Three Christmas Wishes

by Sheila Roberts

  “If you have to give me a ticket, can you please wait and give it to me at the hospital?” Riley begged. “Her water broke and this baby’s going to come out any second.”

  He looked slightly ill but nodded gamely. “I’ll escort you there.”

  “That would be great,” Riley gushed. “Thanks, Officer, uh...”

  “Knight,” he supplied.

  “As in white knight,” Noel said from the backseat. “Or knight in shining armor.”

  Okay, so he was cute with those broad shoulders and brown eyes, but this was no time to be picking up men. “Let’s go, you guys,” Jo growled.

  The officer touched the brim of his cap and returned to his patrol car. A moment later he was in front of them, lights flashing. Then he turned on the siren and they were off, racing down the street, cars hugging the curb to get out of their way, running more red lights, driving like crazy.

  “I’m going to be sick,” Noel groaned from the backseat.

  “Don’t barf in my car. We’re almost there,” Riley said.

  “You’re tailgating,” Noel informed her. “And it’s snowing.”

  “I’m just trying to keep up,” Riley said. Her jaw was clenched and she had the steering wheel in a death grip.

  Speaking of death grips, here came another contraction. “I’ll never complain about cramps again,” Jo vowed with a whimper. You wanted this, she reminded herself. She and Mike had been trying for the last three years. But...

  Why didn’t people tell you how painful childbirth was? Mom should have warned her. The childbirth instructor should have warned her. Yes, of course she’d had them practice their breathing and she’d talked about pain. But she hadn’t talked about PAIN.

  Mom. She needed Mom. She fished her cell phone from her purse and speed-dialed. Mom barely got as far as “Hi, sweetie,” before Jo cut in with, “I’m having this baby now!”

  “Where are you? Are you at the hospital?”

  “Riley’s driving me there. Oh, my God, don’t hit that dog!”

  Her sister swerved, rocking her against the car door and making Noel groan again.

  “Why is Riley driving you? She’s a terrible driver. You should have called me.”

  “There wasn’t time.”

  “Well, don’t worry. Grammy and I are on our way,” Mom assured her. “Tell your sister to slow down. And what’s that I hear?”

  “Sirens.”

  “Why are there sirens? I thought you just said Riley’s driving you.”

  “We’ve got a police escort. Hurry, Mom!”

  “Sweetheart, don’t worry. It’s a first baby. You have plenty of time.”

  “My water broke.”

  “How far apart are your contractions?” Mom asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jo groaned. “We haven’t timed them.” Of course they should’ve been doing that, but between the cop and her sister’s crazy driving...another contraction rolled over her in a huge, sick wave. “Maybe three minutes,” she said after the wave had crashed. “I don’t feel good.”

  “We’re leaving now. Meanwhile, don’t push,” Mom said and ended the call.

  Another couple of blocks, and they pulled up in front of the emergency room. The cop ran inside and before you could say episiotomy, he was back with a hospital attendant pushing a wheelchair.

  Jo doubled over halfway to the chair, her body anxious to launch her little girl into the world. “Oooh.”

  “Don’t push,” said the attendant.

  “If one more person says that, I’m going to scream!” Oh, yeah. She was screaming.

  Meanwhile, here was her sister talking to Mr. Cutie Cop as if they’d just met at a singles bar. There wasn’t time for sweet-talking her way out of a ticket. They had to get going.

  “Don’t give her a ticket,” Jo panted. “She probably saved you from having to deliver this baby.”

  “Just a warning,” he said.

  “Good. We’ve been warned. We can go,” Jo said as the attendant wheeled her toward Labor and Delivery and an epidural. Oh, yes, the sooner, the better!

  Since it was obvious her water had broken, she was admitted at the speed of light and a hasty birth plan was drawn up, since hers was at home, in the desk drawer in her office. Then she was taken to a room.

  “I’ll watch your purse,” Noel offered, opting to stay behind. Big sissy. But she didn’t blame Noel for not wanting to go any farther on this ride. That was nothing she’d signed up for. And frankly, Jo didn’t want to go, either. She didn’t want to be here at all. But childbirth was one of those things where there was no back exit, no other road. The only way was forward through the pain. And at the end of all of that was her baby, she reminded herself.

  She was more than ready for her epidural, but first she had to change into her stylish hospital gown and provide a urine sample. What if I have the baby in the toilet?

  Thankfully, she didn’t. “Okay, time for drugs?” she suggested as she fell onto the bed.

  “Almost,” the nurse told her.

  Almost. She said it to herself like a mantra. Almost, almost, almost. You know how many women have babies? You can do this. Stop being such a wimp. Where was the painkiller? Almost, almost, almost.

  She was getting hooked up to monitors with Riley standing guard when Mom and Grammy arrived. “We’re all here. Isn’t this nice?” Grammy said after giving her a kiss on the forehead.

  Nice. Was that what you called it?

  “You know, back when I had you they wouldn’t let anybody but the father come in,” Mom said to her as the nurse finished hooking her up.

  “Yes, even I couldn’t come in,” Grammy added. “Can you imagine? Her own mother! Now it’s a regular party. Give the hospital your guest list and the whole world can come.”

  “Times change,” said Mom.

  “Well, I’m glad we can be here,” Grammy said. “But I don’t think men should be allowed in to see...everything.” She looked around the room with its monitors and screens and medical knickknacks. “All this equipment. We’ve certainly come a long way since the old days. You know your great-great-grandmother had all her children at home, on the farm.” She shook her head. “The family sold that land for a song. If they’d only held on to it a little longer, we could all have been millionaires. Who would’ve thought they’d put in a mall there?” she finished as the nurse checked to see how things were progressing.

  The story of the lost real estate fortune had been told many times and at the moment Jo couldn’t have cared less. All she wanted was her epidural.

  “You’re six centimeters dilated, my dear,” the nurse told Jo.

  “Oh, my. Fast for a first baby,” Mom said calmly as if the nurse had merely announced that it was still snowing.

  “Six centimeters! Give me my epidural. Quick!”

  Now Dad had arrived. “I came right from work. How’s my girl?”

  “Which one?” Jo managed to joke. Oooh, here was another contraction.

  He smoothed her forehead. “You’ll both be fine. Your brother’s on his way. I’m going to go sit with him in the waiting room.”

  “You’re on the list, Jay. You can stay here,” Mom said.

  “That’s okay.” Dad smiled weakly. “You’ve probably got enough people already.”

  That was true. Like Grammy said, they had a regular party going on and everyone was having fun except her.

  The anesthesiologist finally showed up an eternity after her father left. “Oh, God bless you,” Jo said when he’d introduced himself.

  “I hear that a lot,” he said then launched into a speech about the risks involved in numbing her pain.

  “Just give it to me,” she begged.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I have to tell you all this.”

 
“Then speed it up, for crying out loud!”

  The anesthesiologist hurried through his spiel. “Any questions?”

  “Yes! Why are you waiting?”

  “Okay, let’s have you sign these papers.”

  Jo complied and then, finally, she got her drugs. “I’m going to need you to hold still,” the anesthesiologist said as she crumpled around her large belly with a groan.

  “Don’t push,” the nurse cautioned.

  That was like asking a chicken not to lay an egg.

  “Breathe,” Riley said and started demonstrating.

  Yes, breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Pant, pant, pant. Aaargh.

  “Focus,” Riley commanded.

  And she’d wanted her sister to be her coach because...? Oh, yeah. Because her husband, who should’ve been here, was out at sea playing Captain Nemo. She was going to kill him. No. First she was going to divorce him, then she’d kill him. You did this to me!

  The process seemed endless with cycles of breathing and pushing.

  “You’re doing great,” Mom assured her.

  “You can do this, sis,” Riley added.

  Yes, she could. It was time to meet her daughter.

  “We’re crowning,” the doctor said.

  Crowning. Oh, yes. Annabelle Rose was about to make her entrance.

  “Three more pushes.”

  With her final push Jo forgot about her pain and suffering, her indignity, her frustration over her absent husband—and brought her baby into the world. Oh, wow. There she was, Annabelle Rose, bloody and bawling, in the doctor’s gentle hands, on her way to Jo’s tummy. Joy. Amazement. New life. What suffering?

  “It’s a boy,” Riley announced.

  “No, it’s a girl,” Jo corrected her. The ultrasound had found no male appendages on this child. They were having a girl. She’d had the name picked out for ages, the nursery was pink, the drawers were full of girly pastel outfits.

  “Guess you should’ve checked the sex of the baby,” Grammy said. “Because this one has a Wee Willie Winkie on him.”

  A girl. She’d wanted a girl, planned on a girl. “But the ultrasound...”

  “Doesn’t always show everything,” the doctor said.

  “How lovely.” Mom sighed. “Our first grandson.”

  And here he lay. Yes, he was definitely a he. Jo looked at her son and fell in love. Big eyes and a bloodied mat of brown hair the same color as his daddy’s, a sweet little mouth. That was making a lot of noise.

  “Good, healthy lungs,” said the doctor.

  Jo touched a finger to his cheek. He was beautiful. No, he was more than that. He was a miracle. To think this new little person had grown inside her.

  “Who would like to cut the cord?” the doctor offered.

  “That should be you, Rose,” Grammy said to Mom.

  So, with tears in her eyes Mom did the honors and they all wiped at their eyes and hugged each other as the nurse took the baby to clean him up and put him in the warmer.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Mom said to Jo as she hugged her.

  Jo hugged her mother back, tears still flowing down her cheeks. She had just gone through hell but now she felt as if she was dancing at the very gates of heaven. She’d experienced the mystical wonder of the cycle of life. Like Eve and billions of other women down through time, she’d grown a living being inside her, started a whole new person. This baby that had begun as a speck would grow up to play baseball like his daddy, would trick-or-treat wearing little superhero costumes, would make her plaster handprints for Mother’s Day. Maybe he’d become a track star or a rock singer. Maybe he’d go to law school or medical school. Maybe someday he’d deliver babies himself. Oh, yes, this baby was going to grow up to do something wonderful.

  No, there was no going to about it. He already was wonderful, more than wonderful. “He’s perfect.”

  “Santa,” Riley said suddenly.

  “Yes, Santa brought you the perfect Christmas present,” Mom said to Jo, beaming.

  “No, the mall Santa. Remember what he said?” Riley asked Jo.

  “This night’s a blur,” Jo replied.

  “What did the Santa say?” Mom asked.

  “He predicted this when we went to see him,” Riley explained.

  Mom gave her an indulgent smile and patted her on the arm. “It wasn’t too hard to predict.”

  “No, I mean he predicted everything. He told Jo she was going to have a boy. How could he have known that?”

  “Lucky guess. He had a fifty-fifty chance of being correct.”

  “He said the baby would come right away and then my water broke,” Jo remembered. “Actually, that kind of creeps me out.”

  “It was time,” Mom said, not getting it.

  “You had to be there,” Riley said. “We were talking about perfect men and he told Jo she had the perfect man and that another was going to arrive any minute.”

  Mom raised an eyebrow and smiled. “So you got a Santa who moonlights as a fortune-teller?”

  “Okay, that does sound weird,” Riley admitted.

  “Anyway, who cares? All that matters is that our little guy is here, safe and sound,” Jo said.

  “Amen to that,” Grammy said heartily. “You done good, kiddo.”

  Yes, she had. And she was on such a high she was sure she’d never come down.

  Later, after she’d been installed in her room, after the in-laws had showered her with chocolates and her family had all congratulated her, and finally, at Mom’s insistence, left her to get some rest—when it was just her and her son cuddling in that hospital bed in their postpartum room—she looked down at the little guy. She held his tiny hand and decided there was no gift on the planet, no gift in the history of gifts, as great as motherhood.

  And then it was time to attempt nursing. Oh, dear Lord. Here was more pain nobody had told her about. Where was her husband right now?

  Chapter Seven

  The next evening Riley drove to the hospital to visit her sister. As she swished along on slushy streets she couldn’t help thinking that normally on a Friday night she’d be going out with Sean. What was he doing tonight? Probably taking Emily to dinner and a movie. Emily would be on her way home via the gym, where she’d run six hundred miles. After that she’d go home and get into something sexy. Sean would come over, take one look at her and say, “Let’s stay in tonight.” And then she’d take off her something sexy...

  Riley ground her teeth. Maybe when she was done visiting her sister she’d go home and make some more cookies. Riley has doubled her recipe for snowball cookies. If she eats the whole batch how many calories has Riley consumed?

  No cookie-baking. She’d stream a movie. Or she’d just spend the whole evening at the hospital with Jo and her new nephew. Yes, that was a much better option. Mom and Dad and Grammy would be there—all the people who loved her.

  Okay, that took care of tonight. But what about tomorrow night? If Riley bakes a red velvet cake...

  Sigh. The holidays were going to be tough. There was no getting around it.

  She got to her sister’s room while a feeding lesson was taking place. Although from the grim expression on Jo’s face it looked more like a torture session. Mom and Grammy and Jo’s mother-in-law, Georgia, were all by the bedside. So was a woman with long dark hair and the face of those Madonnas you saw on stamps at Christmas.

  “You’re doing great,” said the imitation Madonna. “He’s latching on beautifully.”

  “There you have it,” Grammy said. “You’ll be a pro at this in no time.”

  “If my nipples don’t fall off,” Jo said through gritted teeth.

  “Gross,” Riley muttered as she entered the room.

  “You’ll toughen up,” Georgia assured
Jo.

  Jo grimaced. But then she looked down at the baby in her arms and smiled. “He is perfect, isn’t he?”

  “Just like Santa predicted,” Riley said. She greeted Georgia, kissed her mother and grandmother then squeezed in to get a closer view of her beautiful nephew. Those tiny hands, that cute little button nose. Jo was so lucky.

  “I think you have everything under control,” the woman said. She produced a business card. “Feel free to call if you have any more questions.”

  Jo murmured her thanks and the woman left.

  “Who was that?” Riley asked.

  “She’s a lactation consultant,” Jo said. “They’re experts in nursing.”

  “In my day you didn’t need an expert,” Grammy said.

  “That’s because you bottle-fed us,” Mom reminded her and Grammy shut her mouth and pouted.

  “Have you let Mike know yet?” Riley asked.

  Jo nodded, then frowned, and this frown had nothing to do with the little guy in her arms. “It has to go through the Red Cross.”

  “Strange, if you ask me,” Grammy said.

  “They do things differently when the men are on a sub,” Georgia explained. “Secrecy.”

  Jo sighed. “Frustrating,” she said.

  “He’ll be home soon.” Georgia smiled, encouraging her to look on the bright side.

  Jo didn’t appear inclined to look in that direction.

  “It does kind of suck not to have her husband here,” Riley said.

  “Of course it does,” Grammy agreed. “But he’s a sailor. Sailors go to sea.”

  “He’s been going to sea for eight years. He needs to be done,” Jo growled. “I’m not going to raise this child alone.”

  Her mother-in-law squirmed in her seat and her mother patted her hand and said, “Don’t upset yourself, honey.”

  “Yes, you’ll sour your milk,” put in Grammy, the faux expert.

  Jo’s jaw was now clenched so tight Riley was sure they wouldn’t be able to pry it open even with the Jaws of Life. Time to change the subject. “Have you picked a name?”

  Jo’s jaw relaxed somewhat. “We didn’t talk much about boy names, but I’m thinking Michael Brandon.”