Faith, Honor & Freedom (13 page)

“Take your time,” she says. I look down at the tiny angelic face, and can’t help but worry about the life that lies ahead of her. I make a promise to myself to do everything I can for Jade and this baby.

Chapter 9

I start to stir around ten when the annoying buzz of my alarm pulls me from a crazy dream. I start to curse myself for setting it so early since I had only come home about four hours ago, but stop when I remember I have a lot to do today. I walk straight to the bathroom and take a shower, hoping it will rouse me.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. I put a cup of a nice strong coffee in my Keurig
machine to brew and grab my cell phone to check my messages.

Nothing.

I’m a little disheartened that Hoss hasn’t called or messaged, but I have bigger fish to fry. I look up the number for my Oregon Healthy Kids Program contact, Julie, and give her a call. She says their system is down, but she’ll work on it when it comes back up and return my call. As a homeless mother, though, she said she has a really good chance of being approved. She also gave me the name of a few other assistance programs she could be approved for.

I’m really excited to tell Jade all of the good news. Hopefully this will ease her mind some. I get ready to leave while my coffee brews and grab a breakfast bar and my travel mug on the way out.

The entire drive to the hospital I can’t help but feel more and more anxious. I wish Jade had some family member she could stay with while she learned the ropes of parenting. Of course, I’d give her the full doula services I offered, including follow-ups, free of charge, but there wasn’t much else I could do beyond that. I parked my car and took the elevator to Violet’s floor. I needed a pick me up, and I knew Gavin could do just that.

“Violet,” I say quietly, opening the door. I’m not sure if he’s asleep or not, and I’d rather not wake him, or her, for that matter.

“Lana,” she replies, meeting me by the door and enveloping me into a hug.

“How’s my big man doing today?” I ask.

“He went from little man to big man all in a day, huh? He’s doing well. He still has the IV in for his antibiotics, and he
still
refuses to take a bottle. Otherwise, he’s pretty content.” I look her over; she’s wearing jeans and a loose cotton shirt with an empire waist. The dark rings under her eyes have faded some, and she looks a lot more like herself then she has in a long time.

“You look incredible, Vi.”

“Thanks! I guess he figured since I was kind enough to not abandon him last night he’d play nice. He slept for a five-hour stretch and then went back to sleep for another three. The nurses left us alone, too. I never thought eight hours of broken sleep would make me feel like a new woman, but hey, I’m not complaining. I actually think I should start threatening him more.”

“Good man,” I say, picking him up from the little cot he was resting in. I cradle him in my arms, letting him continue his peaceful slumber. “I missed you so much. You need to come back home so I can see you any time I want.”

“Hoss called me this morning looking for you. Did you stay there again last night?” Vi asks suspiciously.

I take a brief second to ponder why he never called me directly. I guess he probably still doesn’t want to speak with me. I have two choices: think about it, blush, and the whole gig is up, or change the subject quickly to something else she will find interesting and hope she forgets about it so I’m not forced to relive it just yet. I choose the latter.

“Actually, you’ll never guess what happened to me last night! A woman I’d never met called me in for a birth. Turns out, she’s only sixteen … and homeless. My heart is just completely broken for her, Vi. I called Oregon Healthy Kids Program this morning. She gave me the names of a few other programs as well. Hopefully I can help her get set up somewhere safe this week.”

“What!” Vi cries out. “Poor girl. Tell her I pretty much have two of everything for this little man, he’s so spoiled rotten. If she needs anything, let me know.”

“Will do,” I reply, placing a kiss on Gavin’s head and laying him back in his cot.

“I should get up and see her now. When I left this morning, she still hadn’t even seen her baby. I think she was afraid the hospital wouldn’t let her keep her little girl since she couldn’t pay.”

“Oh God, Lana, that’s terrible,” she says shaking her head. “If you’re still around for lunch, come on down and visit me.”

I give her a kiss on the cheek. “You know I will. Thanks for making sure my wee little man is all right.”

“You got it,” she says. I slip out the door, careful to close it quietly behind me so I don’t wake Gavin. I decide to go up and see Jade before checking on the baby in the NICU. I open her door, and find her in the same position I left her in.

“Jade?” I say quietly. I tiptoe over to the other side of the bed where I find her—eyes open—in a blank stare. I don’t even think she noticed me come in. I lay my hand on her shoulder.

“Hey Jade, how are you doing this morning?” That seems to snap her out of it.

She gives a nervous laugh. “Sorry, just daydreaming.”

“Did you get any sleep?”

“Some.”

“Did one of the nurses take you down to see your baby?”

“Not yet.” I sigh in frustration. She really needs to see her baby if she wants a chance at a healthy relationship with her.

“I talked to a woman at Oregon Healthy Kids Program today. Their system was down, but she said given your circumstances, it’s very likely to be approved.”

“Thanks Lana,” she says with a small smile.

“Did you want me to take you down?” I ask.

“I’m going to pump first. Do you mind showing me how again?”

“Sure.”

I teach her about all the parts of pumping, including how to store her milk. Hopefully she will have all of the resources she needs to keep the germs away from her little one.

“So are you ready to go down?” I ask after she finishes pumping.

“Not yet. Do you mind just talking to me first, calming me down?” she asks.

“Of course,” I answer, a little hesitantly. I really wish she would stop putting off meeting her baby. I make a note to go ask the doctor about postpartum depression after I leave her room.

“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, sitting down in the chair beside her bed.

“How is the baby doing?”

“Do you want to know the sex?” I ask, afraid that if she doesn’t I might let it slip accidentally.

She thinks about it for a minute, before answering. “I think I do ... yeah, you can tell me.”

“You had a beautiful baby girl, Jade. You were right all along.” She closes her eyes, and breathes out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” she says, opening her eyes again. “How is she?”

“I haven’t been back since early this morning, but she is doing great. They say her biggest issue will be gaining weight. She’s still on breathing support, but hopefully not for much longer.”

“She’s strong,” Jade says with what seems like pride. I feel myself relax a little. Finally, she’s starting to bond.

“She is, she’s going to be just fine, Jade. I have some numbers that my contact gave me for other forms of assistance, too. Housing, food stamps … You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Okay,” she says uncomfortably. “Tell me about your family, about what normal is like,” she says, and I feel myself tense.

“My family isn’t exactly normal. No family is. You don’t need to worry about accepting help or not having the baby’s dad there. That’s really common, and nothing to worry about.”

“Why isn’t your family normal?” she asks with a look of concern.

My heart starts beating erratically, and I feel the tears sting my eyes. “I had a good life growing up, don’t get me wrong—two incredible parents and a brother who loved me, almost too much. He always wanted to protect me from everything.”

“What happened?”

“He died a few years ago, working a drug bust,” I say, wiping away the tears that begin to spill over. “He was a police officer.”

“He was a good man?” she asks.

“Yeah, he was a good man. The best. I really wish he was still here.”

“Why did you want to be a doula?” she asks, changing the subject.

“My grams was a midwife. I went with her to a lot of her births, and I always ended up consoling the women in labor, encouraging them. I guess it just sort of became second nature to me. I don’t like the medical side of birth, so I will probably always be a doula.”

“I like that,” she says. “It’s a good job.”

“Thanks, you could be one too if you wanted. What about school? When did you stop?”

“Last year, before I started showing,” she says, averting her eyes from me.
What happened to her?

I hear a knock at the door, and a cafeteria worker comes in with her lunch tray.

“Actually,” I say, quickly wiping away any tears. “I’m meeting my friend for lunch. I’ll be back when I’m done, and we’ll go down and see that sweet girl of yours,” I say, giving her a smile. “Oh, does she have a name yet?”

She stops and thinks for a second before shaking her head. “Not yet.”

I climb the stairs to the third floor after an uneventful lunch with Violet. Doctors are hoping that Gavin will be home the day after tomorrow, and even though I told her not to get excited, she can’t help herself. I just hope nothing else goes wrong. I push open the door to Jade’s room and look around. I don’t see her. I check the bathroom, but she’s not there either. I smile; she must have gone down to see her baby. Finally.

I decide to go down and check on her and say goodbye for the rest of the day, if she doesn’t need me here. I use my card to let myself in again, wash up, and make my way to incubator number nine. Jade isn’t by her bedside, and I start to panic.
Did she go pump? Did I miss her on the way back up? Where is she?

“Hey,” I say, greeting the nurse. It’s a different one from last night; she has bright orange hair pulled back into a thick braid.

“Hey, you must be Lana,” she says. I give her a skeptical look. “We exchange notes when we change shifts, and the night nurse told me about Baby Comeau’s situation. I’m Amy.”

“Of course. Any sign of Mom?” I ask.

“No, I haven’t see her yet. I was hoping she would come down to do some kangaroo care with the baby, but no sign of her.”

What if she left?
I begin to panic at the thought. That can’t be true, though; she would never leave her baby here. She may have post-partum depression, but she wouldn’t abandon her baby … would she?

The nurse looks at the panic that I’m sure is flashing across my face, and I do my best to hide it. If she’s just in a pump room, or out for a walk, or hell, even trying to find some decent food, I don’t want to make her look like a bad mother.

“Ahh, how is Baby Comeau doing?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Pretty good, actually. We just got her blood gas results back, and it looks like she can come off the Sipap machine already. Pretty soon you’ll get a really good look at her face,” she says happily.

“Did they start her feeds yet? I know Mom is pumping.”

“Not yet; they usually give their tummies a day or two to rest down here.”

I nod, desperate to leave and go find Jade. “Okay, well, I’m going to go find Mom, and we’ll be back down here together,” I say with a forced smile.

“I’ll be here,” she says, grabbing a diaper to do a change. I force myself to walk, not run, out of the NICU like I want to.

I check the cafeteria first, hoping to catch her searching for some better food, or maybe even in search of me, but no such luck. I check the hallways leading up to her room, but there’s no sign of her. I push open her room door, hoping to find her lying back in bed, but instead I find a hospital employee changing the linens.

What the hell! This can’t be happening!

I give her a terrified look, my heart pounding in my chest. I turn from her and run toward the nurses’ station as quickly as possible, no longer worrying if I seem panicked.

I
am
panicked.

“Jade?” I yell out to the three nurses chatting behind the desk. They all turn to look at me in unison, and I know right away, Jade isn’t here. “She’s coming back, right?” I ask, attempting to catch my breath.

“I’m so sorry, child,” one of the nurses replies. “She left right after you did. Said she ain’t coming back either. We tried to get her to stay, but there ain’t nothin’ else we coulda did. She signed a form saying she was leaving against medical advice.”

I sink down to the floor on my knees, devastated. I didn’t do my job; I didn’t help create that bond between mother and child. I should have made sure she saw that baby. I should have taken her down myself. Why did I leave her there, lonely, to go eat lunch with Violet?

Maybe it’s not too late, though; maybe she’s still near the hospital.

Without a word to the nurses, I get up off of my knees and rush out of the hospital, scanning the hallways and the front entry way as I go. I push open the front door, feeling the cool air assault my senses. The wind is blowing strong and my hair twists and turns in front of my face, sticking to my tears. I gather it all in my hand, using it as a make shift ponytail as I run into the street in front of the hospital. Cars beep all around me, but at this moment, I could care less. They can wait. My eyes dart all around as I spin in circles, over and over again, searching for any sign of her. I rush to the other side of the road and run the length of it, calling out her name.

Finally, my breath is stolen from my lungs, as I’m forced to bend down, clutching my chest, desperate for air. I can feel the cold sting of tears on my cheek, but I make no attempts to wipe them. Instead I concentrate on my breathing until I’m able to form a coherent thought.

“Jadeeeeee,” I call out in a last ditch effort.

She doesn’t come, though. She’s already gone, and I did nothing to stop her. I stay sobbing, for what seems like hours, until a passer-by asks if I need help into the hospital. I realize I must look like a mental patient. I try and calm myself down before thanking them for their kindness, and assuring them that I’m fine. They look unconvinced, but carry on down the street.