Not To Us (38 page)
Authors: Katherine Owen
I hold out my arms for Emily and she gratefully tucks herself into them. I look over her head at Michael and smile. Mathew stands at the foot of the bed, unsure of what to do. I know there’s a secret part of him that would like to join his sister and be right next to me, but teenage pride prevents him from doing this.
“Mattie, can you get me a glass of ice water?” I ask. I reach out and grab his hand and he grins back.
My mother hovers, but begins clearing paper plates and the pizza box. I think she is still in a state of shock that we shared pizza on top of my duvet.
“Mom,” I say. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Ellen Kay, you’re on bed rest. I will do whatever I want,” she says with a slight sniff. She picks up the last remnants of dinner and follows Mathew out the bedroom door.
“I don’t see why Michael gets to go to the hotel and stay with you. Yet, we have to stay with grandma.”
“Well, Em, you and Mathew still have another week of school before summer break. Michael and I are married. This is what married couples do to prepare for their babies. We wait together, until the babies get here. Michael is working at the hospital, so he’ll work during the day and then come to the hotel and be with me at night. The twins are his babies too, so it’s only fair that he’s there with me and gets to see them first.”
I look over at Michael, who is beaming and has been, since we left Lisa’s. Like so many things I’ve missed, I’ve never stopped to take note of how happy and excited Michael is to become a father, in the most profound, biological sense. These babies mean so much to him. It shows in every gesture and every facial expression that crosses his handsome face right now.
I’m still fighting the edges of panic. I know what the arrival of a newborn entails and I am having two. Somehow, this has only resonated with me within the past couple of hours. And, when I should be rushing around and getting all the last minute preparations done, I’m now on full bed rest and married to a doctor who is following Lisa’s decree to the letter.
“Emily, why don’t you go put your pajamas on and bring back a book I can read to you? I need to talk to Michael for a few minutes alone.” My six-year-old slides off the bed with reluctant compliance and heads down the hallway with a slight protest, not wanting to leave me.
Michael moves across to be right next to me on top of the covers. “What’s up, Mrs. Shaw?”
“Don’t tease me, if you can’t follow through.” I give him a demure smile, but it fades a moment later as I give in to the incessant worry about having two babies. “I need to get a list going of what we still need for the babies’ nursery. I didn’t get everything done. Now, I don’t see how it’s going to get done.”
“You’re worrying about the nursery?” Michael asks in surprise.
“Yes,” I say in a defensive tone. “I haven’t even washed their little onesie things or their pajamas. We’re going to come home and it’s going to be utter chaos and I’m going to be exhausted and feeding them all the time and I won’t feel like doing the laundry and washing up all the onesie things then. And, you have to use special detergent and I haven’t purchased that yet.”
“Now, you’re freaking me out,” Michael says. He kisses my forehead. “It’s going to be okay, Ellie, I promise.
“You promise,” I say. “And you know this because you’re a brilliant surgeon?”
“No. Because I love you and I feel better knowing I can touch you any time I want.” With that, he traces my face with his finger and then kisses my left temple. “I’ll go to the store and buy the onesie things and the detergent, tomorrow. I promise.”
I close my eyes and savor his touch. I wrap my arms around him and pull him to me. Our kissing would lead to more; I’m sure of it, but then there’s my mother’s voice echoing from the hallway.
“A hotel might be a great idea,” Michael says in my ear. He pulls away from me with reluctance and slides off the other side of the bed, just as my mother enters the room.
≈≈
It’s late that evening when we’re getting ready for bed when Michael’s looking at me in this remarkable way as I remove the wig from my head and set it on the vanity. Self-conscious, I climb into bed, wearing one of his old tshirts, carrying one of my manuscripts, intent on getting it finished.
“What?” I ask, shy all at once by the look on his face.
He doesn’t say anything. He just comes over, sits down on the edge of the bed, takes the blue pencil and document from my hands and sets them on the night stand. I lay back and he begins to trace my jaw line, my lips, and my bald head.
“You’re turned on by this; aren’t you?” I ask, incredulous.
He just nods and pulls my hand to where I can feel him. “You’re amazingly beautiful,” Michael says in awe. “I’ve always known this, but now? I don’t know. Your eyes sparkle like a glacier hit by the sun and your mouth is this sensual wonder and your head is this ideal shape; I just want to touch you all the time. It’s all very moving, amazing really.” He kisses me and then groans. “God, Ellie, I can’t take it.”
I smile beneath his lips and kiss him more fervently. He slides into the covers right next to me. We move into each other, synchronized at once, performing a ritual that feels almost spiritual. We only pause for a moment. “You know this is going to get us in trouble with Lisa. She’ll know exactly what we did.”
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says without much conviction.
I stare into his amazing blue eyes and feel overwhelmed by the love I see there. “Oh I want to. I most definitely want you.”
≈ ≈ ≈
New Wishes
B
abies arrive in the world in their own way, despite the best of plans. I awaken ten minutes after three in the morning to the steady build-up of pain in a familiar area of my body as contractions come on just like that. And, I vaguely remember going fast with Emily six years before and tell Michael this as we climb out of bed. Michael’s on the phone within the next two minutes to the hospital, to the Chatham’s. After that, he openly curses the ferry system and displays an unbelievable run of panic that I’ve never seen from him before.
I’m the calm one. I’m packing the suitcase with his clothes and mine, baby pajamas, diapers and bottles. I’m serenity, itself, as we awaken Emily and Mathew and my mother and remind them of their schedule for the day and promise to call as soon as we have news. We catch the first ferry to Seattle at 4:45 a.m. after last goodbyes and kisses to my two sleepy children and my hand-wringing mother. I’m epitome of tranquility, itself, as the pain seems to coordinate with the building waves of Puget Sound as we cross to the other side to downtown Seattle. Michael races through the empty streets at the ready to run red lights. I’m the one who says in the most soothing voice, “It’s going to be okay. Everything’s fine. We’re almost there, baby.”
≈≈
The next twenty-four hours are a whirlwind. There’s the crescendo of excruciating pain I’d forgotten from six years before. Then, the deliverance of an epidural which I audaciously bless, and the endless anticipation while we wait. The grand finale for all of this
—
this inexplicable joy
—
overrides all the roller coaster emotions that have come before, when baby boy Shaw and baby girl Shaw enter our world.
We’ve had weeks to come up with names. Weeks. Our babies are here, sleeping in their little bassinets right by my hospital bed;
nameless
. It is the middle of the next night. They are twelve hours old and nameless. I stare over at them in awe. Our babies are beautiful with their wisps of golden blonde hair so much like Michael’s. Their little hands and fingers twitch with deep sleep. I watch each steady breath. I can’t quite believe they’re here. I can’t quite believe they’re perfect. I can’t quite believe they’re ours. Michael’s and mine. With all the heartbreak and loss of these past months, I can’t believe the elation I experience in just looking at them now. They’re here. Our nameless babies are here.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Michael admonishes as he comes into the room and slides in beside me in the bed. His finger trails along my face and he wipes away a stray tear from my left cheek.
“I can’t sleep.” I see his head nodding in the dark above mine.
“Too much excitement for one day, isn’t it?” Michael down and kisses me gently. “Six weeks is going to be a long time.” I hear the impatience in his voice.
“We’ll just have to stay busy,” I confide, smiling in the dark at him. “So, are you going to finally tell me what you’ve come up with for names?”
“Ellen Kay, I told you; it’s up to you.”
“Michael, I need you to tell me what you’re thinking of in the way of names. These are our children. We have a son and a daughter. What do you want to name them?”
I watch Michael’s face in the semi-darkness. He seems uncertain.
“What’s wrong?”
“I keep thinking of Elaina and Nick. I’m happy and sad at the same time. Everything is just so surreal, right now.” He lays his head down next to mine.
“I know,” I whisper back. My whole body aches with this dull throbbing pain from my upper torso to my inner thighs. I shift my body slightly and let out a little moan.
“Pain level?” Michael asks, raises his blonde head and stares at me.
“About an eight.” He moves off the hospital bed and disappears through the door. A few minutes later, he returns with the night nurse, who hands me a glass of water and drop two white tablets in my hand.
“Mrs. Shaw, if there is anything else, just turn on your light.” I give the nurse a grateful smile. She smiles, first at me, a little sheepish, I think, and then at Michael and bids us both good night. Michael gives me a guilty grin, as he removes his shoes and climbs back into bed with me. Somehow, I know that he has intimidated the nursing staff, just by being the great Dr. Michael Shaw.
“Let’s get some sleep. The babies aren’t going to even know if they’re not named by the time we take them home. I’ll try and think of some names some time tomorrow,” Michael says with a yawn. I snuggle into him closer. The pain medication begins to take effect and brings some relief. I kiss the top of his golden head.
“Tomorrow,” I say.
≈≈
With enough pain medication, I can hold one of the babies and its bottle at the same time. It is a thrilling experience. I’m holding Baby Boy Shaw. The nurses have begun calling him that, since as his parents, we’re still inept at naming children.
I stare down at my newborn son in wonder. He is amazing to watch, so keenly aware. Is this even possible for a newborn? He has these beautiful tufts of golden hair and these beautiful eyes that seem to look straight through me, as he sucks the bottle of formula. I have this moment of regret that I cannot breast-feed this baby and, as if to reassure me, he reaches up with his delicate fingers and touches mine where I hold his bottle.
This child is a wonder. I’m transfixed. He is so beautiful.
“What about Beau?” I look over at Michael. He’s feeding Baby Girl Shaw also named by the nursing staff. “Beaumont Michael Shaw?”
Michael looks over at me in surprise and then grins. “Okay, I wasn’t ever going to tell you this, but I always wanted a son named Beau. Can you imagine a sportscaster announcing the name Beaumont Shaw across the loudspeaker? It’d be awesome.”
Michael has this look of elation that is hard to describe. I’ve never seen him quite like this before.
“Okay, Beaumont Michael Shaw it is. That’s one. One more name to go.” I give him a former-UW-cheerleader-yeah-team smile.
“Ellen Kay, you’ve got to stop smiling at me like that. It’s already hard enough,” Michael looks over at me with this longing; I just laugh and try to concentrate on Beau.
≈≈
The naming of Baby Girl Shaw has taken on a new urgency. Emily has been to visit and already announced that if we can’t come up with a name, she likes the name Giselle. I cannot name my second baby girl Giselle after a Disney film. The reasons add up to many.
We are waiting for Lisa to come by and pronounce us all fit to go home. The pediatrician has already been by and authorized the release of the babies. I’m anxious to go. I want to sleep in my own bed. With Michael. Start our life. I want to put my babies down to sleep in their nursery and just watch them in endless wonder.
Michael is amazingly calm. He seems like a man of many secrets as he stares at me now. We’re trying to entertain ourselves by watching some old classic movie on the television in the corner, but we’re both restless.
The babies are both asleep. Beau is holding one hand up in mid-air. His little fingers curl around. He weighs eight pounds; a giant compared to his little twin sister weighing in at just five pounds, but they’re both healthy and just fine. Baby Girl Shaw just needs a name.
“Ava, A-V-A,” Michael says softly. “Ava Katherine Shaw.”
I glance over at him. “I love the name Ava. When did you get so good at this?”
“I think you’re an inspiration,” Michael says with a meaningful glance. I laugh.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Lisa asks as she walks into the hospital room.
“Meet Beaumont Michael Shaw and Ava Katherine Shaw,” I say.
“Wow! Beaumont and Ava, those are beautiful names.”
“Well, Michael is the man of the hour in naming our children,” I say now. Lisa glances over at Michael, all the while, shaking her head.
“Well, Dr. Shaw, you really are a charmer. I almost feel sorry for you having to wait for the next six weeks.” Lisa looks at him deliberately as she signs off the paperwork that allows us to go home.
≈≈
I’m in shock just loading the car because Michael has replaced his black Lexus SUV with something bigger. I’m not sure I will even be able to drive this white boat of a car and I tell him this now. He tells me proudly that it seats up to eight passengers.
“I guess I’m glad it’s not a van,” I say with hesitation. I covertly watch Michael, while he puts Beau in one of the car seats. Next, he takes Ava from me and buckles her in as well naturally tucking in the baby blankets that somehow were miraculously sitting on the seat. Pure joy lights up his face; he’s thrilled to be taking all of us home. I get caught up in his excitement and quell my uncertainty about the car.
“I love you so much.” Michael brushes my forehead with his lips and leans down to kiss me. I snake my arms up around his shoulders and bring him even closer, ignoring the pain in my chest that this action causes.
“Michael, you’re my only wish,” I say against his lips. I can feel him smile beneath mine.
“You’re mine,” he says back to me with a wide grin.
He makes his way through downtown Seattle and gets in line for the Bainbridge Island ferry. I’ve already called home to let my mother and the kids know that we are on our way. There’s a lot of noise in the background when I call and I’m surprised at this. Michael just gives me one of his angelic smiles, when I ask what’s going on at the house.
During the ferry ride, the twins nap and I move over from the passenger side to rest in Michael’s arms. We talk briefly about getting a nanny and Michael asserts he has some ideas around this already. I nod, but I can barely stay awake as the lull of the waves of Puget Sound and my sleepless night catch up to me. Plus, my husband is stroking my face with his fingers and the rhythm is taking me under.
“Get some sleep, Ellie.”
His voice is the last thing I hear as I drift off, lulled by the quiet interlude and sound of the waves lapping the ferry boat.
I wake up as Michael starts the car. For a moment, I’m unsure where I’m at for a moment. I sit up and slide over to my side of the car and buckle my seat belt. I pull the mirror down and fix the wig, which has become slightly askew with my nap. I glance over at Michael, while he negotiates the drive off the ferry and onto our road toward home.
“What?” I ask with a sheepish grin.
“Let’s just say, I’m glad we’re finally going home.”
“Me too.” I turn towards the twins and see they are still asleep. We may be able to make it all the way to home without a crying baby. I don’t really have new mom status. I have borne three other children, but I’m a bit rusty and slightly intimidated at almost thirty-nine-years of age. “Um. . . . Lisa mentioned discussing birth control in the next month or so. I guess the pill is out because of the cancer and a relation to hormones? I don’t know.”
“And, we’re having this discussion, now, because?” Michael asks with a laugh.
“We’re alone. We may not have a single moment alone for the next month or so,” I say with a grin.
“We’ll use the car as a refuge, then.”
“I like the sound of that.” I flash him one of my winning smiles and watch a look of consternation cross his face while he navigates the road toward home.
“Babe, we just had twins. I’m not ready to talk about birth control.”
“Why not? I mean Michael; we’re going to have our hands full.”
“Maybe, we’ll have more kids.”
“You
can’t
be serious.”
“I think a big family with you would be great.” He gives me this devilish grin.
“You haven’t seen me with a big family, yet,” I say in sudden alarm. “Four kids, Michael.
Four
.”
“I’ve seen you with four kids before,” he says quietly. “At Nick’s basketball game.” I’m transported back to January just like that. I have to look away from him so he won’t see my tears. I feel him reach for me and I take his hand without looking at him.
“Ellie, I miss them, too.”
I can only nod, but I still won’t look at him. “It’s so hard. I want them here. I want them here with us,” I finally say.
“I know. Me, too. I want them here, too, Ellie.”
We share silence, as Michael drives the new SUV down the long drive toward the beach house. The house is all lit up and somehow I know that the luxury of taking an afternoon nap just evaporated. There are numerous cars in the circular drive in front of the house. We have a welcoming committee. I recognize Robert and Carrie’s car and a few others. I look over at Michael and he gives me a studied look.
“I figure we should give them what they want for the first hour or so and then we can settle in by ourselves.”
“You think they’ll actually leave?” I ask.
“I hope so,” Michael says with a hesitant laugh.
I absently finger my wig with sudden self consciousness. The only ones I’ve seen lately are Emily and Mathew and my mother and my doctors. Everyone will get to see the transformed Ellie Shaw.
“You look great,” Michael says.
The man can read my mind like no other. Yet, uncertainty plagues me.
≈ ≈ ≈