Dear Blessed Mother, Aaron Solomon is really cute. Did you send him to us? That was a good move!. His eyes are blue with long eyelashes, just like Jesus’. And to think he was a suspected murderer for most of the trip.
We peeked around the corner of room 216, like the Three Stooges, one head on top of the other. The first thing I noticed was the crucifix above the bed. What kind of situation do they have Jesus in now? Even though anything is possible with God, for some reason there is no Standards Department when it comes to making crosses and statues, and sometimes, Christ can look pretty twisted on the cross. This crucifix, regular wood and painted gold around the edges, looked sort of Renaissance. Christ didn’t look too uncomfortable, except for the nails. His eyes were closed and He looked like He had already expired, so I relaxed a little. At least He wasn’t suffering anymore.
Clara’s roommate, Bee Bee, had given birth here at St. Francis hospital yesterday. I was excited to see the baby. And talk to Bee Bee to find out what it was like. Did it hurt a lot, like they say?
Against the far wall, an unusually tall bed on wheels held up a girl about Clara’s age lying on her back. Short brown hair. Her head hung limply onto her chest, like she was dead. Or had fallen asleep sitting up.
Clara walked up to within inches of her friend and blew softly into her face.
“Bee Bee? It’s me, Clara.”
Bee Bee sat right up.
“Oh, Clara,” she said and promptly burst into tears. “It was horrible.”
Clara hugged her over the metal railing on the side of the bed. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Clara and Bee Bee, I thought. It had a funny ring to it. Bee Bee had a small face with a cute, turned-up nose and crystal blue eyes. Her name was so perfect for her.
I waved as Clara introduced us. “These are my sisters, Annie and Margaret,” she said.
Madcap rushed over and shook Bee Bee’s hand.
“They brought me here with a surfer,” Clara enthused.
Bee Bee’s big eyes were puffy and red. She was doing this thing: rubbing her fingernails with her thumb nervously. “I want to see my baby,” she wailed, “but they won’t let me. They took her away right after she was born.”
We just stood there, dumbfounded at such a preposterous idea.
“It’s kind of raw down there. Everything’s swollen.”
Wow, swollen was an excellent description. Her breasts were bigger than Clara’s, practically bursting out of her gown. They looked weighted down. Her body was so thin in contrast, she looked unnatural and freakish. She should ask the doctors about that. It couldn’t be normal.
“It stings to pee,” she added.
Now I was staring at Bee Bee. She was just maybe five years older than me, like Clara, yet she already knew everything there was to know about being a woman. And she wasn’t happy about it at all. She crossed her arms like she was giving herself a hug and scratched at her ear. She looked worn down and edgy, circles under her eyes and bloated cheeks from crying. She talked to Clara like Madcap and I weren’t even there.
“We could get a wheelchair!” Madcap offered to nobody and everybody.
We all stood there in silence.
“I feel like half of something, Clara. You can’t imagine how empty.” Bee Bee looked down at her hands. Clara hugged her. What else could she do? I tried to think of something, but it was hard to listen without welling up. Madcap turned towards the hallway.
“I’ll go get that wheelchair,” she said.
“Did you sign the papers?” Clara asked after Madcap was out the door.
“I was sleepy from the drugs!” Like Clara was accusing her.
“But you did sign the papers.” Clara stared at Bee Bee. All you could hear was the buzz of the hospital machines. After a pause she said, “It’s too late, isn’t it?”
“They kept me in a room all day!” Bee Bee cried, rocking herself back and forth. “By myself with the priest. I kept telling the man that I did not want to sign the papers.”
Clara watched her friend long enough for me to notice the squeaky sound of nurse shoes coming down the hallway. Finally she said, “But you did sign them, didn’t you?” She said it carefully, like she was playing pick-up-sticks and she didn’t want a single thing to move.
“He just kept at me, saying, ‘It’s for the baby’s sake.’”
How can they do that? Just take your baby from you? Isn’t that kidnapping? Just then a man with shiny legs shuffled past the door, pushing a metal pole. A bag was attached to the pole with water in it. When he passed, it was shocking and science fiction at the same time. We saw his bare bottom, in broad daylight. The back of his gown was wide open, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I just want to hold my own baby,” Bee Bee said. She didn’t see the shuffler, or maybe she was just used to him strolling past in that flimsy tent he was wearing.
“Let’s go to the nursery,” Clara said, determined.
“Maybe your baby is still there,” I interjected. They both turned towards me, considering this.
“Even so, they won’t let me see her.”
“I don’t see what’s stopping us,” Clara said. “It’s on this floor.”
Madcap came back into the room with a wheelchair. Then everyone’s attention was on the floor, where nothing was happening. It felt like the Principal’s office and we had just got caught ditching Mass. Suddenly Madcap clapped her hands together and turned to face me. “No one’s going to suspect you, Annie,” she said. “You be the scout!”
“What? Me?”
“That’s what we’re saying,” Clara chimed in.
I didn’t want to go—way too suspenseful. But they had a point. I was a runty twelve. What would I be doing in the nursery?
So I walked as casually as possible towards the sign that said Nursery. I tried to relax my mouth, but my heart was pounding and I could feel every beat. The man in slippers and flyaway gown was right behind me; I could hear his mutterings, like he was breathing down my neck. I turned to look at him. His eyes were wet and rimmed in red and he looked right through me, like I wasn’t there. Surely he had escaped from somewhere! A nurse walked down the hall towards me, looking stern and purposeful. What was I going to tell her when she asked me why I was on my way to the nursery? I couldn’t think of anything. We locked eyes.
Just then, the man behind me fell over in a clatter, pole and all. He lay on his back, his legs willy nilly in the air looking like someone had slapped him out of his dream. I almost laughed because it looked so comical and it was so unexpected, but then it hit me that he was a grown-up, who probably knew a lot more than I did, and he was lying on the floor with his private parts visible to practically anyone because he had lost his balance. It looked like he couldn’t even remember what he knew. He really needed help, and I had no idea how to help him. The nurse ran towards him. Suddenly everything was abuzz; the intercom started barking orders. Code this. Doctor that. I realized this was my chance. So I continued walking, as nonchalantly as possible, towards the room with all the babies.
Around the corner at last the nursery came into view. All these little creatures were brand new, and they didn’t know anything. They were lying on their backs, too, needing help just to stay alive. What a strange place this was.
I felt like I had arrived at the Promised Land. It was a huge room filled with small metal beds side by side. It looked like the hospital was preparing for a population explosion, or maybe this was a factory in baby heaven, before they send them down to earth from the assembly line. Each little bed had a glass box held inside the metal frame with a soft looking blanket, and there was a baby inside that cradle. You could only see their heads. I stared through the large glass window into the room, feeling close to something that was both magical and strange in its uniformity and orderliness. I relaxed a little knowing they were all dealing with Mutter Man and his pole out there in the hallway and I wasn’t going to get into trouble any time soon.
Between rows of bassinets, a nurse was helping a lady take a baby out of one of the beds. The woman wore heels, a tight green skirt the color of a turtle’s back, and a matching jacket. I could tell she had never put her arms around a baby before. She held the baby away from her, like it might be a china vase and she was afraid of breaking it. A baby just naturally snuggles up to your body, and you can hold him in the crick of your arm. I know all about that from holding all my little brothers and sisters, from changing their diapers and feeding them. When the lady pressed the baby against herself she giggled. What was so embarrassing about holding a newborn baby?
Then I noticed that someone was standing next to me. I jumped, but it was only a man in a suit, looking like he matched the lady with the baby. He had a short haircut, slick with Brylcream, probably.
“That’s our baby girl,” he said, beaming. “She was born yesterday.”
Wow, that was quick. The mother is already out of bed. She’s wearing heels. Why is Bee Bee all bruised up and swollen with milk and this lady is in a fashion show?
“Yesterday?” I asked. “Your wife isn’t in bed resting or anything. You’re taking her home already? That’s amazing.”
“Yes,” he said, “the Good Lord has brought this baby into our lives. A young teen mother who got herself in trouble is probably right now thanking God that she doesn’t have to deal with a screaming baby 24 hours a day. She can finish school and have a future.”
Oh, babies don’t scream 24 hours straight; does this guy know anything? For instance, right now his baby isn’t screaming.
“What’s her name?” I said instead.
“Her mother gave her the name Lily, but we want a Christian name. We’re going to name her Christine.”
“Christine! What a beautiful name to go through life with!” I said. Lily was a good name, too. I felt so curious about this couple. I guess I had never seen an adoptive mother before. I wondered if she would have the same feelings of love for this baby as our mother has for us. I stood there watching as the woman brought her Lily/Christine out to her husband.
“No, honey, you hold her,” he said as she approached.
“I know how to hold a baby,” I piped up. “I have a lot of practice with my younger brothers and sisters. I’m from a big family—thirteen children.” The mother was looking at me, so I said, “I change diapers and stuff all the time.” I shrugged like it was nothing. The Dad was listening, too. “You have to hold the neck and the head, especially when they’re this young,” I said as if I knew everything. “Their neck muscles aren’t developed yet.” I must have been convincing because the mother smiled and held her baby out to me.
So I tucked the baby under where my breasts would be. She naturally fit. I inhaled, trying to smell that cozy smell they have. I knew she couldn’t see yet, but she looked out at me like she was wondering what the heck had just happened.
“Lily Christine,” I said.
“It’s just Christine,” said the dad.
Christine looked squished, with a wrinkled forehead and patchy scalp. I could see the indentation on the top of her head where her soft spot was. I had to wonder why babies don’t remember anything. This baby could go through her whole life and never know how odd she looked when her mother first met her. She’ll probably never know anything about her real mother, either. It seemed like such a shame all around.
As I held her, she made this licking gesture with her mouth and we all stared at her as if she was doing a magic trick. After a few moments, I gave her back to the mother. Pretty soon the baby was nibbling at her breast through her jacket. The mother offered a finger, and the baby started to suck it.
“Ohhh!” We were all surprised into speechlessness.
“Thank you,” Fashion Lady told me.
“My pleasure,” I said. I crossed myself and kissed my thumb for extra blessings as I watched them walk down the hall towards the stairs, the mother taking short steps because her skirt was so tight, her high heels clicking on the floor. Both of them still arched over the bundle in their arms.
Then I felt a sharp knock on the back of my head. Madcap whispered at me through her teeth.
“What have you been doing?”
“I just saw a couple take their baby home.”
•••
The four of us stood in front of the window of the nursery with all the babies lined up. Three of them were crying. One started it up and then the other two chimed in. Bee Bee stretched her neck up. From her wheelchair she had to lift her chin to see in. By now tears were just naturally flowing down her cheeks. Clara had her hand on Bee Bee’s shoulder.
Then the nurse saw us at the window. She put the baby back in its bassinet, but it was still kicking and screaming and getting redder against that white blanket. More babies started crying, but the nurse ignored them. She pushed the door open and addressed herself to Bee Bee, like they knew each other.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, looking down at Bee Bee in the wheelchair.
“Just tell me which one she is.”
The nurse looked down at Bee Bee, then at me, then at Clara, then at Madcap. She took a breath in. Her face relaxed into a frown. She looked official: a white nurse cap, her hair tied back at the nape of her neck. She had spit up on her shoulder and I could smell it. But she seemed kind.
She shook her head.
“I know I signed the papers,” Bee Bee offered, “I know it’s too late. Just let me see her.”
The nurse looked resigned, like she didn’t have any good news for us at all. We waited. Then her face brightened.
“What did you name your child?” she asked.
“Lily,” Bee Bee said like a reflex. “I named her Lily.”
The nurse turned around and we were all staring at her white nurse-bottom, walking away from us.
I felt dizzy. Even though my eyes were open, everything was suddenly blurry. I leaned against the wall. I was going to die of the sadness I felt.
“Are you crying, Annie?” Madcap asked me incredulously.
“No.” I looked down at my shoes, then at my fingernails, like they knew something.
But Clara and Bee Bee and even Madcap waited hopefully. I could see their mood had changed. The air seemed lighter where they stood.
“I can’t believe it, she’s going to find her!” Bee Bee said. Clara squeezed her hand.
But how could one moment of seeing your baby be enough? The moment is over so soon, and then the baby is gone for the rest of your life.
We could see the nurse going up and down the rows, looking closely at the names written on a small card on all the baby bassinettes. More babies were hollering by then and I was glad I couldn’t hear them. Clara put her hand on Bee Bee’s back and smoothed it up and down, something Mother does when we’re gaping over the toilet with the flu.
But I was wondering how could the nurse be doing this? She knows that Lily has just left the building with her new parents. Then I had a thought. Maybe she’s stalling so they can get away undiscovered! I turned on my heels and ran outside, hoping the parents hadn’t gotten into the car with their new baby yet.
The parking lot was almost as full as the nursery. Cars everywhere, sunlight glinting off their windows and bumpers. I could see the warmth of the afternoon in an almost invisible wave above the asphalt. The dry heat was everywhere. My socks against my ankles felt overly warm and thick. I waited and watched. There was no movement anywhere, only the sounds of muffled traffic on the other side of the building.
Lily was gone.
When I got back, most of the babies looked red and angry. The nurse was pointing to a quiet baby who was probably the farthest away possible in the room.
“They found her!” Bee Bee said, thrilled. “Look what a good baby she is!”
“I wonder if the nurse is going to get in trouble,” Madcap said. “It can’t be good that they’re all screaming.”
The nurse took the baby out of the bassinette and brought it to the window and held it up, for Bee Bee to see. I couldn’t imagine the noise in there.
“Lily, Lily, Lily,” Bee Bee cooed. Now Bee Bee’s face was pink and flushed, and her eyes shone with pride. She grinned joyously, like it was Christmas morning.
Right where her nipples were, her mother’s milk began seeping through her gown.