The Omega's Dearest Baby

by Louise Bourgeois

  “Ben tried to complain about you singing, by the way.”

  Noah laughed. “You’re kidding? With the crap he listens too? I’ve been thinking of names for the baby.”

  “Any good ideas?” Vincent asked, letting one of Noah’s curls wrap around his finger.

  “Are you going to laugh at me?”

  Shaking his head, Vincent said, “Go on, tell me.”

  Noah looked a little defensive. “I thought about something completely different, really, really unusual. And gender neutral.” He looked up at Vincent. “Like Galileo.”

  Keeping an ‘interested’ look on his face, Vincent struggled for the control not to laugh. “That is unusual.”

  Noah splashed the tub water at him. “You are laughing, you bastard. You don’t like it?”

  Vincent splashed back. “How ungrateful! I buy you a hot tub, and you splash me. I feel some sort of obligation to give the baby a name that it won’t have to spend the rest of its life explaining or spelling to people.”

  Noah nodded reluctantly. “That makes sense.”

  “And I don’t think we need to pick a gender neutral name. Rhian said the baby will be assigned a gender, and anyway, that there was no reason at all to think the baby will be intersex.”

  Noah nodded and Vincent leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Noah’s forehead. “I was planning on finishing emptying out the spare room today. Want to haul your wrinkly self out of the tub and I’ll move the rocker into the room? You can sit and supervise me boxing up my stuff.”

  Lifting one foot above the water to inspect his wrinkled skin, Noah nodded. “You just want me to stop you from getting distracted, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely. There’s notebooks and journals from twenty years ago in that room. I could find anything in there. If you sit in the chair and groan a lot, like you’re about to have the baby, it should keep me focused.”

  Dry but still wrinkly, Noah sat on the rocker that had been Ella’s gift to them for the baby and watched Vincent pack his debris into boxes. “Alright,” he said, “a normal name for the baby, but what about the birth certificate?”

  Vincent dropped books into a box. “What about the birth certificate?”

  “Well, I can’t be listed as the mother because my birth certificate says I’m male, and I’m not planning on changing that, especially once all the extra bits have been removed. Can a birth certificate have two males on it as parents?”

  Wiping dusty hands on his jeans, Vincent said, “Guess we have to ask Sandra and Rhian that.”

  ***

  Rhian was all smiles when she showed them into her room. “You look great,” she said as Noah lowered himself carefully onto the couch. “Sandra’s been keeping me up to date on how you’re going, but I have to say you do look fantastic.”

  Noah grinned back at her. “I’m 35 weeks now, nearly there.”

  “What can I do for you? Has something come up? You want to talk about whether to have the ovarian material removed or not?”

  Noah shook his head, and glanced at Vincent. “No, we want to know what the options are for the baby’s birth certificate.”

  Rhian nodded. “Of course, I should have thought of that. What did you want to know?”

  “Can we both be on the birth certificate? Even though we’re both legally male?”

  Vincent nodded. “What do we need to do to prove parentage? Can you arrange for the DNA testing if we need it?”

  “I can do that, and we’ll probably need to prove to the Family Court you are both genetically related to the infant.”

  Noah looked worried. “Family Court? Are we going to have to do that?”

  “Yes, but don’t panic. One of my patients has a close relative that is a Family Court judge. What I can do is call him privately and arrange for you both to go see him in his rooms, with the DNA printouts and a letter from me, and he’ll list both of you on the birth certificate as fathers. Anyone looking at the birth certificate will assume that one of you is the biological father, the other the father by same-sex parent adoption, and the biological mother is unlisted because she is a surrogate. Surrogate mothers are never listed on the birth certificate, at least not in the US.”

  “And the judge won’t tell anyone?” Noah asked worriedly.

  “No. I’ve never called him with this particular problem before, usually it’s when a baby needs a birth certificate left blank, or marked intersex, but he’s more than sympathetic to the issues. We can arrange to do this as soon as you’re well enough to leave hospital, or I could perhaps ask him to see you in there.”

  “So there won’t be a problem with me having carried the pregnancy?” Noah asked.

  Shaking her head again, Rhian said, “No. The legal system is very good at distinguishing the difference between a biological host parent, or surrogate, from the effective parent. That’ll work to your advantage in this case, and offer a ready explanation to anyone that asks.”

  Vincent nodded. “We can’t just make the birth certificate sealed?”

  Rhian shook her head. “Nope, they’re a matter of public record. Besides, the baby is going to be using it all its life, we might as well get it right.” She leant forward, smiling at Noah. “Tell me all about it. How’s it all been going?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Sophie proved to be a weary looking woman, tiny, with dark curls like Noah’s, and an enormous suitcase. She yawned tiredly and leant against the car, her small frame dwarfed by a huge cardigan.

  Vincent lifted her case into the boot, and Sophie apologized quietly, “Sorry it’s so heavy, but Tami made me bring out all the things she has made for the baby in case it’s born before she flies over.”

  “Good thing too,” Vincent said. “The baby’s close. Sandra, the doc, is seeing Noah three times a week now.”

  While Vincent queued to leave the car park, Sophie said, “How is he?”

  “He’s basically fine, and more cheerful now than a few weeks ago. The baby’s big enough now it can’t do its wild gymnastics during the night, there just isn’t room.” Vincent pulled out into the traffic. “Means he’s finally able to get some sleep. I do need to warn you though that he’s really sensitive about how he looks at the moment.”

  Sophie nodded, and flinched as a truck forced its way into their lane. “I can imagine. How does he look? Just so I’m not too surprised.”

  Vincent flipped a finger at the back of the truck. “He looks very, very pregnant. He looks like any pregnant woman.” He glanced at Sophie. “I’ve seen a picture of Tami, and he doesn’t look like her, he just looks like he was born a woman.” He glanced at her again. “If anything, I’d say he looks like you,” he said, turning again to watch the traffic.

  Sophie nodded.“I was stunned, when he called me the first time to tell me about the baby. How could I have missed something so important about my own child?”

  Vincent laughed. “I think that if Noah didn’t know, you can be excused. There really wasn’t any way you could have known. The doctor wasn’t sure until she did an ultrasound.”

  Vincent dropped Sophie’s suitcase gratefully in the hall, and led her through into the family room as Noah struggled to his feet from the couch. “mom!” Noah cried, and he was hugging her.

  Vincent went back and picked up the suitcase and began lugging it up the stairs, leaving Noah alone to greet his mom.

  ***

  Sandra took the blood pressure cuff off Noah’s arm. “That’s fine,” she said. “And your urine tested well too. How have you been feeling?”

  Noah rubbed his arm. “Pretty good. I got plenty of sleep last night, for the first time in months.”

  Sandra smiled at him and reached for the doppler. “Baby didn’t try and kick you to pieces last night?”

  “It slept all night.”

  “It’ll be the last time it does that for some years, I bet,” Sandra said, pressing the doppler against his belly. The heartbeat was loud and steady in the room, and Vincent squeezed Noah’s ankl
e from where he was sitting on the foot of the examination couch.

  Nodding, Sandra took the doppler off. “Alright, lie back if you can, let’s have a feel, see how big baby is now.” Her hands were steady and firm on Noah’s belly, and he lay back, until a feeling of suffocating came over him, and he struggled back upright again, panting.

  “Ahh, that’s the baby pressing on one of the major vessels in your abdomen. Try and lie on your side perhaps, I can feel the baby from there.”

  Lying back down on his side was much easier, and Sandra went back to feeling the baby. “See if you can get baby to move for me,” she said, poking at the side of Noah’s belly.

  Noah reached down and tickled the side of his bulge. “Come on, you’ve been kicking me for months,” he coaxed.

  He shook his head at Sandra after a few seconds. “It’s not moving,” he said, worry in his voice, and Vincent’s hand tightened around his ankle.

  Sandra patted his hip. “Don’t panic, the heart beat was strong on the doppler. Listen,” she said, and pressed the doppler back against his belly, and the thumping of the heart beat was clear in the room again. “Let me do an ultrasound, have a look at the size of the baby.”

  She wheeled the portable ultrasound over, and switched it on so it hummed faintly. The gel was cold and sticky and she ran the probe over his skin. “Hmmm, the machine says the baby is about five and half pounds, that’s the same as last time I looked.” She pointed at the screen. “See those patches there, that’s the placenta. The opaque areas are where it’s starting to break down.”

  She switched the machine off. “This is what we have: a baby that’s not moving as much, a lowered heart rate, though I don’t expect you to have heard that, no change in the baby’s size, and some placental deterioration.” She pushed the machine away and turned to Noah and Vincent. “I think this is as far as this pregnancy can go. Hope you haven’t got anything planned for this afternoon, you’re about to have a baby.”

  Noah stopped in the middle of wiping the gel off with the tissues she handed him. “Today? Right away?” he said as he struggled upright.

  Sandra nodded. “Just let me make a couple of phone calls, see where I can get you on the list, then we’ll know more.”

  She sat back down behind her desk and picked up the phone as Vincent helped Noah off the table and into a chair. “Hi, Lisa, it’s Sandra Carrison here. I need a slot on this afternoon’s list. What’ve you got for me?”

  She smiled encouragingly at Noah and Vincent. “Three o’clock? Book it for me, please. I’ll need a neonatal intensive care bed booked… Yes, and a maternal one too. Patient’s name is Jane Smith… Ok, transfer me through to anesthesiology, please.”

  Vincent squeezed Noah’s hand reassuringly. They’d decided that Noah would use a completely assumed name, and they would just pay the bill outright, rather than risk someone tracing a series of obstetric claims on his health insurance.

  “Is Damien there?” Sandra asked into the phone. “Hi, Damien, you available for a three o’clock ob case for me… thanks, you’re a darling… See you there.”

  “One last call,” she said to Noah. “Got to catch a pediatrician too.”

  There was a pause while she dialed. “Hi, this is Sandra Carrison, is Jay available?” Sandra smiled at the two nervous men and hummed lightly while she waited. “Hi, Jay. I’ve got a delivery this afternoon that I’d like you on stand-by for, three o’clock… No, the patient with the abdominal pregnancy I talked to you about last week. Single infant, ‘bout five and half pounds, 37 weeks gestation… uh huh… Good, see you in theatre.”

  She leant back in her chair, looking pleased. “That’s all arranged. We’ve got the anesthetist I wanted, and a pediatrician to be in theatre too. Noah, when was the last time you had anything to eat or drink?”

  “’Bout six o’clock, before we left to come here.”

  “Nothing from now onwards, please. Both of you, go home and shower, grab your bags, and head for the hospital. It’ll take a while to be admitted, and then to be prepped. I’m here in my rooms for the morning, but I’ll drop in to see you at lunch time, just to check neither of you are panicking.” She looked at Vincent. “Still want to be in theatre? You haven’t changed your mind?”

  Vincent shook his head. "No doubts. There’s no way I’d miss being there," he said, pushing down the threatening wave of queasiness.

  Noah nodded. He had been bitterly disappointed when he found out that he wouldn’t be able to have an epidural because of his fused vertebrae. Despite the recommendations against it, he wanted Vincent in there.

  ***

  The curtains were drawn around them and Vincent pulled his chair close to Noah’s gurney. “Not long now,” he whispered as he took Noah’s hand where it was clutching the sheet.

  The way Noah looked just about broke Vincent’s heart. He was lying on his side on a narrow gurney, anxiously watching the fetal monitor screen behind Vincent. His hair was hidden by a floral cap that matched Vincent’s scrubs, he was pale and worried, and had been crying before they had been moved down to the theatre waiting area.

  The fetal monitor showed the baby’s heart rate was steady, if a little slower than it should be, but Noah was terrified something was wrong because the baby hadn’t moved for hours. Sandra had been reassuring when she had popped in at lunchtime, making Vincent feel more confident about the baby’s well-being, but Noah had obviously not taken in anything she had been saying.

  Noah looked like he was just about ready to climb out of his skin with anxiety, and Vincent squeezed his hand. “Do you want me to sing to you?” he asked quietly.

  Noah tore his eyes off the monitor, staring at Vincent suddenly. “Please,” he whispered.

  Vincent nodded and wiggled his toes in the rubber operating room boots he was wearing. He couldn’t sing for anything, but neither could Noah, so they were even. He squeezed Noah’s hand.

  Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',

  I was layin' in bed

  Wond'rin' if he'd changed at all

  If his hair was still red.

  Noah smiled at Vincent, obviously pleased by the pronoun change in the song.

  Folks they said our lives together

  Sure was gonna be rough

  They never did like Mama's homemade dress

  Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough.

  Another smile from Noah, presumably in reference to being poor.

  And I was standin' on the side of the road

  Rain fallin' on my shoes

  Heading out for the East Coast

  Lord knows I've paid some dues gettin' through,

  Tangled up in blue.

  “If you were on the road, you wouldn’t be wearing shoes,” Noah pointed out. Vincent nodded and lifted Noah’s fingers to his mouth to kiss them quickly.

  He was married when we first met

  Soon to be divorced

  I helped him out of a jam, I guess,

  But I used a little too much force.

  Another laugh from Noah, and he rested his head back down on the pillow, eyes on Vincent’s face. There were voices in the room, staff talking and someone coughing, and Vincent dropped his voice lower.

  The curtains opened and a nurse came in. “Don’t stop,” he said, and he squeezed around behind Vincent and pulled off the strip of printout from the fetal monitor. He nodded encouragingly at Noah. “Baby’s fine,” he said, and Noah looked back at Vincent. The curtains swished shut behind the nurse, and Vincent started again, scanning through the lyrics in his mind, working out what to leave out and what to keep in.

  Noah jolted and said, “Baby just kicked me,” relief in his voice.

  “Maybe baby likes Bob Dylan,” Vincent said.

  “Dylan’s a good name,” Noah said.

  Vincent nodded his head and kept going.

  The curtains opened, and Sandra looked in. She was wearing floral scrubs, the same as Vincent, and rubber boots. She leant forward and whispered to Noah, “H
e can’t sing for shit, can he?”

  Noah shook his head. “And he used to be married to a musician too.”

  Squeezing Noah’s hand, Vincent said, “She would have killed me if I’d tried to sing to her while she was waiting for Ben to be born. I hardly dared breathe in case I provoked her.”

  Sandra laughed. “Noah will hate you afterwards because of post-operative pain. You’re in trouble, big time.” She glanced at the fetal monitor and nodded reassuringly. “Baby is doing well. I’m about to go and scrub, I’ll see you both in a few minutes in the theatre.”

  Noah’s eyes were gentle on Vincent in a way he had never seen before. This was as close as Noah had ever let him get to any sort of declaration, he had always deflected any earlier attempts. Vincent had finally accepted that some things were never going to be spoken out loud between them. Until now.

  The nurse pushed the curtains open again. “Theatre just called, orderlies are on the way,” he said, then he was gone again.

  Then the orderlies were drawing the curtains back, kicking the brakes off the gurney, pushing Noah down sterile white corridors, Vincent following behind, rubber boots slapping on the plastic flooring.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The theatre looked completely crowded to Vincent, full of masked faces and identical clothes. He finally recognized Sandra when she bent forward over Noah, gloved hands held in front of her. “Next time you open your eyes, you’ll be able to see your baby,” he heard her say.

  Noah nodded, and Vincent wanted to kiss him but couldn’t through the mask, then Noah’s hand was limp in his and he was asleep.

  Bewilderment swept over Vincent.

  A voice beside him said, “I’m Monica, it’s my job to keep you out of trouble. There’s a stool waiting for you over by the wall.”