by CW Ullman
“You need to take the mother into the other room and lay her down, I’ll be there in just a moment,” the midwife said.
Charlie took Cindy, who was hunched over discharging amniotic fluid. The midwife told him that Cindy’s flow would stop in a few minutes. Charlie put her gently in bed. She looked pale, Charlie asked if she was all right and she nodded slightly.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sorry,” Cindy said.
“You don’t need to apologize; you’re my hero. You were great. I love you, baby,” Charlie said.
He sat on the bed next to her stroking her hair and rubbing her back. She had tears coming from her eyes, but did not appear to be crying. Charlie wondered if her fatigue had prevented her from crying. She lay on her right side with her arm resting on Charlie’s leg and eventually fell asleep.
The midwife, still in the bathroom, called to Charlie. Charlie delicately picked Cindy’s arm up and went into the bathroom where the midwife had the baby swaddled in a white cloth. Charlie thought the child looked so sweet and peaceful sleeping in her arms. While looking at the baby, he realized he had to cut the umbilical cord. When he saw the deflated look on the midwife’s face, he thought she looked eerily like Rusty.
“The baby didn’t make it,” she said. She had a confused look on her face. Her eyebrows were pushed together and the corners of her mouth were raised, but it was not a smile. He was looking at the sleeping baby and did not understand. He continued looking at the sleeping child while the midwife still talked. Her voice was distant and flat. When the midwife raised her voice, what was once distant murmuring became clear.
“Charlie, the baby did not live.”
He said, “Do you want me to cut it now?” Charlie asked, referring to the umbilical cord.
The midwife started to cry, “Charlie, your baby is not alive.”
Charlie immediately became aware that he was smiling and instantly felt allergic to his own grin.
“What do you mean?” Charlie asked, wanting to be confused. He wanted her response to be a mistake. Maybe she meant to say something else or he had just heard it wrong. Time slowed to a crawl for Charlie. He could see her taking the breath that would fuel her voice to speak news he did not want to hear, but unable to stop her. He wanted to speak over her, but his voice was overcome by a choking sound. He was exhaling and gasping at the same time and in this spasm, the futility of stopping her overwhelmed him. He tried raising his hand to stop her, but instead his hand found its way to cover his own mouth.
“The baby was breached and stayed too long in the birth canal. I tried my best to get her out while performing CPR, but while she was there, the umbilical cord was pinched and the baby wasn’t getting any oxygen. So…”
Tired and scared, she looked at Charlie. She seemed to Charlie like a high school girl too young to be involved in such a serious endeavor. All the things about her that formerly impressed him, now meant nothing. She was present just so something like this would not happen.
“Do you want to hold your baby?” The midwife asked. Before he could answer, she handed the baby to Charlie and said, “I’m going to check on the mother.”
She left Charlie alone in the bathroom holding his deceased daughter and went to check on Cindy. Charlie looked at his daughter’s face; she appeared to be in a contented slumber. Her nose looked like Cindy’s and her lips looked pink. He thought the midwife had to be wrong; his daughter was just sleeping. He placed his hand on the baby’s stomach and it felt distended. He pulled back the cloth and what he saw almost made him drop the infant on the floor. From the top of the baby’s chest to the bottom of the baby’s feet was the placenta. Charlie felt faint, but made it to the toilet and sat down.
He did not pass out, but had to put his hand up against the wall to hold himself steady while he cradled his child in his other arm. He heard the midwife in the bedroom comforting Cindy while she wept. Charlie sat in the bathroom, holding his deceased daughter, wanting his parents. He needed someone to tell him this was a mistake. He wanted to hear his father say he could fix this and his mother tell him not to worry. He wanted someone else to hold his child and bring it back to life. Then, he realized his wife might be bleeding to death in the other room, and this thought returned him to the present.
He took his daughter into the baby room that he and Cindy had painted and furnished with the pink cutouts on the wall and mobiles hanging from the ceiling. Charlie placed her into the bassinet. He went into the bedroom where Cindy was crying and he asked the midwife to go into the baby’s room while Charlie sat down next to Cindy.
Cindy apologized over and over. He comforted her by saying it was not her fault. He quieted her and said she needed to rest. He asked if she needed something to drink, but all she could express were her apologies.
Charlie was unable to focus on anything and he was beginning to feel a building anger. He picked up the bedside phone and dialed.
“You need to come over here right now… It’s very bad, just come now,” Charlie was talking to his mother whose initial gleeful voice dropped in tone. The Palmers, who lived a mile from Charlie, were there in five minutes.
Colleen and Chris walked through the front door and saw the midwife sitting on a chair. She did not acknowledge them. Colleen came into the bedroom first, followed by Chris who stood in the doorway. They saw Charlie first and the dark circles under his eyes shocked them both. On the side of the bed stroking Cindy’s hair, Charlie raised a finger to his lips to quiet them. He got up slowly like an old man, Chris thought. When he faced them they saw blood on his shirt and pants. He looked like he had been in a fight. He ushered them to the center of the hall. They looked at their son’s bowed head and sagging, tired shoulders, yet were unprepared to hear what he had to say.
“The baby did not make it,” Charlie said. “She was breach and…she-,” he could not finished because he was crying. He leaned into his mother and his father’s arm came around to hug his son. The three of them stayed there for awhile. Colleen gathered her strength.
“Does she need to go to the hospital?” Colleen asked referring to Cindy.
“I don’t think so. The midwife said she should eat something in the next half an hour. I am really sorry. I am so sorry,” Charlie said. He felt like he had let everyone down. His attitude was cavalier leading up to the birth and now he felt boyish and foolish. He always prided himself on being prepared for anything and presumed the birth would come off without a hitch. Now, his immaturity had cost his Cindy a child and broken the heart of his own mother who was longing to be a grandmother. He was ashamed in front of his parents.
“This is not your fault, Charlie,” Chris said. “These things happen. It’s no one’s fault. Just be with Cindy and your mom and I will handle everything. Where is the baby?” Charlie pointed to the baby room then went back to Cindy and sat on the bed with her while Colleen and Chris went in to see the baby.
Colleen looked at the child, but it was Chris who started to cry. Colleen brought her fingers to the infant’s face and it felt cool to the touch. It sent a chill of sadness through Colleen who willed herself not to break down in front of Chris who looked devastated. She turned to comfort him, and held his face so he would look into her eyes.
“We can’t cry right now. He needs us and Cindy may be in trouble, so we have to be strong. No tears right now, okay?” Colleen whispered.
She wiped the tears off his face and told him to go into the kitchen and get some milk for Cindy and make a sandwich for Charlie. She went out into the living room and icily told the midwife she could go home. The midwife offered to stay, but Colleen said they would handle it from here. Colleen had to censor herself from telling off the midwife. It would be Colleen’s never-expressed opinion that the midwife caused the stillbirth. Colleen walked into the bathroom where towels soaked with amniotic fluid and blood scattered the floor. She grabbed up everything and took it to the washing machine. She opened the cleaning closet to retrieve a broom, mop, bucket, and soap and set
about cleaning the bathroom.
After Colleen was finished, she joined Charlie and Chris in the bedroom where Cindy was sleeping. While Charlie and Colleen were whispering, Chris, unnoticed, had slipped back into the baby’s room. He tiptoed in as if the baby were sleeping and looked over the end board at his first grandchild. Though his hand was big enough to cover much of her body, he placed a finger on her chest. The sensation of the cloth brought a slow plea to his voice. He whispered through tears, “Take a breath…just take one breath…please.”
He felt Colleen’s presence as she gently caressed him. She laid her head against his back and could feel the hiccupping of his sobs. She rubbed his shoulders to soothe his pain. The men in her life were heartbroken. This was not a wound that ever heals, she thought, rather a scar that remains forever. Eventually, it dissipates to a memory, but she knew everyone’s heart would be unalterably changed. She had to take care of three people and knowing this empowered her to do the necessary tasks. She thought to herself there would be time to weep, but for now she had to steer her family through this crisis.
“Chris, I need you to go to the store. I’ve written a list of things we need. Can you do that in a little while? ” Colleen asked. She knew her husband and she knew if he were drafted into action, it would serve him best.
Chris nodded while looking at the baby. He backed out of the room, got the list from Colleen and left.
She brought Charlie out of the room and whispered to him, “I know you are devastated, but when Cindy is awake you have to be there for her. She will need all your attention and comfort for the next few days. You need to be strong for her. I am going to handle everything else.”
“Will…you…call-“ Charlie started.
She interrupted him, “I’ll call Darla and ask her to handle the surf shop for awhile. I’ll contact the guys. If you need or want anything, just let me know. You…be with your wife.”
<>
As the afternoon turned to night, Charlie came out to the living room where Chris and Colleen stared at the fire they had started in the fireplace.
“How is Cindy?” Colleen asked.
“She‘s sleeping. What are we going to do with…-,” Chris finished Charlie’s sentence.
“I’ve called Bud Marlow in my Rotary Club. What I’m about to tell you is clinical; do you want to hear it?” Chris asked.
Charlie nodded and Chris continued, “He told me as long as the placenta is still attached to the baby he can accept the child. My license allows me to fill out a birth certificate and a…death certificate. Have you and Cindy talked about what you want to do?” Chris asked.
“She is kind of out of it. Can Bud hold the baby until we decide?” Charlie asked.
From the bedroom Cindy called, “Can you guys come in here?”
They went to the bedroom where she was lying on her side. She said, “Charlie, can you help me sit up?”
Charlie propped some pillows against the headboard and helped Cindy to a seated position. She reached for a glass of water that Colleen fetched and handed to her.
“Can you bring the baby in, please? I want to hold her,” Cindy asked.
Charlie brought the baby in and laid it gently in Cindy’s arms. She looked down upon her child and pushed the swaddling cloth off her forehead so she could see her face full. She delicately ran her fingers over the baby’s face. She traced the child’s eyebrows, nose and mouth. Chris was trying his best to not sob as tears streamed out of his eyes. Colleen held his hand while patting his back.
“She’s got your mouth, Charlie. She is so pretty,” Cindy said.
Colleen and Chris were standing in the doorway watching. The lamp next to the bed was the only light in the room and its soft cast was against the baby’s face. Her skin was almost porcelain white.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Cindy stated.
“She is beautiful, Cindy. Chris and I thought she had your nose – I mean has your nose,” Colleen said. Colleen had been doing all she could to be strong and hold her emotions in check, but felt horrible for using the past tense. She was about to apologize but the restrained tears and emotions erupted. Cindy looked up to see Colleen sag with tears and reached out to bring her near so Cindy could comfort her. Colleen shuffled to Cindy where they hugged and wept together. Chris found Charlie and put his arm around his son’s shoulder and they stood at the side of the bed with their hands upon their women. After a few minutes, Cindy held her hand up to create some space.
“We’re a mess, huh?” Cindy said with a small smile breaking the pall of sadness. They all gently smiled while wiping away their tears, then took up positions on the bed surrounding Cindy. She continued, “I’d like to have a memorial service for the baby and bury her in the cemetery over on Western,” she looked at Charlie. “Are you okay with that?”
He agreed and mentioned that Bud Marlow would handle the arrangements.
“What name have you decided upon? I need to fill out a birth certificate for her,” Chris asked.
Charlie said, “We decided on Samantha Lily Palmer.” Colleen was not expecting to hear her middle name ‘Lily’ and that brought a flood of emotion. They sat on the bed comforting each other, crying and stopping, then crying some more. When it appeared as though everyone was cried out, Chris asked if he could call Bud.
At around midnight Bud Marlowe knocked on the door. He expressed his condolences and approached Cindy to pick up the child. He asked if he could take the baby into the baby’s room. With Chris present, he laid the child down in the crib to verify the placenta was still attached. If it had been separated, the Los Angeles County Coroner would be notified and an autopsy would be needed to determine the cause of death. Chris handed Bud the signed birth and death certificates.
After Bud left, Cindy turned on her side to look at a Polaroid picture they had taken of Samantha. She put it on the night stand propped up against the lamp and fell asleep looking at it. Out in the living room, Chris sat on the couch staring into the fire with his wife asleep in his arms.
As Charlie was dozing off, he looked at a calendar across the room and saw that it was April 30, 1980. Charlie thought that they needed just one more day and it would have been May and things would have turned out differently.
<>
At six the following morning, Colleen called Darla and told her the bad news. Devastated, Darla could not talk. Her sobbing woke Rusty and he sat next to her on the bed. She told him the news and he immediately got up and dressed. When he was done, he stood in front of her like a young boy and picked up her hand.
Rusty said, “We have to go.”
Darla was mildly surprised at his suggestion, but hurriedly dressed, got Tobie, and drove over to Charlie’s. They were met by Chris and Colleen who were drinking coffee in the living room. Before anyone could stop him, Rusty walked into Charlie and Cindy’s bedroom. He opened their bedroom door and walked in while Cindy was looking at the picture of Samantha. He crossed the room, sat next to Cindy on the bed, and started to cry. Even though she was surprised to see him, she pulled his head to her shoulder and comforted him. Charlie was awakened to see Cindy holding Rusty while Darla, Chris, and Colleen stood in the doorway looking perplexed. Darla came to the bed and sat on the end holding Cindy’s free hand.
Colleen, not sure what to do, asked everyone if they wanted coffee. Cindy could only nod, as both of her arms were occupied with Rusty and Darla. Eventually, Rusty made it around to Charlie’s side of the bed and hugged him. Charlie told Rusty that he and Cindy had to dress and asked them to wait in the living room. After checking with Cindy to see if she could leave the bedroom, they both put on bathrobes and went out front. Charlie explained to them what had happened. Rusty did not say anything but held Cindy’s hand the entire time.
There was a knock on the door and standing on the front porch were Gaston, Curtis, Carlos, and Ronnie, all with red-rimmed eyes. Chris invited them in and Colleen realized she was going to have to make more coffee. Bud Marlow had rela
yed news of the stillbirth to Ronnie’s dad and Ronnie contacted the others. There was an awkward period of silence where they all just looked at the floor. Colleen brought out a tray of coffee and told them she was making breakfast.
Duke Winter, another member from Charlie’s Rotary Club who officiated at their wedding, stopped by.
Eventually, the guys ended out on the porch eating breakfast while Colleen, Cindy and Darla sat inside. Charlie travelled back and forth checking with Cindy to make sure she was all right. After the guys left, Cindy and Charlie went to the funeral home to meet Bud Marlow.
Bud brought them into a small viewing room and showed them a baby-sized coffin. Even after being in the funeral business for thirty years, Bud Marlow could never tell what would trigger the cascade of grief: sometimes a picture, a song, or a calendar date. For Charlie, it was turning the corner seeing this small coffin. His knees buckled and he went down. After a few moments, he put his hand on Charlie’s arm and took him back into the other room. Cindy looked at the coffin alone and walked out to Charlie.
“Honestly, I want to be strong for you, but I don’t know if I can go to the funeral and look at that tiny coffin and keep it together,” Charlie said.
Cindy sat next to him with their arms intertwined and rested her head on his shoulder.
“No one expects you to be strong, but you have to be strong at the funeral and you know why,” she said.
“My dad,” Charlie said. He took a deep breath, exhaled, looked at Cindy and said, “Okay, let’s try it again.”
Over three hundred people attended the memorial service. When it was over, everyone went back to Chris and Colleen’s to share the potluck dishes brought for the wake. Cindy had known Charlie was a member of the Beach Rotary Club, but it was the passing of their child that brought her a greater appreciation of the club. The entire membership and their spouses from both Charlie’s and Chris’s clubs had come. The following week the members’ wives came over to deliver meals for Cindy and Charlie. What she had originally known about the Rotarians in the abstract became personal and comforting.
