Cypress Point (37 page)

“O
ne thing you've got going for you,” Lydia, the nurse who was taking care of Joelle, said as she unwrapped the blood pressure cuff from her arm, “is good blood pressure.”

Joelle nodded from the bed in one of the antenatal rooms, but didn't open her eyes. If she opened her eyes, the room would start spinning again.

Carlynn was at her side, holding her hand, and she was grateful for the stabilizing force of that gentle grip.

“It's 7:00 p.m.,” Lydia said. “Am I correct in assuming you don't want anything to eat?”

Joelle nodded again, but this time with a smile. “You're correct,” she said. “I don't think I'll want anything to eat ever again.”

The magnesium sulfate made her feel hot and sick, as she knew it would, but she welcomed the drug into her veins because it gave her baby a chance to stay inside her longer. The
monitor strapped to her belly let her know the baby was still all right; she could hear the comforting sound of the heartbeat, the
whooshing
reminding her of the underwater sound of whales or dolphins trying to find their way home.

“You don't have to stay here,” she said to Carlynn without opening her eyes. “I'm pretty boring.”

“I'm not here for the entertainment,” Carlynn said, and Joelle managed another smile.

She was trying hard to stay calm. That seemed important, somehow, as though her calmness could prevent her cervix from dilating one more centimeter. Three or four centimeters would be “the point of no return” in a woman experiencing premature labor, Rebecca had said. She would be delivering her baby, then, ten weeks early, and she couldn't allow that to happen. They'd given her a first shot of betamethasome, just in case, but that would take time to have any effect on her baby's lungs.

She should call her parents, but she didn't want them to worry or to come down to Monterey just to watch her lie in bed with a monitor strapped to her belly. If it looked as though she was going to have to deliver, then she'd have someone call them, but not before.

Even though she knew every nurse in the unit, and each of them had come in to see how she was doing, she still felt lonely. And no one—not her parents, not the nurses, not even Carlynn sitting next to her—could take the place of the person she was longing for.

Joelle could hear Lydia moving around the room, and she imagined the nurse was checking her monitor and the IV bottle. Suddenly she heard a voice at the door.

“May I come in?”

Liam.
Her eyes flew open, and the room gave a quick spin before settling down again. Liam was poking his head in the
open door, and she felt tears burn her eyes, she was so happy to see him there.

“Sure,” Lydia said, heading for the door. “Buzz me if you need me, Joelle.”

Liam walked into the room, and Carlynn let go of her hand and stood up.

“Since Liam's here, I'm going to take a break and get a cup of tea, dear, all right?” Carlynn asked her.

“Of course, Carlynn,” she said. “Thanks for being here.”

Liam held the door open for Carlynn, then walked around the bed to sit in the chair she had vacated.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She squinted, trying to get a better look at him in the dim light of the room. “Oh, God, Liam, your face.”

“You should see the other guy.”

She tried to read the expression on his wounded face. His smile was small, maybe tender, maybe sheepish. She wasn't sure.

“Are you in tons of pain?” she asked.

“I bet not as much as you are,” he said. “They've really got you hooked up here.”

“Hear her heartbeat?” she asked. They had talked so little about this baby that she was almost afraid to draw attention to the sound filling the room.

“She sounds healthy and strong,” he said.

“God, I hope so.”

“You're not feeling at all well, are you,” he said. It was not a question, and she knew she must look as terrible as she felt.

“The mag sulfate,” she said. “It's making me sick.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, and she wondered if he was apologizing out of sympathy over her nausea or for something more than that. “You look stiff, like you're afraid to move,” he said.

He was right. She could feel the intentional rigidity in her body.

“I'm afraid that if I move, I'll throw up,” she said.

“The basin's right next to your head.”

She made a face. “I don't want to throw up in front of you.”

He smiled at that. “I've been cleaning up baby upchuck and changing nasty diapers for more than a year now,” he said. “I think I can handle it. So if you need to, you go right ahead.”

“Thanks.” She felt almost instantly better having been given that permission, and she felt her body begin to relax.

“Can you explain to me what's going on?” he asked.

She told him about the two centimeters dilation, about the mag sulfate, the betamethasome and the baby's fragile lungs. “If she's born now, and she makes it, she could have severe problems,” she said. “Cerebral palsy. Respiratory problems. Brain damage.” She expected him to flee from the room at that last one, but he stayed in his seat.

“Is there a chance she could be born now and be all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “With a lot of luck and good medical care in the NICU.”

Liam sighed. “I seem to jinx my women when it comes to delivering babies.”

The sentiment itself meant nothing to her, but the fact that he'd included her in “his women” meant everything.

“It's hardly your fault that that guy kicked me.” She shook her head.

“I asked you to take the case.”

“You didn't know.” She shifted her weight carefully in the bed, trying to ease the pain of her cracked ribs. “Did you call Carlynn to come?”

He nodded. “Is that all right?”

“Of course. Thank you. It can't hurt to have an official healer here, though I'm still not sure I'm a believer.”

“Me neither.” He touched the bandage on his jaw with his fingers, wincing a little as he did so. “You know what I do believe in, though?” he asked.

“What?”

“You and me,” he said. “With this baby or without her.” He nodded toward her belly. “Somehow, Jo, you and I are going to make this work.”

She felt her eyes fill again with tears. What had happened to Liam? What sort of epiphany had he experienced in the last couple of hours? She didn't dare ask him; she would just enjoy it.

“That would be wonderful, Liam,” she said.

“I called Sheila and told her I would be working late,” he said, looking at his watch. “But I think I'd better call her again and see if she can keep Sam all night.”

“You don't need to do that, Liam,” she said. “I'll probably just sleep tonight, and I may end up being in here for days. Maybe even weeks.”

“Well, you've got my company, at least for tonight,” he said. “I'd like to make up to you for giving you none of it over the past seven months. Unless you'd rather I didn't stay.”

“I'd love you to stay,” she said. “But you may just be watching me sleep.”

“Fine,” he said, getting to his feet. “I'll call Sheila.”

“What will you tell her?” she asked.

“The truth,” he said. He was standing now, his hands on the back of the chair. “She already knows the baby is mine.”

Joelle was shocked. “She does? How?”

“She guessed, and I told her she was right.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “What did she say?”

“She beat me up with her purse.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed.

“I wish.” He smiled and left the room.

 

She woke herself up with her own moaning, the sound coming from somewhere deep inside her. There was cramping low in her belly.

“What is it, Jo?” Liam asked.

She opened her eyes. The room was dark, except for the light pouring through the open door from the hallway, and for a moment Joelle was not certain who was sitting next to her.

“Carlynn?” she asked.

“She went home, Jo,” Liam said. “Are you okay?”

“I think…” she said. “A contraction, I think. What time is it?”

“Two in the morning.”

She could see the paleness of his eyes in the light from the monitor. “You'd better get the nurse,” she said.

He was back in a moment with Lydia, who examined her, then stood up.

“You're four, almost five centimeters dilated,” she said. “The mag sulfate didn't work. I'm going to call Rebecca.”

She looked at Liam after Lydia left the room. “I'm afraid this is it,” she said.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I'll be with you,” he said.

“My mother was supposed to be my birth partner,” she said.

“Do you want me to call her?”

“She didn't take any of the classes.”

“I've had all the classes, Jo,” he said. “I'm a pro.”

Another contraction gripped her belly, and she tightened her hold on his hand. When the pain had passed, she looked into his eyes. “I'm scared,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “Me, too.”

“I've been having these terrible nightmares lately,” she said. “That I get the headache.”

He pressed his lips to her hand. “You know that's not going to happen.”

“What did Sheila say when you called her?”

“Essentially, nothing. I said that you were in labor, that if she could keep Sam, I would like to stay with you. And there was a long silence, and then she said, ‘Fine,' and hung up.”

“Oh,” Joelle said. “That doesn't sound good.”

“She could have said she wouldn't keep him.”

“You can't blame her. This must be terribly difficult for her.”

“I know.” He swallowed hard, and she saw the blue of his eyes darken for a moment. “Let's not talk about it now, okay?” he asked. “Let's just focus on you.”

Within thirty minutes, they had moved her to the birthing room, and, as though her body knew she was ready, her contractions started in earnest. The anesthesiologist, someone she didn't know, came in to give her an epidural. It only numbed her right side, but that was enough to let her sleep, and when she awakened she was surrounded by people. Her legs were in the stirrups, Rebecca between them, and she recognized a neonatologist from the NICU standing to the side, at the ready. Liam was next to her, brushing her hair back from her forehead with his hand.

“You slept right through the hard part,” Rebecca said to her. “It's time to push.”

What?

“What time is it?” she asked. There was an intense pressure low in her belly. “I thought I had an epidural.”

“It's a little after six in the morning,” Liam said.

“You did have an epi,” Rebecca said. “It's probably worn off by now, but it's time to push, Joelle.”

Somehow, she'd slept through five centimeters' worth of dilating. She felt the pressure again, and the urge to push was tremendous.

“I want to push!” she yelled, and several people laughed.

“Good!” Rebecca said. “We've been begging you to for the last ten minutes.”

She could feel everything as the baby slipped through the birth canal. It felt good, actually, the pushing, but she feared the whole process seemed so simple because her baby was very, very small.

“I've got her,” Rebecca said, instantly swiveling to hand the baby over to the neonatologist.

“Is she okay?” Joelle strained to see, but the neonatologist's back was to her as he worked on her baby girl at the side of the room. She heard a whimper. “Was that the baby?”

“Want me to go see?” Liam asked her, and she nodded.

She watched Liam's battered face as he talked to the neonatologist. He was asking questions, then looking down at the table where her baby lay. Much as she tried to read his face, his expression remained impassive.

In a moment, though, he was back at her side. “She's tiny, Jo, but she looks good,” he said. “She weighs three pounds, and the doc seemed impressed by that. She's not crying exactly, but she's making noises—”

“I could hear them,” she said, still trying to look through the neonatologist's back to see her baby.

“Her Apgars were six and eight,” Liam said. “He said that was good, considering.”

The neonatologist wheeled the incubator toward her. “Quick peek for Mom,” he said. “Then we're off to the NICU.”