I notice Tia’s lips make the shape of a tiny circle as she exhales slowly. I glance at the monitor again. Another contraction.
“That was about two and a half minutes since the last one.”
“Okay, good. That means I’m getting close to being fully dilated,” Tia says. “Your baby will be here soon.”
“Our baby.”
Tia closes her eyes and exhales through the rest of her contraction.
“You don’t have to sign away your rights,” I say. “I can bring her to visit you, and you can be as much a part of her life as me and Brayden.”
“No. I don’t want her growing up knowing her mother is in prison.”
“We can help her understand.”
“And then what are you going to tell her when she asks why I’m here? You’re going to tell her what happened to the older sister she never got to meet?”
“Okay, I understand. Let’s just focus on getting her here.”
“Okay.”
The nurse midwife, Janice, comes into the room.
“It’s time to check your dilation,” she says.
Tia nods and spreads her legs. I remember how annoyed I was when I was pregnant with Quincy. I hated being touched, but more than anything I hated vaginal exams. Tia doesn’t seem to have the same hang-ups.
“Whoa, you’re at about nine centimeters. You dilated quickly,” the nurse says. “It’s going to be time to push in a little bit.”
“Good,” Tia says.
“Do you need anything for the pain?” Janice asks.
“No. No drugs. I’m fine.”
“I’ve got another mother in labor on this floor. I’m going to check on her, and then I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Okay.”
“When I get back, you’re going to push that baby out,” Janice says. “Do you want the father to come in?”
“Absolutely not,” Tia says. “He can see the baby in the nursery after she’s born.”
I know she’s doing this for me, to make sure that I am okay. She cares more about my feelings than she cares about Brayden’s.
“I don’t mind if Brayden comes in,” I say. “I have forgiven him . . . and you for that one time. I wouldn’t have agreed to any of this if I hadn’t.”
“I know you forgive me,” Tia says. “I just don’t want any image in your mind of the two of us together, because what if my baby girl looks like me? I don’t want you to have that picture in your mind while you’re raising her.”
I want to tell Tia that I’m not that kind of woman, and forgiveness for me truly means forgiveness. But I don’t. She needs for Brayden not to be here. She needs assurance that her baby will be safe and nurtured. Asking me to be the one to raise her was a risk, but the right choice. I’m going to love that baby with everything in me.
The monitor indicates that Tia is having another contraction. This one must be stronger than the others, because her breathing changes, and she grips the bed rails.
“Do you want me to get the nurse?”
“She said she would be back. I just . . . feel like I need to push.”
“Don’t, girl! Hold on a second. Don’t push until I come back!”
I run out the room to find the nurse midwife. Brayden, who is sitting near the delivery room, stands.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
I nod. “She’s about to give birth.”
“I want to be in the room.”
“She told the hospital staff no. She doesn’t want to see you. You can see the baby when she’s in the nursery.”
“I don’t want to see her, either. I just want to witness the birth of my child.”
“Sorry . . .”
I see Janice and grab her arm. “Tia is ready to push now.”
“Let’s get this show on the road, then.”
Brayden tries to follow us into the room. The nurse stops him.
“Mr. Carpenter, don’t make me call hospital security on you.”
Brayden looks at the petite nurse, like he’s sizing her up. She stands as tall as she can, and gives him a look that’s a threat and a promise. Brayden scoffs and goes back to his seat across from the room.
“He’s a stubborn one, isn’t he?” Janice says.
All thoughts of Brayden’s defiance are forgotten, when we both hear Tia’s prison guard’s scream. We rush into the room and see Tia gripping both of the bed rails with her legs pulled back.
“Tia, wait,” Nurse Janice says as she pulls a stool up to the end of the bed.
“I have to push,” Tia says. “I can’t help it.”
I grab Tia’s hand and let her squeeze. “Okay, honey,” I say. “It’s almost over.”
“All right. With the next contraction, give me one good push. The head is crowning.”
Tia squeezes the hell out of my hand and lets out a low groan as she closes her eyes and pushes.
“Almost there,” the nurse says. “Just a little bit more.”
Tia keeps pushing for a few more seconds, and then she relaxes.
“Your baby girl is here!” Janice says.
“Hand her to Chenille,” Tia says. “I don’t want to hold her first.”
“The baby needs skin-to-skin contact. Take off your shirt.”
As Janice takes care of cutting the umbilical cord, I peel off my t-shirt and strip down to my bra. Janice cleans the baby a little bit, then puts her in my arms.
She’s red, angry, and beautiful. She opens her mouth and screams with her tiny fists balled. Then I feel that unmistakable tingling in my breasts. The feeling of my milk—Quincy’s milk—letting down.
“I think . . . I think I can nurse her,” I say. “Should I?”
Janice looks at Tia, and Tia nods. “Yes, please do.”
I pull down my bra and offer my nipple to the newborn. Instinctively, she latches on and greedily sucks. She stares at my face, probably trying to focus, as she swallows the milk.
After her little head rolls to one side, the nurse takes the baby from my arms.
“Did you know you were still able to produce milk?” Tia asks.
“I was still nursing my son when he died, and I’ve been donating my milk ever since. Maybe this is why.”
“Do you want to name her?” Tia asks.
“Why don’t you?”
Nurse Janice places the baby in Tia’s arms. She’s drifting off to sleep now, but Tia stares at her and kisses the top of her head.
“I think she looks like Brayden,” Tia says. “That’s good. I don’t want her looking in the mirror and wondering why she doesn’t look like anyone she knows.”
I refrain from commenting. I know she’s trying to convince herself she’s okay with this, and it makes sense.
“How about Anastasia?” Tia says.
“That’s beautiful, Tia. Simply beautiful,” I say. “What about a middle name?”
“Anastasia Christina Carpenter.”
“That is a pretty name,” Janice says. “Does it mean anything?”
“No. I just like the way it sounds. Take the baby now. I don’t want to get too attached to her.”
Again, I don’t say anything, because I don’t want to make Tia’s grief in giving up her baby any more difficult than it has to be, but she’s always going to be attached to Anastasia. There’s no way around that. You can’t carry a tiny human for nine months and not be attached to her.
“We have counselors here who can help you through this process,” Janice says. “Would you like me to have someone come talk to you?”
Tia shakes her head. “Oh, no. This is the best decision I’ve ever made. She’s going to be with her daddy and an awesome mother.”
My heart seizes with guilt at what happened to my baby. I wasn’t an awesome mother that day.
“I will be as good of a mother as I can be. I will treat her like she came from my own womb.”
“I know you will,” Tia says. “And what happened with your son was an accident. You are an awesome mother.”
/>
Tears spring to my eyes, and I am not sure if they’re tears of joy at my new charge or sadness at the loss of Quincy’s life. I don’t think I will ever stop crying over my baby, but I sure can love Anastasia with all the love I can’t give to Quincy.
“Since she’s in a milk coma,” Janice says, “we’re going to give Anastasia a warm sponge bath and swaddle her. Do you want her in the nursery or to stay in the room?”
“The nursery.”
Janice was looking at me, but Tia is the one who answered the question.
“It’s fine if she stays in here,” I say.
Tia shakes her head. “No. She needs to bond with you and Brayden.”
“Okay.”
I don’t know what’s left. It feels like this is goodbye, but that it shouldn’t be. I walk over to Tia and kiss her forehead.
“You’re going to be fine. I’m gonna put money on your books.”
Tia laughs. “Now, I’m definitely not turning that down. Thank you. Thank you so much for this. I can finish my time now. I didn’t think I would make it, but now I know I can.”
“You’re welcome.”
The nurses start to clean Tia, and the prison guard closes in as if to let me know my time is up. It breaks my heart to see them putting the handcuffs back on her wrists, when she’s not a flight risk. She has nowhere to run.
But at least she knows her baby is safe.
And loved.
Epilogue
“Hold still, Anastasia. I’m trying to tie this bow.”
I swear, this girl squirms at the very sight of a dress. She is a ball of energy and hates all of the lace, crinkles, and folds of the Easter monstrosities Marilyn buys for her. Honestly, I don’t blame her for wanting to get free.
“Mommy, it itches.”
She fusses and wiggles in front of the full-length mirror in her room. She is Brayden’s twin, except for her eyes. She gets those from her mother.
“Where does it itch? Your back? Let me scratch it for you.”
I scratch all over Anastasia’s back, and she giggles while she squirms even more.
“It still itches!”
“Where?”
“All over. Can I wear my purple overalls?”
“No, silly. You have to give your Easter speech.”
“Grandma wants me to do the speech. Do you?”
She’s so smart and strategic. I can tell she’s about to launch into an argument that she thinks will release her from having to do the speech. Unfortunately for Ms. Anastasia, I see right through her.
“I want to help you make Grandma happy,” I say. “A happy grandma is a friendly grandma.”
As much grief as Marilyn gave me for being too ghetto for Brayden, I just knew she wouldn’t find herself close to the outside baby with a woman locked up in prison. I was wrong. Marilyn makes Anastasia the daughter she never had. She spoils her rotten in exchange for Grandma moments like this—an Easter speech at Marilyn’s church.
“You look perfectly perfect, honey,” I say as Anastasia’s squirming ceases.
“Thank you, Mommy.”
Every time she says “Mommy,” my heart swells with all the love I have for her. I lavish her with everything that was left over from Quincy, and every day she finds a way to put a new lasso around my heart. I’ve never known a love like this.
Brayden steps into the room. “We’re running late, beauty queens.”
“There’s only one beauty queen in here!” I say. “What do you think? Do a spin, Ana.”
She spins and curtsies for her daddy, and he scoops her up into his arms. He covers her in kisses, and she giggles because of his beard. This girl will be loved. She’ll never go without it.
I imagine Quincy looking down from heaven and smiling at his sister.
I imagine Bella looking down from heaven and smiling at her sister.
And I imagine God, smiling down at our family, sending healing light and love.
The Outside Child Page 26