Candace

by Maggie Wells

  “Who’s ready for seconds?” Daddy said and hacked away at the carcass.

  “Shit!” Blood spurted out of his left thumb.

  “George, what did you do?” Mommy said.

  Daddy wrapped his hand in a linen napkin and squeezed it to staunch the bleeding.

  “Julia, bring a bandage!” Mommy shouted.

  Daddy stood over the kitchen sink while Julia wound the gauze five, six times and still the blood flowed.

  “Hold your hand over your head,” Julia said.

  Daddy did as he was told but blood started running down his arm, staining his crisp white shirt.

  “Shit!” Daddy said.

  “Does it hurt?” Sara asked.

  “Like a sonofabitch!” Daddy said. “I think I cut off the end of my thumb.”

  “Should we call an ambulance?” Candace asked.

  “Somebody get me a hand towel,” Daddy said. “Lois, call a cab. Shit, shit, shit!”

  Daddy held his hand over the sink and changed the towel every few minutes until the cab arrived.

  Candace and Sara ran with Daddy to the front door trying to avoid dripping blood on the Persian carpet.

  “Bye, Daddy,” Sara said. “Will you call us from the hospital?”

  Daddy slammed the car door and they heard the cab peel away.

  “Well, that was exciting,” Mommy said. “Who wants pumpkin pie?”

  “I’m stuffed,” Candace said. She flopped onto the sofa and Sara sat down beside her.

  “I need to lie down,” Candace said.

  “Still no contractions?” Sara asked.

  “Nothing.” Candace said. “What does the book say?”

  Sara pulled up WebMD on her iPad and searched around.

  “Here it is. We’re supposed to wait twenty-four hours and then if nothing happens, we go to the hospital to induce labor,” Sara said.

  “Induce?” Candace asked. “What’s that?”

  “They give you drugs to force the contractions,” Sara said. “Does that hurt?”

  “Geez, I hope not,” Candace said.

  In the morning, Candace went down to the kitchen for breakfast. Julia was making coffee and Mommy was reading the newspaper.

  “Anything?” Mommy asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Candace said. “Maybe I felt some cramps?”

  “Honey, you would know,” Mommy said. “I’ll call Dr. Bird after breakfast. She may want you to come in or she may want to wait until Monday.”

  “Can I have waffles?” Candace said.

  Julia shot her a secret smile and plugged in the waffle iron. “What are we naming the baby?” she said.

  “I don’t know,” Candace said. “Mommy, is there a family name?”

  “Well, the Swifts came over on the Mayflower. Let’s see: Simon, Pierce, Jacob, Jeremiah, these are family names.”

  Just then, Sara walked in. “How about Walker? We could call him Wally? Or Winston, we could call him Winny.”

  “Wally, Winny,” Candace said. “Gross! What about something Italian, like Lorenzo. We could call him Lorrie?”

  “That sounds stupid,” Sara said. “What about Mikey? Or Matty?”

  “I love the name, Matty! Matthew—no, Matteo Parker,” Candace said. “I like that.” She caressed her belly. “Hello Matteo.”

  The baby kicked.

  Seventeen

  * * *

  “OH, I THINK I FELT SOMETHING,” CANDACE SAID. “Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?”

  Mommy dialed Dr. Bird’s number and got the answering service.

  “Please tell Dr. Bird that Candace’s water broke yesterday at three p.m. and she hasn’t gone into labor,” Mommy said into the phone.

  “Candace, why don’t you take a shower,” Mommy said. “This is going to be a long weekend.”

  Candace was packing her overnight bag with her nightgown and toothbrush when Sara knocked.

  “We gotta go,” Sara said. “The doctor wants you to go to the hospital.”

  Candace texted Danilo: baby coming. Tell your mom.

  Several minutes went by and then he responded. She’s in NY. She’ll come tomorrow. Brigham & Women’s Hospital?

  Candace texted, Yes, but call first. We might be home by tomorrow.

  Candace lay in the hospital bed, shivering—not from cold, but from nervous anticipation.

  “This is it, Matty,” she whispered to her belly. “You’re coming out whether you like it or not. Please don’t hurt me.”

  A doctor walked in, wearing scrubs and a mask. He pulled down the mask and smiled kindly at Candace. “I’m Dr. Weed, your anesthesiologist. First, we’ll relax you a little bit with some gas, and then we’ll administer an epidural.”

  “What’s that?” Candace asked. Her teeth were chattering.

  “I’ll insert a needle into your spine to numb you from the waist down. Then we’ll give you oxytocin, which will cause the contractions to start. The epidural will help you tolerate the contractions and let your body do its work. Your doctor will come in to explain what will happen over the course of the next several hours.”

  “Can my mother and sister come in?” Candace asked.

  “Yes, they can be with you the whole time,” Dr. Weed said.

  “Do you know where they are?” Candace asked.

  “I’ll ask the nurse to fetch them as soon as we’re done here. I want you to take deep breaths into the mask and count backwards from one hundred.”

  Dr. Weed put the mask over her nose and Candace started to panic.

  “I can’t breathe!” she said, swatting at Dr. Weed and knocking the mask off her face.

  “Okay, Candace.” Dr. Weed spoke slowly and calmly. “I’ll get the nurse and she’ll give you a shot to help you relax.”

  As Dr. Weed left the room, Candace sat up and scanned the room in a panic. “Where are my clothes?” she said out loud. “We need to get out of here, I need to get out of here, Squirt—I mean, Matty.”

  Just then Mommy and Sara walked in, accompanied by a nurse.

  “Candace, get back into bed!” Mommy snapped. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “I’m scared, Mommy,” Candace said. “I want to go home.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Mommy said.

  The nurse put a hand on Mommy’s arm and Mommy shook it off.

  “Take your hands off me!” Then to Candace, she said, “You’re not going to give us any trouble, young lady. You’re going to lie back and obey. The doctor will take care of everything.”

  The nurse approached Candace and stroked her arm. “I’m Nurse Remy. You can call me Rosie. I’m going to hook you up to an IV. This won’t hurt; just a little prick and then you’ll start to feel calm and relaxed. Now give me your arm. Make a fist. That’s a good girl.”

  It was over before Candace even noticed. Rosie is good, she thought.

  Then Rosie turned to Mommy. “Mrs. Parker, would you like a little something to take the edge off, as well?”

  Mommy managed a weak smile. “Yes, that would be lovely,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s get you something from the pharmacy.”

  Mommy followed Rosie out of the room.

  When they were gone, Sara stroked Candace’s head. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Fuzzy,” Candace replied.

  “That’s good,” Sara said. “I’m your coach, now. And after that performance I doubt the nurses will let Mommy back in here. Maybe they’ll knock her out and she’ll leave us alone.”

  Candace giggled.

  “Okay, coach, what does the book say?” Candace said. “Remind me, why do I need an epidural?”

  Sara pulled out her iPad. “Let’s see.” She scanned WebMD. “Epidural anesthesia is the most popular method of pain relief during labor.”

  “So I won’t feel a thing?” Candace said.

  “Um, I wouldn’t go that far,” Sara said, reading again from her iPad. “The goal of an epidural is to provide pain relief, as opp
osed to anesthesia which leads to a total lack of feeling.”

  Just then, Dr. Weed walked in. “Ladies, how are we feeling?”

  “I’m Sara. I’m the coach.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sara. How is our patient doing?”

  “Fuzzy, she says.”

  “Fuzzy is good,” Dr. Weed said.

  “That’s what I said,” said Sara.

  “Candace, are we ready for the next step? I need you to roll on your side and arch your back. You’ll feel a little prick—that will be the local anesthesia. Then I’m going to insert a catheter into your spine.”

  Candace rolled over and felt Dr. Weed wiping her lower back with something cold and wet.

  “Ow!” Candace yelped and jerked.

  “You need to lie still, Candace. That was the local; we’ll give that a minute. This next bit shouldn’t pinch as much,” Dr. Weed said. “Sara, why don’t you stand by Candace’s head and hold her hand. Candace, try to lie still and squeeze Sara’s hand.”

  “Ow!” Sara screamed. “You’re digging your nails into me!”

  “Ladies, we’re almost done here,” Dr. Weed said. “Everybody stay calm.”

  Candace felt an uncomfortable pressure on her lower back and bit her lip to resist crying out.

  A minute later, Dr. Weed said, “Good job, ladies. We’re all set here. Candace, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to check on your progress. Coach, keep an eye on her. The nursing station is right outside if you need anything.”

  Candace was still clinging to Sara’s hand.

  “How are you feeling?” Sara asked.

  “Weird,” Sarah said. “I feel like I can’t breathe.”

  “Stay here, I’ll call the nurse.”

  “Seriously, where would I go?” Candace said. She giggled. “Hey kid, I’m glad you’re here with me.”

  “I love being the coach!” Sara said. “Imagine the term paper I could write! Be right back.”

  Sara scooted out the door.

  Sara was back in a flash with Nurse Rosie in tow.

  “Candace, how are you doing?” Rosie asked.

  “I can’t breathe, I feel like I’m suffocating,” Candace said, gasping for air.

  “I’ll get Dr. Weed,” Rosie said. “Sara, stay with her.”

  Dr. Weed walked in and checked the monitor behind Candace’s head.

  “Let’s dial this back and see how you feel,” he said. “Give it a minute. How is it now?”

  “I still can’t feel my lungs,” Candace said. She was starting to panic.

  “Let’s adjust your IV too.” Dr. Weed spoke in a low tone to Nurse Remy and she adjusted Candace’s sedative.

  “How are we doing now?” Dr. Weed asked.

  Candace sucked in a large breath and sighed. “Better,” she said.

  Dr. Bird entered the room. “Candace how are we doing?”

  “Fine,” Candace said weakly.

  “Here’s what’s going happen next,” Dr. Bird said. “We’re going to start the oxytocin and you’ll start to feel contractions. First five minutes apart, then we’ll gradually up the dosage until the frequency increases. Sara, you need to keep track of the contractions—how long they last and how long in between. The most important thing—when you feel a contraction, don’t push. Remember your breathing? When you feel a contraction, breathe. If you start pushing before you’re fully dilated, you could hurt the baby. I’ll be back in forty-five minutes or so to check on your progress.”

  “Wow, this is really it,” said Sara. “Squeeze my hand when the contraction starts and I’ll watch the clock. This is exciting!”

  Eighteen

  * * *

  THE FIRST CONTRACTION HIT AND CANDACE SCREAMED. The pain started in her lower back and radiated to the front of her rib cage. Like a vise around your abdomen, Mommy had said. She felt like she was being ripped open.

  “What the fuck!” Candace yelled.

  “Can you imagine what you’d be feeling without the epidural?” Sara said, grinning.

  “Fuck you!” Candace screamed. “Do you think this is funny?”

  “Breathe, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, sssssss—remember?” Sara said.

  The agony ended. Sara held a cold washcloth to Candace’s forehead.

  “Who the fuck invented this breathing bullshit?” Candace said. “How, exactly is this helping?”

  “Fernand Lamaze,” Sara said, reading from her iPad. “Patterned breathing is intended to both increase oxygenation and interfere with the transmission of pain signals from the uterus to the cerebral cortex.”

  “Let’s both just agree that he was an asshole who had no idea what the fuck he was talking about,” Candace said.

  They laughed until another contraction caught Candace up short.

  This time she just screamed, “Eeeeeee,” until the pain subsided.

  “Screaming definitely works better than breathing,” Candace said. “Next time, scream with me.”

  With the next contraction, Candace squeezed Sara’s hand as they both screamed at the top of their lungs.

  Several hours later, Candace and Sara were both drenched in sweat. Dr. Bird had examined her several times and announced her progress: two centimeters dilated, four centimeters. Candace had been stuck at six centimeters for two hours.

  “I can’t go on,” Candace wailed. “He’s not coming out.”

  Sara pressed a fresh wet cloth to Candace’s forehead.

  “What are we going to do?” Sara asked.

  “I think I’m going to die, right here on this bed,” Candace said. “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t take one more contraction. I think maybe Squirt is already dead.”

  Sara looked alarmed. “I’m going to call Maria,” she said.

  “Who’s Maria?” Candace said. “I want Rosie.”

  “Rosie left for the day,” Sara said. She pressed the wet cloth to her own forehead. “Maria is the night nurse.”

  Just then, Candace had an overwhelming need to poop. “Call Maria! I need to go the bathroom. Now!”

  Sara ran out and came running back with Nurse Maria.

  “I need to go the bathroom,” Candace said. She struggled to sit up.

  “All right,” Maria said, soothingly. She checked the computer monitor and then stepped to the foot of Candace’s bed.

  And then suddenly, something moved. Candace had the sensation that her entire insides were about to fall out.

  “Something is happening!” Candace bellowed. Why isn’t anybody helping me? I have to go to the bathroom!

  “What is it?” Sara’s scared voice came through the door.

  Nurse Maria was examining Candace. “You’re complete,” she said, looking satisfied. “Sara, tell the nursing station to page Dr. Bird.”

  Sara dashed down the hall. Complete? What the hell does that mean? Candace thought.

  Moments later, Dr. Bird rushed in. “Let’s take a peek.” She peered between Candace’s legs. “Good girl, Candace. You did it. The baby is ready. I can see the head. Now it’s time to push. The next time you feel a contraction I want you to bear down. When the contraction stops, you need to lie back and relax. Sara, help her sit up.”

  “C’mon, Candace, we practiced this,” Sara said.

  Candace groaned as she felt the contraction.

  “Push!” Sara said.

  When it was over, Candace collapsed into the pillow, gasping. “Oh no, here’s another one!”

  “Push!” Sara yelled.

  Dr. Bird peered up over her safety glasses and mask. “Candace, one more push and he’ll be out. Make this one count.”

  “C’mon team, we can do this!” Sara yelled. “PUSH!”

  Candace screamed and pushed with what strength she had left. The baby slid out like a seal off of a slippery rock. Candace craned to see him. “Is he okay?”

  Dr. Bird fussed with him for a second and then they heard a wail.

  “He’s crying!” Candace said and burst into tears.

  Maria weighed the bab
y and checked his signs. “Seven pounds, one ounce,” she said. Then she bundled him up and set him on Candace’s belly. “Hold your baby,” she said.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” Candace said over and over. “Look at his hair —just as I imagined him. Look at his green eyes!”

  Dr. Bird was still fussing around between Candace’s legs. “One more push and we’ll get the placenta out,” she said.

  “Gross!” Sara cried.

  Candace laughed, tears streaming down her face.

  “Where’s Mommy?” Candace asked.

  “She’s resting in the lounge,” Maria said. “I’ll get her.”

  Sara pulled out her iPhone and started taking pictures.

  “Oh my God, I must look hideous!” Candace said.

  “Yeah, you do,” Sara said.

  “Fuck you,” Candace said. “You look like shit, too! Let me take your picture. Here, hold Matty.” She handed the baby to Sara, gingerly. “Hold his head!”

  “I got it!” Sara said. “I was the coach and now I’m the aunt. I am going to spoil this little guy.”

  Candace was snapping photos when Mommy walked in.

  “Mommy, take one of all three of us,” Sara said. She handed Matty back to Candace and perched on the bed beside them.

  Mommy dug her phone out of her purse. “Well, Candace, you did it. You’re a mother now.”

  “Right, we can’t call you Mommy anymore,” Sara said. “We have to call you Grand-mommy. How about Grommy?” Candace and Sara guffawed.

  “It’s pronounced Grammy, I think.” Mommy said. “What about Danilo’s family? Are they coming to claim their grandson?”

  “His mother is coming tomorrow,” Candace said.

  “Tomorrow, you’ll be at home,” Mommy said. “They are discharging you at ten a.m.”

  “Then I guess she’ll come to the house,” Candace said.

  “The house?” Mommy said. “Good God, we need time to prepare. Sara, let’s go.”

  “Mommy, I’m tired,” Sara said. “I don’t want to clean my room tonight.”

  “She’s not going to see your room!” Candace said.

  “Enough!” Mommy said. “Sara, let’s go.”