A Life More Complete

---Chapter 42---

I pull into her driveway around six in evening and knock on the door. The look on her face says it all, but she still invites me in. I don’t know what possessed me to drive two thousand miles over three days while I am thirty-six weeks pregnant, but I did it. Along the way I arranged for a new obstetrician, found a pediatrician and managed to secure my health insurance for the remainder of my twelve week leave. Although pragmatic about the future, I still have no idea how or why I ended up here.

“What are you doing here?” my mother asks.

“I don’t know. My life is a mess and I guess I thought you were the one person who might understand.”

“Well, you thought wrong. This is your mess, not mine. And from what I gathered while waiting in line at the grocery store, it’s a serious disaster.”

I shake my head at my own stupidity. Why do I torture myself looking for the approval of people who don’t care? “So, can I stay?” I ask since she doesn’t offer immediately.

“I’m not going to ask you to leave. You can stay, but just know there is a time limit on this. You have two weeks from the date the baby comes to get out.”

“Got it. That’s fine.” I pull a thousand dollars from my purse and hand it to her. “This is for letting me stay.”

“Thanks,” she says taking the money and leaving me standing in the entryway to the house. I drag my suitcase upstairs and into my old bedroom. My home for the next several weeks and strangely it feels somewhat comforting to be away from it all.

The weeks float by and nothing changes. My mother and I rarely speak. I don’t know her and she doesn’t know me. I hoped for something different. I should have expected nothing in return and my feelings wouldn’t have been so hurt. She has no interest in the baby or me for that matter.

Two weeks from the day I arrived the pain begins. I roll over and look at the clock. It comes again, this time quicker and a little more intensely. I call Gia at a quarter to five in the morning not even giving a second thought to the time. Gia, gravelly and hoarse, answers on the first ring. She’s prepared and is in the car before we even hang up.

“Should I call the doctor? When do I go to the hospital? Should I wait for you or meet you there?” I spew out a series of questions never pausing long enough for her to insert an answer. I’m a planner, an organizer, a lover of all things controllable and this is none of those things.

“Wait as long as you can,” she replies. “I’ll be there in under three hours. I’m hauling ass. Pray I don’t get pulled over. How far apart are your contractions?”

“Ten minutes, maybe nine? I haven’t really been keeping track. I was starving so I cooked myself some breakfast. It distracted me.”

“Start now. When they get to five call the doctor and if I’m not there by then go to the hospital.” She takes a deep breath and exhales in sigh. “Text me if you leave for the hospital. I’ll meet you there.”

“Stupid question, but how am I suppose to get to the hospital? Can I drive myself?”

“No!” she shouts. “You can’t drive yourself! When the contractions get bad you’ll want to drive the car into oncoming traffic. Totally not safe.”

I start to feel a small amount of worry build. “So how do you suppose I get there?”

“I don’t know. Ask your mom?”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Sorry. Stupid. Call my mom. Call a taxi. It doesn’t really matter.”

“I’ll have the baby in the upstairs bathroom. That will solve the issue,” I say trying to appease my worry with humor.

“It’s gonna be okay. I’ll be there soon. I love you.”

“Thanks Gi. Love you, too.”

I waddle over to the couch to finish eating my breakfast for two.

My mother emerges from her bedroom ready to conquer the insurance world. Her face is stoic and cold, but that’s nothing new. Without looking at me she says, “You’re up early. I don’t think you’ve seen the dawn since you took up refuge in my extra bedroom.” Coming from anyone else this would have been mildly humorous, but her words are laced with annoyance. She’s given me a time limit and she’ll be happy to know it’s about to expire.

“I think I’m in labor.” I hesitate awaiting her response. She walks around the counter top peninsula that separates the kitchen from the dining area appearing seconds later in the living room. Her presence surprises me and I ask, “Any chance you could take me to the hospital?”

Turning back toward the kitchen I hear her shoes clicking alternately on the ceramic tile before she replies, “Not a chance. I have to work. By the way, you’re seriously going to regret eating like that. It’s all coming back out the way it went in.”

Leaving my mother to her busy career, I call Gia’s mom who rushes me to the hospital. Not really necessary given it is only five minutes from the house but judging by Mrs. DeRossi’s reaction to me calling her, she feels the need to hurry. You’d have sworn this woman had never had children or that she wasn’t there for the birth of her three grandchildren. She panics about Gia not being there, she also begins to pray about me being a single mother. When Gia strolls in completely composed I can’t help but send up a prayer too.

“You ready to do this?” Gia asks.

“Absolutely,” I say. There is not a trace of nervousness in my voice. “I called everyone, including Tyler. He didn’t answer, but no else did either. It is still the middle of the night in Cali.” I smile at Gia and her eyes fill with tears. “Don’t cry Gi, you’ll make me cry.”

“Sorry, sorry. This is just so bittersweet. I’m so excited for you, but I know it’s going to be really hard.”

“I’ll make do. Don’t worry,” I say not only reassuring her, but myself, too.

Around the three hour mark my contractions are at that take-a gun-and-shoot-me stage. No epidural equals blinding pain. Along with the pain comes panic. I’m alone. No husband, no place to call home at this moment. I don’t belong here. What the hell was I thinking leaving?

“Did you call him?” I ask Gia for the third time in an hour.

“Yes,” she practically shouts. “I told you it went straight to voicemail. I’m not calling him again so don’t ask.”

“Fine! Oh God, another big one!” I grab Gia’s hand and squeeze. The moment passes but it’s replaced with the need to vomit. Gia grabs the container the nurse left and I purge everything I ate that morning.

Five hours and twenty-five minutes later Page Olive Mullins is born. She is beautiful and Gia can’t agree more. We cry, we laugh and even though it is bittersweet like Gia said, I know from this day forward I will love Page more than anything else in my life.

I’m moved from Labor and Delivery to the room I will call home for the next two days. Gia joins me and even offers to sleep at the hospital. I tell her to go home and come back in the morning. She helps me nurse Page for the first time and stays until she’s had several feedings. Just before she leaves, Gia hands me my phone and a freshly changed Page.

“I’ll be back in the morning. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I give her a quick kiss on the cheek and she leans down and kisses Page’s head. She doesn’t even stir. Bundled in my arms, all cozy and warm, I don’t ever want to put her down.

I check my phone and find a few voicemails wishing me congratulations. A ton of texts from my sisters, Melinda and Bob commenting on the pictures I sent them, but nothing from him. Saddened, but not defeated, I snuggle up to Page and fall asleep. A few hours later a crabby nurse comes in and snatches her from my arms. She hauls Page off to the nursery for a weight check and some blood work. Exhaustion takes over and I’m out like a light.

When I roll over and glance out the window, night has taken over. It’s well past midnight. I panic when I realize Page isn’t in her little plastic bassinet situated at the foot of my bed. I shoot up and find him sitting in a chair in the corner of the room with Page in his arms.

The tears fall rapidly and I can hardly speak. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“You called. I’m sorry it took me so long. I really wanted to be here for her birth, but the plane had a different agenda.” He looks down at Page and back at me. “She’s beautiful. She looks just like you.” A smile spreads across his face.

“You think so?”

“She certainly doesn’t look like me.” He pulls off her little white hat and runs his fingers over her dark hair. “I’m sure this will all fall out.”

All I can do is smile at him. The tears are still falling and my emotions get the best of me. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I screwed up so bad and now I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“It kills me to see you like this. You’re hurting. My biggest regret is losing you. I’m sorry for walking away when I should have tried harder.”

His words cause my tears to become sobs. I want him back because right now I just want to be loved. “I regret the way it ended more than anything.”

“I love her name,” he says winking at me. “And I love you.”

I chose Page, spelled like a page in a book because I need a do-over, a blank page, so to speak. Her middle name, Olive has too many reasons to count. Rachel’s love of martini’s and Maizey’s favorite kind of pizza, but mostly because it’s an anagram for love and a nickname for Olivia.

“Her name is perfect. She’s perfect,” he says as he leans down and kisses me.