A Mother's Love
All rights belong to SE Hinton. I own nothing. Really, absolutely nothing. Well, maybe my bird.
XXX
My son was premature. I remember the doctor coming in the room, Darrel looking at him with stony eyes even as he held my hand.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Curtis. He's very small, early by several weeks. Only time will tell if he'll survive."
Tears filled my eyes as my own heart began to break. What had I done wrong? Only this morning I'd woken up like usual, the heat of a Tulsa July already baking the earth. Little Darry and Sodapop were in the kitchen, both wearing only their thin pajama shorts and munching on cereal, the windows open to catch a non-existent breeze.
"Boys, how about a trip to see Grandma?" I'd suggested.
"Bev, honey, are you sure?" Darrel asked. He'd been wearing a worried look ever since my last checkup at the doctor's, who said I was fit as a fiddle even if I was smaller than he thought I should be. I laughed it off, feeling … and looking... larger than the backside of a barn!
"Oh stop! I'm perfectly fine. I've been through this before, don't forget." I muttered back as I fondled Sodapop's wheat colored hair while he sat at the table. He'd have been a bit blonder if my side had kicked in more, but he had to have his daddy's mix too. Little Darry, on the other hand, was more his father's child. His hair and features spot- on to his namesake. I laid my other hand on my tummy, my fingers absentmindedly rubbing a rather hard spot. Either a bottom or a top, I never could figure out how to tell.
"But that's a long trip – all the way out to Independence!"
I swatted his worry away. "Darrel, I'm perfectly fine to travel a few hours in the car. The longer you sit here fussing, the hotter the day is going to get."
He relented, kissing me on my cheek. "Okay m'love. If that's what you want, then we'll go. Boys!" he commanded, their attention his at once. "Go brush your teeth and get dressed. We're heading up to Kansas to see Grandma for the day. Hop to!"
"Yeah! Grandma's!" Little Darry shouted, putting his bowl in the sink and rushing off to beat his brother to the bathroom. I cleared the table and smiled, glad the boys were getting along in this heat. Inside me, someone else was not enjoying it quite so much as a hard kick forced me to grab the side of the sink; Sodapop's bowl clattering noisily into the porcelain. I waited a moment for the feeling to pass, rubbing the spot in soothing circles.
"Now look, it's hot enough without your antics getting us both fired up. Just settle it down, little one."
"You say something?" Darrel asked, coming into the kitchen looking in on me.
"Just number three here, protesting the heat."
"Maybe you should lie down."
I gave him my no-nonsense look. "Maybe you should just get the boys ready."
He smiled and ducked his head. "Yes, m'love." He learned a long time ago, never argue with a pregnant woman.
The drive out was nice. At least I could put the window down and let the warm air cool me some. Darrel had brought along a glass of tea, but I was using the condensation off the glass to rub against my skin instead. It was bad enough I had to visit the ladies room every ten minutes or so, I didn't want to fill up on real fluids knowing this was going to be a three hour trip north.
In the backseat, the boys made up games – Little Darry read signs to Sodapop, proud of his newly acquired ability to understand so many words. In return, Sodapop got to call out colors. And it seemed he found just about every color there was on the way!
"Ohh," I suddenly burst out, getting Darrel's attention and even stopping Sodapop in the middle of his conundrum over lavender. My stomach heaved quite unexpectedly, in return I hugged myself to still it.
"Beverly? Now honey, I don't like that. Not one bit. Maybe we should just turn back so you can rest."
Even I was perplexed. That hadn't happened with either of the boys! I waited a moment, seeing … feeling for something wrong. Nothing more happened. I rubbed my tummy and smiled weakly at Darrel, who's face was etched with worry lines. The boys too. Everyone was looking at me with deep concern.
"I'm fine," I said with a tired smile. "Seems this one just wants to play. Pay attention to the road, dear. Sodapop, lavender is a mix between purple and blue. Hard to tell, isn't it honey?"
"Uh huh."
"Momma, are you okay?" Little Darry asked, his innocence winning out.
"Yes honey. I'm fine. I promise, I'm fine." I was answering Little Darry, but was looking at his father – answering the question that lurked in his eyes. I took a sip of the tea, the cool liquid sliding down my throat.
It was another hour before we made it to my mother's house. She came out and stood on the porch, a massive smile on her face as her arms swung open to take in the boys.
"Land's sakes! I never expected you to come up! And Beverly, honey, in your condition!"
I opened the car door, moving slower than usual lest my precious cargo get disturbed. Darrel took my hand, helping me to my feet. "Shucks, Mother, I've been this way before.... ohhh!" Instantly I doubled over, wetness drenching my slip-on shoes.
"Oh no!" I said with severe embarrassment. At first I thought I'd wet myself, not having stopped to use the bathroom the whole way up. It only took a fraction of an instant for my brain to get in gear. "Darrel!" I called, terrified. I knew I hadn't wet myself, my bag had broken.
He gripped my hand instantly, his deep blue eyes boring into my own – commanding me to be calm. I nodded and sat back in the car.
"Take her to Mercy!" Mom's voice called out. "It's the closest one!"
"Daddy?" Little Darry called out. Sodapop was being restrained in my mother's arms, his own reaching out to me.
"I'm fine, boys." I called out smiling at them, yet knowing all the while something terrible was happening. I was too early. Much too early.
"I'm just going to take Mommy to see the doctor. You both stay with Grandma, and mind her!" He turned to Mom. "Thanks. I'll get in touch as soon as I can."
"You just get her to the hospital. I love you!"
I didn't have time to say anything. I held my stomach tightly, praying and breathing with my eyes shut tight. I could feel the car under us – Darrel wasn't paying any attention to traffic signs.
"Bev?"
"Just drive, Darrel. Just drive." Tears fell, but I did my best to stay calm. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was pale blood running down my legs, pooling in the floor of the car. Inside me, my stomach was jumping, as if he or she were struggling too. Please be alright! I prayed. The engine revved, my mantra continued. Then the car swerved.
"My wife! Help my wife!"
I opened my eyes to an onslaught of people, all dressed in white. Hands reached in and helped me out of the car, but when they did, the contractions hit – hard. I doubled over, moaning. I couldn't help it.
"Help my baby," I pleaded through tears. I was whisked away on a gurney, the trip so fast I didn't remember it. All I knew was someone was telling me to push, so I did. I glimpsed up, the faces surrounding me were all strangers, each one anguished.
"It's a boy," the doctor said as I felt the baby pass from me. But this wasn't like my previous deliveries, where my older boys had cried so loud that they could be heard over the joyful words in the delivery room. It was stone silent as one doctor worked on me and a few others worked on my new son.
"Is he...?" I asked, unable to finish.
Then, a weak cry was heard. I heard the people working on him mumble something through their masks, sorrowful glances cast my way even as the cry persisted.
"There's no time. We need to get him to the nursery, Mrs. Curtis."
The doctor working on me had finished, letting my legs rest. I nodded, not even able to see my baby as he was whisked away. I shook, trying to hold back my emotion. "Is he going to be okay?"
"I don't know."
XXX
Hours went by. I was taken to a room where Darrel joined me at my side. We both sat in silence. Guilt ate at me. I should have stayed at home. I should have stayed in bed. This never would have happened if I'd listened to Darrel! He, however, said nothing to that end. Instead, he rubbed my hand, his fingers trailing up and down my arm. I had my other hand resting on my stomach, now empty and sore.
"I love you," he said softly.
"I'm sorry," was all I could answer, tears choking me.
A soft knock on the door and we both looked up. A man in a white coat came in.
"Mrs. Curtis? Mr. Curtis?"
We nodded and the man pulled a chair over. "I'm Doctor Martin. I wanted to tell you how your son is."
"Is he okay? Is he going to make it?"
"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Curtis. He's very small, early by several weeks. Only time will tell if he'll survive."
Darrel's hand squeezed mine as tears fell.
"I want to see him."
"He's in the nursery and can't be brought out. We're monitoring him closely."
I struggled to get up. "I don't care. I want to see my son."
"Beverly, honey, rest," Darrel insisted, but I shook him off. Him and the pain and my fear... everything. That is my baby, I had to see him.
"Please, Mrs. Curtis. You've lost a lot of blood."
I struggled anyway, ignoring Darrel and my doctor, determined to see my son. My mind whirled with all the thoughts of what was happening to him, how fragile he was. If he didn't make it, how I'd regret it forever never having seen him. Finally the doctor gave in.
"Wait and I'll have the nurse take you in a wheelchair."
The nurse came in and helped me, and together Darrel and I went down the hallway and into a large room. There were several incubators, each snaking wires inside them to a small baby held within. All around were sounds of beeps and bells, the sterile smell of disinfectant in the air. The scene so sad I wanted to cry.
"Here he is," a nurse said as she stopped in front of an incubator. On the glass was a card, Baby Boy Curtis. My name and Darrel's was there too. We still hadn't decided on another boy name, but have had a girl name chosen since Darry was born. That little girl eluded me still. I looked inside the glass box, smiling at my new son.
He was on his stomach, his head covered in soft dark hair, the tiniest wisps of curls tapering along the nape of his neck. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly opened. His arms and legs were drawn up to him as if he were trying to curl in a ball – except all the medical stuff hooked to him prevented it."
"Is he asleep?" I asked the nurse.
"I think so." she answered with a smile. "He's had one very busy day so far."
"Can I touch him?"
She hesitated, then nodded. She opened a small door on the side of the glass and I slid my hand inside, lightly brushing my finger along his arm. He shuddered, alarms going off. It scared me and I froze, terrified I'd done something wrong.
"You didn't hurt him. Look, he's awake."
And so he was. His eyes were open, huge dusky blue orbs staring me down. I felt Darrel's hands on my shoulders as he rubbed confidence into me.
"Hey you," I crooned. "I love you. Happy Birthday. Now, no more fussing. Settle down and behave yourself."
His fingers wrapped around my pinkie, his strength belying his size. On the monitor, his heart beat like the gallop of horses, strong and steady.
"That's my son, he's a fighter," Darrel softly told the nurse. When he spoke, our son's eyes went from me to his daddy, then back to me. I felt wetness on my face - liquid love. It poured out of me.
"Hold on, baby," I whispered to him. "You've got to be strong."
And he was. The next day they let me hold him, his little body tangled in the maze of monitor leads as I rocked him in the rocking chair by his incubator. Still, he was in my arms, holding onto my finger again. I thought it was just my imagination when I saw the small arteries pulsing in his neck - until Darrel noticed it too.
"Heart of a stallion, huh Bev?"
I smiled, holding him to me while running his thin fingers over my lips. He steadfastly refused to let go of my pinkie, and to me that grip was a lifeline I wasn't going to sever. His eyes watched me intently, blinking when I did, as if he were copying my every movement.
"My own little colt," I murmured watching him.
"Colton?" Darrel suggested. I looked up at him, smiled but shook my head.
"No, not Colton."
"Well, he's like a pony; bucking inside you for so many months until he just finally broke the barn door down, getting out a bit too early." Darrel joked, softly stroking our son's soft hair. His head fit in the palm of my hand it was so tiny. I laughed gently, not wanting to scare my precious bundle as his eyelids fluttered, fighting sleep. He'd already nursed, his tummy full.
"Ponyboy?" he tried again. That made me laugh, waking him by accident. Only instead of fussing or crying at the sudden intrusion to his slumber, the corners of his lips faintly turned - his first smile.
"What? You like that name?" I asked softly, stroking his cheek. His mouth moved as if he were suckling, his eyelids drifting closed again. I looked at Darrel. "Okay, Ponyboy it is. Why not? We already have a Sodapop. Besides, I think he likes it."
Darrel beamed with pride. "I'll get the forms filled out. Now, what of his middle name?"
I thought about it. "Sodapop already has my brother's name. I think it would be fitting for Mike to be remembered as well. What do you think?"
I could see the mist in my husbands eyes. "I think my brother would've been honored."
I looked at our newest son as he slept contently in my arms. "Well then, it's settled. Ponyboy Michael Curtis."
XXX
It took another few days before Ponyboy was ready to come home. I spent most of it in the hospital sitting by his incubator, watching him sleep, nursing him, and just plain watching him. He watched me too, like two chess players waiting on the other to make the next move. The nurses showed me that even though he was small, he wasn't as fragile as I thought. When he wanted to cry, he would - just as loud as any other baby.
"Mrs. Curtis, I think he's big enough to go home. Are you ready?" Dr. Martin asked when he was ten days old. I smiled, ecstatic.
"Let me call my husband. He's at my mother's place, watching our other two sons."
He nodded and Darrel was soon on the way. I was wheeled to the front door by a nurse, who sat patiently waiting with us until the rest of my family showed up.
"He's a lucky little boy. Not many would have made it, considering how small he was," the nurse said.
I smiled. "Thank you." I looked at my new bundle, sleeping contentedly in my arms. "He is a very special little boy, with a very loving family waiting on him."
Darrel showed up not long after that, finally letting Little Darry and Sodapop meet their newest sibling. Darry came up first, peeking in at the small bundle in my arms.
"He's so little. When's he gonna be able to play?"
"Not for a while yet son. He needs to grow up a bit. Sodapop, do you want to meet your new brother?"
I watched as Sodapop gave a bored glance then shook his head. "Does this mean we gotta leave Grandma's now?"
I laughed a little, nodding. "Yes, dear heart. It's been a longer trip than I planned, but it's time to go. We need to take Ponyboy home."
"Come see him, boys," Darrel urged. Little Darry stepped closer.
"Hold out your hand," I instructed. He did, touching his infant brother's hand. Ponyboy opened his eyes and took the finger offered. Darry smiled.
"He's got a strong grip, bet he'll be good in football." Little Darry was all smiles.
"I'm sure he will – but let's give him a few years.." I beamed, watching my family get acquainted. Ponyboy yawned, closing his eyes again. I looked at Sodapop, but my two year old really wasn't interested; instead he was following a ladybug perched on a nearby leaf. I sighed, hoping in time he would show more interest in his new brother. I looked up. "Ready, Darrel?"
He nodded, smiling at us. "Indeed I am. "Let's go boys. It's time to go home."
XXX
Calla Lily Rose
Happy belated Mother's Day to all the mothers out there, all of whom probably understand what I meant when I wrote about liquid love.