The Only Answer

by Magan Vernon

  She nodded and typed a few things in the computer. “We’re all set Ms. Remy. The tech will be back to get you shortly.”

  Trey led me to one of the couches and we sat down. All of the magazines on the coffee table had women with rounded bellies and some kids coloring books. Not much for reading material while we waited. Luckily it wasn’t too long before the door opened.

  “Monica Remy?”

  I stood up and faced the shorter woman with bright red hair and large black framed glasses that were almost too big for her tiny face.

  She looked at me but nodded her head toward Trey. “And your husband is coming with you?”

  I didn’t correct her on the fact that he was my fiancé. “Yes, he is.” I took his hand and gripped it tightly, willing him not to correct her either.

  “Trey Chapman,” he said and held his hand to her.

  She shook it briefly, a moment of recognition crossing her face before it went back to a small smile. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Mary and I’ll be doing your ultrasound today. Will you follow me back?”

  I didn’t have to stop and get weighed or pee in a cup like I usually did on my appointments, which I was eternally grateful for. This time, she just led us down a small hallway that was decorated with black and white pictures of pregnant woman.

  Mary opened the door to a room on the left. It was completely dark with the only light coming from a small lamp on a desk and the illumination from the ultrasound machine.

  “All right, Monica if you can just hop up on this chair and we’ll get this started.” Mary sat down on a wheeled stool and I slowly inched my way down on the ultrasound chair. At least I didn’t have to put my legs in stirrups or get undressed.

  “Trey, you can have a seat right next to her there.”

  Trey nodded and sat down in the leather chair next to the machine.

  She typed a few things in on the computer. “And we have your due date as April 13th, so this is the 20 week ultrasound. Are you two wanting to find out the gender?”

  “Yes,” we both replied practically in unison.

  Mary laughed as she took out a large paper towel. “At least we have that one settled. Now, Monica, if you can roll up your shirt and I’m going to put this over your pants so we don’t get any gel on them.”

  I did as I was instructed and she tucked the paper in before putting the warm gel on my belly. She took a large wand and smoothed the gel around before pressing down on my stomach. As soon as she did I heard what sounded like ocean waves and felt my stomach shift.

  “Looks like we have a wiggler,” Mary said.

  I stared at the screen and gasped. The little blob that was there before had grown. It actually looked like a person.

  “Is that the baby’s head?” Trey asked, pointing at the screen.

  Mary smiled. “Yep, that’s her head and you can see her arm and her little hand waving to mommy and daddy.”

  Tears stung my eyes as I watched the human that was growing inside of me move on the screen. After all the fighting, the hiding, and everything else in between, seeing the baby on the screen made me forget about politics and just think about the future. My child with Trey.

  I clasped Trey’s hand as Mary moved the wand down my stomach.

  “Now are you two wanting a boy or a girl?” She asked, moving the wand up my stomach.

  “It doesn’t matter, as long as she’s healthy,” Trey said. It was the first time he ever called the baby a ‘she.’

  Mary smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing because Daddy might need a man cave. It looks like you’re having a little girl.”

  I looked up at Trey, expecting to see disappointment on his face, but instead I saw something completely different. A single tear streaked his cheek and he wiped it away before looking down at me and smiling. “It’s real, Mon. We’re having a little girl. And if she’s anything like her mommy, she’s going to be perfect.”

  That was all it took for my own waterworks to start. Not tears of sadness but tears of actual joy. Finally everything was starting to come together. Our future. No politics. No worrying about anything else...except for the election that night.

  ***

  The last time a candidate from Chicago was nominated for President, he was liberal and had a huge party in Grant Park. That wasn’t the Chapman’s style.

  Instead they rented out Navy Pier. It was closed to the public and only open to those with an invite. Of course that didn’t stop people from lining up the streets, cell phones in the air, hoping to get a glimpse of the Republican nominee and his family.

  I smoothed out my empire waist dress. It was probably the last non-maternity thing I’d be able to wear for awhile, even if it was two sizes bigger than my normal size and showcased m bump even more.

  It was about the fiftieth time I’d smoothed out my dress as I stood by the ferris wheel while Trey raked his fingers through his hair and stared at the time on his phone.

  “He’s going to be here. He got out of rehab today. He’ll be here,” I said the same thing I’d said so many times before but I don’t think Trey was listening.

  Trey shook his head. “You don’t know my brother. This isn’t the first time he hasn’t shown up for something.”

  I put my hand on his arm, stopping his movements. His eyes met mine and I saw the fear in them. Everything had added up to this night. Trey’s future. His dad’s future. All of our futures. I didn’t know what Trey would do for a job if his dad didn’t win the election, or what any of us would do and all of that worry was etched onto his face.

  “Hey. Relax. Okay? Or at least pretend to so I stop freaking out?” I pleaded.

  He let out a big puff of air. “Sorry. It’s just a lot to take in so I need to focus on something else.”

  “Completely understandable.”

  As if Tripp knew that he was needed, the crowd parted and in came the troublesome middle child, adjusting his tie and trying to tame down his spiky hair.

  “Tripp!” Trey put his arms out and enveloped his brother in a big hug. “Glad you made it.”

  Tripp laughed as he let go of his brother. “Didn’t have much of a choice.”

  He turned toward me, his eyes roaming over my stomach. “Monica. Little Chapman.” He patted my stomach and then gave me a big hug.

  I loved Tripp as if he was my own brother, even though he was a pain in the ass and put his brother through hell. I couldn’t count how many times Trey had gone to his rescue or fought with him. But there was something innocent, endearing about his older brother.

  Tripp let go of me and squeezed my shoulder. “Wow, not used to being to one of these things sober. It’s quite a trip, no pun intended.”

  Trey shook his head. “Yeah, doesn’t help that Dad’s down in the polls, either.”

  “Shit, really?” Tripp pulled out his phone, unlocked it and typed a few things. “Oh, man, is he losing it about now?”

  Trey shook his head. “I haven’t really been able to talk to him. I don’t know if he’s planning to concede soon.”

  “Shit, he just lost Texas!” Tripp yelled, staring at the phone. “Guess I came in time to watch Dad lose his shit.”

  I swallowed hard. I knew how much all of this meant to Trey’s family. The Chapmans had always been like a political dynasty. The kind of family that everyone wanted to be a part of. I’d spent so long hating Trey’s dad’s politics that when I got to know him it took me way too long to fall in love with the guy and realize how good of a person he actually was.

  “Excuse me, guys, I’m going to head to the bathroom,” I said and pushed between the two brothers.

  I made my way through the crowd as people quieted their conversations when I was near. They all knew that it was going to end soon. That all the hopes and dreams of the Republican Party would be crushed for another four years. The hopes and dreams of my family.

  I sighed and made my way into the building. I was planning on going to the restroom, but then I saw Kirk standing by himself, stari
ng into the darkness.

  “Mr. Chapman?” I asked, peering around the corner.

  He glanced at me before fully facing me. I’d always thought he was an attractive man, for being older. He was responsible for the birth of my gorgeous fiancé and they shared the same genes after all. But Kirk had definitely gotten older with each passing day of the election. His hair was grayer and the wrinkles around his eyes were more deep set.

  “Hi, Monica.” He forced a smile.

  I didn’t know what I should say to him. I didn’t know if I should apologize about the election or ask him about his concession or just not bring it up. So I just stood there, staring at my feet that really hurt in the stupid heels I decided to wear.

  “So, Mindy tells me that there’s going to be another girl in the Chapman family. I bet you’re thrilled.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I think Trey really wanted a boy.”

  “He’ll get over it.” Kirk patted my back. “Once he sees that little girl he’ll know that she’s the most important thing in the world.”

  I sighed, what I said next came out like word vomit. “I’m sorry, Kirk. I’m so sorry that I’m the reason you’re losing this election.”

  He shook his head, locking his eyes with mine. “Monica, you didn’t do anything wrong. Would I have preferred that you two wait until marriage? Yes, but that doesn’t mean that Mindy and I won’t love our new granddaughter any less.”

  He put his arm around my shoulders. “An election will come around again. Politics will always be around and so will our family. This.” He motioned his hand over my stomach. “All of this.” He put his hand out. “Our family is what matters and it always will.”

  All the time I’d spent hating Trey’s dad and now I was finally starting to see the good in him. The grandfather. The one who I knew would be there for me and my family.

  “Governor, it’s time.”

  I turned to see Michael, the campaign manager, standing in front of us.

  Kirk squeezed my shoulder. “Come on, Monica. Let’s get this over with so we can get started with the rest of our lives and I can have more time with my new granddaughter.”

  Epilogue

  Trey

  I heard it’s something like five percent of babies are born on their due date, so imagine my surprise when Monica woke me up at midnight on her due date with contractions that were two minutes apart.

  We’d taken the labor classes and the parenting classes, but nothing could prepare me for the groaning woman I had to wheel into the hospital. Luckily there wasn’t anyone in the waiting room and they were able to take us back to labor and delivery right away.

  I watched them hook Monica up to machines and nurses rushing around her, getting her vitals and hooking her up to IVs. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I just stood there and watched it all happen.

  “I want an epidural. Nothing natural,” Monica said in a breathy voice before letting out another groan and leaning back against the pillow.

  “Okay, I can get that ordered for you,” one of the nurses said.

  “Not so fast,” the other nurse said and stared at the monitor.

  “What? What’s happening?” Monica asked, her breathing heavy.

  “The baby’s blood pressure is dropping. We need to get her out now.”

  “What? I don’t understand.” Monica stared at me, her eyes wide.

  I looked at the nurses. “What do you mean her blood pressures dropping? What are you going to do?”

  A nurse slid her hand under Monica’s gown and moved it around. “I think we’re at about an eight. If we could get some pic going, we could have her at ten soon.”

  “What the hell is pic? What’s going on?” Monica screamed.

  I smoothed out her hair. “It’s going to be okay, Mon. The doctors know what they’re doing.”

  I may have been trying to calm her down, but I had no idea what was going on and what was going to happen with Monica or our baby.

  The nurse went out of the room and came back shortly with a bag. “We’re going to give you what’s called pictocin to speed up the labor process. There isn’t enough time to get in the epidural so we’re going to have to do this all natural. We need to get that baby out of there. She may have the chord wrapped her around her neck and the longer she’s in there with that, the more you’re at a risk for brain damage.”

  Monica’s eyes widened, her chest rising and falling as she stared at me, looking for answers.

  “We’ll do what’s best for Monica and the baby,” I said, not taking my eyes off Monica.

  The nurse hooked up the pictocin and it wasn’t even ten minutes before Monica let out a blood curdling scream.

  “OH MY GOD I FEEL LIKE I HAVE TO TAKE A SHIT!”

  I didn’t know how to take her sudden outburst so I just stared at the nurse who immediately put her hand under Monica’s gown. “Yep. It looks like you’re at a ten and it’s time to push. I’ll call the doctor.” She pulled a phone out of the pocket of her scrubs and dialed.

  “Trey, this hurts so fucking bad. So bad.” Monica stared at me, panting. Her hair was plastered around her face, her bottom lip trembling.

  I tried to smooth the hair out of her face. “It’s going to be over soon, baby. I’m here. Tell me what you need me to do.”

  Doctor Stadtler came in like he had way too many cups of coffee. “Okay, it looks like it’s baby time!” He clasped his hands together and crouched down in front of Monica.

  “Okay, we’re going to count to ten and then I’m going to have you push for ten when you feel a contraction coming. Can you do that Monica?” He asked, looked up at her.

  She nodded slightly, squeezing my hand as if she was grasping onto it for dear life.

  “Trey, I’ll need you to hold her left leg here and I’ll have Gina hold the other one.”

  I did as the doctor instructed, using my free hand to hold her leg.

  “Okay, Monica, you have a contraction coming, let’s push!” He yelled.

  Monica’s face went completely red as her legs shook and she screamed out in pain for ten seconds. She did this another five times before the doctor stared at the monitor, shaking his head.

  “What? What’s wrong?” I asked, looking at the monitor and not understanding what was going on.

  “She’s still pretty far up and doesn’t want to come down but her heart rate is dropping. We need to get her out of there,” Dr. Stadtler said.

  “Okay. What does that mean? What do we need to do?” I asked.

  “I’m going to try the vacuum with pushing and if that doesn’t work then we’ll have to do a C-section.”

  I nodded, looking at Monica and squeezing her hand. “It’s going to be all right. We can do this. Together.”

  She stared at me, her breathing heavy. She didn’t say anything, just nodded.

  Another few pushes and Dr. Stadtler yelled. “We’re crowning. It’s going to be somebody’s birthday! Give me another big push, Monica! Don’t stop now!”

  Monica screamed, her whole body shaking as she pushed and I watched as a tiny little baby emerged. My baby.

  The doctor unwrapped the cord and then placed the little pink bundle on Monica’s chest. He patted the baby’s back. “Come on sweetheart, breathe.”

  “Breathe, Oveta. Breathe.” Monica and I had the hardest time coming up with a name for our daughter. After searching for days we finally decided to name her Oveta after Oveta Culp Hobby. The first US Secretary of Education, Health, and Welfare. It made sense for our baby to have a political name and one that had to do with education since we met in college.

  “Come on, Oveta. You can do it.” As soon as I spoke the words, Oveta let out a large gasp and then started crying.

  “She’s breathing. She’s okay,” Monica whispered, tears flowing down her face.

  “She’s beautiful,” I whispered, kissing Monica’s forehead then leaning over to kiss my new daughter.

  “Do you want to cut the cord?” Dr. Stadtler
asked, handing me a pair of scissors.

  “Of course,” I said and cut through the purple rope.

  I stood back up and looked at Monica as her eyes went glassy. “Mon? Are you okay?”

  Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and a loud beeping sound rang over the monitor.

  “Monica?”

  “She’s clotting!” A nurse yelled.

  The world moved in slow motion.

  One nurse came and whisked our new baby girl into a warming bed while another set of nurses rushed into the room. An oxygen mask was placed over Monica’s face and the doctor started pressing down on her stomach as large blood clots fell to the floor underneath her.

  “Monica?” I cried as I was pushed back by another set of nurses.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, raking my fingers through my hair, waiting for someone, anyone to talk to me.

  “She’s just losing a lot of blood right now so we’re trying to get all of the clots out. If she doesn’t stop, we’re going to possibly need to do a transfusion.” One of the nurses stopped and spoke softly to me.

  I stared at Monica. Her closed eyes. The oxygen mask on her face. Then I looked over at my sweet little bundle that was laying on the table, crying, wondering where her family was.

  “Is she going to be okay? Will they both be okay?” I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat.

  The nurse offered a small smile. “Everything is going to be okay, Mr. Chapman.”

  ***

  I sat at Monica’s bedside, willing her eyes to open. We’d talked about breastfeeding Oveta, but with all the blood Monica had lost, she didn’t have enough energy or iron to do it. Let alone wake up. She’d been asleep for hours.

  Rocking our little girl and feeding her a bottle, I wanted more than anything for Monica to wake up. I didn’t pray often anymore, not even at church, but I prayed so hard that I hoped someone would listen.

  “Fatherhood looks good on you,” a scratchy voice said.

  I lifted my head up and saw Monica staring at us.

  “Monica, you’re awake!”