Even When You Don’t Need Me
Christi sat in the bathroom quiet and stunned. Fanning the thin white and pink plastic stick between her pointer and middle finger, she contemplated the result of the test she just took. The small oval window in the center of the stick was highlighted with a pink cross. It was the seventh test she had taken in less than a week, and she was unquestionably pregnant . Christi has spent six long, problematic years in a marriage that was slowly, but surly ending; and now at the climax of her and her husbands separation into divorce, she was pregnant. Three months pregnant to be exact. She had long since abandoned the ideal of a reconciliation with her husband, and mulled over how was she to deliver the news to him.
Christi had one child already, from a previous marriage, and times were had enough trying to keep her safe, well, and loved. How was she going to be able to welcome another child into the world. Her husband had loved her daughter, taking care of her like she was his own since she was two years old. However, as soon as Christi and her husband decided to divorce, he began to see less and less of her daughter. Nearly a month had gone by and he failed to call or visit her. Divorce is hard enough to explain to a child, and only becomes more convoluted once she added in the sudden abandonment.
Christi recalled a conversation she had with her daughter, while she sat outside waiting for her husband who usually came on Wednesday evenings to take her daughter to dinner, or a movie, or some activity.
“Is he coming today?” Her daughter asked with eyes wide and bright a rising sun. “Its getting real late mommy, did you call him and tell him I’m here waiting? Maybe he doesn’t know I’m here waiting.”
But there was nothing Christi could do she had called him several times, he never answered , just forwarded the calls straight to voice mail.
“Maybe he’s busy love, come inside and let watch some TV.” She answered pleadingly, hoping she would do as told with no fuss.
“No Mommy I gonna wait, he’ll come he always comes.” Her daughter crouched down and shuffled herself onto the porch stoop, waiting patiently for her daddy’s arrival.
To Christi’s daughter he was her daddy, she had always called him daddy, and he was the only daddy she’d known, But he never showed and from then on rarely ever showed up.
Then a couple of weeks later Christi’s daughter walked up to her and said. “He’s not coming back is he Mommy.”
Christi smiled lovingly, trying to hide any outpour of emotion that could upset her daughter. “Love, I don’t think he will be coming around anymore. He’s real busy at work, and sometimes it hard for him to make time for anybody.
“He must not love us anymore.” She mumbled her eyes welling up with tears. Christi searched for an answer, but had no clue what to say. She pulled her daughter into her arms and said, “Mommy loves you, and will always be here for you when you need me. I’ll even be here even when you don’t need me. Do you want to know a secret?”
“What? She questioned wiggling her nose, and brushing away tears with the sleeve of her shirt.
“Mommy getting fat isn’t she? “
“Yes you are, but it okay.”
“Don’t you want to know why?
“Why?”
“Well mommy has a baby growing inside her, and pretty soon you will have a little brother or sister to spend time with you. I’m going to need all the help I can get cause its just going to be me and you.”
Christi’s daughter smiled, “I’ll be here when you need me, Mommy, I promise.”
That evening Christi decided to call up her husband and tell him that she was pregnant; pregnant with his child and if he wanted to be here for them that was fine. But if he didn’t that was fine too. She left a message on his voice mail, but never received a call back.
Months came and gone, and with each one that passed Christi grew round and rounder. She would rub her plump tummy and watch it carefully to see little pokes where the baby was kicking. Though she had little support form her husband, she had a support systems that stretched from across the globe; her mother, and brothers, her mother-in-law, her sister-in-law, and friends all pitched in to help her when ever she needed it.
One night she felt an awful pain in her back, and then a multitude of contraction one right after the other hitting her so hard and fast she could barely walk. She thought this is it. She called a friend and they rushed over to take her to the hospital. Once she arrived, the doctor told her she was only dilated 1cm, and it was unlikely that she would be given birth that night so she returned home.
A week later she felt the terrible pain again and the contraction came even stronger and faster than before. So she called up her mother-in-law to take her to the hospital, only to be told again that she was still dilated 1cm and would not be giving birth that night. Time and time again she would catch bouts of unbearable contraction pain and would rush to the hospital, only to be told that she was not dilated, and it was too soon for inducing. The doctor would reassure her that nothing was wrong, but it was just not time for the baby to come yet. So she would return home, embarrassed that she had cause so much fuss, and anxiously await the arrival of her baby.
Then one morning she was awakened by a piercing pain in her side. She picked up the phone to call someone, but then set it down, dismissing it as gas or something. She was determined to wait for a crucial sign this time, like her water breaking, before she alarmed anybody. She made her way to the kitchen and began to make some breakfast for her and her daughter. Yet, the pain failed to subside. It grew stronger and more and more painful. Christi tried to ignore the pain, but it was everywhere. She could feel shocks of pain in her fingers and toes, and her head began to ache. She suddenly felt the urge to urinate, she rushed to the bathroom, but could not make it. Standing in the bathroom she looked down at the floor to see that she was wading in a puddle of water, her water had broke.
Christi called for her daughter to bring her the phone. She began dialing her friends, no answer; her mother in law, no answer; her husband, no answer; her sister-in-law, but no-one answer. She could feel the baby fighting to escape and she collapsed to the floor, dropping the phone. She called for her daughter. Trying to keep her composure she politely yelled, “Baby, mommy needs you to call 911.”
Her daughter, aware of what was happening picked up the phone and dialed.
“Clayton County 9-1-1, what is the location of your emergency? The operator puffed out methodically.
“Umm 83738 lake side drive.” Christi’s daughter answered calm and slowly, while watching her mother clutching herself in pain, on the floor.
“What’s going on,” the operator question saturating her voice at the recognition of the child’s.
“My mommy, her water had broke.”
“Is she pregnant.”
“ Umm Yes,” Christi’s daughter answered.
“Okay and what is your name? “
Christi’s daughter told the operator her name, the operator struggle to hear her amidst the screams coming from the background. Christi had tried for as long as she could to bear the pain, but it had consumed every inch of her body. She squirmed on the floor beside her daughter screaming. All she could do was whisper to herself between screams, “Not in front of my daughter, No like this.”
“And what is you telephone number?” The operator questioned.
Christi’s daughter paused to think then spat out, “555-123-2472”
“That’s not is Christi screamed out,” sucking in deep breathes and exhaling out fierce screams, she lifted her self towards the phone, but the pain pushed her back down, “its . . .4272 baby, tell her 4272.”
“Is that you mom in the background?” the operator gasped.
“Yes!” Her daughter answered.
“Are you home alone?”
Christi was squeezing her legs as tightly as she could praying that an ambulance would come and at least pull her daughter out of the room. But she could squeeze no longer, “Oh god she screamed, I have to push.”
“Yes!” My mommy says she has to push!”
The line went silent, the operator shuffled about, then shouted out “I have a woman about to give birth on the line,” Christi’s daughter listened intently to papers and people shuffling on the other side of the line, and then another operator took the line and spoke.
“Hello!” Christi’s daughter winced a tinge of fear coupled the last syllable.
“Hey, lay her down on the bed.” Replied a stern new voice on the line.
“Okay,” Christi’s daughter said, starring at her mother laying on the floor screaming and grabbing at her tummy.
“Alright you got her down on the bed? Questioned the new voice.
“No, she is in the bathroom.”
“No, “ hollered the new voice loud enough for Christi to hear, “ I do not want her having that baby on the toilet, I want her on the floor.”
Alarmed at the harshness of the new voice, and fearful of the fragility of her daughter Christi fired back at the new voice, “I am on the floor!” gritting her teeth and sucking in air Christi continued to push. The pain was overbearing, and her daughter was standing an arm-length away starring at her with those wide eyes imitating courage.
“Okay,” the new voice said, “ undress her from the waist down and tell me if you can see the baby head?”
“Yes!”
“You can,” the new voice questioned?
“Yes, she says she can.” Answered Christi’s daughter.
“No,” the new voice on the phone hollered. The voice on the line became rigid and strict, “you look!” She demanded. “ I want her on the floor, undressed from the waist down, with her knees up, and you to look and see if you see that baby’s head.
For a split second Christi’s daughter unraveled she became nervous and started to fidget, Christi swelled with pain and looked up at her daughter. She reached out to touch her, but could only reach the edge of her shoe. Where was the ambulance, she thought. Oh god don’t let her see this. She motioned for her daughter to give her the phone, and tried to direct her out of the bathroom. But her daughter disregarded her actions and continued taking her lead from the new voice on the phone. She knelled down at her mothers hips and peeked to see if she saw the baby’s head.
“Now tell me if you can see the baby’s head?” ordered the new voice.
“No, I can not see the baby head.”
“Does she feel like she needs to push?’
“Yes!”
“How far along is she?”
“How far along are you? Christi’s daughter looked up her at her mother with a face as serious as a doctor, paused for the reply.
“37 weeks!” Christi screamed, gulping in air and blowing out steam.
“She is 37 weeks,” her daughter repeated.
“ And how old is she?”
“How old are . . Oh she is twenty -eight.” He daughter replied proud at her quick recollection.
“And she is 37 weeks,” repeated the new voice.
“Yes.”
“I want her to stay off the toilet, I don’t want her on the toilet, do you understand me?”
“Okay!”
“I want her on the floor or on the bed.”
“Okay .”
Christi could feel her stomach churning, and the baby painfully pressing its way forward. She grunted and wailed from the pain, bracing herself between the bathroom cabinet and the door frame. “Oh the baby is coming, I feel it, the baby’s coming!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping that a neighbor or someone might hear her and come help.
“The baby is coming,” her daughter repeated, slightly shaken but still focused, to the voice on the phone.
“ What I want you to do is get some clean dry towel, okay, get you some clean dry towels, and I want you on the floor in front of her where you can see that baby.”
Her daughter did as told.
“Its coming, its coming,” Christi screamed, help me, help me!”
“Mommy where going to help you,” her daughter answered staunchly, “it’s okay, I know it hurts, but where going to help you. She placed the two towels in front of her and kept one in her lap.
“Make sure she has no clothes on from the waist down, the voice commanded.
“She does.”
“She does not!” corrected the new voice.
“I mean she does not, “ her daughter corrected.
“Place a towel or sheet where the baby is going to come out.”
“I did.”
“ Do you have another clean towel ready for when the baby comes out?”
“Yes.”
“How old are you honey? The new voice questioned recognizing the youthfulness in her voice.
“I’m nine.”
“Okay, okay your doing a great job, how many nine year olds can say they delivered a baby?’ the new voice compliment, changing her tone from stern to encouraging.
“What I want you to do is when you see the babies head, place your hand against it, and apply a little pressure while mommy pushes, alright. I want your hand under that baby’s head. The baby is going to be really slippery when she comes out, okay. Support the baby’s head with your hand cause its going to slide out quick.“
“Her head is out,” the daughter squealed.
“The head is out,” the new voice asked.
“Help me!” Christi screamed. “Help me please!”
“ Tell her to keep pushing,” urged the new voice.
“Keep pushing mommy, keep pushing,” her daughter commanded.
“I am pushing! Howled Christi.
“Support the baby head with you hand, the new voice reminded.”
“I am.”
“ When the baby come out I want you to wrap it with that towel.”
“It’s stuck, I can’t push , help me,” Christi begged.
“The baby is stuck my mommy says.”
“Tell her to keep pushing.”
Christi clutched the door frame and the cabinet, she was exhausted, she roused all the strength she could muster and pushed as hard as she could. She wailed from the excruciating pain, sucked in some air and pushed again.
“Okay so the baby head is out right, asked the new voice.”
“ Yes,” her daughter answered.
“Are the shoulders out yet?
Christi sucked in another deep breathe, her face had swelled red, and was soaked from sweat and tears. She pushed once more, “Pull it out, Pull it out!” She hollered.
Suddenly, the baby slid out, Christi’s daughter dropped the phone and reached to catch the baby.
“Is the baby out yet? The new voice on the line questioned? ‘Sweetheart? Is the baby out.”
Her daughter could hear the voice, but her hands were full, “It’s out!” she yelled at the phone.
“ Hello!” the new voice called out.
Christi’s daughter wrapped the baby in the towel and stared at the little ball of wet slush that wiggled in her arms. The baby gurgled, then sucked in a deep breath and wailed just as loud as her momma, who was lying next to them on the floor yelping, crying, and panting.
“ Hello,” her daughter said into the receiver.
“ Did the baby come out?” the new voice questioned excitable.
“Yes the baby came out,” her daughter answered giggling at the noise of the baby and her momma.
“ Wrap it with the towel,” the new voice commanded.
“I did.”
“Now take your finger and clean out its mouth, then take your finger and clean its nose.”
“Okay,” her daughter did as told.
“The baby should start to look pink, does it look pink?
“Yes.”
“Wrap it up in a towel and give it to mommy.” The new voice addressed the other operator in her station, “The baby was just born! The other operators cooed with delight. “Where is momma?” She questioned.
“Right here,” finally Christi’s daughter gave the phone to her mother and Christi struggled to hold the receiver.
“It still hurts,” Christi whined.
“That’s because the placenta’s still in don’t pull on it, okay.” said the new voice on the line.
“Okay . . . I won’t . . . I’m sorry, oh wait there’s someone at the door .”
“That’s the fire department,” said the new voice.
Christi held the baby, while her daughter ran to the door to let the fire department in. Two men ran through the house and into the bathroom where Christi lie, holding her newly born baby. One of the men cut the cord and assessed the baby.
“We got a little girl here!” he hollered out, wrapping the baby.
“ Awww,“ the new voice cooed. “I just want you to know, your nine year old daughter is awesome!”
“I know,” whispered Christi.
After the firemen, came the EMTS, who hoisted Christi on to a gurney. They made there way down three flights of stairs with her. Then settled her into the ambulance. Finally a friend had got one of her messages and arrived at her apartment. She walked over to Christi’s daughter and took her hand.
“Are you okay?’
“Yeah, mommy just had the baby and I delivered it,” she said with a gigantic smile. Her eyes followed the EMTS who were putting here mommy into the back of the ambulance. One of them began closing the door.
“Wait!” she screamed, “Don’t forget me!” Christi’s daughter ran towards the ambulance doors.
The EMT looked over at the family friend who came running behind her.
“You can stay here with me sweetie, we’ll go see mommy later.” she said reaching for Christi’s daughter’s hand.
“No,” her daughter answered with all the passion of an adult. “My mommy needs me, I promised I’d always be there!” Christ’s daughter pushed pass the EMT, and her mother’s friend and pulled open the ambulance door. She seated herself on the little side bench. Then looked over at the EMT who was still standing at the door way. “Are you coming? The EMT smiled and hoped into his wagon, shutting the door, he escorted the two young ladies to the hospital.
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Subscribe
Flag Writing