Herbert looks over at me. “Are you okay, love?”
“I need to get to the hospital.” I reach for my seat belt, but he grabs my hand.
“You’re running yourself ragged, between work and the hospital. I’ve barely seen you this week.”
“Austin needs me.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Sweetheart, Austin is getting all the care she needs. Take a break today. Let me take you out for a nice dinner.”
He’s right. Austin probably wouldn’t miss me. But the fact is, I’d miss her. I look into his eyes hoping he’ll understand. “I can’t.”
Of course, he does. Without so much as a sigh of frustration, he slides the car into gear and heads to the hospital.
I rush to Austin’s isolette, expecting to see the blue lights I’ve grown accustomed to. Instead, her blindfolds are off and the blue lights have vanished. She lies curled up on her stomach, her head on its side. Her eyes are open. I squat down and peer in at her.
“Hello, little one,” I say. “You look so pretty.”
Nurse LaDonna comes up beside me. “Her blood levels have normalized. No more bili lights! Would you like to hold her?”
For the past two days, while she’s been under the lights, I’ve put my hands inside the isolette to rub her skin, but I’ve not yet held her.
“Uh, sure,” I say. “If it’s okay. I don’t want to hurt her.”
LaDonna chuckles. “You’ll do fine. She’s more resilient than you think, and she needs human touch right now.”
The nurses have been especially kind to me since Sanquita’s death. They know of my plans to adopt Austin, and I’m treated like a new mom now, rather than a visitor. But unlike the bright-eyed, confident new mothers I see around me, I feel clumsy and unprepared. Sanquita trusted me with her only child. The welfare of this rumpled little alien rests squarely on my shoulders. But what if I fail her, the same way I failed Peter Madison?
LaDonna raises the lid of the isolette and cradles Austin in her hands while adjusting the wires, the nasal feeding tube, and the CPAP mask. She repositions the photo I’ve placed in Austin’s isolette—Sanquita’s high school ID—and grabs a blanket. She wraps Austin into a tight little bundle. “Babies like to be swaddled,” she tells me, and hands me the tiny papoose.
Austin feels almost weightless. She’s lost two ounces since her birth, which LaDonna tells me is normal, but I can’t help but worry. Unlike healthy babies, Austin has no weight to spare. I position her in the crook of my arm and she’s practically lost. Her forehead scrunches, but because of the CPAP covering her mouth and nose, her cry is muted.
“She’s crying.” I hold the bundle out to LaDonna, wishing she’d take Austin back. But she doesn’t. I jostle Austin and hold her closer, but the heartbreaking, silent whimper continues. “What am I doing wrong?”
“She’s been fussy all day.” LaDonna taps her chin with an index finger. “You know what I think?”
“Uh, that I suck at mothering?”
She bats a hand at me and shakes her head. “No! You’ll be a fine mother. I think Austin needs some Kangarooing.”
“Exactly what I thought!” I shake my head at her. “C’mon, LaDonna, you’re talking to a newbie here … and I don’t mean Austin. What the heck is Kangarooing?”
She laughs. “Kangaroo Care is skin-to-skin contact between the mother and the preemie, like a baby kangaroo in its mother’s pouch. These babies need physical contact to bond, but studies also show that holding a preemie against her mother’s chest stabilizes her respiratory and heart rates. It conserves calories so the baby gains more weight, and it even regulates her body temperature. The mother’s body acts as the incubator.”
“Really?”
“Yes. The mother’s breasts actually change temperature in response to the baby’s body temperature. Babies are more content, less apt to have apnea, all sorts of good things. Would you like to try it?”
“But I’m not the mother … the biological mother.”
“All the more reason to strengthen the bond. I’ll pull up some screens so you two can have your privacy. While I get them, you unswaddle Austin. Take everything off her except her diaper. Would you like me to get you a hospital gown, or would you prefer to unbutton your blouse?”
“Um … I’ll just unbutton my blouse, I guess. Are you sure this works if it’s not the real mother? I’d hate to have her catch cold because I wasn’t able to properly Kangaroo.”
LaDonna laughs. “It’ll work.” She cocks her head, serious now. “And Brett, remember how you asked me not to call Austin Baby Girl?”
“Yes.”
“Will you please stop saying you’re not the mother?”
I suck in a breath and nod. “Fair enough.”
I lie in a reclining chair, surrounded by privacy screens. I’ve unbuttoned my blouse and taken off my bra. LaDonna positions Austin on my chest, the mound of my left breast serving as a cushion. Her downy hair tickles my skin, and I flinch. LaDonna settles a blanket over the baby.
“Enjoy,” she says, and disappears behind the screen.
Wait, I want to call to her. How long am I supposed to do this? Could you get me a book maybe, or even a magazine?
I let out a sigh. Carefully, I slip my hand under the blanket and land on Austin’s naked back. It’s as soft as butter. I feel the rapid rise and fall of her breathing. Looking down I see her fine black hair. Her face, in profile, is no longer contorted in her silent wail. Her eyes blink, telling me she’s awake.
“Hello, Austin,” I say. “Are you feeling sad today, sweet pea? I’m so sorry your mommy died. We loved her so much, didn’t we?”
She blinks, as if she’s listening to me.
“I’m going to be your mommy now,” I whisper. “I’m new at this, so you’re going to have to cut me some slack, okay?”
Austin stares straight ahead.
“I’m going to make some mistakes, you might as well know that now. But I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to make your life safe, and sweet, and happy, and good.”
Austin snuggles into my neck. I laugh softly and rub my cheek against her fuzzy head. “I’m so proud that you’re my daughter.”
Her breathing slows and her eyes fall shut. I stare at this amazing gift, and I’m overcome with a love so raw, so instinctual, that it takes my breath away.
In no time, LaDonna peers around the screen. “Visiting hours are almost over,” she whispers.
I glance at the clock on the wall. “Already?”
“You’ve been in here almost three hours.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Austin looks content now … and so do you. How did it go?”
“It was …” I kiss the top of Austin’s head and search for the adjective. “Magical.”
As I lay Austin in her isolette and kiss her good night, I spy Sanquita’s plastic school ID—the only picture Jean could find of her. I prop the photo against Austin’s isolette, directly in her line of vision. I make a mental note to bring another picture tomorrow.
This one of me.
——
Though my rational brain knows any warm body would have produced the same results, it’s almost spiritual, watching Austin’s transformation. After only seven days of the skin-to-skin Kangaroo Care, she’s graduated from the CPAP to a nasal tube. I can finally see her pretty bowed lips and nuzzle her without the clunky plastic mask interfering. Since her birth nine days ago, she’s gained back the weight she lost, along with another two ounces, and she’s looking less and less like a little alien.
It’s three o’clock in the afternoon, and I dash through the hospital parking lot, my cell phone at my ear. Every day since Austin’s birth, I wake before dawn, arriving at my office before seven. I work through my lunch hour, and finish my last appointment by two thirty. This allows me four glorious hours to spend with Austin.
“This Kangarooing is a miracle,” I tell Shelley on the telephone. “Austin’s close
to breathing on her own. And she’s trying so hard to coordinate her sucking, swallowing, and breathing. She’s almost got it, and then they’ll wean her off the IV and feeding tube. She’s so adorable, Shel. I can’t wait for you to meet her. You’ve gotten the pictures I’ve sent, right?”
Shelley laughs. “Yes. She’s darling. My God, Brett, you really sound like a mom.”
I throw open the hospital door. “Yeah, well, let’s hope I don’t screw up the poor kid with all my fears and insecurities and neuroses.”
“Good point. Here’s hoping.”
We share a laugh. “Listen, I’m here now. Give the kids my love. Tell Jay hello.”
I thrust my phone into my pocket and make my way to the elevators. I smile, wondering what little surprise awaits us today. So far Herbert hasn’t missed a day. Because he’s not allowed to visit, he sends packages to the nurses’ station, addressed to Austin and me. It’s become quite the event, with the nurses, and even some of the other new mothers, huddled around to watch me unwrap Herbert’s latest offering. I think they look forward to the surprises more than I do. LaDonna adores the silver key fob, hand-engraved with Austin’s birth date. I love it, too, but my favorite was yesterday’s picture of Austin and me. He printed two copies of a photo I’d sent him, and framed each one. My silver frame reads MOTHER AND CHILD, and Austin’s pink-and-white frame says MOMMY AND ME.
But when I arrive today, it seems that the fifth floor has received a surprise of its own. Up ahead I see a woman, surrounded by LaDonna, Maureen, and a security guard. They’re huddled just outside the locked entrance to the NICU. The woman’s long yellow hair has the texture of late-August hay, and even with the bulk of a faux-fur coat she looks almost skeletal.
“I ain’t going nowhere.” Her words are slurred, and she wobbles on red heels. “I got a right to see my grandbaby.”
Oh, dear, the poor woman must be drunk. How sad for her daughter and her grandbaby. LaDonna catches sight of me and gives me a sharp look of warning. I slow my pace and turn around, but the sounds of the scuffle trail me.
“Ma’am, you need to leave now,” the guard tells her, “or I’ll have to call the police.”
“You ain’t gonna call no police on me. I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. I come all the way from Detroit. I ain’t leaving till I see her, you hear me?”
Oh, God! I turn the corner, out of sight, and slump against the wall. Could this be Sanquita’s mother? Footsteps near and the shouts get louder. “Get your fucking hands off me! You wanna get sued, motherfucker?”
They round the corner and she’s so close I catch a whiff of lingering cigarette smoke. Her face is nearly colorless, like oatmeal, and wadded into an angry snarl. I spy black, rotting teeth, and my first thought is meth addict. Was she? Is she? Sanquita’s words come back to me. I know why she didn’t wake up when my brothers screamed. When I got home from school I flushed everything down the toilet.
Gripping her arm, the guard nearly drags her toward the elevator, ignoring the obscenities being hurled at him. As she passes in front of me, she squints, as if to see me better. My breath catches and I step back. Does she know who I am? Does she know I’m going to be Austin’s mom? An instinctive ripple of fear passes through me.
The guard yanks her onward, but she cranes her neck and glares back at me with cold gray eyes.
“What you looking at, bitch?”
My sympathy vanishes. In its place, something primal kicks in, some protective maternal instinct, and I know I would die—or kill—for Austin’s life and safety. The thought leaves me horrified and astonished and strangely proud.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The neonatal unit is abuzz with chatter. LaDonna grabs my elbow when she sees me, and leads me into a private corner. “We’ve got a problem,” she whispers.
“Sanquita’s mother?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She nods and looks around to make sure nobody’s within earshot. “Tia Robinson. She was so high or drunk or … who knows what … she could barely walk.”
Another wave of panic floods me.
“She’s come for her grandbaby.” She shakes her head, as if the idea is crazy.
I clutch my throat, trying to keep the bitter bile from rising. “Could she? Is it possible she could get the baby?”
She shrugs. “I’ve seen stranger things happen. If a relative steps up and is willing to take the child, more often than not they get him. Just one less case the state has to worry about.”
“No! Not her. I won’t let that happen. I’m taking Austin. I told you, it was Sanquita’s last wish.”
She scowls. “Look, I think that’s wonderful, but it’s not your decision to make. Have you talked to Kirsten Schertzing, the hospital’s social worker?”
“No,” I say, feeling suddenly foolish. Why did I assume adopting this homeless, motherless child would be a cinch? “I’ve been playing phone tag with a woman from Social Services. And I’ve been meaning to contact the social worker here, but I’ve been so busy with Austin.”
“I’ll call Kirsten now. If she’s available, maybe you can talk to her today.”
She disappears behind the nurses’ station, and returns a moment later with a Post-it note. “She’s about to step into a meeting. But she can see you tomorrow at four. She’s on the second floor, room two fourteen.” She hands me the note. “I’ve written it down for you.”
My head spins and I stare at the sticky note.
“You may have a fight on your hands. Ms. Robinson is determined this child is hers.”
“Why?” I ask. “She didn’t even want to raise her own daughter.”
LaDonna gives a little huff. “That’s a no-brainer. She wants the death benefits. Austin will receive about a thousand dollars a month in SSI for the next eighteen years.”
A dark, atavistic fear mounts within me. This woman is hell-bent on getting my baby, with a motive as old and sinister as time. And she’s Austin’s maternal grandmother. I’m just Sanquita’s teacher, someone she knew a scant five months.
I spend the next two hours behind the privacy screen with Austin at my chest, singing along with today’s gift from Herbert—an iPod he’s loaded with perfectly fitting songs for a new mother, like “I Hope You Dance,” and “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman.” I’m touched. It must have taken him hours to compile. But will I ever be a new mother? My chest clenches. I peer down at Austin and try to sing along with Alison Krauss.
“It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart.”
Her tiny fist pokes through the blanket, and she yawns and closes her eyes again. I laugh through tears and pat her back. Suddenly a hand on my own back startles me. “You have a visitor, Brett. He’s waiting in the reception area.”
I’m surprised when I see my brother just outside the NICU. He’s wearing a suit and tie, clearly having come straight from work.
“Joad,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“You’ve been pretty hard to get ahold of the last couple of weeks.” He leans in and pecks my cheek. “I hear you’ve got a new little friend. Catherine’s gaga over those pictures you sent.”
“Something horrible just happened. Sanquita’s mom showed up today. She thinks she’s going to take my baby.” Hysteria mounts anew as I recall the horrible scene. “It’s not happening, Joad! I won’t let her.”
He cocks his head, his forehead creased with worry lines. “Just how do you plan to stop her?”
“I’m adopting her.”
“C’mon. Let’s get a cup of coffee.” He gives me a once-over. “Or better yet, dinner. When’s the last time you ate?”
“I’m not hungry.”
He shakes his head. “Let’s go. You’re going to eat, and then you’re going to tell me what’s going on.” He tugs my arm, but I slip from his grasp.
“No! I can’t leave her. That woman might come back and take her.”
He stares at me, his eyes wide with alarm. “Get ahold of yourself.
Yo
u look like hell. Have you slept in the last two weeks? This baby’s not going anywhere.” He gestures to Nurse Kathy at the reception desk. “We’ll be back in a few.”
“Tell LaDonna not to let Austin out of her sight,” I call as Joad pulls me toward the elevator.
Sitting in a molded plastic booth in the back of the hospital cafeteria, Joad lifts a plate of spaghetti from an orange tray and places it in front of me. “Eat,” he tells me. “And between bites, tell me what you mean to do with Sanquita’s baby.”
I don’t like the way he says Sanquita’s baby, as if Austin’s fate were still arbitrary. I pull the paper ring from the napkin and find the fork and knife within. The spaghetti makes my stomach roil, but I fill my fork and lift it to my mouth. It takes all my strength to chew and swallow. I dab my mouth with the paper napkin and set down my fork.
“She’s my baby. I’m adopting her.”
He listens as I tell him about Sanquita and her last wish, Ms. Robinson and the scene earlier. “Tomorrow I’m meeting with the social worker. I’m going to save this child. She needs me. And I promised Sanquita.”
He eyes me while he sips his coffee. When he sets down the cup, he shakes his head. “Mom really did a number on you with these goals, didn’t she?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t need this baby. You’ll have your own kid eventually. It might take you a little longer, but it’ll happen. You’ve just got to be patient.”
I shake my head. “I want this child, Joad. It has nothing to do with Mother’s goals. I need this baby, and she needs me.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. “Look, you’ve got to be running low on cash about now. I’d be happy to loan—”
I stare at him, horrified. “You think I’m doing this to get my inheritance?” I lift my head to the ceiling. “Jesus, Joad! You must think I’m just as greedy as Sanquita’s mother!” I push away my plate and lean in. “I don’t give a damn about that inheritance. I’d give up every cent for this baby. Do you understand me? Every. Red. Fucking. Cent!”
The Life List Page 25
