“The sooner the better,” I tell him between pants.
In between contractions, I feed Nat ice chips, wipe her forehead with a wet cloth, and try to be encouraging. “You’re doing a good job. It won’t be long now.”
It’s 4:25 when the nurse puts something in her IV. “That should help with the pain,” she tells Nat. But it’s too late; Nat’s already having another contraction. The medicine takes about fifteen minutes to kick in, and things quiet down some after that.
Finally it’s nearly six in the morning, and I am so exhausted I can hardly see straight. My throat is so dry from all this breathing and panting that I’ve been eating ice chips too. Why did I ever agree to do this? It seems like Nat is never going to have this baby.
“Pray for me,” Nat says suddenly. “Please, Kim. Pray that I won’t die.”
“You’re not going to die, Nat.”
“Please!”
So I pray for her. I pray that God will get her safely through this ordeal and that the baby will be born whole and healthy. “And soon!” I say loudly. “Please, dear God, help this baby to be born soon!”
But shortly after that, things really start to change. Within minutes the doctor and nurse are agreeing that it’s time for her to go to delivery, and Nat is lifted from the bed to a stretcher and being wheeled down the hall. The whole time she clings to my hand, and I jog to keep up with them.
“Don’t leave me, Kim,” she says in a hoarse voice. “Don’t leave me!”
I stand at the head of her bed and tell her that she can do this. I breathe with her as she has contractions. But I don’t look below her waist. I have no desire to see the actual birth. The fact that I’m here right now and haven’t passed out yet is slightly miraculous.
The doctor tells her to push, then tells her to wait, then tells her to push, and I wish he’d just make up his mind. And finally, after what feels like years, the baby is born at 6:43 a.m.
“It’s a girl!” the nurse informs us.
“A healthy, beautiful girl,” the doctor adds, and then we hear a loud cry.
“You did it!” I tell Natalie. That’s when I notice tears are streaming down my face. We’re both crying now, and we hug and cry some more. After a few minutes the nurse brings the baby over for us to see. She now has a tiny pink cap on her head and is wrapped in a matching blanket.
“Eight pounds, five ounces,” the nurse says. “Quite a big girl.”
“She looks tiny to me,” I say as I study the wrinkly red face.
“She’s really okay?” Nat asks with a frown.
“She’s perfect,” the doctor says.
“Do you want to hold her?” the nurse asks.
Nat looks unsure. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”
The nurse hands Nat the baby, and I just watch. I’m trying to figure out how Natalie feels right now. Oh, I know she’s relieved that the baby’s born and that she’s healthy. But how does Nat feel knowing that she’s the mother of this tiny miracle?
Because that’s how it seems to me. Like a real miracle. Like how does God do that? How does He make a perfect human being, tucked inside someone else’s body? And then, just like that (okay not quite as easy as that), suddenly this miniature person is in this world and about to live her very own life. It’s really amazing!
“Look at her fingers,” Nat says with wonder. “They’re so perfect. Even the tiny little fingernails.” Nat pushes the hat up just a little. “And her hair. It’s so soft and wispy.”
“And blond,” I add. “Like yours.”
“And her eyes are so blue,” Nat observes. “Look at how she’s looking at me. It’s like she knows me.”
“She recognizes your voice,” the nurse tells her. “Babies can hear before they’re born, you know.”
Now I’m getting worried. Where is Mrs. Stein? What if Nat suddenly changes her mind? What if she falls in love with this baby? What if she wants to keep her and raise her herself?
“We need to get you both cleaned up now,” the nurse tells Nat as she holds her hands out for the baby.
“Good-bye, little baby,” Nat says in a quiet voice, and I see that there are fresh tears in her eyes.
“We’ll take good care of her for you,” the nurse promises.
“Thanks.” Nat hands the baby back.
“And after we clean you up, you can get some real rest,” the nurse says. “And even have something to eat.”
“Sounds good.” Nat sighs.
“You did really great today, Nat,” I tell her. “I was impressed.”
“Did you call my mom?” Nat says suddenly.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t know the number where they’re staying.”
“Get a pen.” Then Nat rattles off the number, and I write it on my palm.
“Should I go call now?”
She nods and then leans back, letting out a big sigh. “Thanks, Kim. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
I kind of laugh. “Yeah, right. I’m pretty sure that baby would’ve been born no matter what.”
“You know what I mean. Thanks. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here for me. I owe you big time. If you ever have a baby, you’ll have to let me pay you back.”
Now I really laugh. “After watching you here today…well, I’m not sure I ever want to go through that.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” She smiles now.
“Not that bad? Did you hear yourself screaming?”
“Oh, you know me—the drama queen.”
“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes at her. “Get some rest, and I’ll go tell my dad the good news and call your mom. Maybe I should try Mrs. Stein again too.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
I tell Dad and he looks greatly relieved.
“I need to call Nat’s mom,” I say with a frown.
“You want me to call her?”
“Would you?”
“Certainly.” Then he gives me a big hug. “You’ve been through enough for one day.”
So he calls Nat’s mom and I call Mrs. Stein. And to my relief, she answers.
“I got your message, Kim. How’s it going?”
“She had a baby girl. Eight pounds, five ounces. She was born at 6:43, and she’s perfectly healthy.”
“That’s wonderful! And how’s Natalie?”
“She’s okay.”
“The adoptive parents are on their way to the airport right now. They expect to arrive by two this afternoon. Tell Natalie that she’s just given a very nice couple the most wonderful Christmas present imaginable.”
“That’s right,” I say. “I almost forgot it was Christmas. It seems like that was days ago.”
“I’ll be over to check on Natalie and the baby later this morning, and then I’ll come again with the adoptive parents.”
I hang up, but my dad is still on his cell phone with Nat’s mom. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but it’s not like I can help it.
“Natalie’s been through a lot,” he’s saying patiently. “We all have. Whether or not you come today or tomorrow is entirely up to you. But if she were my daughter, wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” Dad gives me a look, like he doesn’t understand this woman or her way of thinking.
“Good,” he finally says. “I’m sure Natalie will be happy to see you.” Then he says good-bye and hangs up.
“Thanks for doing that.”
“No problem. I just don’t understand why Mrs. McCabe is having such a hard time with this.”
“Are you forgetting how you almost had a heart attack when you thought that pregnancy test was for me last summer?”
“Well…” He grins a little sheepishly. “I would’ve gotten over it, eventually.”
“Don’t worry. After seeing what I saw today, I don’t think I ever want to have a baby.”
“Oh, Kim.” His face is a mixture of relief and disappointment. “I’m sure you’ll change your mind someday. Someday when the timing is right.”
And now that this neve
r-ending Christmas Day is almost over, I admit that I’m sure I’ll change my mind someday too. Just the memory of that tiny little human—the miracle of that baby—makes me think I’d like to experience it too. But not for a long, long time.
Nat really liked the adoptive couple. Mrs. Stein had already told her that they were in their mid-thirties, had been married for twelve years, were college-educated, and both had good careers. Although the woman would be taking at least a year off, and after that she planned to work from home.
“As you all know, we don’t disclose last names,” Mrs. Stein said as she introduced Nat to the adoptive parents. “But this is Debbie and Mark.”
“You’ve made this our best Christmas ever,” Mark told Nat.
“The baby is absolutely beautiful,” said Debbie. “I think she looks a lot like you.”
“Her dad’s pretty good-looking too,” I added. Who knows why?
“You’ve made us so happy,” said Mark. “You have no idea.”
“We’ll do everything to make her happy too,” promised Debbie. “We’ll love her and care for her like she’s a little princess.”
Nat smiled. “That’s good to know.”
“She’s definitely going to be our little princess.” Mark put his arm around his wife and gave her a squeeze. “We’ve waited a long time for this.”
They talked for about half an hour, and then there seemed to be nothing left to say.
“Do you want to tell her good-bye?” Mrs. Stein asked Nat.
Nat’s eyes filled with tears as she considered this, and everyone in the room waited in silence. I had no idea which way this was going to go.
“No,” she finally said. “I held her this morning, and I said my good-byes then. I think it’s for the best.”
Nat and I didn’t talk about the baby again for the rest of the day. Okay, it was kind of weird, but it just seemed the best way to go. I mean, what could I say? I know Nat was hurting. I know that giving up your child cannot be easy. Like Mrs. Stein said, it might be the hardest thing a woman ever does. And I know it was tough on Nat. And I have a feeling it’s not over yet.
As it turned out, Nat’s mom never did show up today. That made me really mad, and I might even give that woman a piece of my mind when she gets home. I know it hurt Nat deeply. Even my dad was upset.
“She didn’t even get here in time to see her own granddaughter,” he said when he picked me up from the hospital this evening. Nat is spending the night.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” I told him. But even now I’m not so sure.
Dear Jamie,
My grandma died a couple of weeks ago. But I keep thinking about her and crying a lot. I really miss her. Everyone else says that she’s happy in heaven and I should get over this. But it’s like I can’t. So now I just make sure that no one sees me when I’m crying. Do you think I’ll ever feel better?
In Pain
Dear In Pain,
Everyone grieves differently. Some get over losing loved ones quickly. Some never get over it completely. The upside is that you must’ve had a good relationship with your grandmother. But this makes you miss her even more. Ask yourself these questions: How would your grandmother want you to deal with her death? Would it make her happy to see you in so much pain? Do you think she likes to know you’re suffering? Or would she want you to remember the good times you had with her and to get on with your life and be happy again? And if that doesn’t work and you’re still deeply grieving and depressed, you might need to seek out the advice of a counselor or join a grief therapy group to help you get through this.
Just Jamie
Thirteen
Thursday, December 28
Nat came home from the hospital on Wednesday, and even though I can tell she’s feeling bummed, she’s doing a brave job of acting like everything’s okay.
“Your family’s home,” I told her this morning. “I saw your mom’s car in the driveway.”
She just nodded, then took a sip of coffee.
“Do you think your mom will come over to talk to you?”
She shrugged. “I doubt it.”
“Don’t you think she’ll want to know how it went? I mean, Dad didn’t even tell her about the adoption. Do you think she’ll be shocked?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Do you want me to talk to her for you?”
She seemed to consider this. “I’m not sure…”
“Because I really wouldn’t mind giving that woman a piece of my mind.”
Nat kind of smiled. “Yeah, I can just imagine that.”
“She’s your mother, Nat.” I refilled my coffee cup and sat across from Natalie.
“I think she has disowned me.”
“Well, that’s just wrong.” I set my cup down with a thud. “And I wish you’d let me go over and talk to her. I seriously think I might be able to straighten her out.”
“Or just make her really mad.”
I sighed. “Yeah, you could be right.”
“But if you really want to…” Nat shrugged. “Well, go ahead. I guess I’d like her to know how things are, you know. Just to take a load off her mind.”
I stared at Nat. “You want to take a load off her mind?”
“Yeah. I’ve put her through a lot. And I’m sorry.”
“And she should forgive you,” I persisted.
“You can’t really force it.”
“I know…”
“She’ll come around in time, Kim.”
“Well, how about if I just go over there and let her know that you’re okay and about the baby and stuff.”
She nodded now. “Yeah, I guess that’d be good.”
So, telling myself that I would do this in a mature manner, I trooped over to Natalie’s house. But before I knocked on the door, I shot up a quick prayer. I asked God to help me use the right words. It wouldn’t really help anything if I blew up at her.
“Kim?” Mrs. McCabe looked surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
She opened the door wider. “Sure. Come in. Is everything okay?”
I walked in and stood in the foyer, considering my answer. “Well, that’s why I’m here.”
“Is something wrong?” Her eyes looked worried.
I nodded with a grim expression.
“What?” she said in an urgent tone. “Is Natalie okay?”
“She’s okay in some ways. But in other ways, she’s hurting.”
“Oh.” Mrs. McCabe seemed to relax now. “That’s to be expected.”
“Do you ever plan to talk to her again? Do you care about how she’s doing? Or about the baby?”
“Come in and sit down,” she said as she walked into the living room. I could hear the TV playing in the family room. I imagined Krissy and Micah sitting glued to the screen watching cartoons. She sat on the couch and motioned for me to do the same. “I know you care about Natalie, Kim. And you’ve been a good friend to her. Far better than she deserves.”
“How can you say that? She’s your daughter. Don’t you want the best for her?”
“The best?” She leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling. “Of course, I did want the best for her. I wanted her to live her life for the Lord. To keep her promise and to abstain from sex before marriage. And then I wanted her to marry a Christian man.” She laughed in a bitter way. “Oh yeah, I guess she did that. But not exactly in the right order.”
“She thought getting married was going to make things better,” I said. “And I think you agreed with her.”
“Well, I guess we were both wrong. Look at how that turned out.” She shook her head. “What a mess. But it’s probably what she deserves—she needed to deal with the consequences of her sin.”
“Well, then it probably won’t make you feel better to learn that they’re getting an annulment.”
She looked skeptical. “An annulment?”
So without going into too much detail,
I explained the rationale.
“That’s convenient.”
“Aren’t you happy for Nat?”
She shrugged. “What about the baby? How is Natalie going to raise a child on her own? Being a single mom is no picnic, you know. And if she thinks she can drag that child back here and expect me to support them, she’d better think again.”
“The baby has been adopted.”
“Adopted?” Mrs. McCabe looked truly shocked now. “Adopted by whom? When did this happen?”
“On the day she was born.”
“She?” Mrs. McCabe’s features softened a little. “The baby was a girl?”
“You didn’t know?”
“Your dad forgot to mention it.”
“And you didn’t even ask?”
“It was early in the morning, Kim. Christmas Day. I wasn’t thinking terribly clearly.”
“And then you didn’t even come to see her—to see them.”
She just shook her head.
“The baby was eight pounds, five ounces. A very beautiful baby girl. Blond hair, blue eyes. They thought she looked like Natalie.” Okay, I wasn’t sure if I was saying this for her benefit or to hurt her. But I figured she might as well hear the details.
“They?”
“The adoptive parents.”
“Oh…” She seemed to be processing this, and I’m not sure if she was happy with the news or not.
“They seemed very nice.”
“Is it an open adoption?”
“No.”
“But Natalie met the parents?”
“Just briefly and only by first names. It’s how Nat wanted it. She wanted to be assured that they were good people. But they live in another state and won’t have any contact with each other—unless after the baby grows up, she wants to meet her birth mother. It’s all written up in a legal contract.”
“When—I mean how—did all this happen?”
So I explained to her about the adoption agency. How my dad encouraged Natalie to look into it and how she finally came to this decision.
“So what now?” Mrs. McCabe looked to be at a loss just then. As if hearing that her daughter’s messy life had been all cleaned up without a bit of help from her was slightly disturbing. Or maybe she was feeling guilty. I hoped it was the latter.
That Was Then... Page 11
