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Authors: Jodi Picoult
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population if it meant the contractions would stop.
“In you go,” Lacy said, letting Alex lean on her as she sank into the whirlpool. There was a Pavlovian response to warm water; sometimes just stepping into the tub could bring down a person’s heart rate.
“Lacy,” Alex gasped, “you have to promise…”
“Promise what?”
“You won’t tell her. The baby.”
Lacy reached for Alex’s hand. “Tell her what?”
Alex closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the lip of the tub. “That at first I didn’t want her.”
Before she could even answer, Lacy watched tension grip Alex. “Breathe through this one,” she said. Blow the pain away from you, blow it between your hands, picture it as the color red. Come up on your hands and knees. Pour yourself inward, like sand in an hourglass. Go to the beach, Alex. Lie on the sand and see how warm the sun is.
Lie to yourself until it’s true.
When you’re hurting deeply, you go inward. Lacy had seen this a thousand times. Endorphins kick in-the body’s natural morphine-and carry you somewhere far away, where the pain can’t find you. Once, a client who’d been abused had dissociated so massively that Lacy was worried she would not be able to reach her again and bring her back in time to push. She had wound up singing to the woman in Spanish, a lullaby.
For three hours now, Alex had regained her composure, thanks to the anesthesiologist who’d given her an epidural. She’d slept for a while; she’d played hearts with Lacy. But now the baby had dropped, and she was starting to bear down. “Why is it hurting again?” she asked, her voice escalating.
“That’s how an epidural works. If we dose it up, you can’t push.”
“I can’t have a baby,” Alex blurted out. “I’m not ready.”
“Well,” Lacy said. “Maybe we ought to talk about that.”
“What was I thinking? Logan was right; I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m not a mother, I’m a lawyer. I don’t have a boyfriend, I don’t have a dog…I don’t even have a houseplant I haven’t killed. I’m not even sure how to put on a diaper.”
“The little cartoon characters go on the front,” Lacy said. She took Alex’s hand and brought it down between her legs, to where the baby was crowning.
Alex jerked her hand away. “Is that…”
“Yeah.”
“It’s coming?”
“Ready or not.”
Another contraction started. “Oh, Alex, I can see the eyebrows…” Lacy eased the baby out of the birth canal, keeping the head flexed. “I know how much it burns…there’s her chin…beautiful…” Lacy wiped off the baby’s face, suctioned the mouth. She flipped the cord over the baby’s neck and looked up at her friend. “Alex,” she said, “let’s do this together.”
Lacy guided Alex’s shaking hands to cup the infant’s head. “Stay like that; I’m going to push down to get the shoulder…”
As the baby sluiced into Alex’s hands, Lacy let go. Sobbing, relieved, Alex brought the small, squirming body against her chest. As always, Lacy was taken by how available a newborn is-how present. She rubbed the small of the baby’s back and watched the newborn’s hazy blue eyes focus first on her mother. “Alex,” Lacy said. “She’s all yours.”
Nobody wants to admit to this, but bad things will keep on happening. Maybe that’s because it’s all a chain, and a long time ago someone did the first bad thing, and that led someone else to do another bad thing, and so on. You know, like that game where you whisper a sentence into someone’s ear, and that person whispers it to someone else, and it all comes out wrong in the end.
But then again, maybe bad things happen because it’s the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like.
Hours After
O nce, at a bar, Patrick’s best friend, Nina, had asked what the worst thing he’d ever seen was. He’d answered truthfully-back when he was in Maine, and a guy had committed suicide by
“In you go,” Lacy said, letting Alex lean on her as she sank into the whirlpool. There was a Pavlovian response to warm water; sometimes just stepping into the tub could bring down a person’s heart rate.
“Lacy,” Alex gasped, “you have to promise…”
“Promise what?”
“You won’t tell her. The baby.”
Lacy reached for Alex’s hand. “Tell her what?”
Alex closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the lip of the tub. “That at first I didn’t want her.”
Before she could even answer, Lacy watched tension grip Alex. “Breathe through this one,” she said. Blow the pain away from you, blow it between your hands, picture it as the color red. Come up on your hands and knees. Pour yourself inward, like sand in an hourglass. Go to the beach, Alex. Lie on the sand and see how warm the sun is.
Lie to yourself until it’s true.
When you’re hurting deeply, you go inward. Lacy had seen this a thousand times. Endorphins kick in-the body’s natural morphine-and carry you somewhere far away, where the pain can’t find you. Once, a client who’d been abused had dissociated so massively that Lacy was worried she would not be able to reach her again and bring her back in time to push. She had wound up singing to the woman in Spanish, a lullaby.
For three hours now, Alex had regained her composure, thanks to the anesthesiologist who’d given her an epidural. She’d slept for a while; she’d played hearts with Lacy. But now the baby had dropped, and she was starting to bear down. “Why is it hurting again?” she asked, her voice escalating.
“That’s how an epidural works. If we dose it up, you can’t push.”
“I can’t have a baby,” Alex blurted out. “I’m not ready.”
“Well,” Lacy said. “Maybe we ought to talk about that.”
“What was I thinking? Logan was right; I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m not a mother, I’m a lawyer. I don’t have a boyfriend, I don’t have a dog…I don’t even have a houseplant I haven’t killed. I’m not even sure how to put on a diaper.”
“The little cartoon characters go on the front,” Lacy said. She took Alex’s hand and brought it down between her legs, to where the baby was crowning.
Alex jerked her hand away. “Is that…”
“Yeah.”
“It’s coming?”
“Ready or not.”
Another contraction started. “Oh, Alex, I can see the eyebrows…” Lacy eased the baby out of the birth canal, keeping the head flexed. “I know how much it burns…there’s her chin…beautiful…” Lacy wiped off the baby’s face, suctioned the mouth. She flipped the cord over the baby’s neck and looked up at her friend. “Alex,” she said, “let’s do this together.”
Lacy guided Alex’s shaking hands to cup the infant’s head. “Stay like that; I’m going to push down to get the shoulder…”
As the baby sluiced into Alex’s hands, Lacy let go. Sobbing, relieved, Alex brought the small, squirming body against her chest. As always, Lacy was taken by how available a newborn is-how present. She rubbed the small of the baby’s back and watched the newborn’s hazy blue eyes focus first on her mother. “Alex,” Lacy said. “She’s all yours.”
Nobody wants to admit to this, but bad things will keep on happening. Maybe that’s because it’s all a chain, and a long time ago someone did the first bad thing, and that led someone else to do another bad thing, and so on. You know, like that game where you whisper a sentence into someone’s ear, and that person whispers it to someone else, and it all comes out wrong in the end.
But then again, maybe bad things happen because it’s the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like.
Hours After
O nce, at a bar, Patrick’s best friend, Nina, had asked what the worst thing he’d ever seen was. He’d answered truthfully-back when he was in Maine, and a guy had committed suicide by
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