Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five Years Ago
Helen sat in the rocking chair by the nursery window. She stared through the panes at the American flag waving in the wind. The clink of the metal hook holding the bottom of the flag against the flagpole was a rhythmic irritation that made her skin crawl.
He was gone.
Paul had been killed in a bombing raid on his base. It’d happened eight months earlier. And yet she still couldn’t quite believe it. She rested her arms across her swollen belly. Wriggled her fat toes. She was retaining water. Lots of it. It seemed to her as though she’d gained about fifty pounds. But she was certain a good bit of it was oedema since when she crossed her legs for longer than thirty seconds, she left a massive dent in the bottom leg where the top one had rested.
But she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she’d wanted for the past months was to have a hole open up in the ground and swallow her. She didn’t want to go on. Didn’t want to face life on her own with a child. But she had no choice. Her body continued doing what it was designed to do. The pregnancy had gone well for the most part. She’d been pretty sick for about six months but lately had begun to feel better. And now with the swelling, she was ready for it to be over.
“Just come out already,” she whispered to her stomach. “It’s about time, and I don’t mind if you’re a little early. A few days won’t matter.”
She stroked a circle on her stomach and felt the baby kick. It wasn’t really a kick, the baby rolled over and she watched as her stomach distended into the shape of an elbow that moved around beneath her dress. She would never get used to that. It was so special and yet strange at the same time. She picked up her journal and read the last line she’d written.
I’m waiting for you to join me, little one. But I don’t have much of a heart left to give you. I hope you’ll understand.
How could she be a good mother when she’d been shattered into pieces? The one thing she’d been so afraid of had finally happened. Paul was gone. She’d never see him again. Never be held in his arms. Never hear his voice or laugh with him. The house would be empty, her bed cold. She would never forgive the world for taking him from her.
It made no sense that she could keep on living, but she didn’t have a choice. No one knew how she felt. She’d faced the funeral, the conversations, the condolences, and her work since his death with a stoic smile on her face. But it wasn’t real. It was a mask she wore so that she didn’t have to put up with people’s pity, so that she wouldn’t have to face their questions, their concerns, and their well-meaning interruptions in her empty, fruitless life.
The phone rang. She picked it up and forced herself to sound cheery. “Hello?”
“Hey, honey, it’s Rita. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, Rita. Fine.”
Her voice sounded empty, cold, to her ears. But maybe Rita wouldn’t notice. Helen had gotten good at hiding.
Rita hesitated. “Okay, that’s great. The countdown is on, huh? You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She’d taken to speaking in cliches and sayings, people seemed to like it, and it meant she didn’t have to really think about anything deep. Was she ready? She couldn’t probe that particular wellspring of emotion right now, so a cliche was all she had to give.
Just then, a pain pressed down on her abdomen like a strong muscle cramp. She gasped, eyes widening. What was that?
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” She stood up and fluid gushed between her legs, wetting her skin, dress, and the carpet at her feet. “Oh no!”
“What is it? Helen?”
“I think my water just broke. It’s so gross. The carpet is all wet and I had this room perfectly clean and ready for the baby!” Her voice broke into a wail as she pressed her feet up and down on the increasingly sodden carpet.
“That doesn’t matter. I’ll clean it up for you, honey. Don’t you worry about it. Now, why don’t you head to your bathroom and get in the tub. You’ve already planned to labor there, right? I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, and I’ll help you.”
Helen hung up the phone and waddled to the bathroom off her master bedroom. She couldn’t walk properly anymore since her hips had shifted. For the past week, it’d felt as though her uterus was going to fall out, which put pressure on her hips and made her walk like a duck.
She stared at the tub, all ready to go with candles around the outside, books stacked at one end, a box of chocolates, and a speaker for music. There was no way she was getting in that tub—she might not be able to get out again. Already her legs were cramping so badly, she could barely stand. What had she been thinking?
Instead, she grabbed a few towels from the bathroom rack and carried them to her bed, laid them out and then climbed onto them. She lay on her back, legs bent up and stared at the ceiling. That was better. The cramping stopped.
Fifteen minutes later, she heard Rita opening the back door with her spare key.
“Hello? Helen! I’m here!” Her sister bounded up the stairs.
She found Helen on the bed.
“Are you okay, honey? You’re not in the tub?”
Another contraction wracked her body, making her grimace with pain. “No, not getting in the tub. Might not be able to climb out again, and what if I fall?”
“Good point,” Rita replied. “I’ll get you a chair if you like. Or are you fine on the bed?”
“A chair would be good. There’s a nerve pinching in my lower back, and I’m losing feeling in one leg.”
“That’s not okay. Here you go.” Rita helped her into a chair and for the next five hours, the two of them alternated between her sitting on the chair with Rita massaging various parts of her body—feet, shoulders, arms, legs. And then she’d take a turn pacing or rocking on hands and knees until the cramping in her legs forced her back onto the bed.
She couldn’t eat a single chocolate. But she did sip some ice water.
Finally, it was time to go to the hospital, the contractions were close together and she was experiencing a lot more pain. Rita drove her there and then stayed with her while she was examined and went through the final stages of labour.
Helen felt herself disappear into a deep place within herself. She focused so hard that she only opened her eyes to push when the doctor told her to. The rest of the time she was looking inward, not thinking about anything but simply existing in that place.
When things started to go wrong, she knew it right away. She felt it happen. There was something wrong. Panic overtook her, and her breathing accelerated. The monitors she and the baby were attached to began beeping. Helen’s eyes flew open, and she looked at the doctor.
“We’re going to have to deliver this baby now,” the doctor said calmly.
And that was the last thing Helen remembered.
When she woke, she was in a darkened room alone. A monitor beeped rhythmically beside her. She glanced at it. It was her heart rate, but the baby monitor wasn’t there any longer. Her mouth was dry. She tried to sit up, but her whole body hurt and her head felt light. She tried to speak, but her voice wouldn’t work.
There was a glass of water with a straw on the table beside her bed. She reached for it and took a sip, then cleared her throat and tried again.
“Hello? Anyone?”
A nurse hurried into the room, her white shoes making barely a sound on the tiled floor.
“There you are. How are you feeling?” The nurse walked over to the side of her bed and began to take her pulse. She smiled warmly at Helen.
“I’m okay,” Helen croaked. “What happened? Where’s the baby?”
“You experienced pre-eclampsia. Your organs were shutting down, so we had to do an emergency cesarean. Your baby is in the special care nursery for now, but she will be glad to see you.”
“She? I had a girl?”
“You had a girl.” The nurse beamed. “I’ll get you something to eat and then I’ll take you to see her if you like.”
“Thank you,” Helen said. “My sister?”
“She’s just gone home for a shower, I think. She’s been here for days.”
“Days? I was out for days?”
The nurse’s smile faded. “You almost didn’t make it. We’ve had you sedated. But you’re doing better today.”
“How has the baby managed for that long without me?”
“We’ve been bottle feeding her formula. Your sister’s been a big help. She hasn’t wanted to leave the baby’s side. Or yours, for that matter. Your parents were here too. I’m sure they’ll be back shortly.”
Helen ate some jello and custard. Her stomach felt fine, but the nurse said she should take it slow. So she drank some hot tea, and then the nurse pushed her wheelchair down the hallway to the nursery.
She felt better after eating and drinking something, but her whole body was weak and hurt. They reached the special care nursery, and her heart rate accelerated. Where was her baby? The nursery was quiet and in semi-darkness. There were small cribs dotted about the space, some with machinery and monitors attached. The nurse led her to a small crib with a tiny baby laying on her back, swaddled in a white cloth with pink stripes.
“Is this her?”
The nurse gave a nod. She picked the baby up and lay her gently in Helen’s arms.
She’d almost dreaded this moment. How would she feel? Would she love this child who’d been left behind by her father? Or would she resent her? Would she ever be able to bond? Or be happy again?
But the moment she laid eyes on her child, her heart leapt inside of her. Love for this helpless little creature swamped her until her eyes brimmed with tears.
“She’s beautiful,” she whispered, as she reached a finger towards the baby’s tiny, clenched fist. The fist unclenched and closed around her finger.
Her little face was perfect, with long, dark eyelashes, a wisp of dark hair, and rosebud lips.
“She’s very healthy and doesn’t need to stay here in the nursery if you’re ready to take her back to your room and breastfeed. I can help you with that.”
Helen gave a nod. The nurse pushed them back to the room.
When they arrived, Rita was there looking anxious. She gave a shout of relief at the sight of them and hurried to squat beside Helen, her eyes glistening. “You’re okay. You gave me such a fright.”
“I’m sorry,” Helen said, her voice breaking. “Isn’t she amazing?”
“She’s perfect. But I thought I was going to lose you.” Tears streaked down Rita’s cheeks as she gazed into Helen’s eyes.
Helen reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m here, and I’m fine.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes, I am. And I’m deliriously happy for the first time in a very long time.”
Rita wiped her tears away with a laugh. “Well, that’s music to my ears.”
“She looks nothing like you. She must take after Paul. What will you call her?”
“Her name is Julie. Because she’s so perfect and innocent. The world will never be able to hurt her, I won’t let it.” Helen gazed at her baby’s face.
“What a lovely name.” Rita stood up and sighed. “It’s time for a new beginning. For all of us.”
“Yes, it’s time.” Helen agreed. And she meant it.