“So tomorrow’s the day,” Dr. McBride, the obstetrician, said. “Your baby’s birthday will likely be August fifteenth.”
Kia nodded. “She’ll be a Leo. Cool.” She was relieved to be getting it over with.
“Good. Tomorrow then, first thing, we’ll hook you up to an IV and start the drip. The drug we use is called Pitocin. It’s a natural hormone that induces labor. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay in bed because you’ll be wired to an electronic fetal-monitoring machine. We have to keep a close eye on the baby.” He studied her face. “Any questions?”
“Will Justin be able to stay with me through the whole thing?”
“Yes, unless there’s an emergency which requires us to do a Caesarian section, but I’m not anticipating that.”
“Me neither.”
“And I understand,” he said quietly, “that you’re putting the baby up for adoption.”
She looked away.
“Do you want to see it?”
Kia paused before she answered. “I wasn’t going to, but ...”
“I think you should,” he said. “It’s healing to say goodbye.”
Kia didn’t answer.
“How about the adopting parents? Do you want them at the delivery?”
“No. She’s going to be theirs soon enough.”
“That’s fair. The fewer people present, the better it is for me. But I like to check, just to be certain. I’m sure they’re going to be anxious.”
Kia nodded. “My parents will be anxious too.”
“And a social worker?” he asked. “I suppose you have one of those?”
“Uh-huh.” Kia smiled, just a little. “But I don’t think Sadie will be anxious. In fact, she might be just the person to keep everyone else calm.”
“Then let’s make sure she’s here,” the doctor said, smiling.
“Oh, and then there’s the Rev, and my little sister.”
“That is what waiting rooms are for.”
Kia nodded.
“Everything’s going to be just fine, Kia,” Dr. Mc-Bride said one more time. “You’ll go back to school in the fall a little older and a little wiser.”
“And a little lighter, I hope,” Kia said.
“That’s a given,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning. Try to have a good rest tonight. Tomorrow could be a long day.”
Joanna and Brett spent the evening with Kia in her hospital room, discussing baby names. They were determined to find one they all liked. Justin sat crossed-legged on the floor in a corner, quietly listening to the discussion. Kia’s parents had gone home awhile earlier, with promises to be at the hospital early the following morning.
“Why don’t you choose a couple boys’ names, just in case?” Joanna suggested.
Kia shook her head. “I don’t need to.”
“Then tell me what names on my list you like.”
“They’re all fine,” Kia said, hardly glancing at the page that was placed in front of her.
“You know,” Justin said, adding his opinion for the first time all evening, “I’ve heard people say that it’s better to see the baby before you choose the name. Some names just don’t suit some babies.”
Joanna sighed. “I guess you’re right, Justin. We do have a list of ten names we’ve all agreed on. Maybe one of them will jump out when we see it.”
“When we see her,” Kia corrected.
Brett shook his head. “I’ve never known anyone so sure of an unborn baby’s gender. What makes you so certain, Ki?”
“I’ve known from the start,” she answered. “But it’s not something I can explain.”
“We’ll forgive you if you’re wrong, you know,” Brett said, smiling. “But how will you feel if it’s a boy?”
“It’s not going to be a boy,” Kia answered, perfectly serious.
“Kia’s never wrong about anything,” Justin teased. “She gets it from her father.”
Kia stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re just jealous.”
Joanna closed the baby-name book she was thumbing through. She came over, sat on the bed beside Kia and picked up her hand.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow, honey?” she asked.
Kia tugged her hand away. She shrugged.
Joanna persisted. “I think we should talk about it.”
“Okay, then. If you really want to know the truth, I’m scared stiff,” Kia answered crossly, facing Joanna. “And sad.”
“Sad?”
“Yeah, once she’s born you’re going to take her away.” Kia glanced at Justin and then back at Joanna. “Right now she’s all mine.” She rubbed her huge stomach.
Joanna nodded and got up off the bed. She went over to stand beside Brett.
“You’re giving her to us to raise, Kia,” Brett said, “but we’re not taking her away. You know you’ll always be welcome in our home. You can spend as much time with her as you want.”
Kia lay back on the bed. “I know, but it’s just not the same.”
Reverend Petrenko knocked and entered the room. “Hello everyone,” he said, looking around. “Did I interrupt something?” he asked, sensing the somber mood of the small group.
“We’re discussing tomorrow, and what happens after the baby is born,” Brett answered after shaking the Reverend’s hand. “Kia just shared her feelings with us. She says she’s scared and sad.”
“And I really don’t feel like sharing anything else tonight,” Kia said, unable to disguise her irritation. “I think I need to go to sleep now.”
“I’ll just stay a minute,” the Reverend said. “And I won’t ask you to share anything, Kia,” he teased gently. “I just wanted to know how you all felt about having a small ceremony to mark the occasion of the adoption.”
Kia frowned. “Huh?”
“I have a small service prepared. We could use the hospital chapel, and just the three or four of you,” he glanced at Justin, “would attend, with the new baby.”
“What would we have to do?” Kia asked.
“Not much,” the Reverend answered. “At one point in the service I would ask you if you have anything you wish to say to your new baby or to Joanna and Brett. I’d then ask them the same thing. The rest would be me trying to mark this occasion as a sacred event in all your lives.”
Brett and Joanna glanced at each other. “I think it’s a beautiful idea,” Brett said. “How about you, Kia?”
She rolled onto her side, her back to Joanna and Brett and her arms wrapped around her belly. She lifted one arm just long enough to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. “Whatever.”
Justin got up and began to rub her back. “We’ll be there,” he told the Reverend. “All three of us. And with Joanna and Brett, that makes five.”
Kia heaved herself off the hospital bed and shuffled to the bathroom. When she came out she put on her new bathrobe, a gift from Joanna and Brett. She sat in the chair in the corner of the room. She knew it must be close to midnight. The hospital was fairly quiet, although she could hear the low murmur of the nurses’ voices in their station and the odd beep of a call button. Occasionally a wailing baby was wheeled past her room in its hospital bassinet. She wished she could sleep—it would pass the time more quickly—but sleep eluded her tonight.
Eventually she got up, took a quarter out of the drawer in the night table and padded down the hallway to the pay phone. She dropped the quarter in the slot and dialed the number.
“Hello?” Her mother answered after one ring, her voice anxious.
“Hi, Mom. It’s me.”
“Kia! Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just couldn’t sleep. I’m sorry I’m calling so late. Did I wake you up?”
“No, no. Dad and I can’t sleep either. We’re sitting in the kitchen drinking tea.”
Kia pictured them in the cozy kitchen, sitting across the table from each other, the back door open to let in the cool night breeze. Suddenly she felt her eyes brimming with tears. “I wish I was there with you,
” she said, not trying to mask the quiver in her voice. She felt like a little kid, but she didn’t care. “I feel so lonely here.”
“Oh, Kia. We’ll come right over.” Her mom’s voice quivered too.
“No, no, Mom!” Kia quickly recovered. “I’m okay, really. Just wanted to call and tell you how much ... how much I love you. And Dad.”
“We know that, honey. And we love you too. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. And I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”
“Kia, are you sure everything is okay?”
“Uh-huh. Really.”
“We’ll be there first thing in the morning.”
“I know.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
“How do you know that?” The quiver was back in her voice, and it occurred to her that she was more nervous about the birth than she’d realized.
“I just do. You have the best doctor, you’re in the hospital, and you’re a healthy, strong girl.” She paused. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over and stay with you tonight?”
“No, Mom. We both better get some sleep. Give Dad a hug for me. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
“Okay, Kia. Love you.”
Kia hung up and drew in a ragged breath. It was going to be a long night.
The nursery was just down the hall, and she went and stood at the viewing window. There weren’t many babies there—most of them were in their mothers’ rooms—but the few that remained were sleeping soundly. A nurse was moving from one bassinet to the next, checking on them. She spotted Kia and nodded at the door. Kia went to the locked door and waited for it to open.
“Are you having trouble sleeping?” the nurse asked. “Would you like to come in?”
Kia nodded and stepped into the room. It was warm and bright, and the sweet smell of newborns filled the room.
“Yours hasn’t come yet,” the nurse observed. “Are you having a C-section?”
“No, I’m being induced tomorrow,” Kia answered, moving farther into the nursery. She stood beside a bassinet, looking down at the tiny dark-skinned baby.
“So by tomorrow night yours might be in here too. Or maybe you’ll want to keep it in your room, though I always think the new moms should get a good night’s sleep before they go home, but I’m old-fashioned in my thinking,” she murmured. “Nowadays the new moms are packed up and shipped out before they even have a chance to catch their breath,” she added.
“Mine won’t be coming home with me,” Kia said, moving to another bassinet. The baby in it started to squirm.
The nurse glanced at the chart hanging on the side of the bassinet and then at the clock on the wall. “He’s due for a bottle feed,” the nurse said. “Do you want to do it?”
Kia watched the baby as it woke up. Its cries were raw and insistent. “Sure,” she said, anxious to make him stop crying.
“Then scrub your hands, put on a mask and go sit in that rocking chair,” the nurse instructed. “I’ll get his formula ready.”
Kia did as she was told. A moment later the nurse handed her the little bundle and a small glass bottle with a nipple attached. “You’ll have to hold him up high,” she said, smiling as Kia tried to position the baby. “Above your stomach. Or off to the side, perhaps.”
Kia found a comfortable position and put the nipple to the frantic baby’s mouth. She watched as he latched on and began to suck hungrily. Her surrogate baby—the bag of dog food—hadn’t felt anything like this. This baby was warm as he nuzzled into her. He regarded her with his wide, wise-looking eyes. She sensed he knew she wasn’t his mom, but he didn’t mind her feeding him. She leaned over and pressed her cheek to his forehead. Even through the mask he smelled wonderful, but she realized, with a start, that she didn’t feel a bond with him. He was someone else’s baby, not hers. He was pleasant to hold, but it was not as she imagined it would be with her own. She wondered if this was how Joanna would feel when she fed Kia’s baby. Would her baby know that Joanna wasn’t her real mom? Would she feel abandoned right from day one?
Kia began to rock in the chair as she fed the tiny newborn. She watched as the nurse prepared a bottle for a second baby and then joined her in another rocking chair.
“You’ve got a great job,” Kia said, talking through the mask. “Taking care of all these babies.”
The nurse smiled as she pushed the rubber nipple into the baby’s mouth. “Yeah, on quiet nights, like this one, it’s the best job in the world.”
“So it’s not always like this?”
“No. This is a rare quiet night. Sometimes two or three new ones arrive all at once, and they all need attention immediately. That usually happens when it’s feeding time for the ones already in here. They all start squawking at once. I can call the nurses’ station for help, but it’s never enough. You just have to deal with one baby at a time and hope that no emergencies arise.”
Kia nodded, watching as the baby she held closed its eyes but didn’t stop sucking.
“So your baby is being adopted?” the nurse asked.
“Yeah. I guess.”
“You guess?”
Kia shrugged. “Yeah, it is. I just keep hoping for a miracle.”
The nurse cocked her head. “A miracle?”
“I’ve been trying for almost nine months to figure out how I can keep her and raise her myself.”
“Not an easy thing to do. How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“You’re not much older than that little guy you’re holding.”
“Very funny.” Kia gave the nurse her nastiest look, then smiled. They continued to rock and feed the babies in comfortable silence.
“Is it an open adoption? Do you know who the parents will be?”
“Yeah. They’re great. I chose them myself.” Kia laughed. “And now I hate their guts.”
The nurse shot Kia a curious look. “They’re too good.
They’re everything I’m not.”
“Too good? Is that possible when you’re choosing parents for your baby?”
“No.” Kia pulled the nipple out of the baby’s mouth. He was fast asleep again. She held him up to her shoulder and patted his back. “I just wish I could trade places with them.”
“You look like you know what you’re doing.”
“I’ve been practicing with a bag of dog food.” Kia glanced at the nurse’s expression and then had to laugh. The baby began to fuss, so she cradled him and popped the nipple back into his mouth. “It’s a long story,” she explained. “The real thing is a lot nicer.”
“I guess so,” the nurse said, beginning to rock her chair again. “A bag of dog food. What will they think of next?”
Kia settled the baby back in its bassinet and left the nursery. She went into her dark room and jumped, startled, when a figure, sitting in the chair, stood up.
“Justin! What are you doing here?”
“Shh,” he said. “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by. The nurses think I’m the baby’s father so they didn’t throw me out.”
“But it’s the middle of the night! You should be home sleeping. I’m going to need you wide awake tomorrow.”
“Good point, Kia. So why aren’t you in bed? You gave me quite the scare when I didn’t find you here. Then I had a look around and saw you through the window in the nursery.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I can’t get comfortable. You should try lying on this stupid mattress with a water-filled beach ball sticking out of you.”
“No thanks. But you should at least be resting.”
“Okay. I’m lying down.” Kia tossed her housecoat onto the foot of the bed, climbed in and lay on her side. She patted the spot beside her for Justin to sit on. “So why are you here? Worried about me?”
“No. You’re going to be just fine.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Justin paused, then continued quietly. “But Grace isn’t.”
Kia was sure her hear
t stopped for a moment. “Grace? What is it?”
“She’s been moved up to Palliative Care from the ER.” He sighed, and Kia could see the tears in his eyes. “I was just up there. She hasn’t got long.”
“But I saw her just a few days ago! When I stopped off to say goodbye.”
“The cancer’s all through her now. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Cancer?”
“Uh-huh. She’s had it awhile, but her health is too fragile to handle any treatment so she’s just letting nature take its course.”
“I didn’t know ...”
“No, she didn’t talk about it.”
Kia thought about Grace’s wracking cough and remembered how tired she’d looked.
“I’m sorry.” Justin ran his hand over Kia’s tummy. “I shouldn’t have dumped that news on you tonight ...”
“Oh! You’re back.” A nurse burst into the room, clutching a blood-pressure gauge. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about having a baby.”
Kia tried to smile as the nurse wrapped the band around her arm, but it was too hard to force it. She watched as the nurse jotted something on her chart. “Well?”
“It’s dropped, just a little. That’s a good thing.”
Kia nodded.
“You should try to get some sleep.” She glanced sharply at Justin.
He cleared his throat. “I know,” he said. “Just checking up on her.” He stood up. “I’ll see you bright and early, Ki.”
She nodded. The lump in her throat was too big to swallow.
He leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep. You need to look fabulous for your baby when she sees you for the first time.”
Kia gave Justin a little shove. With one last look over his shoulder, he left the room.
Kia lay in stunned silence. Grace, her Grace, was lying two floors above her, waiting to die. What did that feel like? Was she scared? And how ironic that she was down here, on the verge of giving birth to a new life as Grace was coming to the end of hers.
Kia wiped away the tear that meandered down her cheek. She turned on the reading light and reached for the journal that sat on the table beside her bed. Propping herself up on her elbow, she again ran her fingers over the notebook’s grainy cover. She opened it to the first page and read the entry. Then she read the next entry, and the next. With sudden clarity, she realized that her journal was like a detailed roadmap of the emotional detour she’d taken in the past eight months. The gamut of her emotions was described in these pages, from the horror of discovering she was pregnant to the elation she’d experienced when she first felt the baby move inside her. It also showed her increasing love for the unborn baby, as well as her struggle as she faced giving it up for adoption. Kia knew what she had to do. Opening to the next blank page, she picked up her pen and began to write one final entry. When she was done, she gently closed the journal, put it away and turned out the light.
Dancing Naked Page 17
