Unholy Birth

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I told Willy and she decided she would come along.

  “You sure?”

  “I want to be part of this every step of the way,” she said. “When I commit to something, I commit.”

  We went over to our warehouse to be sure the day’s work was going well and there would be no problems while we were away. I couldn’t help being distracted. I watched Willy closely and admired how focused she could be. She could compartmentalize her life much more efficiently than I could. Occasionally, she would look my way and smile.

  “Relax, Kate,” she said when we left the plant and started toward Irvine. “I know enough about all this to know that if you are tense, it could have a negative effect.”

  “I’m relaxed.”

  “Yeah, like a coiled rattler,” she quipped.

  All the way to the doctor’s office, we talked about our baby as if he or she was already school age. Willy was adamant about enrolling our child in a private school. She was very down on public education.

  “It’s hit and miss. Who the hell wants to go into teaching these days? You get the bottom five percent of the graduating classes and no one can blame them, considering what’s demanded of them and what they get paid for it.”

  I knew she was reciting Janet Madison’s litany of complaints about her grade school teaching job.

  “My public school education wasn’t that bad,” I dared say.

  “Look where the hell you lived, the community, the wealth. They didn’t need a private school there. They paid teachers the best salaries around. You told me so yourself.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” I admitted.

  “It’s never too soon to think about these things,” she continued.

  I couldn’t believe this conversation we were having. This was my partner, the one who had been fighting me about having a child and becoming parents?

  “Are you the same person who slept with me a week ago,” I asked, “and thought my talk about having a baby was the babbling of an insane person?”

  “Very funny. I told you, Kate, if I agree to do something, I agree all the way. With me it’s a solid yes or no, no maybe crap. We know too many people who have difficulty making up their minds about bowel movements, much less important life choice decisions.”

  “How do you know about their bowel movements?”

  “I know what I know,” she said.

  She looked firm in the driver’s seat, her hands clenching the steering wheel as if she was about to jerk us off the road any moment if I dared disagree with a single syllable.

  “Okay, let’s pick out the kid’s college tonight,” I said.

  She looked at me and finally smiled.

  “You’re a wiseass for a high femme,” she said. “I must be rubbing off on you.”

  I laughed. Maybe she was. Maybe, we were truly becoming each other, although I couldn’t see all that much of me in her yet.

  The doctor’s office was a surprise. Instead of it being in a medical office building, it was in the doctor’s house, a bilevel style. We’d soon discover that the lower floor had been converted into a small lobby, offices, and examination rooms. I thought we had made a mistake when we turned into the driveway and the parking lot.

  “No mistake,” Willy said. “GPS navigator brought us to the address. What’s the big deal? Lawyers are doing the same thing these days, converting houses into offices. It makes them feel more at home or something, gives it some personality. Don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I like it. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

  We parked and got out. There was nothing different from other residences about the front door. I was again surprised that it was locked, however. We had to press the doorbell button. A voice asked us who we were and I identified myself. We heard the buzz and Willy opened the door.

  “What is it, a bank, a jewelry store, or a doctor’s office?”

  “Can’t be too careful these days, I guess. Doctor’s offices have drugs,” Willy said with a shrug. “Besides, people usually don’t have to get in quickly. They don’t go to their doctor’s offices in an emergency anymore. They go directly to the hospital or some immediate care center.”

  We walked through what was a short entryway with its coat hanger rack, its limestone tiled floor, an antique bench and a small chandelier. The lobby was relatively small and looked as if it had been converted out of a small sitting room. There was just one simple painting above a tan leather sofa, a picture of what looked like an apple orchard and an inexpensive print at that. In front of the sofa was a table and on the floor, a dark gray oval rug. The floor itself looked like the original floor boards, a light oak. Another sofa faced this one.

  On the far wall there was a glass window half open behind which sat the receptionist, a pleasant looking older woman with stark white, but neatly cut and styled hair. Her eyes looked as if they belonged in the head of a woman years younger because they were a vibrant blue, clear and full of energy. Except for some shallow web feet at the corners of those eyes, her face was soft, smooth. It made me think that perhaps her hair had turned prematurely gray. Why didn’t she have it colored back to her natural shade? I wondered. I could give her some good suggestions, I thought, and that included some improvements in her makeup as well.

  “Good afternoon,” she said, handing out the usual form for new patients asking that the squares next to a slew of questions about previous illness, family history, allergies and the like be answered by checking yes or no.

  “Thank you,” I said, and took it. I sat on the soft tan leather sofa below the one picture. Willy picked up a magazine and began to thumb through it even before she sat across from me.

  I glanced up at the receptionist, who was staring at me with the most unusual smile of excitement and happiness. She made me feel as if I were some sort of celebrity at whom she couldn’t stop staring. I flashed a smile back, expecting her to turn back to whatever work she had, but she continued to gaze that way at me. I cleared my throat and shifted my eyes to Willy, signaling she should look at the receptionist, too. She did and then smiled and looked at her magazine again.

  When you know someone is watching you so closely, it’s very difficult to simply ignore it. I tried, but I couldn’t help looking up at her once in a while. She hadn’t moved a muscle in her face. It was beginning to disturb me.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  Willy looked up sharply.

  “Oh no, dear. I was simply admiring your earrings and your outfit. Very smart.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I have a great little boutique in Palm Springs. If you’re ever there, you should definitely stop in,” I said, stressing definitely and indirectly implying she needed to update her fashion.

  Willy scowled at me.

  I completed the form and gave it to the receptionist. She glanced at it and nodded as if she were the one who had to stamp approval.

  “It’ll will only be a little while longer,” she said. “Dr. Aaron is just finishing up with another patient.”

  I returned to the sofa.

  “Relax,” Willy whispered. “You’re beginning to really make me nervous.”

  I shook my head at her and picked up a magazine. Just as I opened it, the door to the examination rooms opened and a girl who looked no more than sixteen at most came out, followed by a woman who was obviously her mother. There were enough resemblances. Both were strawberry blondes with prominent jawbones and similarly shaped mouths. Both had necks that were just long enough to attract attention to them.

  The girl was obviously in the final trimester of her pregnancy and had been crying. She was just sucking in her tears when they stepped out. The look on her mother’s face told me this was not a happy doctor’s visit. The girl glanced at me and then hurried toward the front door. Her mother kept her head up, her eyes fixed on her.

  “Not too difficult to figure out that story,” Willy quipped. “Probably a right-to-life family.”


  The receptionist had moved from her desk to the still-opened door and stood there looking out at me, that smile still stuck on her face. She was shorter than I had realized, with wide hips and rather short, rolling pin arms. I thought there was something dwarfish about her. It was as if her body had run out of growth hormone just as it had begun to form her appendages.

  “The doctor will see you now,” she said.

  Willy and I rose and walked through the door. The receptionist led us to the first examination room on the right and turned, her smile finally gone. “There’s a gown inside hanging on the door. Please take off all your clothes,” she said, suddenly all business.

  Willy glanced at me and we entered the room. The receptionist closed the door. The room was bare bones: an examination table, a chair, a small desk, an X-ray light and a cabinet for medical implements, bandages, and some antiseptic creams. The floor was the same oak as the floor in the lobby. There were no windows and nothing on the walls. Willy took the seat. She had brought her magazines with her and continued to read an article while I undressed and put on the gown.

  “This is a pretty stark doctor’s office,” I said, “compared to the medical offices in Palm Springs.”

  “You’re not in Palm Springs,” Willy said dryly.

  “Looks thrown together to me.”

  “We’ll recommend a decorator,” she said. “It’s not the doctor’s office that counts. It’s the doctor.”

  “Right, but that receptionist is weird,” I said, slipping my arms into the sleeves of the gown.

  “Don’t invite her to the insemination party,” Willy said, again not raising her eyes from the magazine.

  “Very funny.”

  The door opened, and Dr. Aaron entered with my form in hand and looked from Willy to me as if she was still unclear as to whom the patient was, even with me in the gown. She fixed her eyes on me for a moment before giving me a quick, perfunctory smile.

  She was as pretty as Dr. Matthews, with a hairstyle so similar I wondered if I had missed the latest new fashion. Her complexion was rosy, a blush in her cheeks, and her lips were slightly orange. Her eyebrows were styled without any mascara. She was tall, too, with the slimness of her figure obvious even under her doctor’s gown.

  “Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Aaron,” she said. “You’re Kate Dobson, and you’re Willy Radcliff,” she added, nodding at us both as though she had just assigned us parts in a play. “Dr. Matthews speaks very highly of your both.”

  “She’s a quick study,” Willy said. “We’re terrific.”

  Dr. Aaron smiled and turned to me. “Well, I see from this that you have an excellent health history, and I like the fact that you have no known allergies. So many of the women we see these days have developed allergies to this or that. It’s a wonder they can live outside of a plastic bubble.”

  “That’s where we thought we were living,” Willy said.

  Again, Dr. Aaron smiled at her. Then she looked at me more intently.

  “I can see you’re somewhat nervous, Kate. Don’t be. We’re not going to put you through anything unusual. We’ll get your vital statistics, take some urine to determine your LH level, some blood for some routine screening and do a basic vaginal inspection.”

  “Inspection?” Willy quipped.

  “Examination,” Dr. Aaron corrected. She looked at me and tilted her head toward Willy. “Did you have to bring her along?”

  I laughed and Willy’s mouth dropped open.

  “Just kidding,” Dr. Aaron said, and began by taking my blood pressure. As she worked, she talked. “I think it’s wonderful that you two have decided to do this. If I may be frank…”

  “Be anyone you like,” Willy said.

  “Will you shut up?” I told her.

  “As I was saying,” Dr. Aaron continued, “if I may be frank, the only criticism I have about gay couples is that they’re too into themselves. Nothing like a child to diminish that,” she said, glancing at Willy.

  “That’s exactly what I told her, Doc,” Willy said. “If anyone needs to have her narcissism diminished, it’s Kate here.”

  “You son of a…”

  “Now, now,” Willy said. “Not in front of the doctor. She just told us how she heard we were perfect together.”

  Dr. Aaron laughed. We were all suddenly like old friends.

  “Something tells me you two are,” she said. “You’re perfect for what we are about to do.”

  “We?” I said.

  “See,” Willy pounced. “Narcissism uncovered!”

  Dr. Aaron looked at me as if she believed what Willy was saying.

  She smiled.

  “What of it?” she said. “This modesty thing can be carried too far. Churches impose it on us to keep us subservient. A good dose of self-love helps build confidence.

  “Besides,” she continued, smiling at me, “We high femmes enjoy vanity too much to think of it as a sin. Isn’t that right, Kate?”

  I looked at Willy. Her jaw had come unhinged again.

  She looked from Dr. Aaron to me.

  High Femmes? We?

  Finally, I thought, someone took her breath away.

  And I don’t think I ever enjoyed that more.

  6.

  “YOU PASSED EVERY TEST with flying colors,” Dr. Matthews told me when she phoned the following morning. “And your LH is elevating. You’re right on schedule, Kate, which means I should be as well with the insemination process. We’re a go for 8 P.M. six days from today as we planned. Okay?”

  “Yes,” I said, and then thinking about the tests I added, “That was quick.”

  “Not really. Anyway, we have a little pull with the lab we use. Did you like Dr. Aaron?”

  “Very much,” I said. “She has a great sense of humor.”

  “Yes, that’s why we recommend her to our clients. Many of them then decide to have her function as their OB/GYN as well. You can check her out on our Web site where we have testimonies from previous patients. I don’t know anyone who wasn’t satisfied with her.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s not too early to think of all this, Kate. You want someone like Dr. Aaron to manage your pregnancy, your labor, and your puerperium.”

  “My what?”

  “The time period directly following childbirth. It’s important. All this is very important. Stories about people’s great-grandmothers giving birth in the field and returning immediately to their farmwork are more urban legend than you think.”

  “I never heard that story from my grandmother about her mother. I think we go back to Adam and Eve and we were all born in a hospital, even then.”

  She laughed.

  “Well, check her out. I don’t imagine you’ve been hanging about with women who discuss pregnancies and their OB/GYNs and can steer you in the right direction.”

  “No I haven’t. I’ll check her out,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Give my best to Willy.”

  “Yes,” I said, and hung up. I don’t know why it bothered me to hear her say “Give my best to Willy,” but it did. I guess I was far more jealous and possessive than I had thought. Willy was obviously right about me. I knew pregnant women were more than likely to become a little paranoid. I was getting off to a good start even before I even started to lose my figure.

  “Who was that?” Willy asked as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. I had been first up this morning even though I had a miserable night, waking practically every half hour because of one nightmare after another, one in particular having to do with a maternity ward in which all the home-inseminated babies had faces like toads. I thought I would wake her with my tossing and turning and groaning, but she was practically comatose. I envied her and finally just rose to make myself a cup of coffee and surrender to whatever demon shut sleep for me outside our bedroom door.

  “Dr. Matthews. The examination went well. All tests are good and my LH is elevating.”

  “That was quick.”

  “I sai
d the same thing. She told me they have pull with the lab they use.”

  “Makes sense. They probably pipe in a lot of business. Palms grease palms,” she said pouring herself a cup of coffee. “You all right?”

  “I didn’t sleep well.”

  “I told you that you’re too anxious. We might see about something to help you relax. I know Dr. Malisoff isn’t happy about prescribing anything that could turn someone into a dependency, especially when we make an appointment to talk to him about your getting pregnant, but…”

  “Dr. Matthews suggested we consider Dr. Aaron as my OB/GYN.”

  “Really?” She sipped her coffee, thought and nodded. “Well, Malisoff delivers babies but he’s just a GP, right? That does make sense.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” I said. “I’ve always been comfortable with Dr. Malisoff.”

  “You’re not worried about her because her offices weren’t up to Palm Springs standards, are you?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Didn’t you like her?”

  “Yes, I did. I just said I’d think about it, didn’t I?”

  She pulled her head back as if I had taken a swipe at her.

  “A little testy already? You haven’t even begun conception.”

  “I’m not testy. I’m just giving everything some thought, Willy. We do have a lot longer trip to go see her. It was one thing for these tests; it’s another for regular checkups and delivery. Dr. Matthews told me to check her out on their Web site. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Whatever. I’m for anything that makes you comfortable.” She stared at me a moment.

  “What?”

  “Are you having real second thoughts about having this baby, Kate, because if you are…”

  “No. God. Can’t I think about anything without it being considered doubt?”

  “Okay, okay. Calm down. I need my head today. We’ve got a lot to do at the plant,” she said. “We picked up four more accounts yesterday. I think we have to consider hiring more help.”

  “Four more accounts? Really? That’s good news.”