After Birth
1
Lyn watched listlessly as unending streams of water ran in channels down the brightly-lit plazscreen window. The day before, the ever smiling head nurse had asked her, “Why do you keep that window tuned to rainstorms instead of enjoying some sunshine, mother?”
“I don’t know,” she’d answered thoughtfully, and she really wasn’t sure even now what made her prefer the dreary landscape. “It’s just how I feel.” The rather large woman had shaken her head, but with her professional nurse’s smile intact had left the gloomy view unchanged.
“Hey!” Lyn glanced toward the voice. A new girl with flushed cheeks and a brightly printed scarf holding back black curls interrupted her reverie. “Why the rain, Mom? You should be happy!” she crowed, handing Lyn’s baby over to be nursed. “Look at this pretty sweetheart!”
And as she took the baby in her arms, Lyn was happy. Trista was everything she could have dreamed of and more. Sweet, soft baby skin felt like velvet against her bare chest as the little one nestled in close, grabbing greedily with soft gums and lips at the offered nipple. The top of her head was covered with a fine golden fluff of silk. So resolute on living, Lyn thought, feeling the baby’s demanding pull at her breast. Suddenly Trista opened dark, liquid brown eyes and stared intently up at her, and Lyn felt a thrill, a rush of love, and then a stab of dismay. How long had Trista’s eyes been open? She bent closer, kissing the tiny forehead, and cooed, “Little Trista, Mommy loves you.” The dark eyes crinkled with a baby smile, and Lyn smiled back. She brushed Tris’ dimpled cheek with her lips and her anger subsided for the moment. But in much too short a time the lively eyes became unfocussed, and the eyelids fluttered and closed in sleepy contentment, all hunger abated. Lyn gently touched her Trista’s fine hair with hesitant fingertips and possessively drew her closer. The baby fussed, and the nursing aid, seeing that the feeding was finished, bent to take her away.
“Why can’t I hold her while she sleeps?” Lyn asked pleadingly, loath to give up the warm, soft bundle of life buried contentedly in her arms, hoping this new girl might have a new answer.
“Sorry, Mom, that’s the rule,” the girl answered in a bright, no-nonsense tone. “Newborns need their rest. We’ve got to get her back to the nursery so her sleep is not disrupted. I know that you wouldn’t mean to wake her, but it doesn’t take much, does it?” This one spoke through a reassuring smile, but the words were the same. Powerless, Lyn watched as the aid wrapped her baby in a hooded blanket and lifted her from the bed. Trista, deep in sleep, did not stir as she was placed in the waiting incubator and rolled away.
Lyn turned and stared at the rain on the plazscreen. Why was she so unhappy? She’d never felt this low before. The drops rolled down the window and tears ran down her cheeks.
2
Lyn ripped open the notification envelope. It had finally come, the official A-1 rating they’d been praying for. They were approved! Not only that, they’d received immediate clearance to begin trying to conceive. They just had to file the paperwork and reconfigure her BCI and monitor. She jumped into Jim’s arms and he lifted her up and spun her round, both of them laughing like children. The paper said they were A1: good gene pool, no expectation of birth defect, low chance of miscarriage or still birth. A1: physically healthy, acceptably intelligent, and psychologically sound. Her happy peck on Jim’s lips turned into a real kiss. Soon they were deep into the warm rush of desire and Jim was carrying her off to bed. Their lovemaking progressed through ecstasy to orgasm, ending in his deep climactic ejaculation. Her body responded, an explosion of pleasure moving outward to her fingers and toes, and she cried out. But as Lyn came back to earth, an impatient little voice made her frown. If only my ovaries were producing viable eggs, they would be fertilized and we’d already be pregnant. Well, she answered the voice, the next time my healthy ovum will be ready and waiting for his little swimmers, and we will be pregnant!
Jim held her close and soon drifted off into a sound sleep, but Lyn was too excited to doze. Lying there, nestled in her husband’s arms, she reviewed what she needed to do. Her next fertile period would begin in four days and she intended to be ready. It didn’t pay to lose even one cycle. The approval was only good for four cycles; if they weren’t pregnant within four months, they’d have to resubmit their request. It could be over a year before they’d be considered again. Three requests, four tries each, and then they’d no longer be eligible. Greater threat of birth defects was the official reason, but the real reason was to give every eligible, twenty-something couple a chance to have a child. The reproductive cap for their community was non-negotiable, one birth per person, two per couple, per lifetime. More or less would result in a community-wide penalty, reductions to public funding from the CEA.
With a frown, Lyn nestled closer to Jim’s warm body. She looked up at the peaceful face of her sleeping mate and knew that babies or not, she would stay with him. No negative thinking, she remonstrated with herself. We’ll get pregnant, twice, and we’ll stay together, just like Grandmam and Papa. As she thought about her grandmother, Lyn smiled. She was an eccentric old lady with a passionate dislike of everything about the new parenting laws, but Lyn adored her. Grandmam might protest government involvement with what she called “family matters,” but she did approve of the equal custody laws, especially after all of the fighting Mom and Dad had done over Lyn and her brother. They’d split when Lyn was nine but, denied joint custody, Dad had waged war with Mom in and out of court for years. The fighting had frightened her, but thank God, Dad had stayed in their lives. Now, custody disputes were no longer an issue. With the new laws, children were raised in community centers, and parental visits were guaranteed, whether the parents were together or not. One of the adages of their community was “Once a parent, always a parent.”
Lyn couldn’t understand Grandmam’s espousal for the outmoded practices of the past; the nuclear family had never been a healthy arrangement for rearing children. The new system made more sense. Because of it, she and Jim didn’t have to shoulder all the responsibility for childcare themselves. Grandmam and her old buddies would probably subject Lyn to reminiscences of how wonderful things were before birthing centers and newborn nurseries. Of course, Lyn would listen with respect, but she really didn’t believe any of it. Caring for a newborn sounded boring and difficult. Change diapers? Thank God someone else would do it. Lose sleep at night for feedings? That’s why they paid good money for nursing staff. Perhaps having a new grandchild and seeing it well cared for in the nursery would help ease Grandmam’s anger over child care statutes.
The first one she called was Mom.
“Oh, honey, I’m sooooo happy,” her mother yelled, and Lyn winced. Mom had finally allowed Jim to take out her wireless phone and install a vidscreen communication system, but she still hadn’t figured out how to adjust the volume. She was also too close to the high def cam. Her round face filled the vidscreen. “And so excited!” she shouted.
“Mom, you don’t need to talk so loud. I told you make believe I’m right there. Don’t stand so close to the cam either. That’s better.” Mom’s pores were no longer visible on the monitor. Now Lyn could see her straight silver streaked black hair, gold button earrings, and the collar of a pink cashmere sweater. Soon Mom was comparing the imagined virtues of her not yet conceived grandchild with those of her sister’s new baby grandson. When Lyn had been a teen, people had mistaken Lyn and her Mom for sisters. They shared the same round face, and straight black hair, the same short stature and bold, black, almond-shaped eyes with epicanthic folds. Her father’s Eastern European blood didn’t seem to have touched Lyn at all, though his height and features were prominent enough in her brother Paul. The only thing that Mom and Paul had in common was their love for gossip and hot fudge Sundays. Lyn hadn’t seen Paul in years. Discontented with Maspache’s conservative administration, he’d relocated to Harlem when he was still a teen to live with their Uncle David. She hoped that once he had a baby niece or nephew, Paul would come to visit more often.
“Have you told Kara yet, Lynda?” Mom’s voice, softened with unease, drew Lyn’s attention back. “Not yet.” Her mother nodded; they both feared Kara would be hurt by the news. She and Jim’s twin brother, Ted, married now for eight plus years, still hadn’t received the go ahead to have a baby. They were both executives, so their income wasn’t the problem, but it also didn’t get them special treatment. Kara’s tilted uterus meant a higher risk of miscarriage, so they’d been rated B1. B1s were only allowed to reproduce if an approved “A” birth conception ended in stillbirth or miscarriage. Then a birth lottery was held and all B1 applicants competed for a chance to conceive. Every six months Kara and Joe had to resubmit their paperwork to be eligible for these lotteries. So far, fortune hadn’t smiled on them.
“I’ll call her as soon as we’re done talking,” Lyn promised. Then they spent an hour discussing names for the baby and gossiping about the family. When her Mom’s smiling face faded from the screen, Lynda hesitated. Then she shrugged and pressed the button for Kara’s connection. Kara would find out eventually and Lyn wanted to be the one to tell her.
“Hi, Lyn, what’s up?” Kara’s brogue came over the speakers first. Then the screen lit, and sitting there in a hoody and shorts was her sister-in-law. Short reddish-blond hair framed a freckled pixie face, and thoughtful gray-green eyes were lit up in a warm smile. She seemed delighted at the unexpected call, genuinely glad to see her. Lyn and Kara had met at Martin Luther, one of the Christian, public high schools that the teens in Maspache attended. They had been friends even before they’d dated and married twin brothers. Warmed by her friend’s smile, Lyn decided. She would tell Kara the news.
“We’ve been approved for the baby,” she blurted, watching Kara’s face for a response. Kara’s eyes widened; she jumped off her chair and began to dance around.
“I’m going to be an aunt!” she chanted over and over as she danced to music only she could hear. Lyn laughed out in pure relief. Kara ran back to her chair, breathless.
“Tell me all the dirty little details, girl! When did you find out?”
“The permission came today. I’ve only told Mom, and now you. Are you happy?”
“Of course I’m happy, I’m ecstatic, you nit. Do you know what this means?” Lyn knew. Ted and Jim were brothers, so a successful birth for Jim would give Ted and Kara a better chance in the lotteries, might even boost them into a higher classification, A4, conditional approval. Lyn had to smile at Kara’s excitement.
That afternoon, Lyn went to the center to have her hardware modified. The live feed to the birthing center which had monitored her uterus since adolescence, discouraging promiscuity in her teens and keeping her aware of problems or incongruities with her birth control after she was married, would now confirm the baby’s conception and monitor its growth. The tiny pump used to inject the hormones that had kept her ovaries from producing viable eggs, would now maintain the level of supplements needed to keep both her and the baby healthy throughout her pregnancy. Since fifth grade, when she had first received her implants, Lyn, like every girl in Maspache, had been taught everything she needed to know about sex, her reproductive cycle, and the procedures that would be required throughout her life to prevent and then allow conception. Until the 2030’s, women had received little training about their sexuality, and yet had been expected to be in control of their reproductive life. Grandmam told her that when the central government of the USA had first enacted population control measures, girls who got “caught” were expected to have their unwanted pregnancies terminated. But that was before the communities. In some places abortion might still be used to terminate unsanctioned pregnancies, but people in Maspache and similar religious communities did not condone abortion as a method of birth control. Their community doctors were always searching for better ways to help women control their fertility, and protect women and their babies during pregnancy. Though abstinence before marriage was emphasized, sometimes, despite community enforced birth control, some girls managed to have unapproved pregnancies. When that happened in their community, the girl would be given the same privileges as an approved mother. The children of unmarried couples were raised in the same nurseries and childcare centers. If the young parents couldn’t afford to pay expenses, a childless couple would adopt the baby but the birth parents had the same visitation rights, once a parent always a parent.
When Lyn woke from the anesthesia after the procedure, she was introduced to her maternity nurse for the first time. Monica would monitor Lyn’s uterus before conception and during her pregnancy. Once the baby was conceived, Monica would contact her every week for instruction, and be on call around the clock to answer any questions Lyn might have. Monica set up Lyn’s first Ob-Gyn consult, and then arranged for a private car to take her from the Reproduction Center to her job at Insurance Alternatives Incorporated, a few blocks away. Once Lyn conceived, that car and driver would be at her disposal any time she needed them, no public transportation or walking while she was pregnant!
At I-A-I, Lyn was met with a sea of smiling faces and a flood of good wishes. News of her approval had preceded her. Since her office handled insurance for pregnant mothers and newborns for Maspache and the surrounding communities, her coworkers had probably known about the approval before she had. After her Congratulation Party, Lyn filled out the forms necessary for her conception leave, and filed them with personnel. For the next four months, while she and Jim tried to get pregnant, she’d be on paid leave. When they conceived, she’d have an additional ten months, all covered by the CGHI, the insurance branch of the Central Economic Agency of the United Federation of North American Communities. The hardest part was saying good-bye, but her co-workers reminded her she’d be back among them as soon as the baby was weaned!
3
The nurses told her she had post-partum depression, but they didn’t want to give her any drugs as long as she was nursing the baby. Lyn watched the rain on the plazscreen. Somehow that kept her from thinking too much. When she thought too much, she cried. In two weeks, Trista would be taken from her. Then she would only be allowed to visit with her baby for two hours a day. She probably wouldn’t be there when Trista took her first steps and said her first words. She wouldn’t be the one her toddler ran to for comfort or a treat, the one who’d discipline her, who’d take care of her when she was sick, or who’d change her diapers. Since the rainy landscape was no longer keeping her from thinking, Lyn turned away, searching for something else to occupy her mind. Her restless gaze stopped at the colorful mural hanging on the opposite wall with its yellow sunflowers and bright faced children at play. All around and behind the children were pretty little groupings of houses, shops and trees. From the windows, smiling adults watched the children play: a teacher, a nurse, a doctor, a shopkeeper, a librarian, a minister, and a postman. Across the top, printed in bold orange and gold letters was the slogan “It Takes a Village to Raise a Child.” Grandmam had told Lyn that some day she’d come to hate that phrase.
Linda turned back to the plazscreen. She didn’t want to think about the past or the future. It hurt too much to think of the future, and it hurt even worse to remember the past.
4
Grandmam was thrilled. Her face lit in a broad smile, she took Lyn’s hands in hers, patted them, and pressed a sweet, dry kiss on her cheek. Then her wrinkled face turned thoughtful. “You know,” she whispered, glancing around the room, “There are ways for you to keep the baby.”
Lyn laughed to herself. Grandmam always saw conspiracies. She really believed that the room was bugged, that the town council was watching her and listening to every word she said. As if they cared what one little old lady thought about the way that the government ran things. Mom said that Grandmam’s paranoia stemmed from the events following the 9-11-2001 World Trade Center tragedy. Grandmam had been just eleven when the Central Government and private agencies began communications surveillance to protect the USA from terrorist attack. Many had believed that the now obsolete government in Washington had intended to end state democracy for good and take control of the nation. That was before the inter-world global web pact had pushed for laws calling for separation of corporation and state, and had demanded that power be taken away from central government, and shifted to self-governing communities.
Lyn touched her grandmother’s arm, “Don’t worry, Grandmam. No one is going to take this baby away from us.” Grandmam only smiled her inscrutable, knowing smile, “Well, that’s what you think now, Lyn, but you may see things differently after the baby is born."
Lyn shook her head. “I’m not going to change my mind, Grandmam. I’m glad the community childcare center is going to help me raise my children. I like the idea of getting back to work and enjoying my life and not being kept awake every night by a screaming baby. After all that you’ve told me about how exhausting it was for you, you should be glad I don’t have to go through what you went through. With the community’s help, my life will be much easier than yours was. Remember, Grandmam, it takes a village to raise a child.”
“Some day you’ll see how stupid those words are,” Grandmam grumbled, and then walked away. Lyn shook her head.
5
Lyn hadn’t thought about Grandmam’s words again until another day, months later. Since then she’d thought about them all the time. She stared at the rain, trying not to remember that other day, but it forced itself upon her. It had been the last time she’d seen Grandmam alive. It had been a rainy day, just like the one on her plazscreen, the saddest, most unexpected event in Lyn’s life. Her ageless Grandmam had come down with an incurable form of cancer. The doctors had done their best, putting her through hell to kill the cancer, but the cancer had killed her first. Lyn pulled the business card that Grandmam had pressed into her hand that day from the deep pocket of her fleecy bathrobe. Printed on the back were the words, Baby R and S, and a phone number. “I know some people, Lyn. They belong to an organization called Rescue and Safe Haven. Call them if you ever need help,” Grandmam had whispered in a barely audible, pain tinged voice. Lyn hadn’t wanted to take the card, but Grandmam’s pitifully wasted face and pleading eyes had won her over; she hadn’t had the heart to turn her down. Grandmam had smiled weakly, patting Lyn’s hand, and closed her eyes, too exhausted to say more. The disease had taken her that same night. Lyn had thought about throwing the card away several times since then, but somehow couldn’t. Now she stared at it and wondered if she could get Jim to bring her a cell phone.
6
Jim submitted a copy of their approval to his personnel office to receive three days off from work to “maximize the potential for conception,” as his release permission stated. He was wearing boxers with little pink hearts printed on them, and grinning at her. “Imagine that, a paid holiday to have sex with my wife!” he said archly, “Talk about work incentives!”
Lyn smiled at his playfulness. She loved his sense of humor. She also loved the golden color of his hair, which almost matched the color of his skin, her six foot five inch Polish prince. She smiled at him coyly and he dove for the bed. Monica had called earlier to let her know that her egg had popped. Actually with all the sperm swimming around inside her she should already be pregnant. They’d been “maximizing their potential” for days, but Lyn wasn’t bored. Jim was a tender lover and he knew how to pleasure his wife. Once again, she came, he released, and she flew with him, the two of them on a long, slow, seemingly endless climax. Then it was down to earth again to drift peacefully into a contented sleep, wrapped in one another’s arms. A few days later, Jim went back to work with a smile on his face. Lyn knew it would take a while for the zygote to implant, but she still called Monica every day.
When Monica finally had some news, it wasn’t what Lyn wanted to hear. “Sorry, sweetie, no baby this time, it was probably just too soon. The sperm got to the egg and fertilized it, but the egg hasn’t implanted. Looks like a dud.” Monica tried to get her to laugh, but Lyn was devastated. So much for the drug company’s assurances that the effects of the birth control hormones were reversible. She sat down at her mail center to fill out a non-conception questionnaire and wondered how many other women had been through this. Would her response make a difference? Dutifully she typed it out, and posted it to the center’s email.
The next month crawled by. Lyn was becoming more and more convinced that she couldn’t conceive. It was wonderful having Jim home again for “conception” leave, but her anxiety was overwhelming, and it didn’t help to have Monica telling her that her tension could inhibit conception. She had to take happy pills to relax enough to have intercourse, and for the first time in her life, it was actually painful. She didn’t smile when Jim came into the living room in his heart boxers to coax her into bed. Monica’s call to tell her that her egg was ready and waiting didn’t improve her mood. Jim’s persistence won her over, but Lyn didn’t respond to Jim’s lovemaking. For the next few days Lyn cried and prayed. Monica’s call surprised her. Had it already been a week? She switched on the vidscreen to see Monica waving her arms excitedly. “You’re pregnant!”
Then the days flew by. Now that she was officially with child, anyone she requested could get a day’s paid leave just to keep her company. Jim, Kara, Mom and her friends all took turns. They helped her shop for maternity clothes, baby clothes, supplies and diapers, and accompanied her to childbirth classes, her ob-gyn, nutritionist, and pediatrician appointments. Besides having a day off each week to be with her, Jim could leave work anytime she needed him. She just had to call his job and he was delivered home in the company car. She didn’t take advantage like some other Moms-to-be, but knowing she could was enough to ease any fears she might have of his not being there for the baby’s birth. Lyn and Jim ate healthy meals prepared by a pregnancy aid, a young woman who also did housework, shopping, and laundry for them. Everything, including her car service and exercise classes was covered by CGHI. Pregnancy was a community affair, and the community did everything in its power to make the experience stress free and happy for the MTB. “A happy mother,” the slogan went, “makes for a happy child.”
Mom and Grandmam were visiting when Monica called to tell them that the baby was a girl. Jim was exultant; he couldn’t stop hugging her. Mom screamed when Jim suddenly turned and picked her up, yelling, “It’s a girl, Mom!” She was laughing by the time he put her down. Grandmam watched him with incredulity and told him that her husband had treated her as a failure for having a girl child. Jim gave Grandmam a hug too, as if to make up for Papa’s callousness, then told them he was going out to buy dolls and stuffed animals for his baby girl. Lyn and Mom laughed. Grandmam snorted, but smiled. It wasn’t much later when everything changed.
7
Lyn looked up as Jim walked into her room. He was dressed in the blue sports shirt she’d bought him for their last anniversary, and a pair of jeans. He held out a bouquet of rosebuds and gardenias, her favorite flowers. Linda smiled warmly at her husband, intent on hiding her unhappiness. The first few days she’d tried to explain to him how she felt about giving up the baby. At first he’d held her, dried her tears, and told her he understood, but now she knew that he’d only been placating her. The day before, when she’d raised her voice in frustration, trying to convince him that she was serious, he’d walked out on her. It was the first time they hadn’t been able to settle an argument on the spot, to find common ground or reach a compromise. Lyn knew what he must be thinking. A few months ago it hadn’t been an issue. Now suddenly she was crying and complaining about things they had no control over. Giving the baby up to be raised in the nursery was the law. When they’d applied for approval to have a baby, they had agreed to it. Jim didn’t mind listening to her pour out her unhappiness, but there were limits to what they could do. Her complaining could ruin their A-1 status, they might be denied a second child, or even worse, it might hurt his brother’s chances. Why couldn’t she just let it go? He wanted the old Lyn back, the Lyn that was sensible, optimistic and devoted to him. She was both surprised and disappointed by his attitude.
After he’d walked out the day before, Lyn had made a decision. If Jim wouldn’t help her, she would do it on her own. First, she’d convince him that she was feeling better and get him to bring her the cell phone. Then she’d call those people on the card. She’d do whatever they advised, even run away, to keep her baby. The worried expression on Jim’s face lifted when he saw her smile, and he smiled in return. Would it be that easy?
“Hi, Beautiful,” he said, bending down to plant a warm kiss on her forehead, “Sorry ‘bout yesterday, but I’m so worried about you, and there’s nothing I can do to help.”
Jim sat on the edge of the bed and handed her the flowers hesitantly, as though afraid she’d refuse them. She buried her face in the bouquet; the scent brought back memories of proms and parties, vacations, birthdays and their wedding. Jim had known since high school how much Lyn loved these flowers. He made a point of buying them for her on special occasions. They reminded her of how much he loved her. She felt a stab of guilt for planning to use him, but she had no choice. She wanted to tell him the truth, but he’d already made it clear how he felt. They spoke about their families and she forced herself to show interest. When he told her that Mom would be coming to visit her on the weekend, she saw her chance and sighed.
Concern entered his gray blue eyes. “What is it?” he asked. She could tell that he was afraid that she was going to bring up the baby and start crying again.
“I just miss Mom. You know I usually call her every day, and I haven’t seen or spoken to her since last weekend. She can’t get out of work early enough to make their stupid visiting hours. I don’t understand why they won’t at least let me talk to her. They’re trying to control my depression by protecting me from outside stress, but how could talking to my Mom be stressful? It’s so stupid. The psychiatrist is ok, but she isn’t Mom. I’ll bet I’d recover faster if I could speak to her more often.”
“We asked the administration if you could have a phone the first day, Lyn. They’re not going to give you one.” He stood up and looked at her, his hands on his hips, torn between wanting to obey the rules and wanting to help her.
“I know, I’m being silly, but Mom has always been the best thing for what ails me. She always knows how to make me laugh. You know that, Jim.” She crossed her hands on her lap, and looked down at them, waiting. There it was. She knew that she’d gotten him thinking. Jim couldn’t stand irrational behavior. Had she said enough? Did he believe they were being unreasonable by not letting her talk to Mom?
“You know,” he smiled his lopsided grin, and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I’ve got your cell in my coat pocket out in the waiting room.”
Lynda’s heart jumped. “But if they catch you, they might not let you come see me.” A part of her was alarmed at that thought. Another part only cared about getting the phone. Jim had never been one to back down from a challenge. The effect was immediate. His eyes sparkled dangerously as he placed his finger on his lips. He took her empty tissue box and walked out of the room. In a short time he was back with a new one and a wide grin on his face.
“I waited ‘til the nurse was busy on the vidscreen and then slipped past her. By the time she finished, I was standing by her desk with the empty box in my hand. I told her you needed tissues and offered to bring them to you. She handed me these and said thanks.” He tilted the box to show her the cell phone nestled under a layer of tissues. Lyn jumped out of bed and clung to him, tears flowing. He took a tissue and wiped her cheeks. “It’s okay Hon, call your Mom. These people are control freaks. I see how they treat you.” Lyn started in surprise. Did he understand after all? He gave her another hug. “Call your Mom. Get better, finish nursing the dam baby and come home to me,” he whispered, holding her fiercely. No, she thought sadly, he didn’t.
8
Her pregnancy was going well, no worries. Every Wednesday she and Jim went to the ob-gyn and visited Monica. She took Lyn’s vitals and answered whatever questions they might have, and then let them watch the baby on the monitor. At first there hadn’t been much to see, just a tiny knot of cells that had slowly begun to look like a tadpole, but within weeks the little fish had sprouted arms with tiny hands, and legs with tiny feet, and begun to move about. They watched in fascination as the fetus stretched and moved its limbs and eventually learned to place a thumb in its mouth. When her belly started to expand, Monica fitted her with a special girdle that supported the extra weight when she walked and exercised. It helped limit backaches and prevent stretch marks.
“Isn’t technology amazing,” Mom shook her head as she helped Lyn slip a pretty new maternity blouse over the support girdle. “You look wonderful, honey. How do you feel?”
“Great Mom, I feel as healthy as ever. I guess the maternity supplements and the good diet are doing their job, and It’s great having Jill to do the housework for me.”
Mom shook her head again, “and the insurance covers all this.” She turned to Grandmam, who was busy sorting the laundry that Jill had left folded on the bed. “Isn’t it amazing, Mom?”
Grandmam looked up and regarded her daughter with a skeptical eye. Then she turned and looked at Lyn. “What’s so amazing about it? If you ask me, the price you pay for all this is too high. Is it worth giving up your children for?” Mom rolled her eyes, and Lyn smiled. Grandmam turned toward her daughter and looked as though she would slap her. “I am not a doddering fool yet, Eleanor. Wait until some snooty nurse won’t allow you to see your granddaughter. We’ll see if your silly faces can change her mind.”
Lyn and Mom tried to placate Grandmam, but they soon realized that even the promise of a new grandchild wasn’t going to get her to stop her morbid predictions for the future. She never stopped railing against the nursery system, or suggesting that Lyn try to get away with her baby. Grandmam was taking a lot of the joy out of Lyn’s pregnancy. Gradually Lyn began spending less time with her. When Lyn was invited to tour the birthing center and the nurseries, though Grandmam had expressed a keen interest in looking the place over, Lyn didn’t call her. She wasn’t in the mood to have her use the visit to pick apart the facility and bring up losing the baby again. When the day came, they went without her.
The place was spotless. The nursing rooms, though on the lower level, were bright as day. A plazscreen window set in the wall next to each bed brought in a simulation of the outdoors. Since each birth mother could specify the colors she wanted in her room, Lyn picked out translucent blues and greens that reminded her of the Caribbean waters they’d enjoyed on their honeymoon. Each room had a different full sized mural featuring the “It takes a village” slogan. Lyn’s mural showed children playing among flowers, with old-fashioned houses in the background.
Lyn had the choice of delivering the baby in a hospital room, or a birthing suite with low lighting and a large bath. Jim’s grin widened when he saw the tub. “Why don’t you try out the birthing suite?” he said, winking suggestively. “That’s quite a hot tub. I bet you there’s enough room in there for me to climb in and help out.” Lyn laughed and shook her head. If she chose the suite, the guide told her, she would deliver the baby herself in the bath with the aid of a midwife, and of course with a doctor on call nearby in case of an emergency. Lyn decided on the traditional room anyway. She didn’t want to take any chances with her first baby. Maybe she’d let Jim have his way next time. Then they headed for the nursery. Lyn felt uneasy as she entered the viewing room. For the first time since they’d arrived, Grandmam’s dislike for the nurseries crossed her mind. The place was distressingly sterile. The stark white walls were unrelieved by any decoration. The only furnishings were the incubators, lined up with just enough room between them for the caretakers to pass through. They viewed the room through glass walls hung with signs that warned, “Do not disturb babies. Do not touch glass. Anyone making noise will be escorted out.” They could see the babies crying, though they couldn’t hear them. Their guide explained, “This is where the babies stay the first few weeks, while their mothers nurse them. Then they’re moved to cribs in the nursery.”
“I can’t wait to see the nursery,” Lyn smiled at the girl expectantly, “Show us where our baby will live after I go back to work.”
The girl’s smile wavered. When she realized that Lyn was serious, she frowned and answered, “I’m afraid you can’t. It’s against regulations, too much chance of infection. Those rooms are off limits to everyone but the staff and the babies. You’ll be allowed to visit your baby here, in a sterile environment, for the first six months. Later on you’ll see your child during visiting hours, in the recreation rooms with the other parents.” She and Jim exchanged puzzled frowns. It was the first time they’d realized the limitations to their visitation rights. She was annoyed at the girl and upset by the rules. It made her think of Grandmam again. She shook her head. Why was she being so sensitive? The rules were for the protection of the babies. She was just tired. After all, they’d been at the center all afternoon. Carrying this baby was starting to wear her out.
When they arrived home, there was a message from Grandmam. She wasn’t feeling well and she’d like Lyn to call her as soon as possible. “Grandmam must know that we went to the birthing center without her,” she mumbled to Jim. “Now she’s going to guilt me about it.” Jim didn’t say anything. He just picked her up and carried her to bed. He helped her to undress and began to rub her baby belly with a special cream designed to prevent stretch marks. For some reason the gentle pressure of his fingers stroking her belly began to arouse her. She would call Grandmam tomorrow. Right now, she had something better to do. Jim seemed to be reading her mind. He began to lotion up her breasts, paying particular attention to her painfully sensitive nipples, and then brought her to orgasm with his deft strong fingers. She fondled him through his jeans and he obliged her by taking them off to let her do the same for him.
The next day Mom called to tell them that Grandmam was in the hospital with an aggressive, life threatening cancer. Filled with guilt, Lyn went to see her right away.
9
Lyn walked across her private room and stood silently at the open door, listening. There was no sign of movement. The aid wouldn’t bring the baby to be fed for another hour, and the nurse wouldn’t be down to take her vitals until after she nursed the baby. This would be a good time to make the call, but she still stood there undecided. What would they do if they caught her? Finally, she pulled the little phone from her pocket and flipped it open. She looked out again, expecting to see the head nurse, but there was no one. Lyn dialed the number. “Hello,” a familiar voice answered, “Lyn, is that you?”
Astonished, Lyn almost dropped the phone, but then composed herself and asked, “How did you know that it was me?”
“I didn’t know for sure,” the woman laughed, “but you’re the only new mother that we have red-flagged right now. Before she died, your grandmother told us that you might call, so we’ve been waiting for you.”
Lyn asked her if many mothers tried to get their babies out, and the voice told her that it happened just enough to keep them in business.
Lyn suddenly realized that she didn’t have any cash or any of her cards with her. Jim had them at home, and there was no way she could ask him for them without making him suspicious. “I have nothing to pay you,” she responded miserably,
“It’s ok,” the voice reassured her. “Your grandmother paid in advance. For some reason she seemed to expect you to want this.” There was a pause and Lyn wondered how Grandmam could have been so certain. Then the voice continued, asking. “Are you sure that you do want to do this? We’re trying to get the laws changed to allow parents to raise their children at home if they choose to, but right now taking your child is a crime and you could go to prison for it.” Lyn didn’t answer and the woman went on. “If you decide to leave Maspache and go someplace where parental guardianship is legal, it will mean living and working in a community whose customs may be very different from what you’re used to. And there’s always the chance that the central law enforcement agency will catch up with you, no matter how hard we try to keep your location secret. You won’t be able to see or speak to your husband or family and friends until the laws are changed, and that may not happen before your daughter is full-grown.” The voice paused again, giving Lyn time to digest this disheartening bit of information. “There are few Christian communities that will allow unwed mothers to raise their children.” At the word unwed, Lyn drew in her breath. The woman didn’t hear her and continued. “The only place in the east is the city-state of Baltimore. Once there, you’ll be on your own. If you don’t make enough money to support yourself and your daughter, they’ll take her from you and place her in a child care center, just as they would here in Maspache. If that happens, you’ll be allowed visitation rights but nothing more, and you won’t have your family around for support. Are you absolutely sure you’re willing to risk so much for this?”
Lyn glanced outside her room in time to see the head nurse enter a room down the hall. She heard her superficial greeting and pictured her phony smile. People like that nurse would be raising her precious daughter. Lyn knew that those people would never love Trista the way that she loved her.
“I’m sure,” she responded, “How will this work?” The voice outlined a plan. Some time soon she’d find herself alone with the baby. She was to bring Trista upstairs to the exit by the psychiatry wing. Did she know the way? Lyn had gone there for sessions with the staff psychiatrist. Good. She’d leave through that door and someone would be waiting for her outside. Since every door was wired with an alarm, they’d need to cross the compound and get out the front gate as quickly as possible. Was she up to running yet? Lyn thought so. The woman said good luck, and the call was over. Lyn flipped the phone closed and put it back in her pocket. She lay down on her bed and changed her plazscreen window to display a beautiful golden Hawaiian sunset. She felt much better.
10
Less than a month later, Grandmam died, and the family gathered at the funeral home to say good-by. When Kara came in, she hugged Lyn and whispered “I hope she knew how much we all loved her.” Lyn just nodded. Trust Grandmam to find a way to make her feel guilty from the grave. She shook her head. Grandmam hadn’t planned for her to feel guilty. She hadn’t told them she was sick because she’d expected to get better. She’d done what Lyn herself would have done under the same circumstances. The doctors said the cancer she had was so aggressive that it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d found out sooner.
The next day was a final service and the burial. Grandma would be placed next to Papa in the crypt that they’d purchased twenty four years earlier. Lyn could hardly remember her grandfather. She’d been four when he’d died. She only knew him from Grandmam’s stories. He’d never been happy in the USA. Not even after it had become the United Federation. He’d always wanted to return home to China, but Grandmam had no intention of going with him. He’d loved his vexing wife and bright-eyed little girl (despite the fact that she wasn’t the son he’d wanted) so he’d stayed. Lyn watched the pall bearers roll the casket into the chapel. A friend of Grandmam’s came to tell Lyn she was sorry for her loss. Lyn hugged the middle-aged woman that she knew as Auntie Su.
The older woman kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “Your grandmother’s death was tragic, unexpected. She was much too young.”
Lyn nodded. “We never saw it coming.”
“Lyn, I hate to give you distressing news, but I think that someone was unhappy with your grandmother’s stand against the reproduction and child care laws.”
Lyn stared at the woman in surprise. Auntie Su didn’t notice. She continued, telling her that Grandmam hadn’t just talked against government interference with parenting. She’d been an ardent advocate for parental guardianship at council meetings since the days that the Town Council had first voted to remove children from their homes.
“She supported the efforts of Rescue and Safe Haven,” Aunt Su continued to speak, not realizing how agitated Lyn was becoming, “and contributed to our cause.”
Lyn spoke with conviction and animosity, “Did you people get my Grandmam killed? How dare you take advantage of an old woman, and for what? Parenting is a thankless, overwhelming job. Before the Community decided to help, many failed at it. Now you’re telling me that someone killed my grandmother because of her involvement with your organization. Why can’t you people just leave well enough alone?”
Aunt Su drew in a sharp breath. The look in her eyes and the tone of her voice was indignant. “Your Grandmam was hardly an old woman, Lyn. She had a mind of her own. In fact, she was the founder of our organization. When she was younger she planned and carried out rescues by herself. It was only later, when she became physically incapable that she allowed others to take over. She believed in this, in us, for God’s sake. Now you’re accusing us of causing her death? Your grandmother told me that you would be supportive. That’s why I approached you. The people who did this to you’re grandmother must be stopped, and the laws must be changed.”
“Are you accusing the Town Council of killing my grandmother?”
“Of course not, the town council only enacts the laws that the citizens ask for. Unfortunately, for the last twenty years the council has been influenced by a powerful group of individuals who believe parents can’t be trusted to raise their children. Since they pushed through the legislation that calls for children to be raised by the community, those people have done everything in their power to influence others with their “Village” propaganda. They intimidate and belittle anyone like your Grandmam, who feels differently. The continued use of the Rescue and Safe Haven system by new mothers proves that more than a few people disagree, and the number of women who take their children and move out of the community keeps increasing. The “Village” supporters are worried. The increase in runaways has lead to a significant decrease in the town’s population, which has lead to a decrease in funding from the CEA. Despite that, they’re determined to keep parents from raising their children, and they think that if they can just get rid of organizations like Rescue and Safe Haven, new mothers won’t be able to leave and they can bully them into accepting the current laws. That’s why they want to stop us, and that’s why, I believe, your grandmother died.”
Lyn looked at the woman, not really convinced, and spoke heatedly. ”I have no interest in your organization or your reforms, no matter what Grandmam might have told you. How could a sensible person not see that the current system works, that it’s a Godsend to parents? I know my Grandmam was eccentric, but I don’t understand why you people do this.”
“Let me tell you a story,” Aunt Su said, and Lyn listened reluctantly.
“I have two daughters. Both married young, and hoped to raise children with their husbands. The older one was twenty when she and her husband applied for permission to conceive. They were approved, and a month later they conceived their first child. Unfortunately, like so many children these days, the baby died in her womb. My daughter was devastated and mourned the loss for months, hardly eating or sleeping. She was directed to see a center appointed psychiatrist at the time and given meds for depression. A year later, she felt well enough to try again. The psychiatrist from the center declared her physically and psychologically incapable of delivering a healthy child, and the center turned her down. She was inconsolable, wouldn’t leave the house, hardly ate or slept. Her husband, afraid she’d have a breakdown, convinced her to admit herself to the mental health clinic. At the time, the C4 rating had just been approved. It was for those who were labeled bad choices for reproduction. While she was in the clinic she was determined to be a C4. Do you know what they do to C4s?”
Lyn couldn’t speak. She just stared at the woman in horror. She had never considered how women were determined to be C4s.”
“I see that you do. Before anyone could stop it she’d been chemically neutered, as were many other women at the Mental Health clinic at the time, and her husband was told that he had the choice of sharing her fate or finding himself another wife. Joe loved her and accepted neutering for himself as well. My beautiful vibrant daughter returned home but she was never the same.”
Aunt Su was silent for a moment, then, she looked at Lyn and said, “After the older one was found unsuitable, my younger daughter was automatically given a B5 rating and put on birth control for life. She and her husband moved away to a community in Colorado. She was examined there, and they approved her for conception. I go to see my grandson as often as I can.”
11
After she’d nursed Tris, Lyn decided to call Mom. While she was talking the head nurse walked in. Lyn didn't realize she wasn’t alone until she heard a cold voice saying, “What do you think you’re doing? You know that phones are not allowed on this floor.”
Lyn looked up, upset at getting caught. “I’m talking to my Mom. And if you really want me to get better, you would have let me talk to her days ago.”
The head nurse took the phone out of her hand and spoke into it, “Hello? I’m sorry, cell phones are prohibited in the nursing ward. The radiation’s not good for the babies. Visiting hours are from 9 to11am, and 1to4pm. Please visit your daughter during those times. Thank-you.” She closed the phone and shook her head.
“We’re very worried about you, dear. You know we didn’t want to put you on meds until your daughter had been breastfed for at least a week, but I think that we’ve gone as far as we can. We’ll see if Dr. Kim can’t give you something for that depression.”
“But I’m much better. You said so yourself yesterday. I even turned off the rainstorm.” She pointed to the plazscreen to prove her point. It was set to a sunny spring day. Lyn knew that once they gave her meds for depression, they wouldn’t let her nurse Trista; she’d be sent home. How was she going to contact the Rescue and Safe Haven people to let them know without a cell phone?
The woman smiled her cold, artificial smile, and walked out. “First thing tomorrow,” she called from outside the door. Lyn felt like crying. She’d only have two more feedings before they took the baby back to the nursery for good. She hated that woman. She’d hated her from the first time she’d met her in the delivery room.
12
When the big day came, Lyn was anxious but her mother and Monica told her there was nothing to worry about. According to Monica, the baby was positioned perfectly. With the newest pain medicines, all that she would feel was pressure, which her mom assured her was nothing like the labor pains that birthing mothers had gone through in the past. They would ask her to push, the baby would come out and she would get to sleep and recover. Lyn was already cramping from the meds that they‘d given her to induce labor. Jim was on the way to the birthing center. The car service was waiting for her. Lyn was heading out the door, when she decided to go back and get the business card that Grandmam had given her. She opened her bag and slipped it into the pocket of her robe, then went back out to meet Mom.
When she arrived at the Birthing center, nothing went right. Jim wasn’t there yet, and neither was Monica. Instead, a large nurse with a phony looking smile waited with a wheel chair at the entrance. Lyn wanted to wait for Jim, but the nurse wouldn’t let her. She was told to sit, and immediately wheeled into the delivery room. When Mom tried to follow, the bossy woman coldly told her that she had to wait in the room by the entrance. When Jim arrived, the nurse sent him to fill out paper work, and Lyn was afraid that he wouldn’t be back in time. This disagreeable woman also prepped Lyn for her delivery, instead of Monica, with whom Lyn was comfortable. The only good thing about the process was that the painkillers she administered did relieve Lyn’s pain, just as Monica had promised. When Jim ran back in, the nurse tried to send him out again, telling him that spoiling his wife would make her weak and ineffective, but he ignored her speeches, and stood by Lyn’s side, letting her squeeze his hand. Her doctor arrived soon after. He examined her and told her it wouldn’t be long. Through a haze of discomfort and dizziness she heard him say, “Okay, push.” It took three good pushes before the pressure eased and she heard a thin high wail. Jim’s smiling face appeared before her. He brushed back her bangs and kissed her sweaty forehead, whispering, “She’s a beauty, Mrs. Kula.” Lyn heard the doctor say, “one more push,” and she felt him delivering the placental sack, once called the afterbirth, in which her baby had spent the first nine months of her life. Now that its original purpose had been fulfilled it would be broken down for stem cells and disposed of. Lyn fell asleep.
When Lyn awoke, she was in her private room, surrounded by Caribbean colors, and the plazscreen window was set on a beautiful ocean sunrise. She stretched and sat up, wondering if they’d let her take a shower. Immediately, a blond girl wearing a striped aid’s apron came in with breakfast: waffles, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Lyn ate voraciously. The young woman left to bring the baby in for Lyn to nurse. Lyn remembered her unhappiness in the delivery room. Why had she been so upset? This wasn’t so bad. According to the schedule, after nursing the baby, she’d take a short walk to the showers where the aid would give her a sponge bath and wash her hair. Then, after the doctor examined her, she’d have lunch and nurse the baby again. There would be an hour visit with her family, another walk to the lounge for a movie with the other new moms, and finally, she’d return to her room for another visiting hour, followed by nursing and supper. Then Lyn could sleep, read or watch cable until the last nursing at 8pm.
The blond aid returned with the baby. Lyn pushed up her pajama shirt and took her new baby from the aid, calling her by name for the first time. “There you go, little Trista, enjoy your breakfast.” A tiny hand grabbed her little finger, and Lyn took a good look at her newborn. She was very red, thin and wrinkled, with a few short hairs on the top of her head. Her ears were the biggest part of her face. Not very pretty, Lynda thought. Since the baby’s eyes hadn’t opened, Lyn had to help her find the nipple. Once she found it though, she clamped down and sucked hard. “Hungry?” Lynda asked, surprised at the determination of the baby’s suckling. She looked at the aid, “How do I know if she’s getting enough?” The girl gave her a tight little smile. “Now don’t you worry, mother; it’s not your problem. We’ll make sure that everything is just fine with your little one.” Lynda stopped listening after the first “mother”; she couldn’t stand the condescending tone of voice. This one had to go.
Before long, the baby stopped sucking and was sleeping peacefully in Lyn’s arms. Lyn found that she enjoyed looking at her sleeping daughter, even if she was all red and wrinkly. The aid saw that the baby was finished and stooped over to pick her up.
“Wait a minute,” Lyn put her shoulder between the aid and her baby. “I want to hold her for a while.” The girl tried to reason with her, and when that didn’t work she rang a bell and the big nurse who had kept her mother out of the delivery room came in. She smiled her phony smile, and asked the blond what the problem was. The girl just pointed to the baby.
“Okay, mother,” The big nurse said, humoring her, “It’s time to let your baby girl go back to the nursery. Baby’s need uninterrupted sleep to thrive. I know that you wouldn’t mean to wake her up, but it doesn’t take much at this age.” Lyn let the aid take Tris from her arms. The baby fussed a tiny bit, but stopped as soon as the young woman wrapped a blanket around her and put her into the incubator cart. Then Lyn remembered how she’d felt when she’d taken the tour of the nursery. She’d convinced herself that day that her disquiet had been due to exhaustion, but now she thought differently. She couldn’t stand the thought of her baby left in that sterile room. She hated this place. She hated the head nurse. She even hated the stupid sunny day that shone at her from the plazscreen. Lyn turned over and adjusted it to the rainiest, dreariest scene she could find, and watched the raindrops roll down.
13
When Jim came in later that day, he found Lyn absolutely distraught.
“They took it. That dam head nurse walked right in and grabbed the cell and told Mom that she’d have to come see me during visiting hours, and walked out with it.” Tears were streaming down her face as she told Jim about the meds that they were planning to give her, and how she wouldn’t be allowed to nurse Trista once they started her on them. When she finished, she wiped her eyes and looked up at his face. He looked concerned for her, but didn’t seem upset.
“Don’t you care?”
“Come on, Lyn, I do feel bad that you can’t nurse the baby. She’s such a tiny thing, I wish that you could give her more of your own milk, but I can’t say that I’m sorry that they’re finally giving you something to help you feel better. You’ve been down way too long. It’s not like you. The baby will be fine. They’ll give her some special formula to fatten her up and in a few days we’ll come see her.” He spoke to her as if he were coaxing a small child to give up a favorite toy. Lynda exploded.
“You just want to get me home. What’s wrong with you, Jim? Can’t you see what a cold, sterile place this is? You can’t stand coming here, but you want to leave our baby alone here?
“Lynda, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting like they don’t know how to take care of a baby. They’re the experts for God’s sake. That’s why they’re here; they know what she needs. We’re only parents.” Then, to drive home his point he said, “You sound just like Grandmam.”
Lyn couldn’t believe he could see things so differently than she did. She felt like hitting him, but just then the curly haired nursing aid pushed the incubator through the door. Without a word, Lyn unbuttoned her pajama shirt and reached out for the baby. Jim watched as the girl placed Trista in her mother’s waiting arms. Tenderness softened his angry features as the baby searched for the nipple that Lyn placed near her waiting mouth. He smiled as Trista caught the nipple and sighed. Lyn watched the baby’s face, a look of adoration in her eyes. She seemed to have forgotten him. As Jim stepped closer to get a look at her face, Lyn looked up at him and their eyes met. At first her look was tentative, but immediately she read his expression and smiled at him. It was the first real smile that he’d seen since the baby was born. He moved even closer and the girl reminded him that he wasn’t to touch the baby because he wasn’t sanitary. He nodded and the aid smiled. Jim watched Trista, amazed by how strong she seemed for such a tiny thing. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him. He felt a tug at his heart and for the first time he thought that perhaps he could understand what his wife was feeling. Why shouldn’t they keep their baby? After all, couples had been raising children for centuries and most of the time they had managed to get it right. He and his brother hadn’t turned out that badly and they’d been raised at home. His face relaxed into a thoughtful expression and Lyn’s smile grew wider. He smiled back at her and they both looked down at the precious baby who had unknowingly caused such an upheaval in their lives. The fight was over, and all was forgiven. Jim smoothed Lyn’s hair with tender fingers and kissed her on the forehead.
“Your mom and I will come in early tomorrow morning and bring a parent advocate. We’ll see if we can talk them out of the happy pills,” he said as he walked toward the door. The baby was still sucking, her tiny hands pressed into the sides of Lyn’s breast. Lynda could feel tears, never far from the surface, welling up again. Jim smiled back at her one last time and then left the room. She was still musing over the change in her husband when an alarm sounded and a familiar voice came over an intercom in the hall. “All nursery aids and orderlies please report to the nursery.” The message repeated, and the girl walked over to see if the baby had finished. Trista was still busy playing with Lyn’s nipple and smiling her crinkle-eyed baby smile. The aid looked down the hall and made her decision. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and then she was gone. Lyn didn’t pause to think. She pushed the blanket away and jumped out of bed. Trista was asleep, the smile still on her face. Lyn wrapped her in a towel, knowing the blanket’s bulk might trip her up. She pulled on her robe, slid on her slippers, and stepped out into the hallway. No one was there. Lyn made her way to the staircase, and was opening the stairwell door when she noticed a fresh set of scrubs on top of a pile of towels and linens in an open closet next to the stairs. It took her a second to take off her robe and pull the scrubs on over her pajamas. Then she grabbed some more towels and wrapped them around the baby, hoping that if anyone saw her they’d think she was carrying a load of dirty laundry. Lyn headed up the staircase, and when she opened the door on the next level there was still no one in sight. She couldn’t believe her luck. As she walked toward the exit, two orderlies carrying trays came around the corner. She froze as they approached and then let out her breath when they walked past without a second look. That wouldn’t have happened if she’d been in her bathrobe. Lyn looked down the empty hallway one last time, and then stepped out through the exit. It was much colder outside. For a moment, she worried about the baby, but a young woman about her age was waiting for her. She smiled at Linda, a real, God-honest, happy to see you smile, and gave her a heavy coat and a pair of boots. While Linda buttoned the coat and slipped on the boots, the girl wrapped Trista in a winter bunting and blanket. They ran for the front gate and slipped through just as an alarm began to sound.
13
Jim stood still for a moment, watching Lyn’s mom who was sitting by the door. They were waiting for someone to tell them what was going on. When they’d arrived for visiting hours, a woman that he’d never seen before had met them in the entrance hallway and had escorted them to this room. A short time later a cop had come in to inform them that a nurse had helped Lyn kidnap the baby and run away. The parent advocate had left saying that there was nothing he could do now that Lyn had broken the law. Jim started walking across the room again. Why hadn’t he taken her seriously? He knew Lyn. She didn’t get upset about anything unless there was something to be upset about. He’d known she wouldn’t be content to come home without the baby, but he’d been so eager to get her home that he’d ignored her. Now he’d lost them both.
Well, he didn’t care anymore if they had another kid, or if Ted and Kara became parents. He didn’t even care if Lyn followed in Grandmam’s footsteps and spent the rest of her life railing against the nursing centers and fighting for parents’ rights. He just wanted to know his wife and baby girl were safe. God, please let them be safe, he prayed.
Just then there was a sound at the door. Lyn’s mom jumped up. A nurse stood in the doorway holding a tiny bundle in her arms. It was Lyn’s pregnancy coach, Monica. Jim knew, even before he saw her, that the bundle was Trista.
Monica nodded to Lyn’s mom, and then turned her attention to Jim. “Your wife has broken the law, Mr. Kula. Since Trista was recovered uninjured, things won’t go as badly for her as they would have if any harm had come to the baby. I’ve brought Trista to you so that you can see that she’s fine. We didn’t want you to worry-
Jim interrupted her. “What about Lyn?”
Monica shrugged. “She’s being held at a psychiatric facility for now. Her records indicate that she was suffering from post-partum depression, so there’s a good chance that the court will go easy on her. The way things are with those parent advocate groups and their rescue organizations and petitions, you’re wife may end up being a hero.” Monica smiled and her face softened. “Believe me, sir, speaking as a mother I understand why she did it. I wish that I could have been as brave when my son was born ten years ago, but you know how it is. They tell us over and over that it takes a village to raise a child. We’re brainwashed. We’re told, and we believe that parents are the worst people to raise their children. It seems like it’s working out for the kids, and it’s certainly easier not to have to worry about things like supervision, and sleepless nights, and whether the kids have adequate care when they’re sick. I guess it doesn’t take that much to convince us.” Jim walked over and put out his arms. Monica hesitated, and then handed the baby to him. Trista was wide-awake. She stared at him with her great grandmother’s too wise, almond shaped eyes.
“You still can’t take her home,” Monica said and then smiled, “at least, not until the laws are changed.” Jim looked thoughtfully into his baby’s eyes, then up at the nurse who stood there waiting. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to change those laws, won’t we?” he responded thoughtfully.