by Maggie Wells
“You need to borrow some baby clothes for Jack and a couple of baby bottles and some toys. You’ll also need to buy enough disposable diapers to last a week. That will be about fifty-six.”
“Fifty-six diapers?” Shawna cried.
“Oh, yeah,” Nurse Bailey said. “You need to change a newborn at least eight times a day. And you’ll need to feed Jack every three hours and that will take roughly twenty minutes. So every three hours you need to stop whatever you’re doing and feed Jack. Even at night. Set your alarm. You’ll find out real soon why new moms suffer from depression. This is a hard job, Shawna—the hardest job on earth. And the most rewarding.”
“I get it,” Shawna said. “Keep your stupid flour sack.”
“No. You don’t get it,” Nurse Bailey said. “It’s one thing to know that a baby is a big responsibility. It’s another thing altogether to actually be responsible.” She gingerly handed the bundle to Shawna. “Jack is crying. Try rocking him.”
Shawna rolled her eyes but did as she was told. She stood up and rocked from side to side. She felt incredibly stupid.
“Jack must always be left with a responsible adult,” Nurse Bailey said. “You can’t ever leave him alone. If you go out, you must find a babysitter.”
“I’ve got my mom,” Shawna said.
“That’s great,” Nurse Bailey said. “But doesn’t your mom work? Isn’t she a professor?”
Shawna nodded.
“And sometimes Jack will cry for no apparent reason,” Nurse Bailey said. “You’ve fed him, you’ve changed him, and still he’s crying. What does he want? You might want to shake him to make him stop but that won’t work and you could hurt him, badly. You need to hold him and rock him to soothe him.”
Shawna began to rock the bundle a little harder, grateful, at least, that his nose wasn’t running.
“Play with your baby,” Nurse Bailey said. “Talk to your baby. You’d be surprised how many moms don’t know that they must do that.”
Shawna nodded.
“I’ll give you a ride home after school,” Nurse Bailey said. “And don’t worry. I brought a car seat for Jack. You can borrow it for the week.”
Shawna heard the doorbell ring. She threw off her comforter and trudged downstairs. It was Philippe.
“What do you want?” Shawna asked, not really interested.
“Can I come in?” Philippe asked.
Shawna shook her head. “I’m not supposed to have anyone in the house when my parents aren’t home.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Philippe said. “What could happen that hasn’t already happened?” Philippe eyed Shawna’s expanding belly.
“Shut up,” Shawna said. “What do you want?’
“I came to help you find your sense of humor,” Philippe said. “And to see how you and Jack are doing.”
Shawna plunked herself down on the couch. She couldn’t remember what day it was or the last time she had gone to class. She realized she’d been living in some kind of fog. She picked up the sack of flour, which she had dressed up in a onesie that she had found at the Goodwill store. She had drawn a smiley face on it with a Sharpie,
“What’s that?” Philippe asked.
“It’s Jack,” Shawna said. “My practice baby.”
“Can I hold him?” Philippe asked.
“Gladly.” Shawna tossed the sack to him. “Cute, isn’t he?”
“Very,” Philippe said. He held the sack up to his shoulder and patted it. “Where did you get this?”
“Nurse Bailey,” Shawna said. “How did you know how to hold him like that?”
“Please,” Philippe said. “I have cousins and nephews. I’ve held a lot of babies.”
“Nurse Bailey is trying to show me what it’s like to be a mother,” Shawna said. “She still thinks we should give Jack up for adoption.”
“No way,” Philippe said. “He’s a good baby, right? Does he cry much?”
“He did at first,” Shawna said. “But I straightened him out.”
“What?” Philippe asked. “How did you do that?”
“I locked him in a closet.”
Philippe doubled over in laughter.
Shawna handed him a bottle. “I’m supposed to feed him for twenty minutes every three hours and change his diaper eight times a day. But, frankly I think we should crack him open and make some pancakes.”
“And there it is,” Philippe said. “Your sense of humor. You’re welcome.”
“Are we making a mistake?” Shawna asked. “Let’s face it. We’re not ready to be parents. I mean I’m not sure if I’d ever be ready to sign up for this shit. I don’t know how people do it. Babies suck!”
TWELVE
“WHAT’S THE MATTER, SHAWNA?” HER MOM STOOD over the stove, stirring a big pot of soup.
“Why do you think something is wrong?” Shawna asked.
“You’ve been moping around all week. Something going on at school?”
“I feel like all of my friends are avoiding me,” Shawna said. “Janna told me that her mom says she’s not allowed to talk to me.”
“That’s terrible.” Her mom held the spoon suspended over the pot and gave Shawna a worried look.
“I guess her parents think that she might start having sex if she hangs out with me,” Shawna said bitterly.
“More likely, seeing you scares them. They think, There, but for the grace of God, goes our daughter. People don’t know what to say so they avoid the conversation. It’s like when one of our friends says her husband is having an affair, everyone panics. Like it’s a disease that they all could catch.”
“Remember what you told me about getting pregnant at my age?” Shawna asked. “Did your friends shun you?”
“I only told one friend—Sheila. She was the one that drove me to San Francisco. We stayed friends until graduation. But we lost touch after I left for college. I think she’s still in Fresno. You know what? I should look her up. She might even be on Facebook, right?”
“Probably. Everybody’s mom is on Facebook,” Shawna said. “You know what else bothers me? Everyone, even complete strangers, look at my stomach. Nobody looks me in the eye anymore. I can’t figure out why I got pregnant in the first place, and not someone more deserving,” Shawna said.
“More deserving? Like one of the couples who are desperate to adopt?”
“Yeah, or someone too stupid to use a condom,” Shawna said. “We only did it once and we used a condom!”
Three months later, Dr. Hamersley frowned when she read the results of Shawna’s blood pressure test at her weekly appointment.
“What’s the matter?” Shawna asked.
“Your blood pressure is too high. It’s a condition called pre-eclampsia.” Dr. Hamersley squeezed Shawna’s left ankle. The indentation took a little too long to return to normal. “Your swollen ankles are a symptom.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a complication that can lead to seizures and, rarely, coma. Usually we treat it with bed rest.” Dr. Hamersley stared at Shawna’s medical history on her computer. “I think we need to get you into the hospital.”
“The hospital?” Shawna cried. “I’m going to the hospital already?”
“Anywhere between thirty-eight and forty-two weeks is considered full term,” Dr. Hamersley explained. You’re at thirty-eight weeks and your baby is large and healthy. We could induce tomorrow and he would be fine. It’s your health that we’re worried about. I’m admitting you to Alameda Hospital. You’ll need to be there within an hour. Can someone drive you?”
“I’ll text my mom,” Shawna said.
Shawna sat in the lobby and waited until she saw her mom’s car careen into the no-parking zone in front of the clinic. Her mom jumped out of the car, leaving the engine running as Shawna climbed into the passenger seat.
“I’m just going to run in and talk to Dr. Hamersley for a minute,” her mom said. “I want to find out exactly what’s going on.”
“Mom!” Shawna said.
“Please! We’ll find out when we get to the hospital. Can we just go?” Shawna regretted her tone of voice but she was frustrated. Why did she have to calm her mom down instead of the other way around?
Shawna had been in the hospital for three days but things had only gotten worse. Her ankles were so swollen she no longer recognized her legs. I look like an elephant! Elephantitis—she’d heard the word and seen old ladies in the BART station. Her blood pressure was higher each time they measured it.
“So tomorrow is the day,” Dr. Hamersley said. “Your baby’s birthday will most likely be December second.”
Shawna nodded. “A Sagittarius,” she said. “Just like his dad.” She was relieved to be getting it over with.
“Good. Tomorrow then, first thing, we’ll start an IV and give you Pitocin. It’s a natural hormone that induces labor. The contractions will start off mild but will increase in intensity. We’ll give you an epidural for the pain, if necessary. It’s not like what they taught you in your prenatal class. You’ll need to stay in bed because we’ll have a fetal monitor on the baby to make sure he’s not in any distress.”
“Can my mom and Philippe be here?” Shawna asked.
“Yes, unless there’s an emergency that would require a Caesarian section,” Dr. Hamersley said. “But I’m not anticipating that now.”
Shawna nodded. Her whole body had started shaking involuntarily.
“Let’s get you a little something to relax you,” Dr. Hamersley said. “You’ll need a good night’s sleep.”
Shawna had googled it. Induced labor could last anywhere from five to twenty-five hours. This is it, Jack. We are in the show now—our very first rodeo. There is no going back.
She tossed and turned, trying to sleep, but the drugs Dr. Hamersley gave her didn’t seem to be working. She reached over to the phone on her nightstand and dialed the number.
“Hello?” Her mom answered after one ring, her voice anxious.
“Hi Mom,” Shawna said. “It’s me.”
“Oh, I didn’t recognize the number,” her mom said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just couldn’t sleep. Did I wake you?” Shawna asked.
“No, Dad and I couldn’t sleep either. We’re sitting in the kitchen drinking herbal tea.”
Shawna pictured them in the breakfast nook, sitting across the table from each other. Suddenly she felt tears well up in her eyes. “I wish I was there with you,” she said. “I feel so lonely here.” She hated that her voice was quivering. Why can’t I control my emotions?!
“Shawna,” her mom said. “I’ll be right there.” Her mom’s voice was shaking too.
“No, Mom,” Shawna said. “I’m fine, really. I just wanted to call and tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am about all of this.”
“Oh, sweetie,” her mom said. “Do you want me to come stay with you tonight? I’m not going to be able to sleep anyway.”
“No, it’s okay.” Shawna said.
“Everything is going to be fine.”
“How do you know that?” Shawna asked. Her hands were shaking now and she realized that she was terrified about giving birth. “What if it’s not?”
“Shawna,” her mother said. “You have the best medical care in the bay area. Dr. Hamersley feels confident that everything will be fine. Dad and I will be there first thing in the morning.”
“Okay.” Shawna said. “See you tomorrow.” She hung up the phone. But I’m wide awake, she thought. How am I going to get through this night?
THIRTEEN
SHAWNA WANDERED DOWN THE HALL TO THE NURSERY AND stood at the window, looking in. There weren’t many babies in there and they were all sleeping soundly. A nurse moved from one bassinet to the next, checking on them. She spotted Shawna and pointed toward the door. Shawna walked toward the locked door and the nurse buzzed her in.
“I shouldn’t let you in here,” she said. “Put one of these on.” She handed her a protective mask. “For germs. Are you having trouble sleeping?” the nurse asked.
Shawna nodded. It was warm in the nursery and the sweet smell of newborns filled the air.
“Are you having a C-section?” the nurse asked.
“No, I’m being induced tomorrow,” Shawna replied. She stood beside a bassinet and looked down at a tiny, dark-skinned baby.
“So by tomorrow night, your baby will be here too,” the nurse said. “Or maybe you’ll want him to sleep in your room. A lot of moms do that even though keeping them here gives them a good night’s sleep—it’s often their last one for a while.”
The baby in the bassinet started to squirm and punch the air with his tiny fists.
The nurse glanced at the clock. “It’s time for his bottle. Do you want to watch me feed him?”
Shawna watched the baby as it woke up, his cries becoming raw and insistent. “Sure,” she said. She wanted him to stop crying.
“Step back outside. You can watch through the window. I’m just going to wash my hands, and sit in that rocking chair right over there.”
The nurse buzzed Shawna back out. She stood with her face pressed against the glass window, watching as the nurse grabbed the little bundle and held him close. She held the bottle and he latched on and began to suck right away, hungrily. Jack, the sack of flour, wasn’t anything like this. There really is no way to practice for this. But then she realized that she would never even consider neglecting her real baby the way she neglected the sack of flour. This little guy is a person—someone who is completely dependent on his mom. Where is his mom?
She watched the nurse finish the bottle feeding and then expertly burp the baby. How am I going to do that? she wondered.
A moment later, the nurse was outside of the nursery sitting on a bench next to Shawna.
“Where is that little guy’s mother?” Shawna asked. “Shouldn’t she be breastfeeding?”
“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she paused. “This little guy is being adopted,” the nurse said. “His mom didn’t even want to see him. She felt it would be too hard to let him go. It will be just bottles for him.”
She kept staring at the baby through the pane of glass. She sensed he knew that the nurse wasn’t his mom, but he didn’t mind her feeding him. I guess this would be the story of the rest of his life. She leaned over and pressed her face close to the glass, for the first time in her life, wanting very badly to hold a baby.
“You have an awesome job,” Shawna said. “All these babies.”
There was a long and awkward pause. Finally Shawna broke it, “I’m just so scared,” she said.
The nurse just smiled. “Of course you are. Like every expectant mother in the world. You’ll be fine,” she said.
“I practiced with a sack of flour,” Shawna said.
“Tomorrow, you’ll be holding the real thing,” the nurse said.
“Yes,” Shawna said, and a full-mouth smile crept up on her.
A nurse woke Shawna up in the middle of the night. At least it seemed like the middle of the night. Her nametag said Rose Ryan, RN, and her face was puffy and arms were beefy, like a Mrs. Potato Head doll.
“Time to induce,” Nurse Ryan said.
She swabbed Shawna’s arm with something cold.
Shawna recoiled at the sight of the IV kit and its needle.
“This will only sting for a second,” Nurse Ryan said.
Shawna shut her eyes—she couldn’t stand the sight of needles. She felt the prick of the needle and then heard a soft click and then the crinkling of the kit’s wrappers. Nurse Ryan was humming a tune, as if performing some everyday task, like washing dishes.
“Aren’t you going to take the needle out?” Shawna asked.
Nurse Ryan seemed to think that was funny. “The needle is out, hon. What’s left inside your vein is a catheter. It’s attached to the tubing that connects to the IV, which has the Pitocin. That’s the stuff that’s gonna help put you into labor. We’re also giving you magnesium sulfate to prevent seizures. Didn’t your doctor
discuss this with you?”
“Yes,” Shawna said. “I thought it would be a shot or a pill or something.”
“We’ll need to monitor your contractions and dial the Pitocin up or down as needed,” Nurse Ryan said. “Let me know when you start to feel something.”
Nothing happened for awhile, and Shawna woke up feeling hot, and slightly sick. There was also a clenching pain. It rolled across her like someone had kicked her hard. But then it kept on. The pain didn’t come and go, it grabbed her and held on. Shawna moaned and tried to roll over her side.
“Honey, we gotta keep the monitor on you,” Nurse Ryan said, re-adjusting the fetal monitor attached to her belly, and watching the computer monitor to make sure the heartbeat started recording again. “There we go. Is your birth partner here?”
“My mom is coming,” Shawna said. “I hope. I didn’t know we were going to start this without her. I don’t feel so good. I’m all sweaty.”
“That’s the magnesium sulfate. I can get you some ice chips.”
Ice chips? Shawna thought, feeling another contraction. “Owwwww, here comes another one.”
Shawna felt her stomach become hard and tight. The pain started big and then got bigger and bigger. Shawna felt like she was being ripped in two with a jagged saw that was inside of her. She knew she wasn’t going to survive and she wanted it over fast. She reached out to grasp Nurse Ryan’s arm. “Can they give something?” she gasped. “Something to knock me out? Something for the pain?”
The next contraction caught Shawna by surprise. She gritted her teeth and tried not to scream. She wasn’t even relieved when the pain stopped because she knew there would be another, and another.
She tried to pretend she was somewhere else, at the beach with Philippe, but it didn’t work. She thought she heard someone screaming and then she realized it was her.
“Can’t I have something for the fucking pain?” Shawna cried.
“I paged the anesthesiologist,” Nurse Ryan said. “He’ll be here shortly.”
