4. Jori (I)
Jori Wilder was in the shower when she
began to suspect she was in labor.
It didn’t happen the way it did in the
movies. She didn’t suddenly cry out or
double over with the pain of a contraction.
There was no sudden spurt of blood or amniotic fluid. She was simply standing under the warm water,
massaging her aching lower back with her soupy pouf, when it occurred to her
that the crampy pains she’d attributed to lugging around her thirty-nine week
belly might, in fact, be contractions.
Until that point, she had been
relaxed, enjoying her shower. As she’d
lathered her beach ball belly with soap, she’d thought about the baby inside,
Lucy. She had always wanted a daughter,
and AJ seemed thrilled they were having a girl, too. She wondered, as she often did, what Lucy
would be like, whom she would take after.
Would she be dark, like AJ, or fair, like Jori? Would she inherit Jori’s wit or AJ’s musical
prowess? And which would she be more
prone to: addiction or manic depression?
Despite how much Jori loved AJ,
despite how excited she was to bring Lucy into the world, she sometimes
wondered if it was a mistake to have his baby.
As a couple, they were perfect for
each other. Seven years separated them
in age, but one would never know it.
Jori had always been worldly, and in some ways, AJ was just a big kid at
heart. They had the same wicked sense of
humor and knew how to make each other laugh.
Both were wild, creative, and they shared an eclectic taste in music and
fashion. Jori liked to think of herself
as a modern-day hippie, while AJ’s style was more gothic, but together, they
were free spirits, grounded to their life in Lockland only by the necessity of
money and the security the shop Vintaj provided.
Their lives had calmed down
significantly once they had settled there, especially since Jori had become
pregnant, but she still remembered what things had been like before. AJ had been an alcoholic when she’d met him. He’d never been treated as such, never
officially even admitted to being one, as far as she could remember, and never
let it interfere with his daily life enough to get him fired or arrested, but
there was no denying he had abused alcohol for most of his twenties. They had dabbled in drugs together, mostly just
pot, but she knew AJ had also gone through a cocaine phase. He’d kicked the coke habit for the sake of
the record store, but it was Jori’s pregnancy that had really forced him to
straighten up. She’d given him an
ultimatum: he would either stop drinking
and drugging, or she would leave him.
That was all it had taken. They’d
both been clean and sober since then, Jori out of the necessity of not wanting
to harm the baby, and AJ out of love for them both.
Jori did not consider herself
idealistic to the point of ignorance, but she did believe in the power of
love. It was love that had straightened
out her man, just as it had fixed her, too.
When she met AJ, she was nineteen years old, reckless, impulsive, and on
the verge of flunking out of college. She
thought of herself as a typical, collegiate wild child, living the party life
and enjoying her newfound freedom and independence. Her psychiatrist called her manic. It was a drastic change from the depression
she’d struggled with throughout her teens, and she was re-diagnosed as having
bipolar disorder during the winter break of her freshman year. What followed was a three-month period of
rapid cycling, which Jori was now convinced had been fueled by constant changes
in her medication. In the midst of it
all, while on a much-needed spring-break getaway with her girlfriends, she met
AJ. Whether he alone was responsible, or
if his entrance into her life just happened to coincide with her medication
finally regulating, AJ McLean had triggered a turning point for Jori.
Four years later, she was happier than
she’d been in a decade, without the aid of any medication. With AJ’s support, she’d gone off the
anti-depressants and mood stabilizers a year or so after they’d moved in together,
and with his love, she’d stayed healthier and happier without them. He
was her drug now, and she was his muse, and together, they were blissfully in
love.
Yet she worried about both of them
passing on their mental illnesses to Lucy.
She didn’t want her daughter to be depressed or dependent, as she and AJ
had been. She wished only happiness upon
her baby, and she hoped she and AJ would be able to give her the kind of life
she deserved.
This was the train of thought Jori’s
mind had taken, as she leisurely rinsed the suds from her breasts and belly,
running her hands over the curves of her body, feeling taut, firm skin and
raised, bumpy stretch marks. Her
pregnant body was nowhere near as beautiful in real life as in the artsy, nude photographs
AJ had taken, month by month, or the plaster cast he had made of her
belly. Still, she had enjoyed being
pregnant, marveling over the drastic ways her body had changed in the last nine
months. She just wouldn’t miss having to
use the bathroom every ten minutes, or the digestive problems, or the back
pain.
The warm shower usually relieved such
aches and pains, but as she stood there that morning, bringing her hands around
to the small of her back, the water and steam did little to ease the
cramps. And that was when she
realized: she was thirty-nine weeks
pregnant and almost certainly feeling the first pains of labor.
She didn’t jump instantly out of the
shower in a panic. Everything she’d read
in books and on the internet said that labor could last a long time, especially
in first-time mothers, and not to rush to the hospital at the first sign of a
contraction. So she took her time,
rinsing thoroughly, before she stepped out of the shower and wrapped her
swollen body in a large towel.
AJ was downstairs, running the store, so
she dressed in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and an oversized Beatles
t-shirt, combed out her wet hair, and crept down the stairs to find him. He wasn’t in the back room of the shop, and
when she poked her head out into the main selling area, she saw only Howie,
AJ’s best friend and business partner, manning the counter.
“Hey, where’s AJ?” she called over to
him.
“Hey, Jori. He headed up to Troy - just left about an
hour ago.”
“To Troy? What??” Jori cried, hearing, for the first
time, a faint note of panic in her voice.
“Yeah, to see a collector. I guess this guy died in a motorcycle crash,
and his wife wants to get rid of all his stuff.
Apparently, he had a great set of vinyl.
AJ went to check it out, see how much she’s asking. She only called this morning,” Howie added,
“so that’s why he didn’t tell you he was going.
Why, is something wrong?”
Jori ran her hands over her belly and
uttered a faint chuckle. “Well… nothing,
except, I think I’m in labor.”
“What??” Now Howie’s voice rang out with that same
panicked tone, as his eyes bugged practically out of their sockets. “Seriously?
You’re sure?”
Jori shrugged. “Not totally
sure, I guess; I mean, I don’t really know… but I think so.”
“What should I do? Call AJ?
Drive you to the hospital?” Howie
bounced a little on the balls of his feet, reminding her of an overexcited
Chihuahua.
“No hospital,” said Jori. “I’m doing a home birth.”
“What?? Really?”
“Yes, really.” Jori laughed at the look on his face. “Listen, don’t worry about it. It’ll be hours yet. I’m gonna go back upstairs and call AJ.”
“Well… what if…?” Howie hesitated; then his eyes lit up. “Wait, I know! Do you have a baby monitor yet?”
“Yeah, I got one at the shower.”
“Let me walk you up, and you show me
where it is.”
There was no one in the store, so they
left it empty for a few minutes and went back upstairs. Jori walked slowly, Howie right on her heels,
apparently ready to catch her if she should suddenly topple over. At that point, she had a feeling she would
only take him down with her.
Back in the apartment, she showed him
into the baby’s room, now completely painted and set up to welcome Lucy. While Howie looked around, she found the
monitor in the closet and took it out of its box. “Does it come with batteries? Great,” said Howie, taking one of the
speakers from her. “Now, I’ll take this
downstairs with me, and you keep the other one with you, and if you need
anything, just holler, okay?”
“Okay,” Jori agreed, suppressing a
smile at how neurotic he was being, way more so than AJ. “Thanks, Howie.”
“You bet.”
Howie went back down to the shop, his
half of the baby monitor crackling in his hand.
Jori took hers into the bedroom, where she kept her cell phone, and sat
down on the bed to call AJ.
***
Some two hours later, Jori sat
immersed in a pool of warm water, wearing her orange string bikini and
clutching Howie’s hand.
“What time is it?” she demanded.
“Almost noon.”
“Where’s AJ?”
“He should be back any time now.”
“Well, where’s the fucking midwife?!”
“Relax, J-Wild,” chuckled Howie,
squeezing her hand. “She’ll be
here. I thought you said it was still
early.”
Jori had thought so too, but now, she
wasn’t so sure. If this was still early
labor, she couldn’t imagine what it would feel like by the time she was ready
to deliver. Her contractions had
intensified tenfold in the last half hour, twisting and tearing at her insides
with seemingly no relief. Over the
phone, the midwife had told her to relax, that there was no way she could have
progressed enough to be ready to push in such a short time, making it seem as
if Jori were overreacting. Jori resented
this. Sure, the midwife was more
experienced, had attended many more births than Jori had endured, but only Jori
could know how much pain she was in. She
had always planned on a natural birth with little consideration for the
alternative, but now she wondered how anyone
who had been through this could advocate such torture.
“You have no idea how much this
fucking hurts, Howie,” Jori growled through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to
bear down. “I had no idea… no fucking clue…”
“The water’s not helping?” Howie
asked, looking both sympathetic and completely helpless.
With Howie’s help, Jori had gotten out
the birthing pool she had ordered, which looked a lot like the inflatable kind
of backyard kiddie pool she had splashed around in as
a child. It was deeper, though, and
stronger, designed for the kind of abuse it would take when a pregnant woman
was trying to push inside it. They’d
inflated it an hour ago, and Howie had filled it with warm water. It was supposedly too early to get in,
according to the midwife, but by that point, the pain had been so severe that
Jori was desperate for the bit of relief being in the water might offer.
Soaking in the pool had helped
somewhat, but she was still deeply uncomfortable, as she sat there, desperately
waiting for her birth coach and midwife.
She shook her head in response to Howie’s question. “Can you, like, distract me or
something? Please,” she grunted,
squeezing her eyes shut as a fresh wave of pain hit.
“Distract you how?” Poor Howie was completely out of his
element. Jori knew he couldn’t wait for
someone else to get there, so he’d be off the hook. He didn’t say it, but it was clear he thought
she was completely insane for going about it this way. She was beginning to understand his logic.
“I dunno… How about you sing me a song?” She gasped, trying to remember the breathing
techniques she’d learned in childbirth class.
“AJ and I were gonna sing through the whole thing… so Lucy would come
out to the sound of music and our voices.”
“Ah…”
Howie’s tone was doubtful. “Well,
what do you want me to sing?”
“Anything… Sing me your favorite song.”
“Um, okay…” Howie was quiet for a few seconds, apparently
thinking, and then, to her surprise, he actually started to sing. “When
you’re down and troubled, and you need a helping hand… and nothing, oh nothing,
is going right… close your eyes and think of me, and soon I will be there… to
brighten up even your darkest night. You
just call out my name… and you know wherever I am… I’ll come running… to see
you again…”
“Winter, spring, summer, or fall…” Jori chimed in weakly, her
strained voice blending with Howie’s sweet falsetto, “… all you’ve got to do is call… and I’ll be there. You’ve got a friend…” She suddenly started to giggle. “James Taylor, huh? Is that really your favorite song?”
Howie stopped singing and shrugged. “Not really,” he said, looking slightly
embarrassed. “Michael Jackson did a
cover of it on an album I used to listen to as a kid. It just seemed like an appropriate choice.”
“Oh come on, Michael’s got way better
stuff than that. Give me something upbeat,”
Jori encouraged, leaning her head back against the side of the pool. She was only messing with him, but Howie was
so anxious, he seemed willing to follow her every whim. By the time AJ got there, they were halfway
through “Billie Jean,” Howie singing the lyrics, while Jori did her Lamaze
breathing in time to the chord progression.
“Billie Jean is not my lover…
She’s just a girl who claims that I am the one…”
“Hee… hoo… hee… hoo…”
“… but the kid is not my son…”
“Hee… hoo… hee… hoo…”
“She says I am the one… but the kid is not my son…”
“Somethin’ you wanna tell me, Jor?”
Jori sat up suddenly, sending water
splashing up the sides of the pool.
“AJ! You’re here! I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“I don’t doubt it,” AJ replied with a
grin, coming around the pool to her other side.
“That was a creative way of doing Lamaze. Maybe we should patent it, rake in some extra
dough for the kid’s college. Whaddya
think, D?”
Howie smiled gratefully. “I’m glad you’re here, man,” he said, and he
sure looked it. “I had to close down
shop; there was no one left to work it.
You want me to open back up?”
“Nah… the screaming from upstairs
might scare the customers.” AJ winked at
Jori, who could only manage a weak smile back.
“Put a note on the door on your way out:
Closed for holiday.”
“Holiday?”
“It’s my daughter’s birthday,
dude! There should be commemorative
stamps for this day!”
Howie laughed. “Alright.
Anything else you need me to do for you before I take off?”
“Nah… enjoy your day off; you deserve
it. Thanks for taking care of my woman.”
“My pleasure,” said Howie, who was
being polite. Jori knew there could be
no pleasure in babysitting a screaming whale in an orange bikini. She echoed her thanks before Howie left,
making a mental note to get him a nice gift once this was all over.
And then it was just AJ and her. He kissed the top of her damp head and asked
how she was feeling. She recounted all
that had happened since he’d taken off that morning, haltingly, because the
contractions were too strong to allow her to talk continuously. She kept taking breaks to moan and shriek and
attempt to breathe through the pain.
“This isn’t right,” she told AJ finally, looking desperately up at him
with tears in her eyes. “This can’t be
normal. It hurts so bad…”
“Where’s the goddamn midwife?” AJ looked around, as if expecting her to pop
up out of nowhere.
“She’s coming, but she told me there
was no hurry. But I dunno how much more
of this I can take, AJ…”
AJ stood up. “I’m gonna call her.”
“Wait – will you just… check me
first? Look down there and tell me how
dilated you think I am?”
Her boyfriend went pale. “… What?”
“Oh come on, AJ, it’s not like you
haven’t seen it before,” Jori retorted in frustration. “Just look and see how big the goddamn hole
is.” She undid the ties on the bottoms
of her bikini, which she’d put on only for Howie’s sake, and pulled them off,
spreading her legs and arching her back.
Looking revolted, AJ snuck a
peek. “How do I know if you’re, uh…
dilated enough?”
“Well, is the opening big enough for a
baby’s head?”
“No, no way… I don’t think so…”
“Okay…” Jori sighed.
“I wish she’d get here soon.”
“I’ll call her.”
This time, Jori let him. He retreated into their bedroom to make the
call, closing the door behind him.
Through the walls, she could hear his muffled voice cussing out the
midwife. But when he came back, there
was a smile on his face, and he announced, “She’s on her way, babe!”
“Good…” Jori lay her head back again. She already felt weak and faint, exhausted,
and couldn’t imagine finding the strength to push a baby out of her anytime
soon.
“Can I get you anything, Jor?”
“Um… a glass of water would be
great. I’m thirsty…”
“You got it.” He fetched the water, tipping the glass to
her lips so that she could sip. Despite
her thirst, she drank only a little; the cold water splashing into her empty
stomach made her nauseous, too nauseous to even consider eating something. “Anything else?” AJ asked, when she pushed
the water glass aside.
The contractions intensified before
she could answer, and she squeezed her eyes shut again, gripping his arm. “God, just take my mind off it. Sing – that helped…”
As pleasant as Howie’s high tenor had
been, nothing compared to AJ’s singing voice.
It was sexy and soulful, powerful…
She felt sure he could have had a career singing rock or R&B, if
he’d pursued it. On that day, though, he
chose to sing something different, something just for her.
“In the town where I was born… lived a man who sailed to sea… and
he told us of his life… in the land of submarines. So we sailed on to the sun… ‘til we found a
sea of green… and we lived beneath the waves… in our yellow submarine…”
Jori smiled, in spite of the pain, and
chimed in, “We all live in a yellow
submarine… yellow submarine… yellow submarine,” while AJ sang the lower
harmony. “We all live in a yellow submarine… yellow submarine… yellow
submarine…” She focused on the
familiar lyrics, trying to block out the agonizing contractions.
“As we live a life of ease… every one of us has all we need…”
“All
we need!”
“Sky of blue…”
“Sky
of blue!”
“… and sea of green…”
“Sea
of green!”
“… in our yellow…”
“In
our yellow-”
“… submarine.”
“-submarine!”
called Jori with her last ounce of will, before suddenly dissolving into tears.
AJ stopped singing, threw an arm
around her wet shoulders, and pulled her to him. “Oh baby, baby… I hate seeing you like
this. You sure you don’t wanna
reconsider? I can take you to the
hospital right now.”
She shook her head fiercely. “No.
Women have been giving birth like this since… since the dawn of
time. If they can do it… so can I. I just… didn’t think it would be so… hard…”
It was during this meltdown that the
midwife, Barb, finally arrived. She
still seemed under the impression that Jori was being overly dramatic, as she
knelt down beside the pool and said, “Don’t waste all your energy crying,
honey. You’re gonna need your strength
when it’s time to push. Let’s see how
close you are…” She snapped on a pair
of latex gloves, and Jori parted her legs again to let the midwife look and
feel.
“You’re only about five centimeters
dilated, hon,” said Barb, patting Jori’s bare leg. “You still have quite a ways to go.”
“Only five?” Jori moaned
desperately. “But it hurts so bad! You’re telling me I’m only halfway
there? That it’s gonna get worse?”
“I know it hurts, Jori, but this is
what you wanted, remember? A natural
birth at home, with no drugs, no needles or scalpels… Think of how good it’s going to feel once you
deliver Lucy, how nice it will be for her to be born in such a peaceful,
comfortable environment…” Barb’s voice was
calm and reassuring, but Jori found it hard to relax when she was in such agony. She tried, though, resting her head against
the back of the pool once more and closing her eyes. She felt like passing out and waking up only
when it was time to push.
And then it happened, quite
suddenly: a white hot eruption of pain
in her belly that jolted her upright again.
There was pressure, and as she screamed, bearing down on AJ’s hand, she
felt something release and looked down to see a significant spurt of bright red
quickly diffusing in the clear water.
The sight of blood instantly made her feel faint, but she thought at
first, She was wrong; this is it! I’m about to deliver!
The pain was almost blinding, but she
managed to look at Barb for confirmation, and it was then that she saw the look
on Barb’s face. It was not a look of excitement
or encouragement, but one of alarm.
“What’s wrong?” AJ demanded, and
though he’d tried to sound assertive, Jori heard the tremor of fear in his
voice. “Is she supposed to be bleeding
like that??”
“No,” said Barb, and her voice, too,
was shaky. “No, she’s hemorrhaging. It could be a placental abruption. We need to get her to the hospital
immediately.”
“What?!” Jori’s voice rose, sounding
faraway and distorted in her own ears, as if she were hearing it through a tin
can. “No... I want to give birth at
home…”
“It’s out of the question now,
honey.” Barb spoke kindly, but
firmly. “There’s been a complication,
and if we don’t take you to the hospital right now, we might lose you or Lucy.”
Hearing her daughter’s name was enough
to make Jori see reason, and she felt herself give a single, weak nod of
consent. She was only half-aware of what
happened after that. One moment, she was
lying limply in the pool, on the verge of fainting from blood loss and pain,
and the next, she was bundled in something warm and dry, being carried by a
pair of strong arms – AJ’s? – and then, having drifted in and out of
consciousness, she found herself lying across the backseat, cocooned in
whatever they had clothed her with, dimly aware of the sensation of movement, the
car’s tires speeding over the road beneath her.
Vaguely, she heard AJ’s voice calling her name.
“Jori… hang on, Jori… you’re gonna be
alright, baby… we’re almost to the hospital…”
Hospital… she thought in
anguish. Lucy…
Then she lost consciousness
completely.
***