by Maggie Wells
Shortly? Shawna wondered. My body is being ripped apart!
Another contraction hit and Nurse Ryan disappeared. Shawna was lost in a world of pain and bright lights. She could hear the screams again but mostly she was floating away. Every time she opened her eyes, the room whirled around so she kept them shut tight. In her mind she kept trying to run away but the pain kept catching up, slamming into her and refusing to let her go.
Weeks later, when Shawna would look back on the morning of December second, only a blur of images would come to mind. Like the faces of the people who came and went: her mom and dad, Philippe and his mom, Dr. Hamersley, and the ever-changing parade of nurses checking on her, monitoring her progress. She saw herself as if from a distance—an out-of-body experience—lying on the bed, hot, sweaty, nauseous, shocked with the intensity of the contractions.
At the height of the pain, her memory became even hazier. She vaguely remembered being told it was time to push. Finally, when she thought she had no more strength, the last horrific push came and she felt the baby slipping out of her, sudden and anti-climatic. Once his shoulders were out, Jack slipped out so easily. And then Dr. Hamersley was stitching her up. She could no longer feel a thing down there.
That was where the jumble of memories ended.
FOURTEEN
THE NEXT TIME SHE OPENED HER EYES, THE ROOM WAS in shadows. Her eyes ached as she squinted to see in the dimness. Philippe was slumped over in a chair across the room and she rubbed her eyes to see him more clearly. The lamp next to the bed made a small circle of light.
She woke up a little at a time. Her body hurt all over and her head was pounding. She knew where she was but she couldn’t remember what had happened.
“Did I have the baby?” Her voice came out in a croak. She touched her stomach. It felt loose and flabby. It reminded her of a balloon that someone had let the air out of. Of course I had the baby, she thought. My body is empty. “Did I kill it?”
Philippe approached the bed. “You’re awake!” he said.
“Where’s my baby?” Shawna asked. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Philippe said, stroking her arm. “He’s in the nursery getting cleaned up. I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake. That was pretty rough there toward the end. The doctor was threatening to perform a C-section. All that blood! It was like a slasher movie. And then you fell asleep.”
“What time is it?” Shawna asked.
“It’s about seven,” Philippe said. “Jack was born thirty minutes ago. You held him for a minute, but you were so tired that they thought you should rest. Anyway, you passed out like a minute later.”
“I want to see him again,” Shawna said.
“I’ll go get him,” Philippe said and left the room. He returned with a nurse rolling a bassinet. She positioned the bassinet next to Shawna’s head.
“Here, let’s sit you up so you can hold him,” the nurse said. “Do you want to try to breast feed now?”
The nurse raised the head of Shawna’s bed and positioned her pillows to prop her up. She gingerly picked up the sleeping baby and showed Shawna how to support his head.
The surge of love Shawna felt for the tiny, wrinkled baby in her arms was staggering. She realized at that moment that she had never felt love before. Not love like this. There was nothing that could ever come close to the love she was feeling. She stared into the baby’s face, dumbstruck by the overwhelming power of the moment. This was the baby that she and Philippe had created and her body had nurtured from a mass of cells to this, a perfectly-formed human being. This was the baby that she had visualized and talked to, that had occupied one hundred percent of her bandwidth for so many months. Shawna pulled back Jack’s tiny knitted cap. A mass of wet black hair was stuck to his head. Shawna loosened the blanket and Jack drew out an arm. His tiny clenched fist immediately found its way to his mouth and his thumb popped right in.
Shawna looked up at Philippe. “Just like in the ultrasound image,” she said.
Philippe was struggling to maintain his composure. He had been strong for her all day but now he looked exhausted and emotional, like he was going to collapse.
Shawna carefully scooted over on the bed. “Sit down,” she said. Philippe climbed in.
“Do you want to hold him?” Shawna asked.
Philippe nodded and took the baby from her. “He’s perfect,” Philippe said.
“Yes,” Shawna said. “Just like you.”
Shawna spent the rest of the night nudging Jack onto her nipple. He eventually latched on, squeaking a little as he sucked. At some point Shawna fell asleep with Jack splayed across her chest. She awoke to the sound of her mother entering her room.
Vivian had brought daisies and a bag filled with sparkling water, pretzels, and Milano cookies. “I tried to guess what you would be craving,” she said looking at Philippe who was asleep in the chair. “I’ll only stay a few minutes but I wanted to see my grandson.”
Philippe woke up. “I couldn’t believe what she went through,” he said. “I thought her eyes were going to pop out.”
“When the baby came out, did he look angry or worried?” her mom asked.
“I don’t know,” Shawna said. “When I saw him after I woke up—the part that I remember more clearly—I guess he just looked curious.”
Her mom picked up the baby and rocked him.
“Mom, he should eat again,” Shawna said. Her mom carried the baby over and placed him on Shawna’s chest.
Shawna pushed Jack’s face onto her nipple, which was already sore. “Ow, when do you get used to this?” she asked.
“Your nipples will toughen up,” her mom said.
Just then, the door swung open and Philippe’s parents walked in with a basket from the local deli. Shawna hadn’t seen them since the “garden party” as she had taken to calling it.
“I figured you could use more food than flowers,” Mrs. Henri said.
Vivian stood up. “David, Gaby,” she said tightly.
They all stood there until Philippe went over to hug his parents. Shawna desperately wanted to cover up but Jack was sucking hungrily on her nipple. The room felt too warm and too crowded.
Mrs. Henri walked over to look at the baby’s face. Mr. Henri, thankfully hung back.
“He’s beautiful,” Gaby said, matter-of-factly, switching a smile on and off. “What’s his name?”
Shawna and her mom spoke in unison. “Sawyer!” Vivian said.
“Jack!” Shawna said.
“What?” her mom asked. “I thought we agreed on Sawyer?”
“Mom, we never agreed on anything,” Shawna said. “Philippe and I chose Jack.”
“Jack,” Gaby sniffed. “That sounds Irish. Can I hold him?”
“I think he is finished,” Shawna said. She yanked at her gown to cover her chest. “Can you burp him? There’s a cloth on the end of the bed.”
Mrs. Henri draped the cloth over her shoulder and held Jack to her chest, gently bouncing and patting him until he gave a little burp. She cradled the baby in her arms and gazed lovingly down at him. Mr. Henri beamed over her shoulder. They looked like your average, over-the-moon grandparents. Not angry at all, at least not in the moment.
“He’s got Philippe’s eyes,” Gaby murmured.
“Can I get you anything, Shawna?” her mom said as she headed for the door.
“You’re leaving?” Shawna asked. Leaving me alone with Philippe’s family! she thought.
“Dad will be back tomorrow morning to pick you up,” her mom said. “Call me if you need anything.”
“We should be leaving, too,” Gaby said. “Are you coming, Philippe?”
“I’m staying, Mom,” Philippe said. “I’ll be home tomorrow.”
FIFTEEN
“WHEN CAN YOU LEAVE?” PHILIPPE STOOD OVER Shawna, stroking Jack’s head.
“Not sure,” Shawna said. “I think the doctor has to give the okay and then we sign out. My dad is supposed to be here by ten.”
�
��I’ll go ask,” Philippe said.
It seemed like he was gone forever and when Philippe finally returned he was sweating. Shawna worried if it was too hot outside for Jack.
“There was a shitload of paperwork,” Philippe said. He stared at Jack again. “He’s so tiny. Do you think it’s safe to take him home?”
“Can you hold him?” Shawna said. “I need to pack up.”
Shawna passed Jack to Philippe and he held the baby gingerly in the crook of his arm. Shawna collected her toiletries and tossed them into her backpack.
“You think he’s eating enough?” Philippe asked anxiously. “He sleeps all the time.”
“The nurse said to feed him every three hours,” Shawna. “The book said he is supposed to sleep eighteen hours a day.”
“Don’t you think he would want to be awake and see what’s going on after being stuck in there for so long?” Philippe asked, eyeing her sagging belly. “Can you imagine how boring it must have been? Nine months—sheesh!”
“Tell me about it,” Shawna said.
“Rise and shine, buddy.” Philippe held Jack upright. “Look at the world.”
“Ready to go?” The nurse stood in the doorway with a wheelchair.
“A wheelchair? Seriously?” Shawna said. “I can walk.”
“Hospital rules,” the nurse said.
Shawna climbed into the wheelchair and Philippe placed Jack in her arms. Shawna looked up at Jack and felt a force field surround the three of them. My own little family, she thought.
Outside, Shawna’s dad was waiting by the car, pointing a video camera in their direction.
“Perfect,” he said. “I got all three of you.” He continued to film as Philippe buckled Jack in the car seat. It was like her dad couldn’t take the camera away from his face and just look at the baby.
“Hey there, little man,” he said to the baby. He finally shut off the camera and looked at Shawna. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said. “Glad to be going home.” Actually, she felt all banged up and contorted inside.
Shawna got into the passenger seat and Philippe leaned in for a kiss. “I guess I’ll see you when I see you,” she said. It felt weird going home alone with her baby. Philippe would go back to his house and they would both be starting classes in a few weeks—at different colleges. Shawna was going to Berkeley on her mother’s employee scholarship and Philippe was starting his second semester at San Francisco State, across the bay.
Shawna’s dad put his foot on the clutch and the car lurched out of the parking lot. “I read that you’re supposed to walk the baby around the house and introduce him to everything,” he said.
“What?” Shawna said. “Where did you read that?”
“You never know how much they are taking in,” he said. His voice was weirdly animated, like he was a game show host trying to psyche up his contestants. Shawna felt a pang of appreciation that he was being such a good sport. He had been opposed to the pregnancy the whole time. “I always thought you were wise beyond your years when you were a baby.”
“I wish I could remember that,” Shawna said. “You and mom bringing me home from the hospital.”
“I remember it like it was yesterday,” he said. “Your mom was on cloud nine.”
“No post-partum blues?” Shawna asked.
“She really wanted to have more kids but she had a hard time getting pregnant again,” he said. “There were several tough years—miscarriages.”
“I know,” Shawna said. “She told me.”
“Did she?” he mused.
When they got to the house, her dad made a big deal of holding open doors and looking for ways to be useful. He unbuckled Jack’s car seat and carried it inside, looking for a place to set it down. He finally nestled it into a crook of the couch and set Shawna’s bag down next to it.
Shawna’s mom rushed in from the kitchen. “You’re here! Let me see my grandson.”
“Thanks Mom, I’m fine,” Shawna said sarcastically. She stomped upstairs to her room and collapsed on her bed. She drifted off to sleep and dreamt that she was back in high school. Before. Before all of this had happened. All of her friends from high school were like ghosts in her head, conversing and floating around. Talking about boys and dating and applying to college—moving away from home and doing all the normal teenage things.
In her dream she was a freshman again, filled with excitement and awe at traversing the halls in the big high school building. It was early October and the air was bright and crisp, and a brisk breeze was blowing in from the bay. She was in biology class when the fire alarm went off and she filed outside on to the front lawn with the rest of her class. Why don’t they have fire drills during first period when everyone still has their coats? she wondered. She huddled behind a tree to block the wind and as she studied the gloomy, red-bricked façade of the school for any signs of a real fire, she spotted him. Philippe was leaning against the wall, hugging himself in a thin, black sweater. He was tall and had large, square shoulders, unlike the other skinny freshman boys who had yet to experience their first growth spurt. This guy looks too old for high school, she thought. Shawna looked around for someone she knew, someone to talk to, but she was surrounded by kids from her biology class, most of whom were sophomores.
One minute Philippe was watching her from afar and the next he appeared beside her, as if in a blink.
“I did it,” he said.
“Did what?” Shawna laughed.
“I pulled the alarm,” Philippe said. “I knew I would find you here. So I pulled the alarm.”
“You did not!” Shawna hopped from foot to foot.
“Are you cold?” Philippe asked. “Do you want my sweater?”
“Do you have anything on underneath?” Shawna asked.
Just then the bell rang, indicating the all clear, and the students filed back into the building.
“What’s your name?” he asked as they parted ways in the corridor.
Off in the distance, Shawna heard a baby crying. Why is there a baby in the high school? The noise seemed to be coming closer and then she heard her mom’s voice.
“Shawna, wake up. The baby is hungry. Shawna . . . ”
SIXTEEN
SIX MONTHS LATER, SHAWNA WAS ALMOST HOME WHEN she remembered they were out of diapers. Shit! She had promised her mom that she would pick them up after class. So she doubled back to the Safeway on Alameda. Jack had fallen asleep in his car seat and as she parked the car, she thought that it would have been a whole lot easier to just leave him in the car while she ran into the store, but she knew she couldn’t do that.
Jack woke up as soon as she unbuckled him. Shawna held her breath, afraid that he might start to cry. But he just grinned and made a happy squeal as Shawna buckled him facing outward into the Baby Bjorn. Jack loved being carried around facing out so he could look at people’s faces.
Shawna hated walking around in public with Jack. She hated the way people stared at her, always stopping to comment and ask whose baby he was. She was aware that his skin was so much darker than hers. People are so rude, she thought.
She headed straight to the baby aisle and grabbed a jumbo pack of diapers and threw in some wipes and baby shampoo and baby powder and formula. Shit, I should have made a list. She tallied the amount in her head, worried she might not have enough money on her debit card. The Henris had agreed to split the baby expenses and had set up a dedicated bank account but Philippe didn’t always remember to make the deposits.
Shawna was headed for the checkout when she saw Caroline Luft’s mother coming out of the produce section. Caroline and Shawna had played soccer together all through middle school. Shawna knew the look she would get and that tone of pity in her voice.
Shawna whipped into the next aisle and Jack let out a whoop and a big, juicy fart. “Not now, Jack!” Shawna hissed. She found herself in the cereal aisle. She slowed down, pretending to peruse the selection of Kashi and Granola, hoping Mrs. Luft would be checked
out and on her way to her car.
Jack started to squirm—he needed a diaper change. Shawna made a dash for the express lane.
The checkout lady smiled at Jack. “Aren’t you a cutie?” she said. She looked up a Shawna. Here we go, thought Shawna. “Is this your little brother?” the clerk asked.
Shawna nodded and averted her eyes. There was just enough money on the debit card to cover her purchases. She would have to call Philippe to remind him to make another deposit. She hated asking him for money. He would have to go ask his father and then there would always be an argument. Shawna suspected that the Henris set it up this way to extract the most pain from her and Philippe—a daily reminder of their irresponsibility.
When she got home, Shawna thought about putting Jack in his high chair with a bottle and some crackers—or maybe even sticking him in his crib. Just so she could get some things done, like her homework, or washing her hair. But Nurse Bailey had told her that playing with Jack was one of the things she was supposed to do.
The living room was crammed with baby stuff that her mother had bought at yard sales—a swing, a jumper chair, a cradle, and a blanket spread out on the floor that was littered with rattles and stuffed animals.
Shawna changed Jack, put him down on the blanket and turned on the radio. The parenting book had said music was good for a baby’s mental development. They played chase the baby around the living room. Jack had just learned how to crawl and loved being chased by Shawna on her hands and knees. They played the game until Jack collapsed on the floor, rolled onto his back, and fell asleep.
Shawna sat there and watched him to make sure he wasn’t going to wake up. She eyed her backpack by the front door and thought about pulling out her Economics assignment; she thought about sneaking upstairs to take a shower. In the end, she curled up next to Jack and fell asleep, too.
Her mom walked in the door and woke Shawna up.
“What time is it?” Shawna asked, rubbing her eyes.
“Six-thirty,” her mom said.
