A Mother's Choice

by Kristin Noel Fischer

  Jude offered a smug, “I told you so,” but I was so happy, I didn’t care.

  Once again, Ruby and I were able to see each other any time we wanted. We joked that being backyard neighbors was like being college roommates again, except we were a little older and married.

  Ruby’s house was substantially larger than ours but in need of serious repair. Because Harold believed restoring the house would be a wise investment, he allowed Ruby to make all the renovations she wanted.

  Without a job or a baby to distract her, Ruby threw herself into transforming the run-down house into a magnificent home. She handled all of the subcontracting and much of the labor herself, including the sanding and painting.

  On the rare occasions when Angela allowed me to lay her down for a nap, I helped Ruby hang wallpaper and sort through flooring samples. I welcomed the break from washing diapers and keeping my clingy baby happy, but mostly, I held Angela and watched Ruby work.

  I imagined it was cathartic to have such a huge project after losing a child, although I worried about my friend’s health. She worked long hours, often foregoing sleep and food. Upon the completion of each project, she immediately dove into a new one.

  Because of the close proximity of our houses, we could wave at each other while cooking dinner or cleaning the kitchen. One evening, I was feeding Angela strained carrots in the high chair. My baby girl loved carrots and giggled each time she tasted the sweet vegetable. When she fell asleep in her high chair, food smeared across her face, I laughed and snapped a picture.

  With a warm washcloth, I wiped her face and hands before lifting her into my arms, inhaling her delicious baby scent. She’d been such a difficult infant, but things were getting better as she neared her first birthday. While she still demanded to constantly be at my side, she now slept through the night as long as she was in our bed, something neither Jude nor I minded.

  Tossing the washcloth in the sink, I glanced up and caught Ruby watching me from her own kitchen window. A clenched fist was pressed to her heart, and although I couldn’t see her tears, I imagined they were there. “Oh, Ruby.” My heart split wide open for her, knowing how desperately she wanted a baby.

  Over the next several years, Ruby suffered numerous miscarriages. Meanwhile, I had no problems with infertility. Dan followed three years after Angela, then came Michael, and finally Eleanor. Having four children under the age of ten wasn’t easy, but I never complained in front of Ruby.

  In the summer of 1977, I discovered I was pregnant again. At the time, Angela was ten, Dan seven, Michael five, and Eleanor had just passed her first birthday. The pregnancy came as a complete shock, and I’m ashamed to say I didn’t welcome it. Even though I was only thirty-three, I didn’t want any more children. My life was busy enough with the four I had.

  Jude insisted the pregnancy was a blessing, and he was thrilled by the news. Of course he was thrilled, I thought with disdain. He wasn’t the one who was pregnant. He wasn’t the one who was going to gain weight, endure childbirth, and stay up all night nursing a newborn.

  I loved my children. Loved my family. But another baby?

  Jude held my hand as we sat the children in the living room and announced the news. Eleanor was too young to understand, but the older three surprised me with their excitement. Dan and Michael raced around the living room, shouting at the top of their lungs, “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!”

  Angela disagreed and insisted the baby would be a girl this time. She offered to help set up the nursery, which was a sweet gesture but did bring up another problem. Where were we going to put this baby? We’d long since outgrown our three-bedroom house, and we couldn’t afford to buy a new one.

  “We should switch houses with the McCoy’s,” Dan suggested, oblivious to how much his words would hurt Ruby.

  I gave Jude a look of sadness, and he placed a firm hand on Dan’s shoulder to stop our son from saying more. “How about you boys help me convert part of the garage into a bedroom?”

  The boys enthusiastically agreed and couldn’t wait to get started. Jude gave me a proud wink, and I didn’t have the heart to ask where he was planning on storing the yard equipment and camping gear.

  Five kids! Such an outrageous number. How in the world would we manage? Jude owned his own construction company, but we weren’t exactly on easy street.

  To celebrate our good fortune, Jude insisted we find a sitter for Eleanor and take the older kids to see the matinee showing of Star Wars. I reluctantly agreed, and as Luke Skywalker battled to save the empire, I sat in the darkened theater lamenting my pregnancy.

  Why did God continue to bless me with baby after baby while Ruby’s arms remained empty? Where was the justice in that? Why couldn’t The Almighty give Ruby a baby?

  When the movie theater lights came on, I stood and felt a sudden gush of blood between my legs. Panic enveloped me.

  “What is it?” Jude asked, concerned.

  “I … I need to use the restroom.”

  The worry line between his brows deepened. “Is everything okay?”

  “No.” I raced to the bathroom, and in the stall, I discovered what I already knew: I was losing the baby. Hot tears burned my eyes. I hadn’t wanted this child, yet now that I was miscarrying, I’d do anything to keep it.

  “Oh, God, please save my baby. Please.” I knew it was too late, but I couldn’t stop praying. Couldn’t stop making promises that I’d never complain again if He’d just let my baby live.

  At the hospital, tests confirmed my greatest fear. The baby had died. I held back my tears until I was alone in the car with Jude. Then I sobbed, heartbroken over our loss.

  Jude brushed back my hair and held me close. “Don’t cry, honey. We’ll try again.”

  “That’s not the point. I didn’t even want this baby, I just …” I couldn’t finish my sentence. How could I possibly explain my feelings of guilt and sadness?

  Jude drove home in silence where he made me a cup of hot ginger tea. I took it onto the back porch and sat in the rocking chair while the rain fell and my children fought over who ate the last piece of Jude’s Father’s Day cake.

  Closing my eyes, I longed to take the umbrella and go for a long walk, but the doctor told me I needed to stay off my feet for the next few days.

  The distant sound of a screen door slamming shut echoed across the wet grass. I glanced up to see Ruby jogging toward me, a rain jacket held over her head. She leapt onto my porch, laughing. Brushing the water off her clothes, she whistled. “That’s quite the storm.”

  I nodded but said nothing. Her face grew serious, and she sat in the other rocker next to me. “Jude told me about the baby. I’m so sorry.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away, afraid speaking would bring fresh tears. The door behind us opened, and Jude brought Ruby a cup of tea. His face relaxed with relief now that my best friend was here. He placed a tender hand on my shoulder. “Can I get you anything else, sweetheart?”

  I shook my head, and he went back into the house. I felt guilty for speaking so harshly to him in the car. He was only trying to help, and I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on him.

  For a long time, Ruby and I sat in silence, sipping our tea and listening to the rain. I was grateful she didn’t try to placate me with empty promises that everything was going to be okay. She could’ve even pointed out I was lucky enough to have other children, but she didn’t.

  Up until I lost the baby, my other children had been enough. More than enough. It didn’t make sense to mourn the loss of a child I’d never even held, never even named, never even wanted. But I was so unbelievably devastated.

  After awhile, the sun came out and the neighborhood children rang the doorbell, asking if the Kingsley kids could play kick the can at the park. I listened to the sound of my children racing around the house searching for their shoes. Angela yelled at the boys to hurry up, and Eleanor cried, probably desperate to join her older siblings.

  The front door slammed shut
, and I could hear Jude trying to calm Eleanor. He must’ve bribed her with a cookie, because she stopped crying, and the house fell silent. The older children laughed outside, but their voices faded as they moved down the street.

  “I want a baby so bad,” Ruby said, breaking the silence.

  The lump in my throat ached. “I know you do.”

  “I was jealous and mad when I found out you were pregnant again. It just seemed so unfair. You can’t imagine how empty I feel.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. “Hearing you lost the baby—” Her voice broke, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve been jealous. I’d never wish something like this on anybody. Especially not you. Please forgive me?”

  I nodded and we embraced in an awkward hug over the armrests of the rocking chairs. Despite the fact nothing had changed, I felt comforted. Ruby stood and crossed the porch to a pot of geraniums where she deadheaded a few brown blossoms before throwing them in the trash. She turned back to face me. “I don’t think I’ll ever have a baby, and I want one more than anything in the world.”

  My heart tightened, and I formed my words carefully, wanting to be helpful and not aggravate the problem. “What about adoption?”

  She flinched. “Harold doesn’t want to raise another man’s baby.”

  I swallowed back my anger. I’d heard his pathetic excuse before. “The child wouldn’t be another man’s baby. He’d belong to the two of you. He’d be your baby.”

  “Don’t you think I told him that?” Ruby struck a defensive pose, her stance wide and her arms folded across her chest. “I can’t adopt a baby without my husband, and Harold doesn’t want to adopt.”

  I softened my voice. “What about what you want?”

  She returned to the rocker, pulled up her legs, and placed her head on her knees. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get what I want.”

  My heart shattered. If only there was something I could do. If only I could give Ruby a child. I’d read about the recent experiments with test tube babies and the possibility of infertile couples using a surrogate mother, but Jude wouldn’t want me to do something like that. Harold would definitely forbid such an “unnatural” method of conceiving, not to mention my own hesitation.

  I’d once believed there was a reason for everything, but watching my dear friend suffer with infertility made me doubt that belief. It wasn’t like she wanted something selfish; she simply wanted a child to love.

  Feeling helpless, I reached out and took her hand. “I’d do anything to help you. You know that, right?”

  She squeezed my hand. “I know, but there’s nothing you can do.”

  I pressed my lips together tight, determined that somehow I would find a way to help her.

  *

  Two months after my miscarriage, I was washing the dinner dishes with Angela while Eleanor sat in her high chair, meticulously eating one Cheerio at a time. Instead of sweeping the kitchen floor like they were supposed to do, Dan and Michael were sword fighting with the broom and dustpan.

  “Nadine!” Jude shouted from the living room. “Come here!”

  My first thought was one of the cats had died. Shadow hadn’t been looking so good lately, and he often brawled with the other cats in the neighborhood.

  I scooped Eleanor out of the high chair and went into the living room where Jude was standing in front of the television. His furrowed brow reminded me of my father during the Cuban Missile Crisis and immediately, my heart stopped.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He pointed to the TV where David Brinkley was delivering the evening news in front of a picture of Elvis and the words, “Elvis Presley 1935-1977.”

  “No!” My legs wobbled. “It must be a hoax. Elvis can’t be dead. He’s only forty-two.”

  Jude shook his head. “He died of a heart attack.”

  “A heart attack?” Eleanor wiggled to get out of my arms, so I set her on the floor and walked over to Jude. He placed an arm around my shoulders, and together we watched a clip of Elvis performing You Ain’t Nothing but a Hound Dog. As impossible as it seemed, the news was true. Elvis was dead.

  Later that night, Ruby and Harold came over to watch the NBC late night documentary on the life of Elvis. It all seemed so sad. Such a waste. Elvis had been a huge part of my life, and now he was gone.

  Despite my grief, I couldn’t imagine abandoning my life to join the numerous mourners standing outside Graceland, wailing as though they’d lost their spouse. Sure, I’d loved Elvis, but the love I had for my husband and children was so much greater. Didn’t these people have jobs or housework to do?

  When the show ended, Jude reminisced about our performance of Jailhouse Rock during the high school talent show. We all laughed over Sister Hildegard’s outrage as she marched onto the stage to stop us.

  “But what happened after that wasn’t funny,” I said, a palpable sadness in my voice. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

  My husband shook his head. “Not possible.”

  Had Ruby and Harold not been there, I know Jude would’ve kissed me. Instead, we exchanged a smile and talked about other memories. Harold had attended high school in California, and he told us about the senior prank that involved putting the principal’s car on top of the cafeteria roof. We all laughed at that, and I found myself grateful Ruby had married a man who loved her enough to buy the house behind her best friend. Not a lot of husbands would do something like that. Now, if only I could change his mind on adoption.

  After that night, hopelessness settled over Ruby. “What is it?” I asked, worried.

  She insisted she was fine, but her growing depression worried me.

  And then in an unexpected turn of events, Ruby’s old boyfriend, Tim O’Connor—Father Tim as he was now called—transferred to our parish church. I worried seeing him might be difficult for Ruby. After all, he’d broken up with her to become a priest. To my relief, however, his presence had the opposite effect.

  The priesthood hadn’t changed Tim at all. He still joked and was friendly with everybody. In addition to spending time with Jude, he struck up a close friendship with Harold. The two would sit in Ruby’s living room, playing chess and discussing politics for hours on end.

  “Is it strange to see your ex-boyfriend having a beer with your husband?” I asked one evening as Ruby and I washed the dishes while Tim, Jude, and Harold sat on the back porch after dinner. We’d fallen into the nice tradition of getting together every Sunday night for dinner and cards.

  “It’s a little awkward,” Ruby conceded, “but it’s been good. Tim has encouraged me to appreciate Harold more, and it’s actually working.”

  Harold still wasn’t my favorite person, even though I was trying to be less judgmental toward him. Jude continued to claim I was too protective of Ruby and needed to be more accepting. After all, Ruby had vowed to love and honor Harold all the days of her life. Who was I to stand in the way of a sacred vow?

  Ruby hung the dishtowel on the side of the sink and smiled at me. “I have news. Really good news.”

  “What is it?” Earlier this year, she’d opened an interior design company, so I expected her news to be about a particular client she’d been pursuing.

  “I don’t want to jinx myself, but I think Tim has convinced Harold to look into adoption.”

  “Seriously?”

  Ruby nodded. “They talked about it last Sunday and … remember Tim’s older brother, Ray?”

  “The lawyer?”

  “Yes. He specializes in adoption, and we have an appointment with him tomorrow.”

  I squealed and threw my arms around Ruby. She laughed and hugged me back but spoke in a somber tone. “It’s just an appointment. We have to fill out all the paperwork and be approved—”

  “Are you kidding me? Any baby would be lucky to have you as his parents.”

  “Just say a prayer everything goes okay tomorrow.”

  The next day, things went better tha
n okay. Ray insisted there wouldn’t be any problems, and he already had a baby in mind. A young secretary had accidentally gotten pregnant and wasn’t keeping her baby. She hoped to find a local family that didn’t have other kids, so her child would be sure to get enough attention.

  Harold smiled at Ruby. “If my wife has her way, the baby’s feet will never touch the floor.”

  A few months later, Ruby and Harold became parents to a beautiful baby boy with olive skin and brown eyes. They named him Eric, and he was the most delightful baby. He had a calm disposition, sleeping and smiling all the time.

  Since all of my children except Eleanor were in school, she and I spent a lot of time with Ruby and Eric. Eleanor adored Eric and treated him like her own live baby doll.

  Jude constantly teased me about spoiling the little boy, but I didn’t care. Having Eric in my life was like being a mother without the responsibility. I could spoil him rotten, then return him to Ruby whenever he became difficult. But Eric was never difficult as a baby. Toddlerhood, however, was a completely different story.

  Eric entered toddlerhood like a tornado. He screamed and ran away from his mother in public. If Ruby told him not to do something, he did it anyway. He broke a display window at an expensive children’s clothing boutique and chipped his tooth while running up the altar steps at church to say “hi” to Father Tim during mass.

  At Nordstrom, Ruby told Eric to hold her hand, but he shouted a defiant “no” and raced ahead only to get his foot caught in the escalator. Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt, but the fire department had to cut Eric’s favorite pair of cowboy boots in order to free him.

  Although Ruby loved her wild boy, his challenging behavior exhausted her. Harold frequently traveled or worked long hours, leaving Ruby with most of the parenting responsibilities. She needed a break but felt guilty taking one, given she’d waited so long to become a mother.

  When I saw the advertisement for a painting class offered at the community center, I encouraged Ruby to attend. After all, she’d once loved drawing and painting. Over the years, most of her creative energy had gone into renovating her house and later working as an interior designer. Now that she was a full time mother, her only creative activity involved keeping Eric out of trouble.