If only that was possible. For when she returned to take Shelby’s vital signs, more visitors had arrived to wish Shelby and Matty good luck. Scott and Abby Rosenthal arrived with a bottle of wine, as did Dr. Glavin, and even Dr. Rhouhani, the emergency room doctor who had examined Shelby after she passed out. In fact, it seemed as if every doctor and nurse who took care of Larry and Roz, and who had subsequently gotten to know Shelby and Lauren during their long recovery, dropped by to revel in the family’s joy.
The one doctor who had yet to make an appearance, unfortunately, was the hired gun. Seems Dr. Kessler had returned from his camping trip, driven straight to the hospital, and was now tending to two other patients in active labor. Indeed the full moon had triggered a babython.
“Do any of you brilliant specialists know how to do deliveries?” Larry inquired just in case Shelby progressed faster than expected. Fortunately volunteers were not needed, as a smiling but weary Dr. Kessler finally arrived, well enough in advance to take the helm.
It was 2:00 A.M., and the birthing room was strewn with sleeping bodies and food containers. Only Shelby and Matty were keeping vigil, not that they had much choice.
“How can they be sleeping through all the thunder and Shelby’s screams?” He looked around the crowded room and laughed. “I heard her from the parking lot.”
“Damn right!” She wanted to smack him. “You try having the immediate world stick their fingers up you every fifteen minutes while you’re in the middle of a contraction.”
“Other than that, how are you feeling?” He studied her chart and all the monitoring devices.
“How am I feeling? I’m exhausted, miserable, I hate men, I want this to be over…”
“I’d say she’s between seven and eight centimeters.” He nudged Matthew.
“See?” Shelby yelled. “What did I tell you? A good doctor knows how far along you are just by looking at you.”
But even a med student would know what stage Shelby was in when she let out a bloodcurdling cry at 4:17 A.M. “They’re coming. They’re coming. I need to push.”
“Breathe through it, Shelby,” the nurse instructed. She held Shelby’s hand as she was wheeled into the operating room that was set up for a twin delivery. “Breathe through it.”
“Fuck the breathing!” she cried out. “I’m pushing! So get the hell out of my way….”
“One more contraction, and then you can push till your blue.” Dr. Kessler laughed. “Is she always this outspoken?”
“No,” Matthew answered. “Usually she’s worse.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Shelby, caught between exhaustion and exhilaration, was overwhelmed by the sea of medical personnel on hand when she was wheeled into the OR. At first glance it looked like a scene from a Woody Allen film, with everyone gloved and gowned, busily preparing for the patient’s lobotomy.
“Who are all these people?” She grabbed Dr. Kessler by his surgical scrubs.
“They’re Santa’s little helpers.” He studied the ultrasound of her abdomen. “You can’t have two babies without nurses, technicians, an anaesthesiologist, two pediatricians, and my chief resident, Dr. Mohar ‘I’ve never dropped one yet’ Singh.”
Shelby and Matty laughed. Lauren had been right about this guy. He was the best.
“Shelby, my dear, it looks like you’re in luck,” he said.
“Why? They’re holding hands and they want to come out together?”
“Not quite, but it appears as though they are both in the head down position and you can deliver vaginally. Many times Baby A is fine but Baby B is breach or transverse and we have to try to manipulate…”
Shelby let out a bloodcurdling scream and started to push and pant. This was no time for an Obstetrics 101 course. She was about to deliver the first baby.
“I love you.” Matty grabbed Shelby’s hand. “And I’m so proud of what an incredible trouper you’ve been.”
“Shut the hell up and get this thing out of me,” she cried.
“Yep, she’s got Sailor Tongue. She’s at ten centimeters.” A knowing Dr. Kessler winked. “Shelby, on my count, let’s give one good push. One, two, three…”
Shelby bore down, pushing so hard she thought her temples would burst.
“Baby A is crowning,” Dr. Kessler finally announced. “At the next contraction, Shelby, let’s give it one last unbelievably strong push. Then we can order out for pizza.”
But miraculously only a quick push was needed, as Baby A seemed to be propelling itself out. And then there was the sound of that magical first cry, and a flurry of activity.
“She’s a girl,” Matty shouted. “A beautiful, little girl,” he cried as he watched the doctor hand his daughter to the nurse, who then prepared her for the pediatrician’s Apgar assessment. “You did so great.” He kissed Shelby. “She’s absolutely perfect.”
“I want to see my daughter,” Shelby cried, tears of joy streaming down her face. Understanding for the first time the immeasurable joy her own mother must have felt the moment she was born to her. “Who does she look like?”
“It’s hard to say exactly.” Matty wondered how Shelby would react when she saw her daughter’s round face and jet-black hair. “I think she’s got your…chin.”
“My chin? Oh God. I knew it. She looks like Avi!”
Matty laughed. “To be perfectly honest, she looks more like an extra from The Exorcist.”
As did their second daughter born, six minutes later. But at least this one showed the promise of looking like her fair-haired mother. And though Shelby was left exhausted and weak after almost fourteen hours of labor, she was overwhelmed with love and joy at the first glimpse of her children, regardless of whom they resembled.
There was further rejoicing when Dr. Kessler explained that although they were tiny and fragile, and would require neonatal care until they reached sufficient birth weights, as best he could tell, they appeared healthy. And awfully cute.
The proud patriarch was the first to hold his delectable twin granddaughters in the nursery only an hour after they were born. As he rocked with them, tears streamed down his eyes. How odd was his life? So full, yet bittersweet. So rich with love, yet also tragically painful. But more important, he was still here. Broken but alive, able to enjoy this greatest of gifts, the gift of life.
“You know what I was thinking, Shelby?” He rocked back and forth.
“What?” Her heart was full as she took in his prideful smile and the love in his eyes.
“One day you’ll be in my shoes. And you’ll understand what a parent wishes for for their child. Love and happiness, good health, opportunity, a little bit of luck in the stock market, and this.” He nuzzled his bundles of joy. “The joy of having children. I only hope they bring you as much naches and pleasure as you did.”
“Do you really mean that, Daddy? With everything we’ve been through?”
“Believe me. This is all the sweeter because of what we’ve been through. And you know what else I was thinking? This is the fourth generation of sisters on your mother’s side. First was Granny Bea and her sister, Yetta.”
“Who fought like cats and dogs.”
“Then it was Sandy and Roz.”
“Endless rivalry.”
“Then you and Lauren.”
“Catch a theme here?” Shelby rolled her eyes.
“And now it’s Sari and Rachel. Do you think it was all part of God’s plan?”
“What? That each generation should try to learn from the mistakes of the others?”
“Exactly.”
“God help them,” Shelby knelt to kiss her precious lot. “God help them.”
I know those of us in the spirit world are no longer supposed to get caught up in the daily lives of our loved ones on the other side. But I must have some leftover human emotion bottled inside my soul. For at this very moment, I am feeling such an overwhelming sense of relief and joy for my family. Everything fell into place for them so perfectly, just not as I
expected.
I guess it’s true what they say. That man makes plans, and God laughs.
Perhaps it’s just the nature of the human condition we spend a whole lifetime thinking we know what we want, what’s worth striving for, only to discover what’s truly best for us never even entered our mind. Until the damn thing falls right into our laps.
Like the two baby girls Shelby is happily nursing.
If only I could take credit. Turns out I had less to do with any of the events of the past year than even I suspected. I was recently made aware of this after my amateur attempts to alter the karmic lesson plans of my children were brought to the attention of the Higher Souls.
Basically someone ratted on me.
Do you know what I was told? I am a spirit, and this is my job description. I am to radiate the aura of God to humans, to comfort them on their passage to fulfillment, and to show them the path to kindness and compassion. For only then will I be given the energy to send the white light they need to complete their journey to enlightenment.
Pretty much everything else is a no-no. So no more trying to set accidents in motion, or causing oil to leak out of a car so my daughter would have to hitch a ride with the man she’s been in love with her whole life. Which I don’t care what anyone says, was a brilliant idea. No more turning lights on and off, although that certainly got her attention…
Still, I can tell you that things will be a whole lot less exciting for me now, but what’s most important is my prayers were answered.
Shelby and Matty are head over heels in love, and completely crazy about their precious, twin daughters, Sari and Rachel, who, I might add, were named in memory of moi, and Carol’s mother, Ruth. And are they ever happy making a life for themselves on their old stomping grounds, good old Majestic Court! Although I’m sure Larry and Roz were a tad surprised when they decided to gut the house down to the beams, and build something more to their liking.
What they didn’t touch one inch of was the guesthouse, the magical place where their love story resumed. Today it is occupied by Maria, whose new role as nanny suits her to a tee.
As for Lauren and Danny, I’m happy to report this was truly a match made in heaven, just not by me. Danny is wild for her, and can’t believe his good fortune in finding a loving, loyal woman who took to his son as if he was her own. One day, through the miracle of science, they hope to expand their family, but for now are content with their lot.
Thankfully, Larry and Roz have finally resumed a normal life, as normal as one could expect given that their physical injuries will have a lasting toll. Bowling is out forever, but they’re so busy baby-sitting, and doting on their four granddaughters, they hardly notice.
Yes, I said four. Hard as it is to believe, two weeks after Shelby delivered, Eric and Jamal’s surrogate went into early labor, too, and produced identical twin girls. So ecstatic were the proud parents, and so eager to share their bounty with family, they moved to Long Island.
Naturally at first Roz and Larry were on shaky ground when it came to understanding how a stranger who gave birth on behalf of their gay son and his lover could actually be bestowing new family members on them. But of all people, who were they to question the means by which children were brought into this world?
So all’s well that ends well. My children are happy and in love, settling down, enjoying their families, and very important, not trying to kill each other anymore. Sure they have their little squabbles (you didn’t expect Shelby to just roll over every time Roz annoyed her) but as best as they can, they are clinging to each other for dear life.
I ask you, what more could a mother want?
Acknowledgments
I am grateful to the professionals I bombarded with questions and who were so generous with information, ideas, and inspiration. Larry Gordon, Dr. Jeff Zola, Dr. Heidi Rosenberg, Andrea Peyser of the New York Post, and Leor Warner, the astrological genius from L.A.
I could not have begun to understand the complex medical, legal, and psychological issues brought on by DES without the help of Nora Cody, Sally Keely, Cynthia Laitman, Joan Barnes, and Jenny Margolis. I am also indebted to the numerous other DES daughters who willingly came forward to share their stories, fears, and triumphs. They and their families are towers of strength and courage who deserve our compassion and prayers.
So glad to have Risa Sidrane, Pat Hanley, Fern Drasin, Lenore French, Sue Zola, and Judi Ratner as dear friends, readers, and perennial sounding boards. Wouldn’t want to be taking this journey without their guiding lights.
I am eternally grateful to my sister, Mira Temkin, the first person to recognize my writing ability. I had to pay her a quarter to read my short stories, but she loved them enough to refund her fee. Her words of praise and encouragement have never failed to light the fire.
I would still be writing in the basement, lonely and undiscovered, without my dear agent and friend, Deborah Schneider. Her support and encouragement were unwavering, even when prospects looked dim. She has my eternal gratitude. Getting to work with a talented editor like Lyssa Keusch was a gift. She nurtured, she nudged, but mostly she cared. If you love this book, we both have her to thank.
My parents, Doris and Harold Hymen, love my writing but love my story even more. I got married, had kids, and found a way to make a living from home. Even better, now they can kvell at the bookstore. “My daughter wrote that.” Thank you for the devotion and encouragement.
To my other mother, Rita Rosenberg, hugs and kisses. You read every word and ask for more. Your love and reassurance mean everything to me.
My children, Zack, Alex, and Taryn, are my divine inspiration, the reason I laugh, love, and live. Nothing lifts my spirit more than when they bring me coffee and whisper encouraging words, “You’re almost done, right?”
Finally, to my husband, Lee, my heart and soul, my rock. Twenty-five years and still ticking. It doesn’t get any better than this.
About the Author
Saralee Rosenberg is the author of the much-beloved novel A Little Help from Above. She lives on Long Island (where else?) with her husband and three children. Please visit her website at www.saraleerosenberg.com.
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Copyright
A LITTLE HELP FROM ABOVE. Copyright © 2003 by Saralee Rosenberg. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition March 2007 ISBN 9780061748486
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Contents
PART I: You Can Go Home Again
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
PART II: Oh Baby
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
PART III: Oh Mama
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
A Little Help from Above Page 37