Coop_ A Year of Poultry, Pigs, and Parenting - Michael Perry [59]
“They had seven babies at the hospital that day. My kid was born at eight in the morning. By noon I still hadn’t seen him. So I asked the nurse, and she held him up behind the glass.
“Homeliest little fart you’ve ever seen. I was pretty disappointed. But I thought, ‘Well, he’s healthy. I better not complain.’
“Then I heard the nurse saying, ‘What’s your name?’ I told her, and she said, ‘This one isn’t yours,’ and she held up another one.” He laughs. Like it was yesterday.
“Yeah, but Albert,” I say, “did that one look any better?”
He’s still chuckling. “Well, I thought so,” he says, “but I suppose I was prejudiced.”
CHAPTER 5
Across the valley, the bare-bone tree line is thickening. The maple leaves are fit to bust but holding fast, this year’s greenery still clasped in a tight fetal furl. The bud scales are dark red, infusing the canopy with a rubrous blush, shrouding the hills all smoky maroon. It is mid-afternoon, sunny, and still. I hear sparrows.
There is a baby on my lap.
Ten days have passed since the false alarm. It has been tough on Anneliese, going right to the precipice only to have her body shut down and scuttle the whole production. The sleeplessness returned tenfold, and with it the doubt, the brittle emotions, and the desperate weariness. She is occupied above all with the desire to get the baby born.
The morning after Easter I am at my desk above the garage when I see her pass by the window. She comes through the door and sits wide-legged and heavy in the saggy green chair. “I think maybe it’s happening,” she says. Apparently she had been up at 2:00 a.m., timing contractions while lying on the floor beside our bed. At some point they faded and she climbed back in bed and went to sleep. Ever helpful, I slept through the whole thing. Now the contractions have returned. “They’re strong enough that I have to stop and wait them out,” said Anneliese. We chat a while. A handful of contractions come and go. Then, as Anneliese stands to leave, a big one hits. She bends over, cradling her belly with one arm. She grimaces and blows through pursed lips. When the contraction passes, she returns to the house, and I phone Leah the midwife. We talk it around a while, me not wanting to pull the alarm early again, but Leah says it sounds like she should head our way, especially since she has a ways to drive. When I get to the house I find Anneliese on the sofa, gripped by another contraction. Her mother, Donna—who has been visiting more or less on standby—is at her side.
Shortly, Jaci arrives. She and Donna take Anneliese for a walk along the ridge. When the three of them return, the contractions are coming apace and Anneliese has to stop whatever she is doing to breathe through them. She says it helps if I rub her back, and while I am doing this, I notice Amy hovering around the edge of everything. She is beginning to look apprehensive. Since the time we began to plan for a home birth, Anneliese and I have talked with Amy several times about whether or not she would like to be present for the delivery. I’ve been torn about it from the beginning. I’m all for it if she wishes, but I also can’t see any reason she should be compelled to stay if she is disturbed at the sight of her mother in distress. All along she has been saying yes, but right now her eyes are a little too wide. We talk it over again now, and Amy says she wants to come upstairs with us when it is time, but I also discuss it with Donna and she agrees to take Amy out of sight and earshot if she so requests. For now Anneliese and Amy go outside together and sit in the hot tub beside the deck.
When Leah arrives she goes to the deck and visits with Anneliese. I’m off muddling around, checking