Carnival by Jane Harvey-Berrick
“Stay calm, Sara. You’ll be fine.”
“Oh shut the fuck up, Zef! What the fuck do you know about it? You’re not the one whose vagina is trying to pass a baby! Aaaaaaaaaagh! I am never ever having sex again. You got that? NEVER! Aaaaaaaaagh!”
“They all say that,” the nurse said sympathetically. “Don’t worry about it.”
But I did worry. Sara looked so mad, I was afraid that she’d bite my dick off if I waved it anywhere near her again. I liked my dick. We’d had a lot of good times together. In any case, my balls had shriveled to the size of walnuts, and I definitely wasn’t thinking about sex while Sara swore and cussed like a twenty-year Marine veteran.
I was pretty fuckin’ sure that she hadn’t heard me use half the words that were coming out of her mouth.
But the nurse didn’t seem shocked. I guess she’d heard it all before, although I doubt she’d ever heard worse.
But as the hours passed, Sara’s cries grew weaker and her grip on my hand was looser. Her hair was dark with sweat and her cheeks were streaked with tears.
Kes and Aimee had showed up at the hospital with a sleeping Dove, and spotted me for five minutes so I could take a piss and drink a coffee. I couldn’t eat anything because fear was climbing around in my stomach like I’d swallowed a live rat, claws, teeth and tail.
The nurses changed shift and a new doctor came in to ‘review the case’, his forehead creasing as he read her charts.
“Is this normal?” I asked desperately.
He gave me a professional smile. “Every birth is different, Mr. Colton.”
Which meant exactly fuck all.
Kes and Aimee left again, promising to let everyone know what was happening. I was relieved not to have to make those calls, because I had no fuckin’ clue what I’d say.
“You’re going to be okay, baby mama,” I said, wiping her hair from a face that felt clammy and feverish.
Her tired eyes were dull as they turned to mine and she couldn’t even muster a smile.
“Zef . . .”
“Yeah, baby,” I whispered, matching my voice to hers.
“You’ll look after Peanut, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. What are you talking about?”
“I’m so tired,” she sighed. “If anything happens to me, you’ll take care of him. Promise me?”
I swallowed the rock in my throat.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, Sara.”
“Promise me!” she insisted, pressing my fingers as tightly as she could.
“I promise, Sara. I promise. But you’re going to be fine.”
Suddenly, one of the monitors that she was attached to went wild, beeping loudly.
Two nurses rushed in, pushing me out of the way.
“What’s going on?”
“BP’s down to 81/50.”
“What’s going on?” I shouted.
“The baby’s in distress,” said the other nurse. “Get Dr. Ives in here.”
“Please wait outside, sir.”
“But . . .”
“Please, sir!”
“Zef! ZEF!”
They hurried me out as Sara called my name over and over desperately. My heart cracked as I pressed my hand against the closed door, trying to see what was happening through the tiny window.
Minutes passed as they worked on her, and then suddenly the door flew open and they rushed by me. They were running as they pushed Sara on a hospital bed. Her face was lifeless and her eyes were closed. Blood seeped from beneath the blanket covering her.
“Sara!” I choked out.
She didn’t answer and no one spoke to me.
I followed behind them, unable to understand the medical jargon they were spouting, knowing only that something was wrong.
“What’s happening?”
“We’ve got to take the baby now,” said the doctor to one of the nurses, his attention focused on Sara.
“What’s happening?” I yelled, feeling as if I’d become invisible.
Outside the operating room, I was stopped by one of the nurses.
“You have to wait here, sir. We’ll tell you when there’s news. Let us do our jobs.”
The door swung shut, and Sara was on the other side.
Numb, I slumped into one of the hard plastic chairs.
Another nurse rushed past carrying packets of blood. No one spoke to me.
I don’t know when he arrived, but I looked up to see Kes sitting in the next chair.
“What if she doesn’t make it?” I asked, but he had no answer.
Emotion dammed for too long finally burst through. I put my head in my hands and cried.
Waiting.
It’s brutal.
I was waiting for the woman I loved. Waiting to hear the worst, waiting to hear the best.
And when I’d seen her lifeblood draining out of her, the pain in my chest felt as if my heart was ripping in two.
Two more nurses ran into the operating room discussing a placental abruption, and I heard one of them place a call to Dr. Spinoza who I knew was the senior obstetrician.
Kes glanced at me sideways.
“I’ll find out what’s happening,” he said.
I nodded, sunk into a numb, helpless nothing. Unmoving, unthinking, just whirling unfocussed images torturing me.
A few minutes later, Kes came back with a doctor, her expression serious.
“Mr. Colton, thank you for your patience. I’m Dr. Spinoza. Let me explain what’s happening with your partner, Sara. She’s lost a lot of blood because of a uterine rupture. This sometimes happens after a prolonged labor with a baby that’s too big for the mother’s pelvis. We’re going to perform a C-section now to take the baby. Then Sara will need a blood transfusion and an operation to repair the uterus. But I have to tell you, Mr. Colton, if we can’t control the bleeding, we may have to perform a hysterectomy.”
I couldn’t take it in. All I could think was, She’s so small. She’s too small for the baby.
I heard Kes’s muttered thanks and was vaguely aware that he said he had some calls to make.
I sat by myself, alone in an island of misery. I was completely helpless. There was nothing I could do. No one I could fight. Nothing I could face except the crippling fear that I could lose Sara, maybe Peanut, too.
Kes reappeared and told me that he’d passed on the latest news to everyone, including Sara’s parents and my brother.
I wasn’t sure she’d want them here, but if they were prepared to come, I think she’d like to see them if she was able to. If, if, if.
An hour later, a nurse in pale blue scrubs stood in front of me to say that Sara had given birth to a baby boy. He was being checked over, but everything looked good and I could see him shortly.
Little Peanut—he was strong. Please, make Sara strong, too.
Then her face became more serious. Sara was still in the OR, and I had the absurd thought that she’d never liked being the center of attention. I thought how she’d hate all of this.
“Can we see the baby?”
It was Kes who asked.
I felt an irrational surge of anger at Peanut for putting Sara through this, and then I felt guilty.
“I’ll find someone to take you,” she said, her voice professional, her eyes understanding.
A short while later, another nurse appeared and told me to follow her. Kes came with me, and I was grateful for that. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel.
She led me to a narrow room with a glass wall and pointed to a tiny crib on the right.
“There he is. Would you like to hold him?”
There was a short pause then Kes said, “Yeah, he would.”
The nurse smiled and collected the soft bundle, carefully placing it my arms. The weight was nothing, and I wondered how something so small could cause so much trouble.
“A healthy baby boy, Mr. Colton. He weighs 8lb 8oz, and because he was born by C-section, he has a perfectly shaped head, too.”
I nodded.
“You’re lucky, bro,” Kes whispered as I peered down at the red, wrinkled face. “Dove had a real pointy head for a few days. Aimee was worried that she’d have to wear hats for the rest of her life.”
I didn’t smile. It all seemed so far away.
I peered into the creased little bundle and watched with amazement as Peanut opened his round, toothless mouth and mewed like a kitten.
“That means he’s hungry,” said the nurse. “Would you like to feed him?”
I couldn’t believe that I was the one this little dude had to rely on till his mama was better. It seemed like an enormous responsibility, and I swallowed hard.
I nodded, and she showed me how to situate Peanut along my arm, and hold the bottle in my free hand. I’d had some practice with Dove, so it wasn’t too hard.
The nurse smiled.
“Well done! You’re a natural.”
A surge of pride swept over me. Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could be a father after all. Because Peanut needed me, and until I’d met Sara, I hadn’t felt needed for a very long time.
Love. That’s what I felt for this tiny human being. Pure love. And paralyzing fear that would probably last a lifetime, as well.
“I wish Ollo could see him.”
Those were the first words I said, and Kes smiled sadly.
“Yeah, I know. Ollo loved kids. He was great when I was growing up.”
Peanut sucked on the bottle with a surprisingly strong suction, draining most of the bottle of formula. Which then got spit up over my arm.
“Welcome to fatherhood,” grinned Kes.
“He needs his mother,” I replied.
Kes had nothing to say to that, but stroked his finger across Peanut’s downy cheek.
Two hours later, Sara was out of surgery.
“We were able to repair her uterus,” said the doctor with a tired smile. “But for any future pregnancies, she’ll need a repeat C-section. Try not to worry, she’s going to make a full recovery.”
I thanked the doctor and felt like the fog in my brain was finally lifting.
“Can I see her?”
“Give us a few minutes to get her situated, and then you can both see her.”
At first I thought she meant me and Kes, but then I realized that she was talking about Peanut.
“Hey, buddy, let’s go find your mama so you can say hi.”
It was nearly another hour before we were allowed to see her. She was laying in a hospital bed with the metal sides raised. I had to swallow back the memories of being in prison—it was too similar, and my stomach flipped over.
She was deathly pale and so still. Fuck, she didn’t even look like she was breathing!
Her eyes were closed as I sat down next to her, but when Peanut let out a quavering wail, she turned her head to look at us.
“Hey, beautiful! Look who’s come to see you!”
She turned her head away again.
I didn’t know what that meant. I kept waiting for her to look at us, but she didn’t. What was going on?
I edged around the bed so she could see us.
“He’s amazing, Sara,” I said encouragingly.
She gave a weary, cynical laugh.
“I couldn’t even get that right either, could I?”
Fear rippled through me, a crack on the face of my fragile happiness.
“What do you mean?”
“Couldn’t even give birth properly. Women have been doing it for millions of years, but not me.”
“Sara, don’t. It’s fine. You’re fine, Peanut’s fine. He’s healthy and you’ll be okay. Do you want to see him?”
Tears spilled from her eyes.
“Go away, Zef.”
“What?”
Her voice rose to a scream.
“Go away! Leave me alone!”
Peanut let out an answering wail, and a nurse hurried in, quietly telling us we should go.
“But . . .”
“It’s best for now if you just go,” the nurse said firmly.
A sliver of ice cut through my heart.
Kes was waiting outside the room, and I could see from the look on his face that he’d heard everything.
“Give her time, man,” he said. “She’s been through a lot.”
I’d been awake thirty hours, and the nurses were trying to make me go home. I didn’t want to leave without seeing Sara again, but they insisted that she needed complete rest. And while Peanut was doing well, because he was born via C-section, he’d have to stay in the hospital for 72 hours minimum. Besides, Sarah hadn’t said if she wanted him to be circumcised and I hadn’t thought to ask. There was so much to think about.
I stayed at the hospital, holding Peanut while he slept, leaving only for an hour so I could get a shower and change my clothes.
I was sitting in Sara’s room, keeping Peanut entertained while she slept with her back to us. He was making random swipes at my finger, which he seemed to find pretty darn fascinating. I wondered what the world looked like to him. He seemed laidback for the most part, only getting stressed when I tried to get Sara to hold him. I didn’t push it, but it scared the hell out of me.
The doc and nurses said it would take time. It worried me that Sara was behaving so differently from Aimee. But then again, Aimee had an easy birth. Aimee hadn’t nearly died.
I closed my eyes, trying to banish those memories.
I heard a soft tapping at the door and Sara’s dad walked in, followed by her mom.
“Sara’s sleeping,” I said.
I wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but she sure didn’t want anyone to know that. I had to respect her need for silence. For now.
I stood up, carrying Peanut me so we could talk in the corridor.
“Come and meet your grandson,” I said.
Sara’s dad peered at the bundle in my arms, his worried expression softening. He prodded Peanut in the stomach gently. I don’t know what he was trying to do, but Peanut objected loudly. It made me think he hadn’t been the most hands-on father. Or maybe he was just out of practice.
“For goodness sake, Nathan!” Sara’s mom said sharply, shaking her head.
Without asking, she took Peanut from my arms and rocked him efficiently.
“Sara was an ugly baby, too,” she said thoughtfully.
My spine stiffened.
“Be careful what you say about my son,” I said quietly, a soft menace in my voice.
Her eyes snapped up and I thought she was going to argue, but Sara’s dad cut her off.
“And then she turned out beautifully,” he said with a lingering smile of regret. “How is she?”
I shook my head, my shoulders sagging.
“Physically, she’s doing okay . . .”
“And . . .”
I met his eyes.
“She’s scared shitless about being a mom. She’s convinced herself that she can’t do it. Right now . . . I’m pretty lost here. But I’m not going anywhere.”
He gripped my shoulder.
“Thank you for everything. Thank you for being here.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d be.”
Sara struggled to feed Peanut, her stress fueling his. In the end, the doctor suggested that she express some milk instead. What was this? Some sort of weird-ass Dairy Queen? A Boob Blizzard? Yeah, maybe not.
Sara wouldn’t let me in the room while she pumped for her son, and she didn’t want to feed him either. I couldn’t work out if she was in too much pain, or afraid of dropping him, or just terrified of being a mom. Probably a little of each.
For now, the best compromise was me feeding Peanut in her room while she watched us, her expression withdrawn and sullen.
Her mom was more helpful than I’d expected, and something about her impersonal, bustling efficiency put Sara at ease. I began to think that with everyone telling her how much she’d love Peanut, that it was just adding to her worries in case she didn’t. I knew she loved Peanut because
Sara’s parents checked into the same Arcata hotel as Aimee’s mom, and more recently, her sister and nephew, although Sara’s mom seemed to spend most of her time complaining about the lack of clothing stores in Arcata. The grandparents got along pretty well, although I think Sarah’s parents were surprised to find that Aimee had a ‘normal’ family as well as her carnie family.
Whatever. If it eased things for them.
Three days later, the doc decided Peanut was well enough to come home but Sara needed to stay another couple of days. Kes drove us back with bottles of breast milk like some freaky as fuck milkman.
He wanted me to come and stay with Aimee and Dove, but I decided to go home. And besides, Tucker and Tera had arrived if I needed backup.
And the grandparents were ten minutes away. Great.
I set my phone to wake every two hours to feed Peanut, but as it turned out, I didn’t need an alarm—the little dude had a powerful set of lungs, just like his mother.
Nathan and Norah visited with us. Yeah, we were on first name basis by then. It was a little awkward, but they cared about Sara in their own controlled way, and they cared about Peanut, so for everything else, I’d give them a pass.
When Peanut and I visited the hospital the next day, I wore one of those papoose things that Sara had bought. It took me a while to figure out how it worked, but once I got the hang of it, it was pretty cool. I was so tired that I fell asleep in the chair next to Sara. When I woke up a few minutes later, she was staring at Peanut, and he was gripping her finger tightly in his little fist. It was the first time she’d willingly touched him, and my heart gave a hopeful lurch.
Her eyes met mine.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know. So am I.”
“Really? Because you look so . . .”
“Believe me, Sara. I’m freakin’ terrified.”
I’d already started adjusting my tendency to swear around the little bundle. I didn’t want him picking up any of my bad habits.
“He’s so tiny.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“I’m afraid . . . that I’ll do it wrong.”
“You will. And so will I. I already have.” I wondered if I should tell her about the diaper disaster we’d had earlier when Peanut managed to get covered in green-colored shit. “Every parent gets it wrong sometimes, but we’ll be okay. We’ll help each other. I promise.”