Mildred arrived ready to do business. No more suggestions and second-guessing—she set to work helping me deliver my baby.
The contractions weren’t pleasant but not as bad as I had feared, though the last one made me yell. That was it. A push or two and Mildred was holding the baby and looking almost surprised. Her all-business demeanor vanished as a smile transformed her face.
“A daughter,” she declared as she wiped the baby’s face, then wrapped her in a soft cotton baby blanket. “Sometimes fast births have their own challenges, but you’re one lucky mom, Hannah Cooper. This little girl is pinking up nicely and already eyeing me. She’s small but perfect. I’ve seldom seen an easier birth, especially for a first baby, but some women are built for it. It’s all in the hips. I’m glad for you, but make no mistake, you are truly fortunate.” She smoothed the baby’s blanket and placed her in my arms.
“Thank you, Miss Mildred, for your help.”
I touched my baby’s hand and her cheek. I untucked the blanket from around her feet and inspected them, too. She was perfect, as Mildred had said. I was glad my baby was a girl. She’d fit right in with this household of women.
“I’ll register the birth for you when I go into town. What will you call her? Have you decided?”
“Her name is Ellen,” I said, caressing her cheek and fluffing her soft cap of very light-brown hair tipped with gold. “Ellen Clara Cooper.”
Gran beamed when she heard it. Her first name was Clara and her maiden name was Ellen.
Mildred wrote down the name, then fixed her gray eyes on me. “And the daddy? What’s his name?”
“No need to list him. We’re good as we are.”
“I have to list someone. If I don’t, they’ll put unknown.”
“Then so be it. Let people think what they will.” I tucked the soft baby blanket up under her chin, and she turned toward my fingers. “Ellen, daughter of Hannah Cooper, great-granddaughter of Clara and Edmund Cooper. That’s good enough for anyone.”
Mildred shook her head but bent forward to place a light kiss on my forehead.
“You’re hardly more than a baby yourself. I’ll have social services come out and visit. They’ll be able to offer assistance.”
As with Mildred’s suggestion of going to the doctor, Gran didn’t object outright. I was shocked at her. I fixed my stare on Mildred and said, “Don’t. We are fine as we are. I won’t let them in. We don’t need them, and if we ever do, I’ll summon them myself.”
“Hannah,” Gran admonished.
“No, Gran. You know about babies, and I’ve read the books Mildred brought. Between us, we’ll do fine. When I’m fit to drive, I’ll take her to see a pediatrician. I’ll be a good, responsible mother.” I leveled my gaze at Mildred. “I appreciate all you’ve done for us, truly, and I mean this sincerely—you are welcome to drop by anytime you wish to check on us in case you think we aren’t up to the challenge, but otherwise, we have everything we need.” I looked down at the newborn in my arms and whispered, “Aren’t I right, my sweet Ellen?”
Ellen slept and ate and cried and laughed and thrived. Her eyes were blue, and her hair stayed wispy and curly. When I rubbed her forehead and scalp lightly with my palm, she’d close her eyes and her lips would part, and her expression was pure and angelic. That, and rubbing the soles of her feet, were her favorite things, and would always soothe her when she was gassy or fretting.
Gran hovered nearby. She tutored me in diapering, burping, and all such things. What she couldn’t do was to spell me at night, so if Ellen didn’t sleep between feedings, I didn’t, either, and I was tired. During that first week, Mildred had brought a baby car seat and secured it in Grand’s car. She drove Ellen and me to visit the pediatrician. The result was gold stars for all of us.
For the first two weeks, Mildred dropped by daily, but as time wore on, she was reassured by Ellen’s progress and my ability to manage despite the sleep issue, and she eased off on the frequency. I was pleased and proud. It felt like a seal of approval.
One day when Ellen was three weeks old, I was sitting on the porch with my feet up. It was early March, but the air was mild and the breeze was fresh and gentle. The cradle was next to me. Ellen was sleeping on a soft cushion with the blanket snugged up around her cheeks and looking cozy. I was half-asleep myself, listening to the woods and the creaks of the house and the soft sound of her breathing. The noise of a truck approaching woke me. I sat forward, wondering if I should rush Ellen inside. She’d been up half the night, and I was loath to wake her before time to feed her. By that point, the pickup truck was rounding the curve and in view. It was the grocery delivery. Eva Pullen did deliveries as a business. Gran had been placing orders for years, and Eva would do the shopping and deliver the groceries. I was surprised to see Eva driving and not her son, Anthony, who’d been taking over her delivery routes in recent months. I figured the reason for that was obvious—and sleeping in the cradle.
I waved, then put my finger to my lips to signal the baby was sleeping and went to meet her at the truck.
She handed me a grocery bag and carried the box herself. She whispered, “I saw diapers and wipes and formula on the order and decided I’d deliver it myself. I heard you had a little one. I hardly believed it. Can I see her?”
“You can peek, but don’t wake her. Sorry, I was up with her last night.”
“Colicky? Or got her days and nights mixed up?”
“Lonely, I think.” I smiled. “Wanted some hugging.”
Eva started toward the porch. I stopped her, saying, “Let’s carry it around back. Gran’s resting, too.”
“Oh, of course, honey.” She followed me down the side path to the back stoop. “How’s Mrs. Cooper doing?”
“Gran is pretty good.”
“Well, she always was stubborn, but a lady, certainly.”
Once in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but see through the kitchen door into the living room and see Gran on her bed. But she didn’t approach her or disturb her. As we walked back outside and around again, she said, “Give her my best when she wakes, if you will.” She went straight up onto the porch this time and paused by the cradle. She asked, but softly, “Who does she favor? You or her daddy?”
She was casting about for personal information.
“Ellen got lucky. She looks like her great-grandmother.” I let Eva know by a hard look that no further questions would be welcome.
“I got ya,” she said. “That Melissa Meese just had a little one, too. A boy, I heard.”
Melissa and Spencer? It seemed like their breakup hadn’t been that serious after all. And he’d run off on both of us. I almost laughed at the foolishness, the recklessness, of young hearts. We’d thought we were grown up.