At First Sight (25 page)

“I can do that,” he said, mentally going through the list.

“If you need a nurse, just press this button. Someone will get to you as soon as they can.”

The nurse started toward the door.

“Wait . . . You’re leaving?” Jeremy asked.

“I’ve got to check on another patient. And there’s not really anything else I can do right now, except to put in the call to the anesthesiologist. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

The nurse thought about it. “I guess you could watch television if you like. The remote is by the bedstand.”

“My wife’s in labor. I don’t think she’s in the mood for television.”

“Or not,” the nurse said. “But like I said, you might be here a while. I once had a woman in labor for nearly thirty hours.”

Jeremy paled, as did Lexie. Thirty hours? Before they could dwell on it, another contraction started, and Jeremy’s attention was diverted not only by Lexie’s discomfort, but by the pain he felt when she dug her nails into his hand.

They turned on the television half an hour later.

It seemed wrong, but they couldn’t think of anything else to do in between the contractions, which were still eight minutes apart. Jeremy had the sudden suspicion that the baby was going to take her own sweet time. Not even born yet and already mastering the skill of being fashionably late. Even had he not been told beforehand, he would have definitely made the assumption that he was having a girl.

Lexie was doing okay. He knew not only because he asked, but also because afterward she punched him in the arm.

Doris showed up about an hour later, dressed in her Sunday best, which seemed more than appropriate for this special day. Thinking back, he was glad he had showered. With no speedup in the contractions, they still had plenty of time.

Doris seemed to take over the room, arms flailing, looking as if she were swarming toward the bed. She’d had a child, she said, so she knew exactly what to expect, and Jeremy could tell Lexie was glad she’d arrived. When Doris asked if she was doing okay, Lexie didn’t punch her. She simply answered the question.

He had to admit, that bothered him a bit. Actually, so did the fact that Doris was even around. He knew it was petty, that she’d raised Lexie and wanted to share in this special day, but a part of Jeremy believed this was something that just the two of them should share. Afterward there would be plenty of time for bonding and sharing and feeling giddy. Still, as he moved to a chair in the corner of the room, he never considered saying anything. It was one of those instances where even the most delicate diplomacy might cause offense.

He spent the next forty-five minutes half listening to their conversation, half watching Good Morning America. A big chunk of it was devoted to the ongoing campaigns of Al Gore and George W. Bush, and Jeremy found himself tuning out whenever either of them opened his mouth. But it was easier than overhearing how selfish he’d been when she woke him earlier that morning.

“He was cutting his fingernails?” Doris said, eyeing him with mock outrage.

“They were getting kind of long,” he said.

“And then he drove like a maniac,” Lexie added. “The tires were actually squealing.”

Doris shook her head in disappointment.

“I thought she was about to have the baby,” Jeremy said defensively. “How was I to know that we had hours to spare?”

“Well, listen,” Doris said, “I’ve been through this before, so I stopped at the drugstore on the way and picked you up a few magazines. Brainless stuff, but it’ll help pass the time.”

“Thanks, Doris,” Lexie said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Doris said. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

Lexie smiled.

“I’m going to pop downstairs and get a cup of coffee, okay?” Doris went on. “Would you mind?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Would you like anything, Jeremy?”

“No, I’m doing okay,” he said, ignoring the growling in his stomach. If Lexie couldn’t eat, then neither would he. It seemed like the right thing to do.

“See you soon,” Doris chirped. On her way out the door, she touched Jeremy’s shoulder and leaned toward him. “Don’t worry about this morning,” she said. “My husband did the same thing. I found him cleaning his office. It’s normal.”

Jeremy nodded.

The contractions started coming faster. First every seven minutes, then every six. An hour later, they seem to have stabilized again at five minutes. Joanie and Iris-another nurse-seemed to be switching off, alternating their visits.

Doris was still downstairs, and Jeremy found himself wondering whether she’d been able to read his mind about wanting to be alone. The television was still on, though neither was paying much attention to it. With the contractions coming faster, Jeremy was wiping Lexie’s forehead and giving her ice chips. She hadn’t yet wanted to go for a walk; instead her eyes seemed glued to the monitor, where she watched the baby’s heartbeat.

“Are you scared?” Lexie finally said.

He saw the worry in her face. With the time drawing nearer, it didn’t surprise him.

“No,” he said, “not really. It hasn’t even been two weeks since the last ultrasound, and she was doing fine then. I think if the band were going to attach, it would have done so by then. And even if it did, the doctor said that she was far enough along that any problems would be minor.”

“But what if it attaches to the cord at the last minute? What if it cuts off the blood flow?”

“It won’t,” Jeremy reassured her. “I’m sure that everything’s going to be okay. If the doctor was worried, I’m sure you’d be hooked up to a lot more machines and talking to a lot of different doctors already.”

She nodded, hoping he was right but unwilling to convince herself until she knew for sure. Until she could hold the baby and see for herself.

“I think she should have a brother or sister,” Lexie said. “I don’t want her to be an only child like me.”

“You turned out okay.”

“I know, but still, I remember growing up and wishing that I had what most of my friends had. Someone to play with on rainy days, someone to talk to at the dinner table. You grew up with five brothers. Didn’t you think that was wonderful?”

“Sometimes,” Jeremy admitted. “But other times it wasn’t so great. Being the youngest, I got taken advantage of a lot, especially in the mornings. I used to tell people that being the youngest of six meant a lot of cold showers and soggy towels.”

She smiled. “I still want more than one.”

“So do I. But let’s get this one out of the way first. Then we’ll see what happens.”

“Can we adopt?” she asked. “I mean . . . well, you know. . . .”

“If I can’t get you pregnant again?”

She nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “We can adopt. I’ve heard it can take a long time, though.”

“Then maybe we should start the process.”

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to start anything right now.”

“No, I mean when the baby is a couple of months old or something like that. We can keep trying to have a baby the regular way, but that way, we’re still going forward if nothing happens. I don’t want them too far apart in age.”

He wiped her forehead again. “You’ve been giving this a lot of thought.”

“I’ve been thinking about it ever since we found out about the amniotic band. Once I found out that there was a chance we could lose the baby, I realized how much I wanted to be a mother. And no matter what happens, I still do.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he said. “But I know what you mean.”

She reached for his hand and kissed his fingers. “I love you, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I know.”

“You don’t love me?”

“I love you more than there are fishes in the sea, and higher than the moon.” She looked at him curiously, and he shrugged. “That’s what my mom used to say to us when we were little.”

She kissed his fingers again. “Will you say that to Claire, too?”

“Every day.”

With that, another contraction started.

Doris returned a little while later, and as the hours rolled on, ever so gradually, the contractions started coming even more quickly. Five minutes, then four and half. At four minutes, Lexie had her cervix checked again-not exactly the prettiest picture, Jeremy thought-but afterward Joanie stood up with a knowing look.

“I think it’s time to get the anesthesiologist,” she said. “You’re already six centimeters dilated.”

Jeremy wondered exactly how that had been calculated but decided now was not the time to ask.

“Are the contractions more intense?” Joanie asked, tossing her glove into the garbage.

When Lexie nodded, she motioned to the monitor. “So far, the baby is handling it well. But don’t worry, once you get the epidural, there’s no more pain.”

“Good,” Lexie said.

“You could still change your mind, if you’d like to do this naturally,” Joanie suggested.

“I’ll pass,” Lexie said. “How much longer, do you think?”

“It’s still hard to tell, but if you keep going like you are, maybe in the next hour or so.”

Jeremy’s heart pounded in his chest again. Though it could have been his imagination, he thought the baby’s heartbeat did the same. He tried to steady his breathing.

A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist appeared, and Joanie asked Jeremy to leave the room. Although he consented, as he stood in the hallway with Doris, he found the idea of privacy a bit ridiculous. There wasn’t a chance that hooking up the epidural could be nearly as invasive as having her cervix checked.

“Lexie said you were writing again,” Doris remarked.

“I am,” Jeremy said. “I’ve actually written a few more columns in the last week.”

“Any big story ideas yet?”

“A couple. But we’ll have to see if I do them. With the new baby, I don’t know how much Lexie will appreciate it if I take off for a few weeks. But there’s another story that I think I can do from home. It won’t be like the Clausen piece, but it’s strong enough.”

“Congratulations,” Doris said. “I’m happy for you.”

“Me too,” he said, and she laughed.

“I hear you’re going to name the baby Claire,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve always loved that name,” Doris said, her voice quiet. In the silence that followed, Jeremy knew she was remembering her daughter.

“You should have seen her when she popped out. She had a full head of the blackest hair you’ve ever seen, and she was loud. I knew right away I was going to have to watch her. She was a wild thing, even from the beginning.”

“She was wild?” Jeremy asked. “I got the impression from Lexie that she was the perfect southern belle.”

Doris laughed. “Are you kidding? She was a good kid, I’ll grant you that, but she could really test the limits. In the third grade, she got sent home from school for kissing all the boys on the playground at recess. She even made a couple of them cry. So she got in trouble, right? Grounded for the rest of the day, told to clean her room, and we talked her ear off, explaining how that just wasn’t appropriate behavior. So the next day at school, she did the same thing again. When we picked her up, we were at our wits’ end, but she just said that she liked kissing boys, even if she did get grounded later.”

Jeremy laughed. “Does Lexie know that?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know why I even brought it up. But having children changes your life like nothing else. It’ll be the hardest and best thing you’ve ever done.”

“I can’t wait,” Jeremy said. “I’m ready.”

“Really? Because you seem terrified.”

“I’m not,” Jeremy lied.

“Hmm,” Doris said. “Can I hold your hand when you say that?”

The last time she’d done that, Jeremy had had the strange sensation that she’d read his mind. Even if he didn’t believe it had really happened, because . . . well, it just wasn’t possible.

“No, as a matter of fact, you can’t,” he said.

Doris smiled. “It’s okay to be a little nervous. And scared, too. It’s a big responsibility. But you’re going to do fine.”

Jeremy nodded, thinking that in less than forty minutes he would find out.

With the epidural in, Lexie was no longer in pain and had to watch the monitor to even realize she was having a contraction. Within twenty minutes, her cervix had dilated to eight centimeters. At ten, the party would begin. The baby’s heartbeat was still perfectly normal.

Without the pain, her mood improved dramatically.

“I feel good,” she said, almost singing the last word.