Not My Daughter

by Barbara Delinsky

  Susan knew that the doctor's request wasn't an idle one. More than one of the articles she had read mentioned that a fetus with CDH often had other abnormalities.

  With Lily bewildered and silent, Susan said, "How soon can it be done?"

  Lily was grief-stricken. The plan had been to get pregnant, breeze through nine months like she'd breezed through AP bio, and pop out a healthy baby. Other people had physical problems, but not her, because her mother hadn't. Weren't these things hereditary?

  But the doctor was telling them they had to wait and see, her baby may or may not need surgery, may or may not be normal, may or may not live--and her mother had gone ahead and scheduled a test Lily did not want to take.

  She let Susan hold her hand until they left the building, but her resentment was building. Stopping halfway to the parking lot, she snatched her hand free and turned on Susan. "How could you agree to that, Mom? Amniocentesis can lead to miscarriage, which would be fine with you--you don't want this baby--but I do, and I don't want amniocentesis." When Susan reached for her, she stepped back. "This is my baby. I told you that. I make the decisions."

  "There's a reason why the doctor wants it, Lily."

  "To rule out other problems, but what other problems could there be? Isn't this one bad enough?" Internal organs in the wrong place? It was freaking her out. "I don't want amniocentesis. How could you schedule it without asking me? I was sitting right there!"

  "Lily. I looked at you. You had a chance to speak but didn't."

  "I couldn't. I was too upset. Don't you think this is a shock, Mom?"

  "Absolutely," Susan said with annoying calm, pulling her aside for another family to pass, "but you're still my child, and I made the best decision I could. Amniocentesis will tell us something."

  That was what frightened Lily. Her voice shook. "What if it tells us my baby is really sick?" Her eyes filled with tears. "I read online, too, Mom. What if it has other, really awful things wrong with it? What'll I do then?" Suddenly sobbing, she let Susan hold her. She was terrified.

  Even when she stopped crying, her mother didn't let go. In a calm voice that Lily hated but desperately needed to hear, Susan said, "We'll deal, sweetie. We'll deal."

  Lily wanted to believe her. But she wasn't a child, she was having a child. She had to be realistic. "What if it's so awful that my baby won't be able to live?"

  Smiling gently, her mother brushed tears from her cheeks. "Let's take it one step at a time. If you don't want the amnio, we'll cancel it."

  That put the burden on her. Which was what Lily wanted. Except that her mother had really, really good judgment. "You think we should do it."

  "Yes. The risk is less at your age. It'll be even less if we use someone who does amnio all the time. Good news will definitely make the waiting easier."

  "What if it's bad news?"

  "We'll deal."

  "You keep saying that, but it could mean anything," Lily said, tearing up again. "Not in a million years could I terminate this pregnancy. This is my child. I don't care what's wrong with him. Miracles happen, don't they?"

  "They do--but why are you expecting the worst? We have never lived like pessimists."

  "We've never faced something like this. Why did this happen? What did I do wrong? Was it deciding to have a baby without telling the father? Without telling you? I mean, people my age have babies all the time, and they're healthy. Was it sports? I was playing field hockey while his diaphragm was forming. Maybe I ran too hard, or fell and the impact tore something."

  Even before she finished speaking, Susan was shaking her head. "I don't think that's how it happens."

  "Then how did it?" Lily asked. She needed an explanation.

  "It was a quirk of nature."

  "Survival of the fittest? But why isn't my baby the fittest?"

  "It may be."

  "My baby was supposed to be perfect!"

  "Your baby is."

  A mother had to be strong for her child, which was why Susan still didn't call Rick. She knew that if she heard his voice, she would lose it.

  But she had to do something and returning to school wasn't it. Rather, she hit the highway for Portland and, determined to raise Lily's spirits, ushered her to their favorite Old Port restaurant. Lily claimed she wasn't hungry, but when Susan reminded her that the baby needed feeding more than ever, she downed corn chowder and a chicken sandwich. Afterward, they went shopping, and here Lily was cautious.

  "We don't know what'll happen," she said, looking at the price tag of the jeans Susan held.

  "We do," Susan replied with confidence and led her to a fitting room. Two hours, three stores, and a fortune later, Lily had a maternity wardrobe befitting the luckiest pregnant teen. Susan knew that clothes weren't the answer, but they helped. Lily's spirits were better--though she still didn't call Mary Kate or Jess. This development set her apart. Her phone remained off in her pocket. Exhausted, she slept through the drive home.

  Having been awake with her much of the night before, Susan was exhausted, too. But she had to catch up on some calls during the drive. This was the second day in a row that she was missing school. The timing couldn't have been worse.

  Susan did what she could from the car to reschedule appointments she had missed, and then, back home, she followed Lily's lead and ignored the phone. Together, they made room in the closet for Lily's new things, and when Lily picked up the sweater she'd been making for a daughter, they talked knitting.

  When Lily asked what she should knit for a boy, Susan said boys needed sweaters, too, and when Lily turned up her nose at designs involving trains or trucks, Susan suggested cables. They spent a while looking at patterns online.

  Were they in denial? Absolutely. But the alternative was worse.

  After dinner, Susan sent Lily off to study. Life doesn't stop. You have exams in January. Yes, it does matter, even if you're going to Percy State. You can't let your grades slide.

  Lily went upstairs, leaving Susan to think about college, which might have to be postponed if the baby was sick. PC KidsCare couldn't take a sick child, and, besides, Lily wouldn't want to leave the baby there if he had special needs. Mention of special needs sparked a new round of worries. Susan's health insurance was good, but was it good enough? Special education in Zaganack was good, but, again, was it good enough? And what did she know of Jane LaBreia, beyond an impressive wall of diplomas? And hospitals? The local one didn't have an NICU, which was a must for CDH babies. Most of them had surgery at birth--and Lily would have a cesarean herself, which meant a longer recovery.

  By the time Susan drove back to school for the Christmas concert, she had worked herself into a panic. Had it not been for the likes of Evan Brewer, George Abbott, and Duncan Haith, she might have stayed home, but making a public appearance seemed crucial. She chatted, she smiled, she moved through the crowd, and made it through three-quarters of the program before slipping out. While she shivered in the cold waiting for her car to heat up, her panic returned.

  That was when she called Rick, and while she thought she would be the one to lose it, he was. Why didn't you call me yesterday? I'm her father! Do not treat this casually, Susan. It's a serious problem. The barrage of questions that followed were more detailed than she could answer, and she grew more upset--the upshot of which was that Rick grew more calm. No sweat, honey, he finally said. I'll get the answers. This is my specialty.

  She listened. She believed. She was actually feeling better by the time she got home, which was when she called Kate.

  Chapter 21

  Kate was still struggling with the idea that Mary Kate would be stuck at Percy State, that car seats and diapers would be back, that there would be another mouth to feed at a time when her sons were still eating everything in sight. The house was supposed to feel bigger as children moved out. She and Will were supposed to finally have we time.

  But her self-pity came to a halt with Susan's call. She listened with growing horror before finally saying, "I was sur
e it'd be a false alarm." When Susan told her about the amnio, she was quick to agree. "You're doing the right thing. The more info you have, the better. What can I do to help?"

  "Call Sunny and Pam? They need to know, but I don't have it in me to phone."

  Kate wasn't sure if she did either, but she said, "Consider it done."

  Sunny was lying in bed reading Martha Stewart Living. Home decor magazines were a must for her work; they gave her ideas, often determining what she ordered for the store. But there were personal reasons as well. She loved changing the look of a room with a single item--loved plotting how to make her own home look like the site of A-list events. Right now, the house was dressed for Christmas, but that would change soon. There was nothing worse than a balsam fir whose time had come and gone.

  Actually, she modified that thought, one thing was worse. Nurseries. Whenever she flipped a page and saw plans for a nursery, she flipped the page again. She refused to make any nursery in the house. She wasn't giving up the guest bedroom, where Dan's parents occasionally stayed, or the den, where she could watch her TV programs. If Jessica wanted a baby, she could keep it in her own room. Period. Cap P.

  Actually, Sunny was thinking of setting the girl up in an apartment in town. It didn't have to be big, didn't have to cost much. It certainly wouldn't be the kind of exile Susan's parents had imposed. They would see each other. Just not all the time.

  The phone rang. Dropping the magazine, she picked up to hear Kate conveying the news about Lily.

  "Poor Susan," she wailed. "To have this on top of everything else? Nightmare. Is there a chance Lily will lose the baby?"

  "A lot depends on how bad the CDH gets."

  "And what the amnio turns up," Sunny realized with growing horror. "Can you imagine going through all this and then having the baby die?" And Sunny was worried about being embarrassed? Realizing that, she felt suddenly shallow, self-absorbed--petty. "What can I do to help?"

  "Call Pam."

  Petty was one thing, masochistic another. "Anything but that. Pam hasn't called me, and besides, I have a better idea. I'll cook. Susan shouldn't have to think about dinner while she's going through this. I'll organize a group of people, and we'll rotate. My bake sale friends would love to help out."

  "Too soon," Kate cautioned, "but hold the thought. Let's see where this goes."

  ------

  Pam had fallen asleep on the bedroom chaise, but woke up fast when the phone rang. Grabbing it, she hurried out to the hall so that she wouldn't disturb Tanner and, even then, she spoke in a hushed voice.

  "Susan?"

  "It's Kate. I told Susan I'd call. She's beat."

  Pam had been hoping Susan would call herself; it was about needing to know they were still friends. She wanted to distance herself from the three pregnancies, not from Susan, but it was a tricky dance. She feared she was missing the steps.

  When Kate gave her the message, though, she could understand why Susan hadn't called. "How awful," she said. "So they just have to wait?"

  "Pretty much. They'll do the amnio Monday, and they'll put a rush on getting the results, but with this hitting at the holidays, there may be a delay."

  "Some Christmas for Susan and Lily. They're spending it with you, aren't they?"

  "I was counting on it, but Susan's talking about staying home."

  "Just the two of them? Not a good idea. They'll only brood. We're having Christmas dinner at my mother-in-law's house, or I'd invite them to join us. Not that Susan would want to," she added. "It could be awkward."

  "Awkward for her or for you?" Kate asked.

  "I'll forget you said that."

  "No, Pam. Here's the thing. Right now, Susan needs support. You're either with her or not."

  "Oh, Kate," Pam tried to explain, "it isn't about me. It's about being a Perry. There are expectations."

  "Change them. Tanner didn't marry an airhead. He married a woman who has ideas and maybe a few loyalties of her own. Stand up for them."

  "I do. Some subjects are just more sensitive."

  "Hey, I know you hate it that our girls are pregnant, but did you ever think that maybe there was a time last summer when Abby wanted to be, too? If that had happened, you'd be singing a different tune."

  "I'm not singing any tune," Pam said quickly, fearing Kate might be right and hurrying past the thought. "I'm not happy about what's happened any more than you are. I don't like that the school board is turning on Susan. I don't like that her job's in danger. I don't like that people are criticizing her as a mother, because if she's a bad one, so am I. I can't get Abby to talk, but I know she's unhappy. She misses being with your kids--and I miss being with you--but you're putting me right in the middle."

  "No," Kate reasoned. "You've done that yourself. You see this great divide between being a Perry and being with us, but why do you have to choose? Why can't you tell Tanner how you feel? Why can't you tell Abby what you feel? I mean, you are on the school board, Pam. That gives you power."

  "My name got me there." She hated to say it. But it was the truth.

  "Fine," Kate cried, "but you are there, so you can say what you want. Do you agree with the old men on the board?"

  "No."

  "Tell them that."

  Pam sighed. Quietly, she said, "I may, but right now, what can I do for Susan?"

  "Get off the fence!"

  Get off the phone, Pam told herself instead. "Okay, Kate. I hear you. Thanks for calling. I'll talk with Susan myself. Bye."

  She hung up before Kate could say another word, but the silence mocked her. Needing to break it, she went down the hall into Abby's wing. A sliver of light under the door said the girl was still up. With a little knock, Pam turned the knob.

  The first thing she saw was a blond ponytail. It swung when Abby glanced up from her desk.

  Approaching, Pam leaned over her shoulder. "Spanish test?"

  "After vacation. I was bored. It seemed like a good thing to do now."

  Pam could identify with that. How often did she knit for lack of anything better to do?

  "Have you heard anything?" Abby asked cautiously.

  "Kate just called." Pam related the news.

  Abby went pale. "Are they sure?"

  "She's having more tests to monitor the extent of the condition."

  "How can things like that happen?"

  "They just do."

  "But to Lily? She's the kindest person in the world."

  Pam tucked a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. "You miss her."

  Abby didn't answer.

  "Talk to me, please. I keep worrying that you'd have loved to be pregnant along with her."

  "It wouldn't have been bad," her daughter said and stared, daring her to be scandalized.

  Tanner's wife would have been, but, at that moment, she was Abby's mother, and very upset.

  Abby looked away.

  "Give her a call," Pam suggested. "I bet she'd love to hear from you."

  Abby shrugged. "What would I say?"

  "That you're sorry to hear about the baby. That doctors do amazing things. That if there's anything you can do to help, she should let you know."

  "How could I possibly help?"

  Pam searched for ideas. She had thought loyalty came naturally to Abby, until her daughter had outed her friends. But charity was a virtue, too. "Offer to drive her to school."

  "She's pregnant, and I'm a Perry. You don't want me driving her to school."

  "This problem with the baby changes things. It gives you an excuse to reach out."

  "Dad wouldn't be happy."

  "He wouldn't mind."

  "Like he wouldn't mind if you spend all day Saturday at the barn? Be honest, Mom. He wants you to distance yourself from Susan. He thinks things are going to get worse."

  Pam couldn't argue with that, but Kate's words were still fresh in her ear. Get off the fence! This might be a roundabout way. "Think about Lily. She could use your support."

  "Well, maybe I'm a li
ttle angry at her, too. I mean, it was so easy for her to get pregnant--so maybe she deserves this."

  "You just said she was the kindest person in the world."

  "She is. But she's pregnant and I'm not. So what do I have in common with Lily?"

  "School. Friends."

  "I'm leaving for college in August. She's staying here."

  "You can't IM or text? You won't be back every vacation? You will, Abby. You'll be back, and someday you'll have a baby of your own--"

  "How do you know that?" Abby cried shrilly. "Maybe I won't! Maybe I'll have some kind of fabulous career and be so busy that I absolutely won't have time for any of that. Don't plan things for me, Mom. If you're waiting to be busy with a grandchild, don't."

  Startled by the outburst, Pam managed a meek, "I'm not waiting."

  Abby stared at her mother for another minute before turning back to her book with the whip of her ponytail, effectively shutting her out.

  "I can't go to school," Lily said the next morning when, hearing no sound, Susan went into her room.

  "Why not?" Susan asked, though the answer didn't surprise her at all.

  "I'm giving the baby a rest."

  "Like the baby is the one taking notes in class?"

  "Come on, Mom. It's only a half day anyway."

  "That makes it perfect, then. Easy day, light exercise, no stress." When doubt remained in Lily's eyes, Susan sat and traced the heart of the girl's face. "I thought we put the field hockey theory to rest yesterday, but if not, please listen to me, sweetheart. Nothing you do"--she punctuated the words with her hands--"will hurt the baby. The doctor said you should do what you normally do. She said you need to be moving around."

  "I feel safer here. And I know my baby. He needs a rest."

  "That's you, Lily. You need a rest. And you'll get one starting at noon. But you've already missed two days of school this week."

  "Exactly, so what's half a day more?"

  "Call it practice. Moms have to do things they don't feel like doing. You're scared, but you can't lie in bed for the next five months."