Her Designer Baby

by Shawna Washington

  It was not too long after I had gotten my first residency as a surgeon at a hospital and he died in that same hospital just a few weeks later. It just seemed like chance that where I worked was where he lay in his last days. I cried in front of colleagues, friends, family, the world; right there in my scrubs when I went to his room.

  Tonight, I cried the same, but thankfully I cried alone with my pride still intact.

  I cried at how one of the last few conversations I had with my father just days before he passed was about family. About having children. I was my father’s only child and after my mother passed he talked about nothing more than me finding a good girl:

  “You got looks, a good career. You’ll get tired of chasing skirts, Danny. You can have anyone but get you a good girl and start a family before your old man gets too old to enjoy it with you.”

  He had always wanted more kids than he and my mother had. Not that he didn’t love me, but my mom had trouble with getting pregnant almost from the start. They always called me their miracle baby.

  I poured a third shot of whiskey I definitely did not need it but was going to have anyway.

  As I tossed back the third shot the tears slowed. I thought of the times I would get so frustrated with Shepherd at work and his enthusiasm about having kids then the slight envy of him making it happen. Even when my parents had just me to take care of times sometimes were hard. I became a surgeon in large part to help them out and I did just that.

  When mom passed I helped dad through his grief. I helped with the burial and helped him sell his home for a much more affordable smaller space. They had that house since before I was born in hopes of having a bunch of kids, a big family. It was just me. And just me, all the way to the end. But I was there and that was what mattered. My father couldn’t have been more thankful. Then, he began getting ill.

  I had pacified him a few times about getting married and starting a family but really I was enjoying my bachelorhood. I kept holding it off for the money, for the women. Then, when he was finally at death’s door I wanted it all. I had run out of time. He was diagnosed with cancer and then a few weeks later… he was gone.

  As I stood there in the freezing kitchen with my head swimming from alcohol and hurt, I wanted it all still. I wanted to give my dad what I said even though he wasn’t there. I wanted to go upstairs and began sweeping and decorating that baby room like Malaysia had asked me to do a million times. I wanted to take what I still left of my savings and put everything into finding every alternative to help the two of us start over and try again. I couldn’t bring my father back to see us do it, but I wanted it anyway.

  I wiped my eyes and then rinsed out the glass tumbler at the sink. They always said I was their miracle baby. As far as they were concerned I made up for every child they had dreamt of having by how much of myself I always gave to see them smile and laugh all the way up until the end of their days.

  When I finally climbed into bed upstairs all I could think of was how I wanted another chance. I knew it’d take time, but I wanted to keep trying. I prayed Malaysia’s heart would be in it after this. As I said before, I wasn’t a superstitious man but that didn’t stop me from praying for our own miracle baby.

  I turned to Malaysia’s side of the bed and rubbed her face softly. I didn’t want to wake her but looking at how out of it she was, I wasn’t sure I could if I tried. I wanted us to make it. To do it all. To keep trying. To have a miracle come along. Our miracle baby. I could only hope the belief my parents had to build a family was still possible for the two of us as well.

  * * *

  I woke the next morning actually feeling more rested than I expected. Perhaps, it was the whiskey or just the emotional exhaustion. I couldn’t tell. What I wasn't prepared for was waking up in bed alone.

  My eyes had opened to not only Malaysia’s side of the bed being empty but the bedroom door being wide open.

  I got up and went to the stairs. I didn’t smell coffee or anything like breakfast cooking. As I made my way downstairs I called out to Malaysia. Nothing. She wasn’t in the kitchen once I got downstairs. Nor was she in the formal dining room on the other side of the foyer.

  I became frantic. Beyond just worried about where she had gone but if she had done something awful to herself.

  My mind began painting horrific pictures of finding her lifeless somewhere in the house. My legs couldn’t move fast enough to the garage. She wasn’t there either, but neither was her car.

  Now, I was just confused.

  I calmly walked back to upstairs and searched the bedroom and the baby room. She was definitely not home.

  I went back to our master bedroom and found my cell phone. I had some missed messages from Shepherd. I called him back and quickly got him up to date on what had taken place yesterday. He was stunned and offered his condolences.

  This was something I hadn’t planned for on the drive home: the “business as usual” part of grief. Making arrangements with your work and other business. Even when I helped my dad after my mother passed he was already retired. The only loose ends I had to tie up were his power of attorney and other allotments and assets he wasn’t able to take care of any longer.

  I began searching my phone for any missed messages or phone calls from Malaysia. Nothing at all. My phone had as much sign of her as the house did. I went from being worried to frustrated.

  I decided to call her cell.

  It rang a few times and then went to her voicemail. That was not was I was expecting. As I set the phone down so I could hop in the shower my phone received a message from Malaysia. I read it in disbelief:

  “Can’t talk right now,” it read, “at work. Will talk later.”

  I just stared at the message for a few moments longer. Rather than jump to conclusions about how she’d lost her mind or was just being cold about what we were dealing with I made up my mind maybe it was just her tying up her own loose ends with Michele down at the agency; letting her know what had happened, how she was going to take some more leave off, find out who could take on some of her properties, etc.

  I took a quick shower, threw on some clothes and headed to my own hospital to do the same, and then to the hospital Angel was staying in to see if she was doing any better since last night.

  The trip to the hospital and my office didn’t take very long. Shepherd had already apprised our lead surgeon and my supervisor of my situation. Part of me was pissed but then grateful. As much as I would have rather put them up to speed myself on what was going on and how I needed time, Shep saved more time at the office by giving them the heads up.

  After putting in for bereavement leave, listening to so many people’s well wishes, and then getting an overly dramatic hug from Shepherd and some other staff, I was headed to go see Angel.

  Daniel

  I reached the other hospital and Angel’s room just in time for breakfast to be served. I was surprised to see most of her food was solid, with the exception of some jello and a slice of orange on the tray. Eggs. Toast with jam, two small sausages.

  “They’re trying to get you back to normalcy quickly, huh,” I joked with her.

  “Nah. They wanted to give me more liquids because of the fear of my pain meds making me nauseous, “she laughed. “I wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer. I was starving!”

  Our small chuckles soon became silence. I wasn’t sure how much of her situation she had already been made aware of, so I wasn’t sure what to say next. I was grateful when after a few bites of her eggs she finally broke the tension.

  “I’m sorry about the baby, Daniel.” Her eyes didn’t leave her plate as she set her fork down. She took a deep breath, then lightly exhaled. “I didn’t just raise hell about the food last night. I had to be told everything. My condition after the wreck. The baby. Everything.”

  I still wasn’t sure what to say. I just sat there in the chair next to the bed and listened. She turned her eyes to me, that were slowly becoming wet with tears.

  “
I was prepared to hear about my legs being broken, which they told me I have a chance to walk.” She wiped a few tears and continued talking. “But my pelvis being in bad shape… I instantly asked about the baby and…”

  This brought on full on tears from Angel. She placed her face in her hands. I stood up and quickly wrapped my arms around her. I instinctively found myself shushing her as I held her, the way parents do their kids at times. It’s something that honestly doesn’t help the person crying but it’s more a gesture that helps for the person who’s comforting them. This wasn’t any different. Angel’s shoulders were still shaking with every sob while I tried to hold back my own.

  I heard the hospital room door open and turned expecting to see Angel’s CNA coming to pick up her breakfast tray. Instead, it was Malaysia.

  Our eyes met but there wasn’t anything said. Angel looked up and when she saw it was Malaysia she went into a whole new fresh batch of tears.

  Malaysia finally broke her gaze from me and made her way over to Angel, wrapping her arms around her.

  All I could do was look at her. I had a bunch of questions for why she wasn’t there that morning when I woke, and even more for why she showed up at the hospital dressed in a business type suit jacket and pencil skirt. What the hell was going on with her this morning?

  We sat with Angel for about an hour with me fighting the urge to call Malaysia out right there in front of Angel about why she was up so early and back at work. I wasn’t going to ruin Angel’s day with that. We all had to do some much need recovering after the accident and the loss, but especially Angel. Hers wasn’t just emotional but physical. I had learned in my own career as a surgeon, a stress-free environment helps progress a successful recovery more than anything. My mind was made up that we definitely had no right to ask Angel after her recovery to try her hand at being our surrogate again, but that didn’t mean she should be treated as an expendable thing that just didn’t work out, nor blamed for what happened.

  Malaysia was being comforting in what she had to say to Angel, while her words ate away at my emotions.

  “I hope you have a speedy recovery, Angel,” she said, “so you can get back to what you love. Your yoga studio friends were sad to hear about the accident and wish you well.”

  Angel’s eyes showed nothing but gratitude. She hadn’t been able to get the word out about what had happened to her, having no immediate family Malaysia took to social media to let people know what had happened. I found this out when I scrolled through my own social media page and saw her updates from earlier this morning in my newsfeed.

  I couldn’t help but frown as she doted on being there for Angel even after her recovery.

  “But I know how good it feels to pick yourself up after things like this and get back to what you know. It’s the reason I went back to work first thing this morning.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that Malaysia,” Angel said. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get back into it so easily, even after the rehab part of my therapy, but I know some yoga positions will greatly help.”

  I was nearly boiling over and wanted to speak up, but I bit my tongue and just bided my time a while longer.

  It didn’t take long for Angel to speak about the baby and her regret and how she felt responsible for the loss. I could tell Malaysia was genuine in her response concerning it all. She told Angel we would make it through the loss and maybe even give it another chance at a later time. Her eyes slightly glanced to me when she spoke as if looking for me to finally speak up.

  I wasn’t going to. We together hadn’t even discussed how we felt or what our plans were. I wasn’t going to put up a united front to spare Malaysia’s feelings or give Angel some false assurance that I didn’t have.

  When Malaysia finally got up from the other chair in the room and gave Angel a hug and kiss on the cheek that was my signal to act. I was going to follow her out of the hospital room and down the hall and get some answers. Why had she left so early? When was she going to tell me she had planned on going back to work? I was brimming with aggravation and confusion all at once.

  I quickly offered a hug and well wishes to Angel shortly after Malaysia, and let her know I’d be back to check on tomorrow morning about the same time. She gave me a smile and hoped me and Malaysia would be able to hold together through everything. Me too, I thought to myself as I followed Malaysia out the door.

  I instantly grabbed Malaysia by her right arm causing her purse to slide down her shoulder and land on my clenching hand.

  “Malaysia,” I whispered harshly, “what the hell? You’re already back at work? When did you get up this morning?”

  “Around five,” she hissed back. “And let go of my arm! I’m on my break and it’s almost over. I have to get back to the agency.”

  “Malaysia! Are you kidding me, right now!?”

  She finally shook my arm loose and placed her purse back on her shoulder. The look on her face was what pissed me off most; like I was somehow inconveniencing her by simply asking questions any concerned person would ask after the loss of a family member. Unborn child or not that was our baby! I knew I was in no shape to just hop back into work and was pretty certain she wasn’t either.

  As she made her way to the elevator I speed walked beside her to ensure we were on the elevator together. Once in there, she couldn’t avoid me. The doors opened, and we got in. I was going to get something out of her before I went back home.

  Soon as the doors closed I turned to her and made sure she knew I wanted some kind of response. No brushing me off.

  “I understand you may want to just jump back into work and pretend none of this is happening,” I said, “but did you stop and think that I’m grieving too?”

  I saw the harshness leave her face. Her dark eyes softened and then they looked to elevator floor.

  “Malaysia--” I began to step toward her with my arms open but she quickly put up her hands and that’s when I saw the first sign of hurt or any kind of emotions since the night before.

  “Stop! Stop, Daniel.” Her voice quivered just a little. She lowered her hands. “Just… let me have some time. Let me get back to work. I’ll talk to Michele about how I might need more time. I just wanted to get back to things…”

  Her voice trailed off and she looked as if she was fighting back tears a bit. I stepped away and gave her some space.

  “Ok,” I said. I nodded and stepped even further away. “Alright. I’ll respect that if that’s what you want. I’ll be home when you get off work, ok? If you want to talk then, I’ll be home.”

  The elevator bell sounded--we were on the first floor. I watched her walk out although it was my exit too, I watched the doors slowly close back as she walked toward the main exit of the hospital.

  I didn’t know what state she’d be in once she got home but I could see that her true feelings were just brewing under the surface. I could only hope she could hold it together until she returned home later this evening.

  Malaysia

  Don’t ask me why, but I was furious with Daniel by the time I left the hospital. I can admit it now, but I couldn’t then. I was avoiding him. It’s the reason I had made my mind up the night before that I would be gone before he woke up. I didn’t know where I was going to go except back to work. I didn’t even tell Michele what had happened and was praying Daniel didn't send her message or call.

  I wasn’t ready to confront what was happening head on. I wasn’t ready for days of wallowing around at the house grieving and hurting and silently asking questions that wouldn’t have immediate answers.

  I just wasn’t ready.

  I wiped a few tears away as I drove back to the agency. By the time I pulled up in the parking lot at work I had enough time to check my makeup and make sure none of it had smeared. Nope. Nothing out of place. Honestly, part of me was making sure none of myself seemed out of place.

  Running into Daniel at the hospital brought everything back into focus. Facing Angel was one thing, but I tried to
convince myself it was nothing more than me visiting a friend who had a bad accident. I had myself fooled all the way up to the point where Daniel and I were in the elevator alone together. How I wish he hadn’t been there right then.

  I got out of the car and nearly swung the door to the agency open with such force it gave Michele and two of the other agents inside a good jolt. Still, I kept it calm and collected as I walked back to my desk. Before I could even sit down and get comfortable Michele was on top of me.

  “So, Daniel called while you were gone,” Michele said. Her voice was low which only left me wondering what all he said.

  “And…” I responded without looking up from my portfolios. I wanted to hear it from her, what he said. I wasn’t going to ask, though. I wasn’t going to walk right into whatever she was going to say next.

  “He just said you weren’t feeling well,” she went on, “but he didn’t say any more than that.”