“It’s not your fault.” Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Something was wrong all along. I knew it. I just didn’t want to face it.”
“You don’t know that,” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “I do know it. This whole thing was doomed from the start, even this little baby knew it.”
My sister peered around the door of the cubicle. “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” I said, motioning to her.
“Well now,” Dr. Fine said, as he strode in right behind her, all businesslike.
“Let’s see what’s going on here.” He started to pull down the sheet. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said turning to John Wasper and Joy Ruth, “I’d like to examine Vada Faith and then we’ll have some answers.”
Chapter Forty-seven
After being admitted to the hospital for observation, I sent everyone home. Now alone in my room, I had plenty of time to think. Word had spread quickly about my condition and the waiting room had filled with relatives and friends. Bruiser was reluctant to leave until I assured him I was fine. John Wasper was still out in the lobby drinking coffee. Just knowing he was near made me feel better somehow. Safer.
I stared at the bright yellow walls decorated with a border of storks carrying babies in their beaks. It was feeding time in the nursery and several babies were letting it be known that they were hungry.
Strange, when your baby is about to die they put you on a floor where there are all these live babies. There was already enough hurt in my heart. I didn’t need to see all those new mothers being wheeled down the hallway with babies in their arms.
I could see several visitors across the hall chatting as they stood at the nursery window gazing in at a dozen pink and blue bundles.
New babies were coming into this world every few minutes while my own baby’s life was slowly ebbing away. I didn’t need Dr. Fine to confirm it.
John Wasper came in and sat on the bed patting my arm. He finally cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, Vada Faith, for not doing my part.”
“You didn’t have a part,” I said, shaking my head, a bit dazed from the pain medication. “That was the problem.”
“Maybe I should have stopped you. I should have taken on more responsibility. You wouldn’t have wanted that new house out in Crystal Springs maybe if I’d speeded up the repairs on the old house. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d done things different.” He sighed.
“This wasn’t about house repairs,” I said, “or anything you did. It was about me. I had this hunger, this longing all my life to be somebody important. I thought this was my chance. I can’t really explain it. I was wrong to do this. You tried to tell me. So did Joy Ruth. I wouldn’t listen. I made a mess of us.” My tongue was thick now and the words felt heavy in my mouth.
“Bruiser said when a marriage ends it’s fifty-fifty.”
I wanted to close my eyes except he was leaning close and I didn’t want to miss anything he said. Was he talking about our marriage ending?
“Bruiser said Missy Sue left him because she objected to sleeping with him, a bottle of Bud Lite, and the sports channel on their honeymoon.”
Any other time, that would have made me laugh.
Now nothing was humorous. Not even the silly Cathy cartoon my sister had brought in earlier. A disheveled Cathy was on the phone with work, saying, ‘I won’t be in today. My hair won’t start.’ I used to laugh at Cathy. Not this time. It was all I could do to keep from crying. Even Cathy’s crazy hair made me sad.
We sat there for a time with me nodding off and him with his head in his hands.
He finally raised his head and said, “I told you about that stupid rug. You should have put it in the trash as I asked you to.”
“The fall on that rug didn’t hurt me.” I was fully awake and feeling worse.
He stared down at his hands and said, “The Kilgores are downstairs.” He stood up. “You want to see them?”
“I don’t know.”
He shrugged. “He is torn up over this. He seems genuinely upset. His wife’s a little weird.”
“Send them up for just a minute.”
“You know,” he said, turning to me, “I still love you. I never stopped.” He shook his head.
“I know,” I said, “I love you too.” I could see the tired lines around his eyes. “Will you come home, please?” I could hear the pleading in my voice.
“No,” he said, wearily, shaking his head. “I can’t. Not now.”
“Does this have something to do with Sandy Dooley?”
“No, it doesn’t.” Yet he looked uncomfortable.
“I saw you together. In the parking lot at work.”
“This has to do with us, Vada Faith,” he said, ignoring my comment. “That’s all it has to do with. Just us.”
“The girls miss you,” I said, which was true. I knew it wasn’t fair to use them but it was all I could offer.
“I miss them too,” he said. “I just can’t come home right now.”
“Fine,” I said, breaking apart inside. “Suit yourself.”
“I’ll get the Kilgores.” He walked out as a nurse came in with medication, his footsteps heavy going down the hallway.
A serious Roy Kilgore stuck his head around the door a few minutes later as the nurse was leaving.
“Vada Faith,” he said, “how are you feeling?”
“All right,” I said, looking past him. “Where’s Dottie?”
“I asked her to wait outside a minute.” He came over to me.
“I don’t want you to lose the baby,” he said, his voice catching. He had tears in his eyes. “I love it, you know.”
“I know,” I said, letting him take my cold hand from the sheet and hold it in his warm one. I was floating on a cloud of medication.
“I wish things had been different.” He sighed. “I know now they can’t be.”
“No,” I said. “They can’t be.” I struggled to keep my eyes open.
“I do care about you,” he said, “but you were right. You have your family and me and Dottie, well, we aren’t doing too hot. I’d have loved the baby though. I would have loved it.”
I fought the medication that threatened to put me back to sleep. “I know.”
“Vada Faith,” Dottie stood in the doorway. Her usually cheerful voice was flat as the Coke my husband had brought me earlier from the cafeteria.
For once she wasn’t made up like a circus act. She wore no make-up and had on jeans and a plain white shirt. It was almost midnight. She stood at the foot of the bed. Misery covered every inch of her face. “You okay?” She asked.
I tried to focus on the older woman’s face. “I’m okay. It’s the baby who isn’t.”
“The doctor said we’ll have to wait and see.” Her voice held an argument as she rubbed her hands together. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“I know what the doctor said.” I struggled to sit up. “I know what I know. I’m losing my baby.”
“Will you change your mind and give us this baby? It’s ours really.” She was beside me now and I wanted to reach out and slap her.
“There isn’t going to be a baby,” I said, my voice filled with fury. “Why won’t anyone believe me, and we’re all to blame.” I rolled onto the far side of the hospital bed and cried. “Every one of us is to blame,” I said between sobs. “We’ve done this precious baby an injustice. Me bringing it into the world only to give it away and you wanting to buy it.”
“Is it a sin to want a child so bad?” She came close and gripped the bed rail. “Well, is it?”
She leaned over me and I buried my head deeper in the flannel blanket.
“I’ve stayed awake all night thinking of schemes to get a baby.” Her words hung suspended in the air over me.
I managed to sit up straighter, wiping my face with the sheet. “Surrogacy was wrong for me, Dottie,” I said. “All wrong.”
“It was wrong for us as well,” Roy spoke softly b
eside me.
“Well, it wasn’t wrong for me.” Dottie’s voice was shrill and she started pacing around the room.
“It’s time for us to go.” Roy stood, gesturing for his wife. “We’ll check back tomorrow. You take care of yourself.” He took his wife’s arm and led her out of the room.
As I watched them disappear, I hoped never to see them again.
Chapter Forty-eight
When I lost my baby, I was by myself and that was the way I wanted it. To be alone with my baby when it left my body. For it was my baby. Not Roy Kilgore’s baby. Not Dottie’s. Not John Wasper’s. Just mine. That little baby belonged to me from the start.
I was alone in my pain as well. At 2 a.m. when I felt the gushing start deep inside my body, there wasn’t anyone around. John Wasper had gone for another cup of coffee.
I was in more pain as the night wore on and he knew it. He hated feeling useless. There was nothing anyone could do. There was no use calling the nurses from the station down the hall either. It was too late. Everything was too late.
My precious baby was gone. It left my body with such speed it scared me. I gripped the bed and let it go. The most horrible pain of all wasn’t inside my empty womb but deep inside my heart. It was ripped in two.
As the blood continued to flow, I lay back on the bed. I wanted the life to drain out of me as well.
It didn’t, of course.
Instead, I was left with thoughts of the little baby I’d never get to hold or love. Guilt and sorrow encompassed me as I lay there unmoving willing myself to die right along with my baby.
John Wasper came rushing in and took one look at me and rang the bedside buzzer. Nurses and doctors swarmed in. Saving me. Putting me back together again like Humpty Dumpty. Sticking needles in me. Blood.
They could do all the fixing they wanted. On the inside I was empty. A blown out egg shell. With all the substance gone. Only empty space was left inside.
The following morning all I wanted was to hold my two little girls. John Wasper said he’d bring them in.
I’d grown weary of watching the activity in the nursery across the hall. I was relieved when the drapes were drawn and the doors were closed. You could hear a pin drop without the baby sounds.
When I heard the girls coming down the hallway, giggling, their patent leather shoes dancing on the tile, I pushed away my untouched lunch tray and put on a smile.
“Mommy!” Both girls shouted when they caught sight of me sitting there tied into the blue cotton hospital gown. They threw themselves on me, acting as though I’d been gone for eons instead of overnight.
“Hey, pumpkins,” I said, wrapping them tightly in my arms. “I’ve missed you.”
“Honey,” Mama said, teetering in behind them on skinny spike heels. “How are you?”
I felt tears roll down my cheeks as she bent to hug me and then we held onto each other and cried.
“Well, now,” she said, brushing away tears and looking at me. “Just look at you. I can tell you’re feeling some better.” She put a gift bag on the night stand in front of me. “This is for you.”
“Thanks,” I said. “How are my girls?” They had snuggled into the bed beside me. “Let me look at my babies.”
“We’re not babies, mo-ther. We’re grown up,” Charity Mae said, wiggling off the bed. She leaned over and peeked into the gift bag. “Can we have a mint, Mommy, please?”
“Sure.” I opened the bag and gave them each one.
“Grandma said we aren’t having a baby anymore.” Charity Mae studied the candy in her palm while her sister hurriedly popped hers into her mouth.
“We’re not supposed to talk about it,” Hope Renee said to her sister.
“Remember? Grandma said.”
“It’s true. We aren’t having a baby,” I said, fighting the lump in my throat. “It’s okay to talk about it.”
“The Kilgores baby isn’t inside you anymore?” Charity Mae studied my stomach.
“No.” I could feel tears gathering in my eyes. “The baby had something wrong with it, the doctor said. It couldn’t be born the way you were. So I lost it.”
“Lost it?” Charity Mae’s eyes grew round as she thought about this. “Like you lost your car keys?”
“No,” I said, “not like that. The baby died. It was sick.”
“Oh,” Hope Renee said, “like Toby got sick and died and we buried him in the woods behind the house?”
“Not exactly,” I said, wiping candy from her hands. “Our baby didn’t get to be born. Toby was born and he lived to be ten.” I made a feeble attempt to smile. “That’s good for a dog.”
Charity Mae went to examine a framed print of a mother and baby across the room. A lump came into my throat just looking at the girls. They seemed to have grown inches since I’d seen them, their daddy’s beautiful eyes shining, and my blond hair. Had I been so caught up in myself that I hadn’t looked at them recently?
“Joy Ruth is waiting for the girls.” Mama turned from the window where she’d been staring down at the gardens below. “She has a new book for them. John Wasper will be here soon. He had a stop to make.”
“Aunt Joy,” Charity Mae cried, catching a glimpse of my sister waving to them from the hallway. Both girls dashed out the door and into her arms. So much for missing mommy.
“I’m sorry,” Mama said, when the room was quiet. “I know you wanted this baby.”
“I did,” I said, my heart pounding. “I still do.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s hard losing a child.” She pulled a dead leaf off the flower arrangement on the window sill that she had sent.
“How could you know?” I asked, a great mountain of grief and anger suddenly unleashing itself inside me.
“I lost you girls.” Her shoulders drooped as she dropped the dead leaf in the trash.
“You didn’t lose us!” I was so angry now I was shaking. “You left us, Helena.”
“Is that what you think, Vada Faith?” Anger had crept into her voice too. “That I left you? That I didn’t care about you? That’s not true and it’s time you knew it. I left because of problems between myself and your father. I tried to come and see you. I even tried to get back with Delbert so I could see you. He said it was too late. His pride was hurt when I walked out on him. We could never talk without fighting. We couldn’t be in the same room without having a shouting match. Not until the day you went into labor and had the twins.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I sobbed. “Nothing matters. My baby is gone. I loved it and it’s gone.”
“Please. Don’t upset yourself, honey. I know how you feel.” She came to my side and tried to take my hand but I pushed her away.
“You don’t know how I feel.” I sobbed into the blankets.
“Vada Faith,” she said, sinking into the chair beside me, “I lost a baby too. I hadn’t planned to tell you this, but here goes. Delbert was dead set against more children after you girls. I loved you babies so much I went ahead and got pregnant anyway. After I lost it, I was depressed and I blamed it on your father for not wanting the baby. I left him. When I came to my senses it was too late. I’d left you girls and he wouldn’t let me come back. He’s a prideful man. He wouldn’t let me see you no matter how hard I tried. Then I quit trying. I didn’t want to ruin your life. I was young and foolish. Don’t let this ruin your life.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she let them run freely as she sat there, her hands twisted in the straps of her purse.
It took awhile for her words to register. She’d lost a baby too and she hadn’t left us because she didn’t want us. By then I was drifting off to sleep and I dreamed of mothers and babies and children being left alone.
“The doctor says you’ll be staying another night,” the nurse said that afternoon, “just to keep a check on that crazy blood pressure of yours. First high then low.”
John Wasper sat beside me while the nurse bustled around bringing me ice water, a pill, and fluffing my pillows. With visiting hours a
lmost over there wasn’t a sound coming from the hallway.
“Roy Kilgore called,” he said, swallowing hard, “Dottie tried to kill herself. She couldn’t face the loss of the baby.”
“What happened?” I asked, stunned by the news. I was still holding the card he had brought me along with a single rose. It wasn’t covered with his usual I love yous. Instead it said, “From Your Husband.”
“She took an overdose of pills,” he said. “He found her just in time and called the squad. He says she needs some help. He’s taking her back to Mississippi for treatment. He said he’s planning to sell his business here.”
We sat in silence. The sun shining through the window gave the room a rosy glow. The glow didn’t reach into my heart. It didn’t reach into John Wasper’s either from the sadness in his eyes.
“Do you think you could have loved this baby?” I asked.
“Don’t ask me that,” he said. “I love the girls.” He squirmed around in the chair. “Just don’t ask me, okay. I don’t know anything for sure anymore.”
I closed my eyes and let the soothing effect of the pain pill wash over me. I could feel his pat on my hand then he tiptoed out thinking I was asleep. I didn’t close my eyes the whole night. Each time I thought I could sleep, the nurse came to take my blood pressure. It was finally normal but that didn’t make the ache in my heart go away.
I slowly dressed and packed my overnight bag. John Wasper would come early. He was eager to get me home and return to his own life.
As for me, I was going home with someone else’s blood. If only I could have someone else’s life. Only I couldn’t. All I had was what had gone before me and what would come after me.
When I realized all this had been for a lark, a quest for a new house, and money in the bank, it made me sick. It had ended with the loss of my baby. My real baby. Not some make-believe baby, a baby in a store window. Had I really looked on it as that in the beginning? My baby was gone and it had taken a piece of me with it. The rest of my life would be marked by its short presence and none of it could have been foreseen. Not one single solitary piece of it.
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