by Kelly Utt
“That hits the spot,” Ali says.
“Thank you, Sahima,” Marjorie says. “What exquisite sounds for birthing and being born on this magical night.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “Everything is perfect.”
Mama comes over and uses a doppler on Ali’s belly between contractions to monitor Will’s heartbeat. She asks us some questions to confirm what Isabel notated in Ali’s new chart, then goes over a few key details in the records our D.C. midwives shared. Once everything checks out to her satisfaction, she gives Ali the go-ahead to let her body progress as it wishes.
In a quick turn I’d find almost hard to believe if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes, Ali reacts immediately to Mama’s permission to progress. She begins to instinctively move and stretch as if she’s performing an intricate dance only she knows the steps to. The pace quickens to a fever pitch as she shakes and twists and moans a primal moan. My wife looks like the most beautiful, the most powerful, and the most awe-inspiring creature in this entire world right now. She’s taking part in an ancient ritual, bringing forth life itself. Nothing is more miraculous. When she’s ready to push, she asks Mama if it’s okay. Mama does a quick check of her cervix and gives the go-ahead. Ali is fully dilated and effaced. Little Will is ready to join us and we have the approval to stay in the birthing tub for the duration.
“Roddy,” I call out as I stand and step near the closed door of the suite. “Come on in and bring the boys if they’re awake! It’s time.”
Marjorie positions herself on the far side of the tub and strokes Ali’s arm as she whispers encouraging words in her daughter’s ear. I walk back towards the tub, unsure of where I should be.
“You want to get in?” Mama asks.
“In the tub?” I clarify.
“Yes, Georgie, get in,” Ali says emphatically. “Hold me.”
“Do as she asks, George,” Mama says.
“Of course, babe,” I say to my wife. “I’m coming in right now.”
Ali continues to heave and groan as I strip down to my underwear and climb into the tub behind her. I’m not concerned about modesty right now either. I want to be with my wife and fully present for this visceral experience. I wrap my arms tight around her chest and provide a steady frame for her to hold onto. Mama lowers her hand to check Will’s progress as Roddy, Ethan, and Leo burst in the door like a crowd at a surprise party. Their excitement is surging out of them and cannot be contained. They take a spot near the bottom end of the tub with a good view of what’s happening and cling to each other with pure glee.
It doesn’t take long for Will to make his way down the birth canal. Before we know it, Mama announces that his head is crowning. Ali waits as instructed while Mama makes sure it’s okay for her to keep bearing down with the contraction. When she gets the all clear to journey the final leg, Ali pushes with every ounce of her might. I reach my hand down and feel my son’s little head as it emerges from my wife’s body. This is amazing. What a gift to be right here, right now. Mama eases little Will gently up and out of the water then places him in Ali’s arms. He’s beautiful! He has red hair like Mom and Marjorie. I already love him so very much. Sahima moves to Mama’s side and places a stack of towels and a stethoscope on a table beside the tub. Then she suctions his nose and mouth gently using a bulb syringe. The water we’re sitting in is a bloody mess, but we don’t care. Marjorie kisses her daughter on the head and congratulates her for on a job well done, then moves to jump up and down at the end of the tub with Roddy, Ethan, and Leo. Yo-Yo Ma is still emoting on the cello. The joy in this birthing suite is off the charts.
“He waited until just after midnight,” Mama says with a smile. “Sahima, what time did you record?”
“12:02 am,” Sahima answers. “January 30th.”
“He’s born on a Saturday, just like me,” Mama adds, sounding proud.
“Thank you so much, Mama,” Ali says through tears of happiness. “You and Sahima have been so good to us.”
“It’s what we do, child,” Mama says.
“What’s his full name?” Sahima asks. “For the birth certificate.”
Oddly enough, we’ve been so distracted that we haven’t talked about a middle name for little Will yet. Without so much as glancing at me, Ali answers: “John William Hartmann. After our beloved John Wendell. We’ll call him Will, but John will be his proper name.”
Upon hearing this, I begin to cry big, ugly tears. I’m overcome with emotion. The good, the bad, and everything in between encircle me as I sob. “Perfect,” I manage. Little Will looks up at us and seems to approve. I can see the depth and wisdom in his eyes. Ali brings him to her breast and he begins to nurse. He’s strong. And healthy. We are blessed.
When you deliver with midwives at a birth center you can go home a few hours afterward, assuming no complications for mom or baby. That’s one of the benefits of having a natural birth without drugs. Marjorie educated us while Ali was pregnant with Ethan. The mom is exhausted after a natural birth, but well enough to leave. Tonight, I’m especially glad for this particular perk because I need to get back to my grandfather at the hospice house. Once Ali has had some time to gather her strength, she and I shower while Mama and Sahima do a complete exam on little Will. Mama has an infant car seat she lets us borrow until we see her at our follow-up appointment Monday morning. She also gives us diapers, a couple of onesies, a hat, and several warm blankets. We ask her if she thinks it’s okay to take Will to the hospice house to meet John Wendell, given the urgency of the situation. She runs down a list of precautions to take with germs and emphasizes her recommendation that we don’t let strangers anywhere near our newborn. No passing the baby around, regardless of how eager people are to touch and hold him. We completely agree. We wouldn’t let that happen anyway. Once we promise to be extra vigilant, Mama gives her okay. We say our grateful goodbyes and bundle up, then pile into the Tesla.
Snow continues to fall as we make our way back up the hill to the hospice house. We haven’t called Mom or Liam yet to tell them little Will is here. Normally, we would have, but under these circumstances, we figure we’ll introduce them to our baby boy in person. It’s late into the night and there are even fewer people than before out on the roads. The sun will be coming up soon. For now, though, Ithaca is an untouched winter wonderland. We go slowly and carefully. Roddy drives while Marjorie rides in the passenger seat. Ali and I fill the middle seats with little Will in Mama’s car seat in between us. Ethan and Leo reclaim their spots in the back. They slept briefly while we showered, but they’re awake again. There’s a stillness amongst us. No one makes a sound. It’s as if we all know what’s going to happen when we arrive.
Gloria welcomes us in with a warm smile. She’s nearly at the end of a twelve-hour shift and she’s looking tired.
“Well, I must say,” she begins when she sees little Will in Ali’s arms, “this is a first. Look at that beautiful baby” She doesn’t get too close or try to touch him. She’s a nurse. She knows better. “Come on in. Linette and John Wendell will be glad you’re back. Liam is asleep in the guest room.”
“Thanks, Gloria,” I say with a smile. I wonder if she knows Mama and Sahima. Shouldn’t all the portal-tenders know each other?
I head towards John Wendell’s room to see how he is. The rest of my family waits in the common area. They’ll come to the room once I tell them it’s alright to do so. Gloria walks with me.
“Things have progressed quite a bit since you’ve been gone,” she tells me. “He’s having some trouble breathing. Truth be told, I think he’s been waiting on you to get back here.”
My heart sinks as I reach the door to my grandfather’s room. I hope I’m ready. I open the door and step inside to see Mom dozing lightly in the chair beside the bed. John Wendell’s there, but he looks somehow worse than he did just a few hours ago. I find myself watching his chest to see if he’s breathing.
“George, dear,” Mom says as she jerks awake. “I’m glad you
’re back.”
“He looks rough,” I say before I’ve had time to consider whether or not I should be talking like that right here in front of John Wendell.
“I know,” she says. “We’re close.”
“And to think we were talking about hip surgery, what, fourteen hours ago?” I muse.
“I was in denial,” Mom replies. “But I’ve known ever since last Sunday. I just didn’t want it to be true.”
“I get it,” I say as I walk around the bed to embrace my mom. John Wendell is sleeping hard and looks completely out of it. Smooth jazz is playing quietly in the background, but I’m not sure he’s hearing it.
“Did my newest grandson arrive?” Mom asks.
“He sure did,” I answer. “He’s a big boy. Eight pounds, six ounces. And he has red hair like yours.”
Upon hearing the news, John Wendell opens his eyes and smiles at me, then points to himself insistently. He wants me to bring Will in to see him. “I’ll be right back, grandfather,” I say as I walk quickly out of the room to get the rest of my family. I don’t usually call John Wendell grandfather. For some reason, it feels right this time.
I return hurriedly with the gang following behind. Liam has emerged from the guest room and he joins in, too. We pile in the room and fill every available space as the first hints of sunrise begin to show themselves. It’s almost time for shift change, so Gloria and her replacement, Angela, pack in as well. I think they want to see John Wendell meet his great-grandson.
“A baker’s dozen,” John Wendell says, clear as day, while pointing to the group of us. We laugh and he seems to be glad to lighten the mood. That’s John Wendell for you. He will find the positive and a way to enjoy the present moment no matter what’s happening.
“Just like last Saturday at Yellow Cob,” I confirm. “You’re exactly right.”
I bring Ethan and Leo to see him first. Ethan climbs right onto the side of John Wendell’s bed without hesitation. I hold Leo in my arms and lean down so he can get close as well.
“Daddy?” Ethan begins while gazing intently into his great-grandfather’s eyes.
“Yes, son,” I say. “What is it?”
“He’s all done with his body,” Ethan says, matter-of-factly. Leave it to the four-year-old to lay it all out there. John Wendell doesn’t mind though. He nods his head yes, then leans his forehead against Ethan’s like he did mine last night. They stay like that for a minute. It’s one of the most touching things I’ve ever witnessed. It’s like they understand each other completely. They’re communicating without words. “He’ll get a new one when he’s ready,” Ethan continues. “He’s not scared.” Again, John Wendell nods in agreement. Leo lurches forward and gently kisses his great-grandfather on the cheek, then both boys climb down from the bed and walk over to Roddy to sit on his lap.
When John Wendell sees Ali walking towards him with little Will in her arms, his entire face lights up. He turns toward Mom and they share a happy, knowing look. She reaches for her father’s hand and he grips hers back tightly as he beams at our beautiful addition to the family.
“Meet your newest great-grandson,” Ali says as she lowers Will down on top of John Wendell’s arms. He can’t support Will’s weight himself, but Ali positions the baby as if my grandfather is holding him on his own. Will looks deeply into John Wendell’s eyes.
“Grandfather,” I say through tears which are forcing themselves insistently down my cheeks. “His name is John William Hartmann, after the best man I know.”
I don’t think there’s a dry eye in the room when John Wendell’s eyebrows raise as he registers the significance of our baby’s name. He points to himself again.
“That’s right,” I say. “The best man I know.”
John Wendell looks at Mom again, then at me, then at Ali and the others in the room while wearing the biggest, most sincere smile I think I’ve ever seen on him. And that’s saying a lot. Suddenly, he pushes Ali’s arm lightly as his eyes begin to close. She lifts Will back up against her chest and steps back with the others. The sun peeks it’s pink lines above the horizon to expose the snow-covered countryside as my grandfather takes one long, deep breath. And then nothing.
Life and death are profound. There’s so much meaning in it all. Far more than what lies on the surface. I don’t know what the rest of this life will bring. It’s a hell of a ride. I don’t know how I’ll handle things as they come up or how I’ll respond to the inevitable sadness that is a part of it all. I hope I’ll remain willing to dig in and face any challenge when given an opportunity to find out what I’m made of.
What I do know, for sure, is that I’ll continue this journey with my people by my side. We’ll stand beside each other, fight for each other, and love each other fiercely. We’ll go forward from here with love and hope and a commitment to savor every single thing that’s beautiful in this precious, precious life. My grandfather would have wanted it that way.
Part I
Things That Remain
1
Center
It’s been six months since the week that turned my life upside down. July is here and the days are warm and long. Sailboats ease by on the lake behind our house. They look positively enchanted, their silver and gold parts sparkling in the summer sun. Colorful flowers bloom cheerfully in the seemingly endless pots and planters my wife has placed around the property.
My days are filled with summer delights like trips to the farmer’s market for fresh fruits and vegetables, the smell of sunscreen on my kiddos, and lazy afternoons relaxing with Ali on the back deck while our little ones nap. I still can’t get over how beautiful it all is. To have that wife. Those kids. This house. It’s more than I probably deserve, but I’m doing my best to take it all in.
I wish I could say everything is perfect and we’re living happily ever after. We’re happy, for sure. But it isn’t that simple.
I’m on a path of sorts. On my way through a spiritual awakening. Or something like that. Do people in the middle of a spiritual awakening declare themselves as such?
I called Cornell not long after I said I might and told them I was no longer interested in the position I had accepted in their Engineering Department. I felt terrible about it because it was a very good job with a fantastic group of people. In fact, it was what brought me back to Ithaca in the first place. We’d still be in D.C. right now if Cornell hadn’t extended the offer. It seemed like the right thing at the time. And I still think it was the right thing. I was ready to retire from the Air Force and use my aerospace expertise in another setting in order to spend more time with Ali and the boys. But I had to turn the job down though because something bigger is happening. I’d be a fool if I didn’t pay attention.
Liam is coming back into town today and he’s planning to stay with us for six whole weeks. I’m really excited. Would you believe I haven’t seen him since John Wendell’s memorial service in early February? I think that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing my uncle. It just so happened he got orders to go TDY on a temporary duty assignment as soon as he returned from the winter leave he spent with us. He’s been in Egypt for months now. I suspect I know exactly what he’s been doing in Egypt because we used to do it together.
I miss the Air Force. The sense of making a real difference is a gaping hole for me now. But I wouldn’t go back. I’m enjoying this time with my family.
Little Will turns six-months-old next week. It’s been a privilege to watch him grow day by day. I’ve decided to take as much time off as I want and to enjoy every moment with my family. I’m even letting my hair grow a little longer than my usual short cut. Besides, Liam and I are working on plans for our own business which will potentially allow me to make a much larger impact than I ever could in the military.
Roddy and Marjorie are coming back into town today, too. We’ve seen my in-laws quite a bit since moving to Ithaca. If my count is accurate, they’ve been here something like twelve weekends since little Will arrived, which is
great as far as we’re concerned. We love those two. We’ll welcome them just as often as they want to come visit. We have plenty of room and the more, the merrier. They tell us they have a big announcement to make and they’ve asked us to get the gang together to hear it, so we’re hosting a party at the house tonight complete with live music and catering.
Ali’s brother, Nicky, his husband, Luis, and their daughter, Sara, are coming in from New York City for the party as well. They were here for John Wendell’s memorial service, but they stayed in a hotel that visit. They said it was because we had a newborn in the house, but I’m pretty sure it was actually because Sara was scared to stay with us after the traumatic break-in she experienced at our place. Nicky tells me they’ll stay at our house this time, so hopefully, we can make new memories for Sara to help her get over her fear.
I completely understand her being afraid. No question about that. Ali and I were scared to stay in our own house for at least the first few days after the break-in happened. I can only imagine what that feeling must have been like for a nine-year-old girl. A nine-year-old girl who lost her mother suddenly, no less. Sara is a sweet spirit. I want her to feel okay about it all. I want our house to be a place she associates with love and fun.
Speaking of the house, it looks amazing now. Although not formally trained in interior decorating or design, Ali has quite an eye for it. Her sense of style is impressive. Magazine worthy, I’d go as far as to say. She’s been working on furnishings and decor for our place with the help of a local designer, although I think the designer is primarily sourcing the items Ali decides she wants. I’m pretty sure it’s my wife setting the design direction and coming up with specific plans.
Ali could probably have a new career if she ever wanted to leave immigration law. Who knows? She’s taking time off to be with the boys now, too. She plans to open her own law practice when she’s ready, but I could just as easily see her opening an interior decorating firm. She’s very talented.