal.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my hospital gown. “What does this mean?”
She narrowed her eyes. “It means from this point forward, you’ll be on bed rest, young lady.”
I stared at her in horror. “Bed rest?!?”
“That’s riiight,” she sang. “AND you’ll be visiting me on a weekly basis from now on. We’ll run labs, monitor the baby’s heartbeat and perform at least one more ultrasound to check the baby’s weight.”
I desperately tried to process what she had said. “But I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do!” I held my fingers out to tick off my points. “I’ve cut almost all sodium out of my diet! I walk! I do yoga! I freakin’ meditate!”
Dr. Bauer sighed. “Sometimes you can do everything right and still end up with health problems. The important thing is that you and the baby are healthy. Given your current condition, you must be monitored very closely. You’re now at increased risk for more serious issues, like preeclampsia.”
I could feel the sweat dripping down the back of my neck. “But I…”
She crossed the room and put her hand on my shoulder. “Your number one priority is to take care of yourself so you and the baby stay healthy. There’s no room for interpretation here. When I say bed rest, I MEAN bed rest.” Now it was her turn to tick off points on her fingers. “You may get up to use the bathroom, to retrieve a necessary item—such as a premade snack or meal, a book left in the other room, etc.—and to bathe—with supervision. We cannot take the chance of your falling in the shower. Understood?”
“Understood,” I whispered.
She directed her attention to my husband. “Louis, I hope I can count on you to ensure your wife’s compliance with these stipulations.”
Louis nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely.”
Dr. Bauer rubbed her hands together. “Good. I’ll go see to your discharge paperwork.” She started for the door, but thought better of it. “Sydney, you have my number. Call if you have any questions, and please, above all else, be good to yourself. The baby is counting on you.” One brief smile and she was gone.
My shoulders slumped. “Bed rest.”
Louis sat down next to me. “Everything is going to be fine. I have already called Vivian—”
“Vivian! Fuck!” I clamped my hand over my mouth, mortified at my earsplitting expression of profanity. I silently apologized to my little one. (Curbing my potty mouth is such a struggle!)
Louis began to laugh uncontrollably. “There…” Cackle. “…she…” Snort. “…is.” Guffaw.
“Bluey!” I exclaimed. “What is Vivian going to do?”
An answer would have to wait until my husband was able to speak.
“Seriously! She was prepared to handle my absence for three months, but now she’s looking at five and a half! She’s much too busy to be dealing with the nonsense I have to deal with!” I began to wring my hands as I thought about everything that would fall on my poor boss. Then came the realization I simply couldn’t bear.
My hand flew to my forehead. “Louis! I was hoping to have Paul’s toilet paper issue tied up before my maternity leave started! He still has unresolved issues. Vivian can’t handle the ass chafing discussion with a straight face! I’ve had YEARS of training with Paul. She’s simply not ready!”
Louis was pretty much useless for the next ten minutes. While he fell down his epic laugh spiral, I amused myself with an episode of The Golden Girls. The theme song alone is a real spirit lifter! Thank you for bein’ a friend…
Three days and a thousand promises I would follow Dr. Bauer’s strict instructions later, Louis finally returned to work. When I balked at having daily visitors bring me lunch, he threatened to bring his mother over to take care of me. Hell to the no. With my burgeoning hormones, she might not survive her visit. Everyone was safer if she stayed in France until after the baby was born.
According to the schedule Louis drew up, today was Kate’s day to feed the prisoner. I hadn’t seen her much since the first day in the hospital and was hoping to rope her into watching a movie with me while Sam napped. More important, I needed to convince her that what happened to me wasn’t her fault. She had been blaming herself for my exhausted state the day of our shopping expedition, claiming she should have noticed my swollen body parts.
Promptly at eleven a.m., Kate let herself in to my apartment carrying numerous shopping bags, but curiously no Sam. She called out a greeting and bustled into the kitchen to prepare lunch.
“Um, Kate?” I kept looking back towards the door as though somehow little Sam would come in of her own volition.
Her voice was muffled by the refrigerator door. “Yeah?”
“Where’s Sam?”
Kate came into the living room carrying two bowls of pasta salad. “I got a sitter. I wanted to spend the afternoon with you, if you don’t mind.”
I smiled. “Really?”
She put down the bowls on the coffee table and grabbed my hands. “Really.” Her eyes lit up. “What movie do you want to watch?”
An hour later, Kate and I had finished our salads and were well into Sense and Sensibility. When Marianne and Willoughby tore off in his carriage, causing all the town folks’ tongues to wag, a random thought occurred to me.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Kate.”
Without tearing her gaze from the TV, she grunted, “Uh-huh?”
“Why do I have a memory of the AC/DC song, ‘Big Balls’ from the night I went to the hospital?”
She brought her hands to her cheeks. “I had totally forgotten about that!”
I slapped my hand on my knee. “I knew I’d heard it! Please explain.”
She giggled. “You were so out of it in the ambulance and I was feeling nervous…and guilty.”
I swatted her hand. “You need to quit it.”
She sighed deeply before continuing. “So, one of the EMT’s had his jacket open and he was wearing an AC/DC shirt. When I saw it, I started babbling about how Charlie used to tease us as kids by singing ‘Big Balls.’ You would laugh, but I would run away in embarrassment.” She shuddered.
There had to be more to the story. “And?”
She looked at her hands. “And…he started singing the song to try to get me to calm down. It helped. Oh! And your blood pressure even stabilized after that. It was amazing!”
My eyes opened wide with shock. “You’re kidding!”
She shook her head. “I promise you; it actually happened.” Two seconds later, we broke into peals of much-needed laughter.
I chortled. “Heavy metal therapy!”
She
gasped for breath. “TLC from Angus Young!”
Our ridiculously unladylike laughter was interrupted by the frantic ringing of our doorbell.
Kate hopped up. “I’ll get it.”
Wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, I wondered who was at the door. Louis was in the middle of a conference call and Pip and Grace had both been assigned to lunch duty later in the week.
From the moment the door opened a flurry of activity ensued. Our apartment manager, Lloyd, came in carrying a very large load of suitcases, boxes and bags, which he summarily dumped in the middle of my living room. I stared at him in utter confusion when I heard it. A sound which I had been completely unprepared for. A sound which struck fear into the very depths of my soul.
“Bonjour, ma chérie.”
Hell’s bells. My mother-in-law had come to town.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Once I recovered from the shock of my mother-in-law standing in my apartment, I quickly texted Louis to alert him to her presence. At first he thought I was joking, surmising the extra time on my hands was driving me to mischief, but when I called him and put her on the phone, reality hit him squarely between the eyes. And it packed quite a punch.
When he arrived home that evening, the grand battle began. Louis came in, assessed my state of well-being, kissed me and turned to his mother with a look so filled with anger, I was afraid she might wither on the spot. The rapid-fire French began and I spent the next thirty minutes sifting through their words for something I could understand. I should have given up. It is nearly impossible to decipher a foreign language when those engaged in the conversation are speaking at warp speed, employing liberal use of slang AND talking over each other. My head was spinning.
It turned out the devious Simone had decided the moment she heard of my health scare, she was going to get on a plane bound for California. She knew better than to tell anyone since a) the entire Durand family lacks the ability to keep her secrets and b) Louis would never have agreed to her plan. She had been determined to be here for the birth of her first grandchild, and damned if she hadn’t found a way to achieve this goal.
While incredibly frustrated by her methods, I think in the end Louis was relieved to have his mother with us. No one else in the family had the time to devote to caring for me, plus he knew she would watch me like a hawk, reporting any of my misdeeds the moment they occurred. Unfortunately for me, while Simone was definitely the tattling type, she wasn’t the nurturing type. She was more of the intrusive type with a side of blundering. A bull in a china shop had nothing on her.
Our first day together wasn’t so bad. I was incredibly nervous, since I didn’t know my mother-in-law very well and wasn’t able to communicate with her effectively. Plus she had no concept of privacy. Ever the dutiful husband, Louis ensured my lunch delivery schedule stayed in place and Nigel came by with matzo ball soup from Max’s. Sadly, Nigel knows more French than I do, so he spent the hour charming my mother-in-law while I dozed on the couch. Not a bad break from my new guard.
Our second day in confinement was decidedly more difficult. Simone began to take her Sydney Watch a little too seriously for my taste. She sat next to me wherever I was, insisting I lay flat with my feet up—by executing this action for me. She was surprisingly strong for a woman in her sixties. I hadn’t been manhandled this much since the days of Charlie pinning me down to fart on me. (Older brothers can be SO disgusting.) She also followed me any time I got up, trying to assess my need and taking care of it for me.
However, there are some needs one must take care of ALONE. I’m happy to report that I remembered my mother-in-law’s penchant for opening any closed door in the vicinity (including the bathroom door) without knocking, so I took the extra precaution of locking the door as soon as I closed it. My trips to the bathroom became the only time I had without Simone within a twelve inch radius and I relished the breathing room. The toilet and I were becoming fast friends.
As if this weren’t enough to make my head spin, she spoke to me incessantly. Perhaps she thought I would learn French by osmosis? Little did she know, my brain was barely functioning, so the only thing she was doing was giving me a headache by yammering nonstop in my ear. I knew she meant well, but I needed some peace. Dr. Bauer told me at this morning’s checkup that my biggest concern was staying calm. If there were the slightest rise in my blood pressure, she would have to hospitalize me. (I must confess to having considered this the better option for a brief moment.)
As I chided myself for considering such a waste of medical resources to escape my mother-in-law, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I glanced over to find Simone standing in front of me holding a few garments. I smiled nervously. Was she so bored she had resorted to putting on a fashion show? The woman didn’t do well with captivity. She may live on a farm in a small town, but she sure knew how to party. Garden parties, ballroom dancing, church expeditions—you name it! Simone was always up for an adventure.
Grinning from ear to ear, she held up what appeared to be a turquoise muumuu sporting an enormous multi-colored parrot constructed entirely of sequins. Wait a minute. This garment was far too large for her. Which meant she had intended it for…me. My stomach sank. I was currently fat, swollen and hormonal with visible roots and a touch of acne. Now I had to add bad fashion sense to my list of deficiencies?!? Not going to happen!
I desperately searched my malfunctioning mind for a way out when the doorbell rang. Thank God! Who did I have to thank for my salvation? Before I could move a muscle, Simone had beat a path to the door. She flung it open to reveal none other than Maya! Phew. I was still slightly annoyed with her over the latest Bridezilla behavior (I ordered the wrong shade of BLACK for the cocktail napkins. How is this even possible?), but at this point I could have cursed the ground she walked on and still been glad to see her. She was going to rescue me from this fashion atrocity!
After greeting my mother-in-law with the requisite three kisses on alternating cheeks, Maya turned to me and grinned wickedly. “How’s it going, jailbird? Enjoying life with your warden?”
I sighed. “So not funny.”
Maya chortled. “Sure it is! Maybe not to you, but the rest of us are highly amused.”
I shook my head. “Lovely, Maya.”
She sat down in the chair across from me. “Lighten up, Syd. You looked like you could use a laugh.”
I leaned my head against my hand. “You did come by at an extremely opportune moment.”
Simone elected this moment to insert herself into the conversation. “Est-ce ton ami qui aime la mode?”
I actually understood that! Maya IS my friend who likes fashion. Oh no! She is going to try to rope Maya into getting me to wear the garish clothes she brought me. This didn’t bode well for me. Maya would love nothing more than a photo of me in one of these unfortunate garments.
I could see the wheels turning in Maya’s head. She knew what Simone was up to and she was—currently mulling over her options. The question was would she help me or would she sell me out for her own amusement? The only advantage I had was my large girth and the medical instruction to lay prostrate for the majority of my day. However, there were two of them. The may have been two of the most petite women on the planet, but they were also two of the scrappiest. I wouldn’t put it past them to change my clothes against my will.
I had to act quickly. Keeping my voice even, I pleaded, “Don’t, Maya. Don’t acknowledge the scary maternity clothes. I beg of you. Please, play dumb!” Whether or not Maya would admit it, she was exceedingly good at this.
While Maya debated, Simone began to pull out more choices. There was a purple muumuu with a giant fuzzy giraffe head, a black muumuu with bedazzled tiger—fangs and all—and a silver muumuu with a rhinestone boa constrictor. Wait! She wasn’t done. I knew it! She had yet to come to the item in her favorite color. The piece de resistance was a gold muumuu affixed with a lion sporting a mane of dangling metallic ribbons.
I felt a wave of nausea pass over m
e. What could I possibly do? I couldn’t insult my mother-in-law by refusing to wear her thoughtful gifts, but I also couldn’t insult myself by wearing them. I was in an untenable position. In other words, I was screwed.
I heard a small giggle from across the room. Maya had removed herself from our immediate line of sight so she could have the freedom of laughing her ass off without upsetting Simone. She would find this funny. How much time did she spend trying to convince me I would be wearing the best burlesque costume the world could offer as my matron of honor dress? This was right up her alley.
Once she had composed herself, Maya rejoined us in the living room and liberally sprinkled words like, “très jolie” and “quelle belle robe.” I desperately wanted to kill her. She wouldn’t have thought any of these monstrosities beautiful had she been expected to wear them.
I felt my blood starting to boil. The two women in front of me were supposedly here with the express purpose of taking care of me. One had the best of intentions, the other not so much. Perhaps it was time I reminded the latter of her responsibility.
I grabbed Maya by the wrist and informed her through gritted teeth, “The woman is trying to make me some kind of jungle animal exhibit! You have to help me!”
She responded very softly. “Syd, this blouse cost more than your wedding dress; unhand it immediately.”
I slowly released my grip on the sleeve of her silk blouse, all the while staring her down. The disturbed look in my eyes must have forced her to realize I was in dire straits.
Maya knelt next to me and took my hand. “I’m teasing you, Syd. Just because you were in the hospital doesn’t mean I can’t have ANY fun.”
I closed my eyes. “Why is it that I keep you in my life?”
She laughed loudly, causing my eyes to snap open in expectation of a hidden garment of Simone’s choosing. Perhaps something with a flamingo or a peacock? Simone was extremely fond of plumage. (Need I remind you of the ensemble I was forced to borrow from Simone during our last trip to France, prompting Louis’ father to tell me I resembled a “deranged Muppet?” His description was dead-on.) Thankfully, a quick scan of the room revealed this was not the case.
