That Was Then... (13 page)

This has been one of the longest days of my life. And I am so thankful that it’s nearly over. I think I will sleep for a week.

It all started shortly after I finally went to bed last night. I was just starting to drift off when I heard this quiet tap-tap-tap on my door.

“Kim?” calls Nat’s voice as she cracks open my door. “Are you asleep?”

I sit up. “Not now.”

“Sorry.” She comes in and sits on the edge of my bed. “But I’m having contractions.”

“What kind of contractions?” I ask, trying to sound more patient than I’m feeling. I’m just not up for another case of false labor tonight.

“I’m not sure…”

“Well, how many have you had?”

“It started about eleven,” she says.

I glance at my clock to see that it’s 11:37. “So, about half an hour?”

“Yeah, I think.”

“How far apart are they?”

“I’m not sure. The first two were about ten minutes apart. And then the next one was a little less and—” She stops talking now and grabs her stomach. “And here comes another one.” She reaches for my hand and puts it on her belly, which feels very tight.

“Can you feel that?”

“I guess.” I turn on the light and just look at her. I can tell by her face that she’s not comfortable. But even so, I’m not convinced this is the real thing.

“Why don’t you lie down—” I move over and make room for her—“and we can time the contractions and decide whether or not you’re really in labor. Okay?” She waits about a minute or so, then takes a deep breath and lies down beside me. “Okay.”

I’m just about asleep when she’s nudging me.

“Here’s another one.”

“Huh?”

“A contraction,” she says somewhat impatiently.

“Oh yeah.” I look at the clock and see that it’s 11:48 now. “That’s more than ten minutes,” I tell her, closing my eyes again. I can hear her breathing, and I know that whatever’s going on doesn’t feel good. But according to the doctor, ten minutes apart isn’t anything to be
concerned about. Besides, I’m tired. I dose my eyes and actually fall asleep. But it seems like only seconds have elapsed when Nat is poking me again.

“What?” I say in a grumpy voice.

“This is the real thing,” she says. And I can see that she’s standing next to my bed now.

I sit up and blink and look at my clock. It’s 2:36. Even in my sleepy state I can do the math. “Nat!” I don’t bother to hide my impatience now. “It’s been like three hours since your last contract—”

“No, Kim,” she says in an equally aggravated voice. “It’s been like five minutes. My contractions have been exactly five minutes apart since 1:25. That’s more than an hour. This is the real deal!”

“Are you sure?”

“I am in labor, Kim! And unless you want me to have this baby in your bed, I suggest you get up and get me to the hospital.”

So I get up and pull on some clothes and then go to my dad’s room. Within ten minutes the three of us are on our way to the hospital. My dad drives my mom’s old car while I sit with Nat in the backseat and help her do her breathing techniques as I time her contractions. They seem to be getting closer, and I am getting really nervous.

“Hurry, Dad!” I urge him, knowing full well that he’s going as fast as safely possible.

“I am, Kim. It’s only five minutes away now.” Then Nat lets out a scream, and I don’t know what
to do. Fortunately, my dad must have nerves of steel because he stays on the road.

“Hang on, Nat,” I tell her. “We’re almost there.”

“This hurts, Kim!”

“I know, I know. But we’ll be there soon.”

It seems like days before Dad finally pulls up to the emergency room entrance. “I’ll get someone to help,” he yells as he jumps out of the car.

“Here comes another one!” Nat howls.

“Just breathe,” I tell her in my calmest voice. And I do the breaths with her, panting like a dog just like the birthing coach in the movie did. “Come on,” I urge her when I can tell she’s holding her breath. “You have to breathe.”

“You breathe!” she screams at me as my dad returns with a wheelchair and what appears to be a medical person. “Even better yet,” she yells as they begin to extract her from the backseat, “you have this baby!”

I kind of laugh as I grab Nat’s bag, and my dad and the medical guy ease Nat into the wheelchair. “She’s not feeling so good right now,” I tell the guy.

“Don’t worry,” he tells Nat as he wheels her in. “They’ll get you as comfortable as possible as soon as you sign in.” I run ahead and give the receptionist Nat’s name and social security number, and she quickly locates her file. Soon a maternity nurse arrives, and it’s not long before Nat’s wearing her ID bracelet and being whisked toward the elevators.

“Call Mrs. Stein,” Nat says suddenly. “She said to call
her as soon as I go into labor. The card’s in my bag.”

So watching them get into the elevator, I quickly locate the business card, dial the number, and leave a message. Then I catch the next elevator up, and just as I reach the maternity ward, I hear Nat yelling and follow the sound of her voice to a room. The nurse is trying to help Nat into the bed, but it’s obvious she’s having another strong contraction, and she’s screaming so loudly that my dad bolts past me and makes an amazing disappearing act. I wish I could go with him. Instead I do the pant-pant breathing with Nat until the contraction finally ends, and then the nurse and I get Nat into bed.

Another nurse appears and starts hooking her up to the monitor and inserting an IV while the original nurse checks her vital signs. And by the time they’re done, Nat’s having another contraction. They seem to be coming about three and a half minutes apart now, and I’m hoping this means it won’t be long.

It feels like several days before the doctor finally arrives and checks on Nat. “She’s definitely in labor,” he tells us with a big grin. “It’ll be the first Christmas baby this year. And at this rate she’ll probably deliver in a couple of hours.”

“A couple of hours?” I say, thinking that sounds like years.

“That’s not so bad,” he tells me. “Most first-timers have a longer labor than that.”

But then Nat has another contraction, and my
attention is diverted back to her and the breathing.

“I’ll get her something to take the edge off the pain,” he says as he writes something down on her chart.

“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 never-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.