Screwed

by Laurie Plissner

“You’re going to be just fine, my darling. Remember what Dr. Weston said. Everybody gets through it. And I’ll be with you all the way.”

  Soothed by Helen’s reassuring words, Grace rallied. “Okay, my suitcase is downstairs. I guess we should go.”

  Helen grabbed her cell phone and dialed the doctor’s answering service as she took Grace’s hand and led her back to her room. “You’re drenched, dear. First let’s get you into some dry clothes, and then we’ll go.”

  Five minutes later they were in the car on the way to the hospital. “How are you feeling now?” Helen drove with one hand on the wheel and the other one stroking Grace’s arm. “Don’t forget to breathe.”

  “It still hurts a lot, but not as bad as before,” Grace said, not sure she was going to be able to make it through without drugs.

  “Were we supposed to be timing the contractions?” asked Helen. There were so many details to remember, and she had left her little notepad on her nightstand. Now she would have to wing it.

  “Probably.”

  “It doesn’t really matter. The book said that if your water breaks you should go to the hospital. We’ll let them figure everything out. That’s what doctors are for.” As they pulled up in front of the emergency room, an orderly magically appeared with a wheelchair. Five-star treatment, for sure, and Helen briefly wondered if everyone got that kind of service, or whether the hospital staff had been put on notice after receiving her donation the previous week. It was a worthy cause, and as Sidney always said, it didn’t hurt to grease the wheels.

  CHAPTER 21

  “You’re six centimeters dilated and nearly eighty percent effaced,” said the nurse as she withdrew a gloved hand from under the sheet. “You’re more than halfway there. Good job.”

  As intense as the pain was, like a giant fist clenching and unclenching inside of her, Grace had thus far refused an epidural. Partly because she didn’t want Molly exposed to any drugs, and she had heard that a spinal block could slow down her labor. But more than that, Grace viewed each searing contraction as part of her punishment for getting herself into this mess. Experiencing every second of this gut-wrenching agony was exactly what she deserved, and if she managed to get through it without folding, she might be able to forgive herself for her dreadful mistake and move forward with her life.

  Helen put down the magazine she had been pretending to read and came over to the bed. “Grace, you don’t have to be a hero, you know. Everybody gets an epidural.”

  “I know, but it’s not that bad,” Grace said, her voice raspy with the effort. It was more than that bad, and as every hour passed there were fewer minutes of relief between the contractions. Her insides felt as if they were twisting themselves into a Gordian knot.

  Grace’s paler-than-usual skin told Helen that Grace was lying, but she didn’t say a word. Whatever Grace’s reason for refusing medication, it was none of anyone’s business, and before the advent of modern medicine everybody had natural childbirth, so as unpleasant as it appeared to be, it wasn’t impossible to endure. Hopefully, if it couldn’t be pain-free, at least it would be quick.

  “If you change your mind, let me know, and I’ll have the anesthesiologist here in one minute, okay?”

  “Okay,” Grace said, once again grateful for this magical old lady who had rescued her like an abandoned dog found at the side of the road, feeding her and loving her like her own. She wondered if Betsy and Brad knew she was in the hospital.

  Once again displaying a flash of clairvoyance, Helen asked, “Do you want me to call your parents and let them know what’s happening?”

  In fact, Helen had already called the Warrens and left a message on their answering machine informing them that the birth of their granddaughter was imminent. That was three hours earlier, and there hadn’t been any response. Apparently time did not heal all wounds. If Grace wanted them, however, Helen would call Sidney and he would have one of his guys kidnap them and drag them to the hospital. Whatever Grace wanted.

  “No, I doubt they’d want to be here, and this is hard enough without worrying about what they’re thinking,” Grace said, grimacing as another contraction stabbed her body. If girls knew how excruciating labor pain was, they would never have sex.

  Helen’s phone rang, but it was Charlie, not the Warrens. “Helen, is everything okay? I just found your note.” When Charlie had woken up that morning, he had found Helen’s note (drafted two weeks earlier as part of her baby preparation: Dear Charlie, The big day has arrived. Have taken Grace to the hospital. Love, H), and now he was in the car on the way to the hospital.

  “Everything’s fine, darling. Grace is doing beautifully. She is so incredibly brave.” Helen paused, listening. “I’ll ask her. Charlie would love to come and hold your hand, but he understands if you don’t want him here.”

  Grateful that Charlie had the good sense not to just show up, Grace shook her head. “I don’t want him to see me like this. Thank him for me, but could he wait until it’s over before he comes?”

  “Of course, sweetheart. Charlie, I’ll call you, okay? I think this is kind of a girls’ outing today, you know?”

  “I understand. Tell her I love her,” Charlie said, disappointed that he wouldn’t be there to help her through it, but hopeful that she would want to see him afterward.

  “I’ll let you tell her yourself, later. I love you, sweet boy. Bye.”

  When Helen hung up the phone, Grace said, “I don’t want to hurt Charlie’s feelings. It’s just that I don’t want him to see me so out of control. He’ll never be able to forget this moment, and I don’t want a screaming, sweaty, bloody blob to be his default image of me.”

  “Don’t be silly, sweetie. He understands perfectly. All Charlie wants is what’s best for you. Trust me. He really cares about you.” Stopping short of telling Grace the whole truth, Helen was fairly certain that Grace reciprocated Charlie’s feelings. They just needed time to work it all out.

  “I know, but he thinks I’m this fallen angel or something, like I was this perfect piece of crystal that Nick dropped and now I have a crack, and Charlie feels like it’s his job to glue all my pieces back together.”

  “Charlie does come from a family of fixers. And the only reason he’s put you up on a pedestal is because he likes you so much. He just needs to learn that as much as he has enjoyed putting you up there, it’s no place for a girl to live.”

  “That’s exactly right. I can’t be half as good as he thinks I am.”

  “You are just the right amount of good, Grace Warren, and Charlie knows that. Men aren’t very good with their words, especially in a crisis. But just pay attention to how Charlie behaves, even if he’s saying all the wrong things, because his actions will show who he really is.” Even though Helen was certain Charlie would get there on his own, she couldn’t resist helping things along.

  “Do you know absolutely everything, Aunt Helen? Owwww, that hurts so much.” Grace squirmed in the bed, but she could hardly move, because she was tethered to so many monitors — her heartbeat, the fetal heartbeat, blood pressure, IV.

  “By the time you get to my age, darling, you’ve had plenty of time to make mistakes and figure things out. I wish you just such an education, my pet.”

  A knock at the door interrupted their heart-to-heart. “Come in,” called Grace, hoping it was the doctor to tell her that Molly was ready to be born and the torture would be over in the next few minutes.

  “Hi, ladies,” said Janet. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay, I guess.” Determined not to cry, not to appear weak, Grace managed a tight-lipped smile.

  “You’re almost there. The Millers are in the waiting room, and when the baby leaves the delivery room, your job will be done.”

  Although she had witnessed literally hundreds of births, Janet was always floored by the guts these children had. Having a baby was stressful for a thirty-year-old woman with a husband and family to hold her hand, but these girls, for the most part, were getting the job do
ne all by themselves. The strength of the human spirit was extraordinary.

  Grace nodded. So lost in the pain and worried about how she was going to push something the size of a large chicken out of such a small opening, she had completely forgotten what was going to happen directly afterwards. Still uncertain whether she wanted to see Molly at all, not wanting to forge a bond that would immediately have to be severed, Grace still hadn’t decided whether she should hold her daughter before she gave her up forever. Would she just be causing herself more pain if she kissed her hello and goodbye, or would she regret missing that opportunity for the rest of her life? If only there were someone who could tell her what to do.

  “I’ll see you after,” Janet said, and went to sit with Rebecca and Michael in the waiting room.

  Another knock on the door, and Jennifer marched in. “Your study buddy just called me, so I ditched school and here I am.”

  Not wanting to admit that she hadn’t thought once about her best friend these last several hours, now Grace was glad she was here. “Hi,” Grace moaned as another contraction tore through her body.

  “Hello, Mrs. Teitelbaum. Nice to see you,” Jennifer said, doing a little curtsy. There was something almost regal about the little old lady who was wearing her signature pearls with her pale blue velour tracksuit.

  Helen smiled. “You too, dear. Thank you for coming, and I’m sorry I didn’t call you myself. I left my list at home.”

  “No worries. You look like shit, babes,” Jennifer said, turning back to Grace, taking in all the wires and beeping machinery.

  “Thanks. You always know just the right thing to say to make me feel better.” It hurt too much to laugh, but Grace was grateful for the distraction.

  “So when do you have to do the magic trick?”

  “Magic trick?” Grace asked, thinking she had misheard through the veil of pain.

  “Yeah, when do you have to push the watermelon out of your — ”

  “What’s the matter with you? Is my entire life just an excuse for you to make jokes?”

  “Pretty much,” Jennifer deadpanned.

  “Well, I’m not fully dilated yet, but Dr. Weston said when I feel an uncontrollable urge to push, that means I’m ready.”

  “Yeah, I read in that baby book it’s like taking a giant dump,” Jennifer said.

  Grace cleared her throat and looked meaningfully at Helen, who was smiling into the pages of the New Yorker. “Do you always have to say exactly what you’re thinking?”

  “Just trying to find the humor. I can see you want to laugh.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I feel like doing right now,” Grace grunted as her entire body stiffened with another contraction. “Owww, I feel it, I need to push! Helen, I think it’s time. Please get Dr. Weston.”

  Helen jumped up. “Jennifer, press that red button. I’m going to find the doctor,” she ordered as she sprinted out of the room.

  “She moves pretty fast for an old bag,” said Jennifer. Seeing the pain and fear in Grace’s eyes, she said, “Hold my hand. We’re going to get through this. Whatever you do, don’t push. Otherwise I’m going to be the one catching the bean, and that would not be good.”

  A minute later, Dr. Weston dashed in, followed by a breathless Helen. “It sounds like someone’s ready to have a baby,” Dr. Weston said.

  “Yes, right now. I need to push, so bad,” Grace panted. “It hurts like crazy. I can’t hold it in. Please let me push so the pain will go away.”

  “Okay, let’s just have a look,” said Dr. Weston as she slipped on latex gloves and lifted the sheet over Grace’s legs. “Yes, ma’am, that baby is on her way. Mrs. Teitelbaum, and Grace’s friend, do you want to help?”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Jennifer said. “What do we do?”

  “Grace is going to push hard, and you’re going to hold her feet so she has something to push against. Like this,” said Dr. Weston, demonstrating.

  Helen, tears already gushing, and Jennifer got into position as Dr. Weston stood at the end of the bed. “All right, young lady, it’s all you. Take a deep breath, hold it, and push from your bottom, like you’re having a bowel movement, for ten seconds at a time. Don’t make a lot of noise — it just wastes your energy.”

  Grace nodded, desperate to get on with it. She had been afraid she wouldn’t know what to do when the time came, but the need to push was so primal, so natural, it was as if her body had been programmed.

  “Go,” ordered Dr. Weston, and as Grace pushed, Jennifer slowly counted to ten. “Okay, rest. You’re an excellent pusher. This isn’t going to take very long at all. Are you ready? When you feel the next contraction, go with it.”

  Pleased that Grace had risen to the occasion, Dr. Weston looked up at the clock. This delivery would be over before one-thirty, so she would be able to make it to her own daughter’s parent-teacher conference. Sometimes it was possible to juggle everything and have it work out.

  “That was excellent. When you feel another contraction, do it all over again,” Dr. Weston said. “You’re so close, Grace. Just hang in there a little longer.”

  Eyes wide, Jennifer couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The top of a tiny bald head was emerging from between Grace’s legs. Every smartass comment she had been considering vanished, and she stood bracing Grace’s foot, for once speechless, mesmerized by what was happening in front of her. It really was a miracle.

  Certain her eyes must be popping out of her head with the effort, Grace held her breath and pushed. As painful as it was, feeling as if her body had split down the middle, it was an incredible relief to push. Suddenly Dr. Weston said, “Stop! Her shoulders are out. Don’t move. You’re almost done. There. Now one tiny push. Good girl!” Dr. Weston, knowing that Janet Olson and the adoptive parents were waiting outside, wanted to focus more on Grace and less on the beautiful baby she was holding. “You’ve given birth to a healthy baby girl,” said Dr. Weston as she handed the infant off to the nurse. “Terry’s going to clean her up. Do you want to hold her for a minute before she goes?”

  It was all happening so fast. Nine months of uncertainty and aggravation had crawled by, interminable days that she thought would never end, but now time seemed to accelerate. Grace just wanted to freeze this moment, so she could think clearly, figure out what to do next.

  “Yes, I want to hold her,” she blurted out.

  Helen and Jennifer had backed away and stood against the wall, watching quietly as Grace nuzzled the tiny blanket-wrapped bundle, no bigger than a bag of flour. “Sweet baby, I love you, forever and ever,” Grace whispered into the pink seashell of an ear.

  For a fleeting second, Grace couldn’t imagine letting go of this precious creature who for so many months had been her traveling companion. Molly’s deep blue eyes stared into Grace’s, as if she understood exactly what was happening and didn’t want to miss anything. Was it possible that on some deep, almost cellular level a newborn infant could internalize and remember something that happened when she was only a few minutes old? Although Grace knew that Molly wouldn’t consciously recall this moment, she was comforted by the belief that her words were somehow imprinted on her baby’s brain. However tenuous the connection between this mother and child, no matter how much physical distance separated them, there was a bond that would endure.

  “Okay, Grace, it’s time,” Dr. Weston said softly. “You’re doing the right thing, and you’re going to be fine.” Blinking back her own tears, the doctor took the baby from Grace’s arms and placed her gently in the Plexiglas bassinet with the small sign that said Baby Girl Miller.

  Janet came back in, holding the folder that contained the piece of paper that would dissolve Grace’s legal connection to Molly. Glancing at the living baby doll in the bassinet, her heart weeping just a little bit, she said, “It’s time to sign, Grace. Are you ready?”

  Grace nodded quickly, knowing that if she thought about it too long, she would never be able to do it. Her hand shaking, Grace scribbled her
signature on the line. It was done.

  CHAPTER 22

  Dear Baby Girl,

  I just said hello and goodbye to you, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, even though I know it’s the right thing for both of us. It’s only because I love you so much that I can let you go, because I know that you will have a better life with your new mommy and daddy than I could give you right now. I’m not much more than a kid myself, and I’m not able to give you all the wonderful things you deserve. It would be selfish of me to try. Someday I hope you can understand that, and I hope that we can meet so I can explain it to you in person. In the meantime, please forgive me for not being ready for you, for ever giving you a moment of doubt about who you are or where you came from. Just know that you are loved by so many people, most of whom you will probably never meet.

  With more love than you could ever imagine,

  Grace

  Exhausted from the physical and emotional effort of the last twelve hours, Grace dropped the pencil and paper on the thin white blanket. It was over. Her baby was gone, and she was at once relieved and bereft. She wondered if this child would be able to understand what she’d done, would be able to love the mother she might never meet. Grace pictured herself, decades from now, sitting in a coffee shop, waiting to meet her grownup daughter who had decided she was finally ready to see her biological mother.

  The door opened slowly, and Charlie’s head appeared. He had been sitting in the maternity ward waiting room the entire time, watching people come and go with balloons and flowers, all celebrating the arrival of a new family member.

  “I didn’t knock in case you were sleeping.” Curled up in a tangle of white sheets, Grace looked small and pale, like a sick, frightened child.

  Grace shook her head and the waterworks began. Just seeing his forehead wrinkled with worry and hearing his gentle, low voice was enough to set her off. Dr. Weston had warned her that the hormone fluctuations that followed birth would make the emotional rollercoaster of pregnancy look like a kiddie ride. She wasn’t joking.