The Clone's Mother (3 page)

“There’s a mom here ready to have a baby, and she wants me to help her adopt it out.”

He said, “Be careful, Katy. Sometimes these things can get sticky. You should get her legal representation so anything done is kosher.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’d be glad to help you if you want. If the mom needs it, I can work for her pro-bono.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve got my cousin, Anna, in mind. They’re ready to adopt, and they have their own lawyer. They might even be able to pay your fees too.”

“Let me talk to the mom before you call Anna. We don’t want to get hopes up and then have this turn sour. Can I come see her now?”

“Really? I’ll ask her. Her labor is progressing, but slowly so you should be able to spend some time with her before she gets too busy having the baby.”

“Okay, Katy-pie. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

We hung up and I returned to Nikki’s room.

“Nikki?” I pressed her shoulder. Her eyes opened. “How you feeling?”

“The pain’s worse, but I can handle it. Did you call?”

“Yeah. Can my uncle come to see you? His name is Howard Kensler. He’s wondering if he can talk to you for a few minutes.”

“If he doesn’t take too long to get here.”

I took off the monitor belts then checked her cervix to see how many centimeters she was dilated. She was only at Three. “You’ve got time. It will be a little while yet before things get hopping. You’re doing great. Just keep relaxing as best you can through each pain.”

I got another set of vitals and filled her Styrofoam cup with ice chips. When I left her room and walked down the hallway, Uncle Howard came hustling onto the unit. He’d said twenty minutes, but he’d made it in twelve.

Uncle Howard’s hair—what was left of it—stuck straight out at the sides like Einstein’s. His oversized belly strained the wooden buttons of his worn cotton vest, which he’d had as long as I could remember, even back when he picked me up in his beat-up old Subaru to take me on outings to the zoo or an ice cream shop.

When I said hi, he grinned like I’d just offered him a cone of his favorite cherry chip swirl. Two scoops of it. He enveloped me in a soft, mushy hug and I breathed in his familiar scent, mothballs mixed with Old Spice. I walked him to Nikki’s room and he told me that he’d been working on several private adoptions lately and was thinking of specializing in them, he enjoyed doing it so much.

Once I introduced Uncle Howard to Nikki and we talked a few minutes, I let myself out. Howard wanted to speak to her alone and I had charting to catch up on. He stayed with her nearly thirty minutes before he found me at the nurses’ station.

“We’re all set.” He tapped his briefcase. “She wants to keep this very private. She doesn’t want to see the baby after it’s born. Once it’s officially discharged from the hospital, we’ll do the transfer. I’ll need to talk to their lawyer. When you call Anna, tell her only that you’ve made a contact and you have a prospective baby for them. Confirm they’re interested and prepared, then have their attorney call me. Anytime is fine. Okay, Katy-pie? You clear on this?”

I nodded, hoping I wouldn’t forget anything. “All clear, I think.” I walked him to the elevator. “I guess I’d better let the charge nurse know what’s going on.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I’ve got to get to my office and draw up some papers. I’ll wait to hear from you.” He pressed the down button for the elevator.

“It might be late.”

“Don’t worry.” He patted my cheek like he’d always done. Unlike me, he still liked the freckles dotting an arch from one cheek to the other, leaving a smattering of unwelcome spots over my pointy nose.

The doors slid open and he stepped into the elevator. “I’ll catch some winks on my office couch if I need to. Otherwise, I’ll be up. This is too exciting to sleep through anyway. I’ll be waiting,” he called out as the elevator doors closed on his beaming smile.

I talked to my charge nurse first. Charge Sarge—an ex-army middle-aged African-American woman who still wore a girdle and could silence a mob with a look. She wouldn’t waste a smile but had a heart the size of a ten-pound box of Valentine candy. When I told her about Nikki, she put on her stern face.

“You want to what?” she exclaimed. “Did it occur to you, Johnston, that the father might have some say in the matter?”

Oops. Hadn’t thought of that.

The call light went on above Nikki’s door and I used the excuse to duck out of the conversation with Charge Sarge.

Nikki had used the bathroom and needed help back into bed. As I tucked her in, I strategized how I might bring up Charge Sarge’s concern.

“Nikki, adoption can be kind of complicated.” I pushed that pesky hair back behind my ear again. “Um. What about the baby’s father? He might have some say in this.”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh.” What can you say to that? “Hmm.” I waited a moment, thinking. “Well, then, if you’re ready—and certain—I’ll call my cousin now and see what she says.”

Nikki rolled her eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Would you call her already? This kid is going to get born here sooner than later and someone needs to take her. Don’t freak. I’m not changing my mind.”

Nikki fell back onto her pillow and turned away like she’d had enough of me.

I went back to the desk. Neither the desk clerk nor Charge Sarge was there, so I sat down by the phone and lifted the receiver. Good thing I didn’t have much regular work that night. I dialed up Anna and clearly woke her. It took her a full minute to figure out she wasn’t dreaming and I was me and I was telling her something she’s been hoping for just about forever. When I finally convinced her I really might have a baby for her, Anna started crying and Joe shouted some kind of exuberant whoop Nikki could have heard all the way in her room if she were listening. Their reactions made me think they wouldn’t have to think about it too long to give me an answer about the baby.

We talked a while then discussed some of the details. Anna asked me to call their lawyer for her first, so I could explain everything I was telling her. She was so excited, she just knew she’d never remember all I’d said. And she couldn’t find a pen that worked to write down Howard’s number. And the tip of the pencil she did find broke. And look how late it was—would the stores still be open? And could it finally really be happening? When could they see the baby for the first time? Would the hospital let them take custody of her before discharge? Wouldn’t they need a car seat first? And what about a crib? And diapers? And formula? And how in the world could she ever replace the birth mother? Then she dissolved into tearful exclamations of how she and Joe were the most lucky couple in the whole world. Of course, if it worked out, Anna added, which she knew not to assume and get too excited about.

Yeah, right. Not get too excited. That particular ship had already sailed way out to sea.

Anna forgot she was on the phone and in the middle of a sentence about needing to find a pediatrician, she hung up. I said good-bye to the dead line. Oh, well. Her hysteria was cute. But it was time for me to get back to work. Enough with the child matchmaking service already. I had a baby to deliver.

Chapter 3

I knew Nikki didn’t need Pit. At quarter to five her personality changed so significantly, it was obvious she was in Transition, the stage when moms consider Option Number One.
Kaplewie
. I gave her a quick examination and sure enough, she scored a perfect Ten. She won the chance to start pushing.

I popped the glove off as I walked to the phone, and at the same time told her she could push. She collected her focus enough to growl at me through clinched jaw, “What the hell do you think I’m doing?”

Guess she wasn’t waiting for my okay on that.

I rang the Call Room where the doctors in their residency slept. “Come now. She’s ready to crown.” He muttered something in his Hindi accent that sounded like
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote
. Between his accent and mumbling, I couldn’t tell what it really was exactly. But since it wasn’t a good time to be reciting
The Canterbury Tales
, I concluded he was saying something else about being right down.

I went back around to the end of the bed and said, “Great job, Nikki. You’re doing fine.” Yeah, like you can be fine forcing the body of a seven-pound watermelon through the baby bootie.

But, even in spite of my biases, I wholeheartedly tried to encourage her.
Go, Nikki
.

“That’s the way. Good job,” I said.

She told me to shut the hell up. Only not that nicely.

With each push, the baby got closer and closer to popping its head out for a look-see. I pulled sterile gloves back on and got ready, sitting on the stool between Nikki’s knees. There wasn’t much time. Charge Sarge poked her head in the door to see how we fared. She could always be counted on to be there when I needed help. I used my calm voice as best as I could.

“Would you go to the Call Room and get the resident? Drag him here by his ear if you have to.”

She ducked out without a word. Didn’t even bark. She knew all of us veteran nurses could deliver these routine, self-delivering babies. We’d all done it. The administration frowned on it though. So did the hospital lawyers. Have to have a special license and all that nonsense, they’d say. Like they know delivering babies from delivering subpoenas.

Most of the babies I’ve met have not read those rules. They have a way of taking their look-sees when they feel like it.

With the next contraction, I held my breath and pushed right along with Nikki. The baby’s head squeezed out and sat right there on her perineum. In the calm between contractions, the baby looked around, blinking at me, checking things out to see if it would be a fun thing to come out and play.

I suctioned out the baby’s nose and mouth with a green bulb syringe, and was just about to finish the delivery when a sleepwalking mummy stumbled through the door.

Or maybe it was just the resident. He did, after all, have a red spot on his ear the exact size of Charge Sarge’s thumb.

“Skip the gown and throw on the gloves,” I said, nodding toward the delivery set-up on a Mayo stand by the bed. “Come catch this baby.”

The resident stepped up in time to take the head and rotate the shoulders. Once the baby—she was a girl—was delivered, he was about to hold her up for Nikki to see, but I put a restraining hand on his arm and shook my head. He shrugged and put a couple of forceps on the cord, cut between them, then handed the baby to me instead.

While he focused on delivering the placenta and suturing Nikki back together, I put the baby on the warming bed and rubbed her dry. I made sure I stood as a shield between Nikki and the baby, like she’d asked me to do.

Sandi, an LPN from the nursery, showed up to put ID bracelets on, do a weight and length, and examine and footprint the newborn. As soon as the bracelets were on, I quickly put some blankets over the baby, motioned for Sandi to follow me out, and pushed the bed through the door. I explained in the hallway that the mother wasn’t keeping the baby and she would stay in the nursery on bottle feedings. Sandi’s eyes went sad and she stroked the baby’s head like she would pet an injured puppy—or an unwanted baby. She had dark thick, curly hair—a remarkable contrast to her powder-pink skin. And even though they were newborn eyes, you could see the color would be amazing. They looked clear and almost violet when the light was right.

Sandi said, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Look at her eyes. Have you ever seen such eyes?” The baby blinked and her tiny mouth made a tiny circle with tiny lips. She looked as if she knew we were admiring her.

I nodded and touched her sweet cheek. It was round and soft, covered in baby peach fuzz. She responded to my touch by rooting toward my finger. She was looking for her mother. A new sorrow tugged at my heart while we watched her.

Sandi adjusted the blankets to cover her better and wheeled the bed away with her, down the corridor.

I went back in. Nikki didn’t move or make a sound while the doctor sutured her small perineal tear. I transferred my jotted notes from the delivery onto her chart. My pen scratched against the paper, sounding amplified in the silent room. Occasionally as the doctor stitched, his needle holder or scissors clanked against the Mayo tray, the sound muffled by the sterile towel draped over the stainless instrument table.

When I finished, I wanted somehow to reach out to Nikki, to make a difference, so her pain wouldn’t be as great. And so she wouldn’t be so alone.

“The doctor will be done soon. Not much longer,” I said.

She shrugged.

“Would you like more ice chips?”

“No.”

“Do you need another blanket? I can get a warm one.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine.” The sharp edge was back on her voice.

I put a thick, warm blanket across her arms and chest anyway. She didn’t protest. But her eyes shone bright, like an ocean of tears was barely held back.

Even after the doc finished and I got Nikki cleaned up and bundled into bed, I didn’t want to leave her alone. I felt certain it would help if she just let some of her pain out.

Though risking to break the rule book again, I reached out to touch her hand, to hold it if she’d let me.

She pulled out of my reach, tucked both hands under the covers, and turned her face as far as she could toward the wall.

I didn’t want to push her. “I’ll check back on you real soon and get your vitals. Please tell me if I can do anything for you,” I said as I clipped the call light where she could reach it.

She ignored me, so I turned and slipped quietly out of the room.