Big Decisions

by Linda Byler

  Surely something was wrong with her. Wasn’t this supposed to be a time of great love and joy? She had often looked longingly at pictures in magazines of a wife holding a sweet, perfect, newborn baby. The father always had his arm around both of them, looking so happy because he simply adored his beautiful wife and baby. That was what she had always imagined, the perfect moment from which they would live happily ever after.

  Mam had told her once, in her wise way, that having a baby was more than just a soft woolly blanket and cute baby clothes. Lizzie had blinked her eyes a few times and watched Mam suspiciously for awhile after she said that, trying to gauge her level of seriousness. As far as she could tell, Mam was pretty serious. Oh, well, she had thought then. Having a baby was something she was quite certain she could handle. Weren’t there thousands and thousands of babies born in the United States every day? It couldn’t be that bad.

  But, now, sitting alone in the green, sterile environment of her hospital room, her head back against the white pillows, she closed her eyes and tried desperately to fight back the feeling of dread as she thought of the nurse bringing baby Laura to be breast-fed. The whole thing was so devastating. Laura simply would not nurse right. Lizzie sighed, casting a sideways glance at her roommate, Dorie, who was serenely eating great forkfuls of scrambled eggs. Lizzie watched her and wished she could pull the curtain between them.

  Chewing happily, Dori swallowed, and then trilled joyfully. “Good morning!” Lizzie quickly gathered her trembling mouth into a quivering smile and answered, “Good morning!”

  “Did you sleep well?” Dori asked, spearing a piece of bacon with gusto.

  “Not really. Well, only when they didn’t bring my baby in.”

  “Yes, she was a bit fussy, wasn’t she? Oh, well, the first few days won’t really determine how she’ll be once you get her home.”

  Lizzie nodded gratefully, her eyebrows held high, the lump in her throat swelling to gigantic proportions when Dorie spoke so kindly.

  Why in the world did she always feel like crying? This was awful. Perhaps she would become mentally ill now. Biting her lip and struggling to regain her composure, she squeaked, “Is that what they say?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  Lizzie nodded, a ray of hope beginning to dissolve the lump in her throat. Yes, she would be fine, she really would. She could handle this.

  “Aren’t you eating?” Dorie asked, concern in her voice.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “But you should eat. It’ll give you strength.”

  Lizzie nodded, biting her lip. She felt like crying all over again but was saved from another battle with her emotions by two nurses bringing in the babies.

  “Time for the little ones’ breakfast!” they announced happily.

  Lizzie’s heart took a complete nosedive, down, down, until her stomach actually hurt from the dread and fear of another despairing episode of trying to feed her baby. But the sight of little Laura made her temporarily forget her fear, as she pushed the white flannel blanket aside and gazed at the small brown face beneath it.

  She was so cute, except her forehead was too high, creating the impression that her eyes, nose, and mouth were all one little package, farther down on her face than it should be. Holding the blanket away, Lizzie closely examined the amount of hair Laura had. She had enough not to look bald and ugly like some babies, but not so much that she would need it to be brushed immediately. Yes, she was indeed a cute baby girl, exactly what Lizzie had always dreamed of.

  Then, to her amazement, the nurses both left. Just like that, with no warning, they both walked out the door, leaving Lizzie to fend for herself. She felt very much like she was afloat in the middle of nowhere, on a boat with no oars or engine or much sense of direction. She sat bolt upright, clutching Laura as she watched the girl beside her expertly position her little red-haired boy, lean back, and smile. The baby began nursing, as if he knew exactly what he was supposed to do, and went about his business.

  Oh, dear, Laura thought wildly, as she cradled little Laura, who promptly threw her head back and began screaming and crying in earnest. No matter which way she held Laura, her response was the same—screaming until beads of perspiration formed along Lizzie’s forehead. She was quite seriously afraid she might faint away, letting her baby fall in the process.

  Desperately, she kept trying, with Laura consistently refusing, until they were both in no shape to resume breast-feeding. Lizzie glanced around wildly, afraid her baby’s constant crying would upset Dorie and her little boy.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered contritely.

  “It’s O.K. We’re fine.”

  Maybe she should sit on a chair. Gingerly, she laid Laura crosswise in the middle of the high, narrow hospital bed, and then slid out. Better go to the bathroom first, she thought nervously, as she headed in that direction, quickly glancing at Laura who was still crying at the top of her lungs.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, a nurse was bending over the baby, crooning, but as Lizzie approached, she gave her a disapproving glare.

  “Never, ever, leave your baby lying alone across a bed. Do you want her to fall and break her head? Fracture her skull?”

  Lizzie was shocked, her eyes opening wide as she tried to fathom why the nurse was speaking to her in this way.

  “But…I…I…” she stammered, trying to maintain a bit of composure.

  “No. There are no excuses. You cannot leave a crying baby in the middle of a bed.”

  Lizzie bent her head to hide the onslaught of tears, bit down hard on her lip, and shuffled weakly to the chair.

  “Have you fed her?” she asked.

  “No,” Lizzie answered in total and absolute defeat. “I can’t get her to nurse.”

  “I’ll take her to the nursery and give her some formula,” the nurse announced, whisking the crying baby out the door.

  Lizzie sagged weakly in her chair. She never, ever wanted another baby. Why had she ever wanted one in the first place? That nurse should be fired immediately before she hurt more young mothers’ feelings. There was absolutely no way her baby could have fallen off that bed when she was in the bathroom for only two minutes.

  She lifted her head when Dorie turned and clucked her tongue.

  “That wasn’t nice,” she said softly.

  Lizzie shrugged her shoulders, unable to speak, then sat back and thought more sad thoughts. Stephen should have stayed here, and Mam should come for a visit right now.

  “What time are visiting hours?” she asked.

  Dorie held her little boy over one shoulder, softly patting his little back, and was rewarded with a perfect little burp.

  “There you go, my little man. Visiting hours? I think from four to eight.”

  Lizzie became sad, then, really sad. So sad, in fact, that she stared out the window at the gray November sky and truly wished she didn’t have a baby. Why didn’t anyone send her flowers? All the bright, colorful bouquets on the wide green windowsill were her roommate’s, not hers. No one thought of her down here in Cedar Falls at the hospital, and likely no one would send her flowers anyway. English people were nicer than Amish people. A beautiful flower arrangement was very, very necessary right now.

  So what would happen if they gave Laura formula? She would drink it nicely from a bottle, then go right off to sleep, but what about the next time Lizzie tried to feed her? There had to be a next time. Lizzie heaved herself out of the chair, climbed back into her high, narrow bed, pulled the snowy white sheets over her shoulders, turned her back to Dorie, the perfectly successful mother with all that calm serenity shining from her face, and closed her eyes and cried. Great big, gulping, quiet sobs, with a steady river of tears that ran out of the corners of her eyes, across the bridge of her nose, and onto a puddle on her clean white pillows.

  The truth was, she had never felt quite so frightened or quite so alone in all her life. This baby was such an enormous responsibility, something so scary and so defeating. She wasn’t
a fit mother. That was it. That was the whole thing. She remembered the times when other girls always wanted to hold babies in church, and she had never really wanted to. Not at all. She tried to like babies, often, but they grabbed your covering strings and threw up a thick white substance that smelled like sour milk, scratched your face with their tiny white fingernails, and were just not pleasant to hold.

  Now here she was with a baby of her own, and what was she supposed to do with it? She hardly wanted it very much right now, if she was honest. She wished Mam was here. She had to find out right now if she was normal or not. She couldn’t believe for one moment that any young mother had ever felt this way before.

  You were supposed to be absolutely enamored, so much in love with your baby so that all you wanted to do was hold and cuddle her constantly. Yet here she was, relieved to find the nurses taking her back to the nursery to give her a bottle of formula.

  Just when she thought she was stuck in this deep dark moment of panic, the door swung open again. A nurse, dressed in the usual white uniform, stepped in, shaking a bottle of liquid and smiling as she turned to look behind her.

  “Someone’s getting flowers!” she announced.

  Lizzie rolled over and dragged the sleeve of her hospital gown across her eyes, trying desperately to conceal the fact that she had been crying.

  “Stephen and Lizzie!” The florist’s delivery person read from the card that was attached to a beautiful flower arrangement, looking at Dorie and Lizzie expectantly.

  “That’s me.” Lizzie managed to say a bit shakily.

  “You! Good for you! They’re gorgeous!”

  The nurse rolled over a tray on wheels, set the flowers carefully on top, and the delivery person left with no more fuss.

  Lizzie was amazed! She had never received flowers from a real florist before. Mam said they were terribly expensive. Slowly, almost in awe, she took the envelope from the plastic holder that was stuck into the potting soil and extracted a pink card that said, “Congratulations! Dad and Mom Glick.”

  How lovely! That was so thoughtful of Mam. It was the most beautiful bouquet Lizzie had ever hoped to see. Real greenery—little ferns, a palm tree, and other real plants which she could pot into larger separate containers when she got home—filled the base of the pretty ceramic pot. Pink and white carnations topped the colorful, perfectly aligned bouquet. A huge pink bow was attached to one side, making Lizzie very happy that she had a little girl.

  Then, because Mam had been so kind to think of her and Laura, she began to cry again. There was not a single thing she could do to stop, so she kept crying. She just sat in the middle of the hospital bed and squeezed her eyes shut while tears ran from behind both lids, like a pot of potatoes boiling over when there was no one around to turn down the burner.

  “What?” Lizzie’s eyes flew open as the nurse stopped at her bed and clucked her tongue.

  “Tsk! Tsk! Crying, are we? Baby blues?”

  Lizzie nodded miserably as the nurse brought a box of Kleenex, perched on the side of the bed, and tilted in, putting both arms around her in a soft, motherly hug. Lizzie leaned against the softness of her clean, white uniform and inhaled the smell of soap and something that smelled like Mam’s ironing. That made her cry some more, the memory of Mam ironing, standing in the old kitchen running the gas iron back and forth, back and forth, singing softly.

  “There, there, honey. It happens. It happens all the time. Is this your first one?”

  Lizzie nodded, sniffing, dabbing her eyes.

  “You’ll be fine. Is she doing all right for you?”

  Lizzie shook her head back and forth. “She won’t nurse. They took her back to the nursery and gave her formula.”

  “Let me go get her for you.”

  With that, the nurse was off through the doorway, and Lizzie cried fresh tears because the bouquet of flowers was so pretty, and the nurse had given her a hug, and she was so kind, and just maybe she wasn’t abnormal after all, crying like this.

  When the nurse returned, Lizzie’s tears stopped momentarily, as the kindhearted woman made quite a fuss over Laura’s complexion, her perfectly shaped face, and how fortunate she and Stephen were to have a darling little girl. Lizzie felt deeply ashamed then, chiding herself seriously for being such a big baby as she set about the task of trying to feed a very upset newborn girl. In the end, the nurse was perplexed, the baby screamed, and Lizzie was soaked with perspiration from all the effort of trying to get Laura to nurse.

  That evening Mam and Dat came to visit, bringing Stephen. Lizzie’s world seemed to turn right side up again with him by her side, gazing at her as if she truly was a wonder. Dat said he picked out Laura in the nursery. He didn’t even look at the name tag on the little crib to know which she was.

  “She’s as dark as Stephen,” he crowed, so proud of his granddaughter. Mam just kept holding the baby and laughing and laughing. Mam was like that when she saw newborns for the first time. She laughed. A lot, actually. Then she would talk to them, cooing and fussing and giving them funny names, pursing her lips in the most serious manner. While Mam was there, Lizzie did not feel afraid, depending on her to guide her through this bewildering maze of being a mother to a newborn.

  “Oh, she doesn’t like your milk,” she said matter-of-factly when Lizzie explained this huge obstacle called breast-feeding. “Nothing wrong with the bottle. I’ll get you some formula on the way home and don’t worry about it.”

  But Lizzie did. She wanted the best for her baby, and mother’s milk was the best. Mam didn’t think it was a big deal, but Lizzie did. She felt like a failure and wished some miracle would occur so her baby would quit screaming when she tried to nurse. She looked forward to going home tomorrow, learning if she could handle one tiny, dark, complicated, screaming baby named Laura.

  After they were settled in at home, Lizzie felt much, much better. This whole thing of having a baby to care for seemed so possible now, with Stephen helping her and Mam just down the hill from the little house.

  Chapter 18

  “BUT LIZZIE, JOSHUA, AND Emma are looking for us,” Mam protested, looking troubled as she gazed at her daughter.

  “But, Mam. I feel so alone with my baby. I wish you wouldn’t go.”

  “Stephen is here. You’ll do fine. There’s nothing to it. Just make sure the formula is not too hot when you put it in her bottle.”

  It was Saturday afternoon, and Mam had come up the hill to say they were going to Allen County to church services at Joshua and Emma’s house. Mam knew Lizzie would be all right, although she wished she could put a stop to her fits of crying. When Mam said that, Lizzie said nothing, only nodded her head in acceptance, and Mam hurried down the hill to prepare for their weekend in Allen County.

  The truth was, Lizzie thought Mam was not doing her duty. She should stay right here with her and Stephen. Joshua and Emma could have church without them. But, no, off they went, just like that. It made Lizzie mad. Then she felt guilty for becoming angry. Then she started crying again. This was the third day of mostly crying, and Lizzie felt absolutely at the end of her rope. She had given up even trying to be happy. There was no use. She shuffled around and heated formula, sterilized bottles and pacifiers, cried, and listened to Laura scream.

  Stephen came home and tried to help, hanging his clothes on their proper hooks, making small talk, trying to hold Laura on the rare occasions when she didn’t cry, and, in general, struggling to keep his small family afloat. Lizzie sat on the sofa and cried as Stephen came in and leaned against the wood stove, his arms crossed in front of him as he watched Lizzie, softly sniffling on the couch with Laura beside her.

  “Now what’s wrong?” he said, kindly.

  “Mam was here. They’re going to Allen County to Joshua and Emma’s for church services.”

  “But … what’s wrong with that?”

  “They don’t have to go, Stephen. They could stay here with us,” Lizzie’s voice caught on a fresh sob.

  “Lizz
ie, we can be alone. You’re going to have to get ahold of yourself and stop being so terrified.”

  “I’m…I’m not. It’s just that she…she cries so much.”

  “But Mam said some babies do.”

  “I know, but when she cries all the time, I feel like I’m a horrible failure. What am I doing wrong? Why does she cry?”

  Stephen laughed, running his hands through his hair.

  “She’s quiet now.”

  Crossing the room, he sat beside Lizzie and pulled her against him, holding her gently.

  “You’re not a failure. You’re doing the best that you can. Maybe she’s just a grouchy baby and that’s simply how she’s going to be.”

  Lizzie sat up and looked at Stephen.

  “You mean, you think I’m doing the best I can?”

  “Of course. You’re doing a great job. She takes the bottle well, she’s clean and dry and warm, and sometimes she sleeps and sometimes she cries, just like babies do.”

  Lizzie looked at Stephen, then dubiously down at Laura who was wide awake, looking around with her small bright eyes.

  Lizzie laughed, then sagged against the back of the couch.

  “I wish I could take a pill to quit this awful crying and sense of helplessness. I feel like a boat that weathered one storm, and before it’s really recovered, another storm starts battering it.”

  “You’re probably overtired, and once you sleep more regularly, you’ll feel happier.”

  Lizzie sighed, then resolved to try harder. Stephen always had a lot of common sense when he spoke about matters like this. She would try and get her rest and see if that stopped the crying.

  But now, when she did lie down at night, or during the day, she was so tense and nervous about having a new baby that she couldn’t sleep anyway, or not for a long time. She had never known that a person could get so tired and still go on living. She doubted very much that she would ever fully recover. In fact, she believed she would always shuffle around like an old lady and never truly feel strong and laugh for real.