LITTLE JAMES
Jill decided to become pregnant. The marriage had been going well for a long time. There were no major problems in the past several years – no gambling, no drugs, no serious fights or altercations – and Jill began to remember all the thoughts she’d had about raising a child. It seemed to her that this was something she always intended to do. All the ideas she ever had about raising a son or daughter came back to her. Jill thought over every detail – every situation and problem that could possibly arise – until she was sure it was the right decision to make. The money would have to work itself out, it was always that way. Nothing was ever guaranteed. Nobody ever had the money.
The pregnancy went well. Eddie, her husband, claimed that Jill carried the antichrist and that she had the glow of a satisfied, pregnant cow. He also accused her of cheating on him and carrying someone else’s baby. Aside from this mild abuse, everyone told her how good she looked – that she was radiant; she had that angelic glow. Jill felt better than she ever did. And she felt a deeper and deeper love for the child within. The worst thought of all to her was that she might die in childbirth and never get to meet her baby. It was sometimes frustrating that she couldn’t see him face-to-face. She played classical music for him, as well as folk, rock, blues, jazz, punk, progressive, alternative, industrial, emo, metal, R&B, soul, even metal – she had already begun educating him. She learned on her own accord, what she had been told by others – that there is no greater love than that between a mother and her child. Sometimes the feelings were suffocating…
The sonogram told her it was going to be a boy. And she knew well in advance that she was going to name him “James.” That was all she and Joe could agree upon. She preferred unique names like “Drew, Jared, and Gates,” and he liked the more common, “Robert, William, and Richard…” And so it was “James,” a common name that she liked, that she had named one of her stuffed animals as a child – and because she also lived on St. James Street for several years before she met Joe…
Before she became pregnant, she had quit smoking – many times. The first lasted over 4 months, and that was the time she had the habit beat – but stupidly, frivolously, she ruined that… After that she could quit for a month at a time, but never much longer. It happened that the day she realized she was hormone-crazy and pregnant, it was a time she was not smoking. So she managed to quit even longer – and chewed a lot of nicotine gum… Finally, the smoking count was up to five or less a day… That lasted several months. Then it was under ten a day for another few months. The only nicotine she consumed was the gum she chewed, which was a much better substitute health-wise. It was only when she went into labor that she smoked and smoked, trying to relax between the agonizing contractions…
The labor began about 2AM. That was the usual time, right after she had gone to bed, that James would awaken; she’d feel him stirring in her belly, then he’d kick and kick, while she drifted off to sleep. But now she was awake until the morning, with the contractions six to eight minutes apart. About 8 AM they stopped. Jill went back to sleep.
The following night the labor began again. Two AM. This time, Jill knew it wasn’t going to stop. The day before she did a lot of walking and other mild exercise to induce labor – this had been the advice of a few of her friends, as well as a talkative nurse at the doctor’s office. Joe drove Jill the forty-five minutes to the hospital. There she was doubled over in pain with each contraction and didn’t know how much more she could tolerate. What’s worse, the staff at the hospital sent her home! She wasn’t dilated enough. “You’ll be back later tonight!” the woman in housekeeping laughed, while she mopped the shiny floor in the hallway. “Trust me, that’s what always happens!” she said. “Don’t worry!” Jill felt comforted, though none of the nurses or staff had said anything to that effect.
Sure enough, Jill couldn’t stand the contractions anymore. She’d smoke a cigarette in the basement, and stop halfway up the stairs, as soon as the crushing pain began again. The baby pressed against her tailbone. She couldn’t walk. It was like no pain she felt ever before. It was strange; just something so intense it was unbearable. The dog, Sweetpea, looked at Jill, confusion in her eyes, when her master paused on her way up the basement stairs. “I can’t explain to you now,” Jill said to her pet. She didn’t understand any of it herself. Between contractions, it was as if nothing at all was wrong; but while they were going on, sometimes all she could do was scream. She didn’t even try to talk anymore.
Jill was sure that if she went back to the hospital, they’d send her home again, and that thought was intolerable to her. But after a while, the contractions became worse, and she timed them at five minutes apart. She called the doctor. He asked her how soon she could get to the hospital. “Forty-five minutes,” she answered. The doctor was saying something, asking her some kinds of questions that she didn’t want to answer, and the horrible pain fell upon her again, and she couldn’t listen. The phone fell on the floor. She managed to stifle herself until it was over. She was too embarrassed to let the doctor hear her scream. Finally, the contraction ended. “Yes,” she said soberly, picking the phone gently from the floor. I’m leaving right away,” she said. “Okay,” was his uncertain reply.
“We’re going to admit you,” the nurse said, after examining Jill. What a relief that was, and something she didn’t expect. Why was she so certain they were going to send her back home again? It took a while for her to overcome her disbelief. “I’m going to have the baby tonight!” she told Joe. Joe was lying in a large hospital chair near the bed, watching TV. He yawned. Then he got up and began making phone calls - to his mother, and Jill’s mother. Twice he handed Jill the phone, and twice she complained, and threw the phone on the floor. She was screaming in agony again. The nurse came in and told her she could have either a painkiller or an epidural. Jill thought it over for several moments. “An epidural,” she said.
“AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGHHH,” she screamed, when the anesthesiologist jammed a needle in her back, between the vertebrae. She would never forget this crunching pain. But at least after that, she could relax. She still could tell when the contractions were occurring, but they didn’t hurt her anymore. “Thank God for epidurals,” her friend Carlene had told her. That thought stayed in her mind.
The nurses kept scolding her, asking how many cigarettes she smoked when she was pregnant. She kept telling them the scenario over and over again, about quitting, then cutting down to less than five a day, then ten, and how mostly she just chewed nicotine gum. But they kept questioning her as if they did not believe her. Stupidly, she told them about the pack and a half she smoked while in labor. They asked her about alcohol and drugs like crack cocaine. “I didn’t do anything like that,” she kept telling them. But they kept asking her. ‘Are they prejudiced against just me, or do they harass everyone this way?’ she thought angrily. But her mind was on having the baby, and she put up with this. “The baby looks pretty good in spite of your smoking,” a nurse said. ‘It’s like the mental health system all over again,’ she thought. But in her compromised state, she couldn’t fight back as well as she might have. She knew that the staff was aware that she took Stelazine, an antipsychotic medication, and was likely prejudiced against her for this reason.
AIDS testing was mandatory. Whatever the laws are, the hospitals had the right to test either the mother or baby. “Take it out of her IV,” Joe said. That was the most humane way to do it, the couple knew. The nurse took some blood and was gone. Jill was tested anonymously several years earlier – voluntarily – and the results were negative – so she didn’t see the need to be tested again. She had done nothing to put herself at risk since then.
Later in the night, a fat nurse with a mean look on her face walked in. Joe was snoring on his back in the large chair in the room. “As for your HIV test,” the woman began… Jill’s heart rose to her throat and nearly choked her. Her heart began beating rapidly. The woman went on reading about AIDS as if from some brochure, it seemed, and the more she read, the more it sounded to Jill, that she – and her baby – had the disease. Soon enough, Jill summoned the courage to ask, “Was the test positive?” The obese woman acted as if the question had caught her off-guard. “I’ll check,” she said.
‘I’ll check!’ Jill mimicked in her mind. ‘What the fuck is the purpose of this whole discussion?’ she thought. But she was too weak to express her anger out loud. Her heartbeat escalated to the point where it was beating in her eardrums. The woman flipped through more pages. Just as the woman was about to speak, Jill’s heart and breathing stopped. “It was negative,” the woman said, indifferently. “Goddamnit, goddamnit!” Jill screamed silently. ‘Was this bitch trying to give me a heart attack?’ But before Jill could recover well enough to express her rage, the belligerent woman spoke a few more insulting words, then quickly walked out of the room. “Cunt bitch whore asshole, jerk fat bitch face scum sucker…” Jill raved on and on in her mind. But that rag-off nurse had left the room in time to spare herself from Jill’s retribution.
Throughout the night, nurses came and went. They were in and out every fifteen minutes. Jill didn’t have time to sleep. And her blood pressure was way up. A nurse monitored the baby’s heartbeat. Finally, after many hours, a nurse told her the problem: “We don’t know if it’s the cord wrapped around his neck. When you have a contraction, sometimes the baby moves down, sometimes he doesn’t.” For some reason, Jill found it hard to breathe out of her nose and her blood pressure was high. She was very uncomfortable. After a total of 36 hours had passed, the doctor came in and asked her if she wanted a Cesarean. Jill knew quickly that it was the right thing to do. But suddenly she became very sad and started crying.
During the operation, there was a sheet on top of her face. It was upon her just lightly enough so that she could breathe, and tightly enough so she couldn’t see herself cut open. Joe had disappeared. He said he was afraid he’d have to watch Jill’s guts exposed, and that he was going to be sick. Jill was never more upset when she found she had to give birth alone. This was something she and Joe were supposed to do together – to have a baby that was hers and his – and she was ALONE. She cried and cried more, after the surgery was over.
Her obstetrician recommended that Jill see a Social Worker. This woman, Nancy, had no children of her own and judged Jill in a negative way relating to every topic imaginable. When Jill and Joe sat together, she shouted, “Where’s your baby? Why isn’t he with you now?” It was always one thing or another.
Jill was about to speak in retaliation, but Joe insisted, “Never mind, Jill.”
The baby had swallowed too much meconium. The nurses failed to put in her charts that her water broke – twice. They said they weren’t going to record it. Because of the excess meconium in his lungs, he was breathing too fast. The nurse told Jill that there was nothing they could do about it – the stuff couldn’t be removed from his lungs. Jill was frantic with worry. There was nothing she could do.
She had never expected her baby to be healthy, due to her negativity and cynicism, and she suffered a terrible blow when they wouldn’t allow her to see her own baby. The Social Worker continued her ramblings. But Jill had a way to get even. Jill told every nurse she saw, everyone that entered her room, that she hated Nancy, that she hated her so much she prayed she’d never have to see her again. The nurses were afraid this would get around and hurt Nancy’s feelings. ‘Hurt her feelings!’ Jill thought. “I’ll smash her in the mouth and she’ll be picking her teeth up from the floor!” The girl related this to her mother, who said, “I see you’re feeling better.”
Finally, she awoke one morning, and the baby was in her room with a pediatrician, who was examining him. She got the words out: “Is he healthy?” The old man answered, “Yes. Oh yes!” Jill was taken by surprise and was happy.
Later in the day, Jill’s mother and a family friend came to see Jill and her son, but the staff said the baby was breathing too heavy – and that the two couldn’t see him until later on that night. It came time when visiting hours ended, and the nurse tried to make them leave. Jill’s mother cried out, “No! Oh no! You said we could see the baby, and we are going to see the baby!” The nurse caved right away. After all, she had promised. The nurse was about to hand the baby to Jill, but made her put sanitary hand lotion on, and lectured about how she needed to do this, but was willing to let Jill hold the baby THIS time. “Ooh, aren’t you angry with that self-important bitch?” the family friend said. Jill didn‘t know she should be angry. Since she was ALWAYS disrespected, she didn’t recognize all instances.
Jill’s mother and friend held the baby. They were very pleased. Lots of family members and friends came to see her little man. Things began to get better. When Jill was alone, she sat in the chair with the baby and rocked him. She felt so warm, so content and happy. The little boy grabbed her finger and she was surprised that babies were so strong. For a while, little James couldn’t control his mouth movements. And he had no upper or lower eyelashes. Jill was amazed with this little creature, this boy that was hers.
“Enjoy your baby,” the obstetrician had said. That was the last she heard from him in quite a long time. Nancy had also disappeared, except for once when she ran into her in the hallway. “Hi,” Nancy said. Jill ignored her. The childless Nancy still didn’t know how hated she was.
Jill survived this maternity ward, though not without scars. A visiting nurse had come to harass Jill, but she overcame that hurdle also. Jill had gone through hoops to procure her own child. It wasn’t right. But the worst part, the young woman new, was having to deliver the baby alone. Eddie failed her more than anyone else, and Jill knew she would never get over that, not in this life.
