Chapter Twenty-Eight
Meg
"I don't know what to do about Tillie," I admitted to Dr Lockwood. "She won't believe me, she truly thinks that I am trying to pass myself off as her."
"It is not your job to do anything," he replied. "Mrs Maynard's disposition is very delicate, she is suffering from a nervous disorder. It sounds like this delusion is taking over her mind. Myself and my colleagues will see what can be done for her. In the meantime, Miss Giry, I suggest that you keep as far away from Mrs Maynard as possible. To that end, we are having you move rooms again. Now that Agnes Kroener has recovered and left us, we'll move you into 1A, the room she was sharing with Sally Caldwell. I know this a further disruption for you, but I think it would be better if you and Mrs Maynard did not sharing a sleeping space."
"Do you think she is a danger to me?"
"No, I don't suppose she is, but more contact may just make her feel worse and feed her delusion. We don't want that now, do we?"
"No, Dr Lockwood."
And so for the third time in as many months, I shuffled my few belongings into another bedroom. Unlike in my previous two, the bed closest to the window was already occupied, so I had the one nearer the door.
"I snore like a train," Sally warned me. "And the window faces East, so if you like to catch an extra few minutes' sleep in the morning then you'll probably be disappointed. I'm awake with the sunrise."
"I have nightmares," I told her. "Sometimes I wake up screaming."
"Well, I'll tell you what: if my snoring disturbs you, throw a pillow at me to wake me up. I'll do the same to you if it seems that you're having a nightmare."
That made me laugh, despite my feelings of slight unease.
August continued on, the nuns from Saint Gerard Majella came once a week to check up on me, and I missed performing in the Imaginarium's summer season so much that it was almost a physical ache in my chest, unrelated to my heartburn. Even without the proper footwear I practiced a few ballet steps, and used the stretches daily that I had been doing all my life to keep my muscles warm for performance, as far as my rapidly-expanding bump would allow. Had I been at liberty I would have spent the last couple of weeks swimming from the Coney Island beach, but there was no swimming pool available at Kirkbride. I was advised to take only gentle exercise, and spent the beautiful summer days walking around the gardens, admiring the sights and scents of the wonderfully tended flowers.
"Could you be named after a flower?" I asked my unborn child. "I am, you know. Marguerite translates as Daisy here, or close enough. What about you? Are you a Rose? Lily? Poppy? Flora?"
"The baby can hear you, you know," Sister Constance told me when I sheepishly admitted that I talked to my bump. "You should talk to her, so that she recognises your voice when she is born." The young nun was feeling the shape of my bump as I lay back on the infirmary bed, my chemise up around my waist. "There's still awhile to go yet, but she's definitely getting ready to be born, all snuggled in the right position, that is an excellent sign."
"I was born the wrong way around," I remembered. "Mother and I could have died."
It was a relief to hear that my baby would not be entering the world in the same way that I had, and I was looking forward to the pregnancy being over. Her kicks were growing stronger by the day and keeping me awake, and I was struggling with onsets of clumsiness or giddiness.
Dr Lockwood was incredibly patient with me, but the vast mood swings that overwhelmed me were making me wonder whether his work with me was doing any good at all. As September progressed, I realised that my daily walks were slowing down to more of a waddle, and I found it more preferential to be sitting, either playing the piano when I could, or reading aloud.
Since Kirkbride's library had not been stocked with children in mind, Through the Looking-Glass and a threadbare copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales were the only books it held that were aimed at a young audience, and I reached out to Lucy Phelps for help.
"Does it matter what you read?" She wondered. "I know the baby can hear you, but I don't know if she can actually understand what you're saying from in there."
Nevertheless, on her next visit she brought with her copies of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, The Swiss Family Robinson, Little Women, and a novel with beautiful illustrations that had only been released to the public earlier that year called The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
I read them aloud to the baby, and to anyone else who cared to listen, and tried to imagine what it was going to be like to raise a child in this country which, despite my having lived here for almost a decade, sometimes still felt as alien to me as Oz did to Dorothy. For what felt like the millionth time since her death, I wished that I had my mother with me.
When everything started to happen, I did not realise it at first. I had been uncomfortable for days, aches running through my back, hips, shoulders, legs and ankles, and assumed that the sudden cramping was yet another symptom. The baby hadn't been as active as usual, as though my swollen belly was finally too tight for her, but I could still feel her little kicks and punches, and so was not worried that anything was wrong.
"Are you alright?" Annabella asked me as we played cards in the common room one late September afternoon. "You're making the most peculiar faces."
"I've got pains in my tummy," I admitted. "Maybe it's another extension of the heartburn, I don't know."
Sally glanced at Annabella, and then asked. "Is it a continuous pain, like when you eat something bad and get a bellyache?"
"No, it sort of comes and goes. I keep thinking that it's passed, and then it hits again."
"That's not heartburn," she told me. "I think you're in labour."
The thrill of horror that ran through my body felt as though she had tipped a glass of iced water over my head, and I was glad that I was already sitting down.
"What?" I managed. "I can't be! She's not due until next month, we might even share the same birthday."
"Maybe she's impatient," Annabella suggested.
"You'd better go to the infirmary," Sally stood up and held out a hand to help me to my feet. "Rowley! Someone needs to get a hold of those nuns! We're maybe having a baby!"
I sat on the bed in the empty infirmary, wearing my nightgown and trying to breathe calmly as I had been instructed to. The pregnancy had gone smoothly, I was young, fit and healthy, and there had been nothing that had caused Sisters Rosemary and Constance any concern. When it was time for a baby to be born, then it was time. All this internal coaching did nothing to quell the fear beating like a war drum within my chest, and the pains in my abdomen were gradually getting worse.
It was just under half an hour later when the nuns arrived, and both looked thrilled to see me.
"So, today's the day then," Sister Constance said. "A little earlier than anticipated, but it seems like your little one is eager to see the world."
"You're not worried?"
"Not at all, dear, we do this every day, and we have God on our side."
"You're in good hands," Sister Rosemary assured me. "Between the two of us, Sister Constance and I have delivered one hundred and twenty-nine babies in the last six months alone."
"That is a very specific amount," I observed.
"Sister Rosemary is good at things like that," Sister Constance smiled. "If she says it's one hundred and twenty-nine babies, then you can be assured that that is the exact number."
"Sixty-two girls and sixty-seven boys. Now, when did you start feeling the contractions?"
"I don't know, about two hours ago."
"And how far apart are they?" Sister Rosemary asked, but I could only shake my head.
"There's a pain every five minutes or so."
"Can you tell me how long they last?"
"I didn't know I was supposed to be measuring!" I felt like I was going to burst into tears at any moment.
"It's alright, Miss Giry," Sister Constance said soothingly. "We can start timing all of that now that we're here. Have your waters broken yet?"
"No," I was sure of that at least.
"Then we're still early on in proceedings. Lie back now, and we'll just have a quick check to see that everything is going to plan."
I did as I was told.
"You know, Sisters, you have seen me in places that I barely see myself, so I think that we should be addressing each other on a less formal basis. My name is Marguerite, please use it."
"Very well, Marguerite."
I grimaced as another pain began, and Sister Rosemary began counting the seconds, timing the length of my contraction. When it had passed, Sister Constance did an internal and external examination, and once again pressed a pinard horn to my abdomen to listen to the heartbeat.
"The baby's heartbeat is strong and healthy, and you are dilated three fingers," she held up her little, ring and middle fingers together to show me. "So far, this is going like clockwork. Your waters will break soon, but if they don't, then we'll see to that for you."
"What's going to happen now? Is it going to take a long time?"
"Every birth is different," Sister Constance helped me to sit up as Sister Rosemary plumped up the pillows behind me. "For a first birth we're looking at a labour of between eight and twelve hours, but it could be faster or slower."
"One mother I had was done and dusted within ninety minutes," Sister Rosemary said. "But that was her fifth."
"The contractions are going to get stronger and closer together as you dilate to ten centimetres," she demonstrated the distance with her fingers and my mind boggled.
"Can… can my body even do that?"
"I promise you that it can, Marguerite. For now, we are going to get you a sandwich and a cup of tea. You're going to need your strength for this."
In the next few hours, I would give birth to Erik's child, something I would never have imagined happening.
When I was a girl, I had assumed that I would marry someone who worked in the Paris Opera House and have children by him. When I had met Benedict, had fallen pregnant by him, I knew that he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
I wondered, as I waited for the next contraction and the pain steadily built, what our lives might have been if God had been kind to us; if I had not suffered a miscarriage, and Benedict had not met his death by murderous thugs. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply as the pain swelled again, and imagined my beloved by my side, his talented carpenter's fingers stroking my hair.
"We would have had the most beautiful children," he told me. "We would have had our first with us on our wedding day, in frilly white petticoats, carried in your mother's arms. And we would have gone on to have more children whenever we were ready. Our girls would have Irish names, and our boys would have French names. We would have been so happy, my darling."
"I miss you so much," I told him.
"I know," he leant down and pressed his spectral lips to mine. "But I will always hold a place in your heart. And this baby will be beautiful too. You will be happy, my darling Meg. I want you to be happy."
The hours passed, the pain increased, and I was astonished to find that I could actually feel the baby inside me moving downwards, forced by the awful cramping in my belly.
"It's alright, Marguerite, breathe through the contraction, that's a good girl. Deep breaths, and puff like you're trying to blow out the candles on a birthday cake. Good girl." I breathed as Sister Rosemary rubbed my arm comfortingly, and suddenly felt like something had given way inside me. "And there go your waters, that is excellent."
The two nuns changed the sheets without the need for me to even leave the bed, working as a swift, practiced unit that reminded me of how two ballet dancers would perform a pas de deux.
Periodically, Sister Constance conducted an internal exam, and late into the evening, with the sunlight long banished from the room and gaslights taking its place, she smiled up at me.
"I can feel the top of the baby's head, and you are fully dilated, Marguerite. It's time to start pushing."
"I'm tired," I murmured.
"Yes, dear, I know. But a few more minutes, and this will all be over, and you will have your gorgeous new baby in your arms. We're going to roll you onto your side, so that you are in the right position to deliver the baby."
The pain was unlike anything I had ever felt before, coming in waves and crashing over me, then retreating and beginning all over again, as unstoppable as the tide. I found that I was letting out a low, constant moaning, trying to keep control of myself.
"You don't have to do that," the ghost of my mother was by my side, holding my hand. "Don't hold back, let it all out. It helps, you know."
And so I opened my mouth, and I screamed as the contraction blasted through me again.
"That's it," Mother said, smiling encouragingly. "You're doing so well, sweetheart."
"I don't know how I'm going to do this without you," I sobbed.
"You already are, Meg. My beautiful, brave girl, you are already a wonderful mother. This pain is what all mothers must bear, and soon it will be over, and you won't even remember that it hurt."
"Don't leave me."
"Never, Meg. Never."
I could feel the urge to push, as though my body knew what to do even if I did not.
"That's it, Marguerite, push!" Sister Constance was between my legs, hidden by my nightgown as Sister Rosemary held my hand firmly. "I can see the baby's head. That's right, good girl, you're doing brilliantly."
I made a sound like a mooing cow as the pain came again and Sister Rosemary smiled at me.
"Squeeze my hand as hard as you can, Marguerite, you can't hurt a tough old bird like me."
I didn't care in the least whether or not I was hurting her.
"I need you to pant now, Marguerite, just like a little puppy." I did as Sister Constance asked. "Little push now, just a little push, not too hard. That's it, well done! The head is born!"
"Only a couple more pushes should do it," Sister Rosemary beamed at me.
"Well done! Well done! That's it, the baby is here!" The feeling of the baby leaving my body was the most extraordinary sensation, but I could see nothing through my tears, I could only hear the noise of something soft being cut with a pair of scissors.
"Is she alright?" I sobbed. "Is she alive?"
A second later, there came a full-bodied new-born cry that made my heart break and filled me to the brim with unique, indescribable joy.
"Alive and with an excellent pair of lungs," Sister Rosemary assured me. "Not at all the worse for coming into this world a little too soon. She's just being cleaned a little and wrapped up warm."
"And there's one more surprise for you," Sister Constance approached me carrying a wailing bundle so tiny that I could hardly believe that it contained a real, human baby. "She's a boy."
"A boy?" I whispered. "I have a son?"
My baby stopped crying as Sister Constance placed him in my arms, and everything within me broke apart and came back together again in a new shape. He had my fair skin, a scattering of hair such a dark brown that it was almost black, and bright blue eyes that gazed up at me with a wonder that could only be matched by my own.
"Hello, little angel," I murmured in French. "My darling boy… It's so good to meet you." I stroked a finger over his feathery hair, and he reached up his tiny hand to grip it with the determination of a vine winding around a tree. "You are the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. You are precious; you are loved, and I swear to you that I will do everything within my power to bring you joy."
I was hardly aware of what was happening around me, the pain of delivering the afterbirth no more than a twinge. All my attention was focused on the brand new child who snuffled against me, whimpering until Sister Rosemary helped me position him at my breast, and he began to feed. It was yet another strange, magical sensation, another first experience of the so many first experiences that were still to come.