L.A. Blues III (13 page)

That first night, I sat down and made a list of what I had to do. I needed to find an ob-gyn doctor in the area and a small hospital where I could deliver in anonymity. I needed to go shopping and buy some yarn—so I could crochet a baby blanket—a wig, and sunglasses for when I went to the doctor. I also decided I would pick up some cloth diapers and a few baby sleepers. I was wondering if I could find some tapes of Lamaze classes on my iPhone, since I thought it might be too risky to go to an outside class. I went on YouTube and found the perfect class.

That first week, the reverend came and took me grocery shopping and we found a small doctor for me to get a checkup. He gave me more prenatal vitamins, when I told him I didn't have the money.

Afterward, we went for a walk by the stream behind the cabin. I picked up five large rocks and had Reverend Edgar tote them back to the cabin for me.

“These are symbolic of the five smooth stones David had,” I said. “I'll keep them as a reminder that God is in charge and to help me from being afraid.” I put them under my bed for protection.

“That's a good idea. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, there is.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you be my Lamaze coach?”

“Sure, but do you think it's safe to go out?”

“Well, they have classes online on YouTube that you can use in the privacy of your home. Do you think you can act as my coach?”

“When do you want to start?”

“We can start now.”

I had spread out a blanket on the floor before the fireplace and used four pillows as props. We moved the rocking chair that sat in front of the fireplace out of the way. As Reverend Edgar sat behind me on the pillow, he helped me with the breathing; he was very intense. He gently massaged my shoulders to the rhythm of his voice.

“Pant, pant, breathe,” he coached.

Meantime, my mind was on breathing, and all the time I was thinking of Romero . . . how I wished it were him.

Afterward, I noticed Reverend Edgar seemed to be looking pensive. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head. After a while, he spoke, “This reminded me of my wife, Paula, and me.” I noticed tears in his eyes. He looked away and wiped his eyes.

I thought about how that had to be the most painful thing in the world—to have carried a baby full term and for it to die during delivery. Worse, his wife had died, taking all their hopes and dreams of building a family life together. I shuddered as a chill ran through me.
Oh, Lord, let me have a safe delivery.

Impulsively, I reached over and gave him a hug. Before I knew it, Reverend Edgar had embraced me and was trying to kiss me. I didn't want to be rude, but I had never felt any more than a friendship feeling for Reverend. I wasn't over Romero yet, and judging from his tears, he wasn't over Paula.

I slowly eased out of his kiss. “I think it's too soon for both of us. I'm still in love with Romero, even though he's dead.”

“I'm still in love with Paula, but I'm sure she would want me to move on, if I found the right woman.”

“That would be nice—if you found the right woman.”

“I think I have found her.”

I stopped in my tracks. Reverend Edgar gave me this strange look, and I recognized it. It was the look that Romero had when he would study me. Oh, no! The Reverend was beginning to catch feelings for me!

“Look, Reverend Edgar,” I said, cautiously. “There's a lot you don't know about me. I'm not the right woman for you.”

I could see the hurt and embarrassment in his eyes. “Don't say that. You're lovely. You're strong. You're up here, all alone, having your baby by yourself. Don't worry. I won't push you. I know you're still grieving, too.”

“I'm glad you understand.” An uncomfortable lull fell over the room. Seconds went by but they felt like hours.

I took a deep breath. I tried to reset the energy in the room from this awkward space. “Hey, have I thanked you for all the kind things you have done for me? I really appreciate it. You're one of the good guys.”

Reverend Edgar's shoulders relaxed and he looked visibly relieved that I wasn't acting like we could no longer be friends. “I know I'm not your baby's father, and I could never replace him, but how about if I go to the hospital with you when you deliver? I want to be there when you go in delivery.”

I hadn't thought about how I would need someone when I went into the delivery room. Then something occurred to me. It didn't matter if the baby wasn't Romero's because Reverend Edgar didn't know what he looked like. I didn't think the minister knew that Romero was a Latino either, because I refused to discuss this with him. And now it didn't matter about the baby's paternity because I knew he or she was mine.

I took a few seconds and thought about it. “Yes, that would be nice. I would be honored to have you go through the delivery with me. That sure would bless my baby.” I started laughing. “What better way to enter the world than have a minister present? This baby is going to need it with me as a mother.”

Reverend Edgar chuckled, and I could see his mood lift.

I really liked living up on that mountain with its outcropping of rocks, which went up higher behind the cabin. Sometimes I felt like I could go outside and touch the sky, which sometimes shifted from rainforest green to wisteria blue to azure. Sometimes the clouds hung so low, I felt like I was standing in heaven there was such a spiritual vibration here.

A month and a half had gone by and I'd gotten used to living in solitude in the wilderness. Firs, evergreens, and cedars surrounded the cabin. Chrysanthemums, larkspur, morning glories, and late-blooming snapdragons clustered around the yard.

I'd even learned to see in the dark at night. I felt like a panther the way I could see all around without lights on at night.

Often I couldn't get a signal on my cell, but I loved not having distractions. No laptop. No TV. No Facebook, although I could've gotten them on my cell phone or used the computer when I went into town with Reverend Edgar. But I loved this sacred space I was in. It was like a holding pattern in this last trimester.

I chose only to contact the reverend by phone. He said that no one had come looking for me, so I have to assume the Feds thought I just skipped town. I hope they know I had nothing to do with the two officers who were murdered at the safe house. I thought about reaching out to Detective Hamilton to let him know what had happened, but I was too afraid it would endanger his life. Because Romero had always trusted him with his life, I really believed he was clean. Yet, I still couldn't take any chances.

I text messaged Chica so she could tell Shirley and Venita I was safe. For the moment, I wasn't worried about the hit man, or about the blackmailer. I felt free. I felt safe. Life was good.

I went over the series of events. The car accident, the shooting at the cemetery, the shooting at Universal Studios, the shooting at the safe house. Death was all around me, yet I never felt more alive.

Well, DEA Special Agent Braggs had probably been killed from his own blackmailer so that was definitely a case of “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.” I hadn't had to lift a finger. As far as I knew, FBI Special Agent Stamper was still locked up I knew, but I didn't know who he had paid off, or if they would still try to come after me. I didn't know about the Executioner. Was he still looking for me? I couldn't worry about it.

Instead, I focused on my unborn child. I talked to the baby all the time. This new life was becoming more and more real to me. I felt bonded to the baby. The baby would respond to my voice by kicking. The baby was growing and I was beginning to really stick out. I loved rubbing olive oil on my growing stomach and so far, I didn't have any stretch marks.

The last time Reverend Edgar came to bring food, he remarked, “You're finally growing. I was worried that your baby was going to be too small.”

I smiled. “No, it's your good cooking and this mountain air. I stay ravenous. Food has never tasted so good.”

I spent most of my time, sitting in the rocking chair, crocheting baby blankets, the craft I'd picked up when I was on bed rest.

On one of the reverend's visits, Reverend Edgar took me to a local doctor, who checked me and said I had a couple more months to go and everything was fine, so I was content. Reverend Edgar even found a secondhand computer at the church; however, I couldn't get the Internet with it. If I wanted to look up anything online, I used my iPhone. It was nice to have something to write on, though. Reverend even bought a journal for me to write in. I recorded my thoughts about the pregnancy, and less and less, I worried about the outside world.

Actually, I was under less stress than when I was in Los Angeles. Birds hung around the cabin and sang at the top of their lungs. I woke up to the sound of blue jays and mockingbirds. Although this was a desolate area, the oak trees had turned a deep sable brown and the leaves were a kaleidoscope burst of gold, umber, burgundy, ochre, and fiery orange and scarlet red. Rhododendron shrubs were in late bloom. I opened my journal and began to write:

I am so happy to wake up here in Big Bear. I'm feeling so uplifted. A deer came to the glass window this morning, wiggled its nose, and it let me know how close I am to nature and to God.

I have always worked and never stopped to take time to see what I was feeling.

This little hiatus in my life has been good.

I dreamed about Romero last night for the first time. He looked really happy. He told me, “I'm fine. You and the baby will be fine.”

It seems like the baby even seems at peace here. He moves during the day and not at night. I'm beginning to think it's going to be a boy. I'm glad I don't know the sex of the baby yet. I'd like to be surprised.

 

 

The next morning I woke up to a snow blizzard. I looked out the window and gave out a yell. “I love it!”

Having been raised in Los Angeles, I'd never seen snow up close. I only saw snow on the mountains at a distance. I wasn't a skier so I never had come to Big Bear Mountain.

At first I was excited about the snow. The house felt a little chillier, but I didn't care. I didn't worry about it. I had plenty of water and food. But then I had a weird feel. There was only one way in and one way out just about up here. Reverend Edgar had already been up to visit yesterday and I wondered, could he make it through that snow? I tried to put out a call and couldn't. I couldn't get a signal.

I made a cup of warm cocoa and was reading my Bible, when I felt a gush of water rush down my legs. I wondered,
what was that?
I thought I had urinated on myself. I went to the bathroom and saw what the pregnancy books called “the bloody show.”

Oh, no!
It was too soon. I wasn't quite thirty-two weeks. I had two more months to go.

I didn't feel any pain, so I didn't know what to do. I tried to call Reverend Edgar again. No signal.

Before I knew it, I doubled over in pain, holding my stomach. “Oh, no, it's not time,” I cried out. “God, please help me.”

I decided to lie down and pray the pain would go away. Maybe it was what I read about online, Braxton Hicks—false labor. But the pain wouldn't stop. It was as relentless as a hurricane. I started trying to breathe through my mouth like I'd read in the books and seen on the Lamaze videos online. I tried to remember what Reverend Edgar and I had gone over.

Sweat trickled down my forehead and I was huffing and puffing, but I was able to plan in between contractions. I pulled out some scissors to cut the cord. I found thread to tie off the cord. I collected the few baby undershirts, gowns, and cloth diapers I'd been able to buy when I'd gone to the local doctor.

I collected clean sheets and warm blankets. I thought about boiling water, since they always did that in the movies, but I decided to use rubbing alcohol to sterilize the scissors.

“Well, it looks like it's me and you, baby boy or baby girl.”

I still didn't know the sex of the baby. I'd seen some Lamaze and childbirth films, and once I was with my old partner, Okamoto, when he delivered a baby in our scout car, but the women generally had a coach and someone helping deliver the baby. Wasn't it dangerous having a baby without a doctor or a doula? Would I die?
Oh, no, if I died, my baby couldn't make it.
I had to make it. I was determined. I tried not to cry out, but as the minutes crept by, my low moans turned to loud groans to loud moans, to animal-like screams. The deep breathing was not helping at all.
Is this what women go through having babies?
I thought through my blaze of pain.

I had never been in so much pain in my life. How could women even live through this type of torture? I almost wished I could die just to stop the pain. I didn't know if I was hallucinating, things felt so crazy. I wondered if this was not a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Through a foggy mist of blood red pain, I vaguely remember my bowels letting loose and my peeing on myself, but I didn't bother to go to the bathroom. I was afraid I'd deliver the baby into the toilet. When I was on the police force, I'd seen that happen so I didn't want to take chances.

I don't know how many hours went by, but I could tell it was getting dark outside. I had no framework to go by, other than the stages of labor I had learned on YouTube. I cried, I prayed, I hollered during the pains. It didn't feel like no easy stage like they described on the video. How come I couldn't be like the woman who had relatively painless labors, or was that some type of myth? Some of the pains felt like gas pains, some felt like an elephant stomping up and down my spine. I never knew there were so many levels to pain. Pain took on its own music. It was like some dark grotesque threnody which was ancient as the first woman in time, accompanied by my screams. It felt like a demon taunting me.

Finally, after an interminable length of time, I let out one long scream. “Help me, God!” I had one long, excruciating pain and I felt like something split me in half. Then there was another burning sensation, a gurgling plop sound, and then a baby's cry followed. I fell back on the bed, panting. I didn't realize how much I was sweating until I sat up and saw I was soaking wet. I looked down, and there was my baby laying between my legs. It was a girl! And although she looked small, she seemed strong, judging by her lungs. She was as red as a lobster, and not much bigger, but she was beautiful to me. I reached down and lifted her. I held her close to my breast and let her nurse. Meantime, she was still connected to her umbilical cord. Involuntarily, I felt another push, and the placenta came out.

My bed looked like a massacre had taken place in it, so I moved over from the bloody/feces/ urine/amniotic fluid area. I decided to lie still for the moment and get my wits about myself. I cut the baby's umbilical cord and clamped it with thread. Instinctively, I pushed my stomach. There was a gush of blood . . . but it slowed down. Thank God I wasn't hemorrhaging. I put a towel between my legs to monitor the bleeding. I swaddled the baby in the clean blanket, I changed my sheets, and I pulled out an old-fashioned quilt, and covered us both.

 

I must have dozed off, but when I woke up, the baby was sleeping peacefully in my arms and latching on to my breast. She rooted strongly, so I was glad she was a good feeder. She looked to weigh about four to five pounds. I unwrapped her blanket and examined my baby. I counted all five fingers and five toes and let out a sigh of relief. I held her up in the light and studied her as if she was a strange, yet familiar person. It was as if I'd known her all my life. Her little round face was framed by a thick crown of straight hair.

“Where have you been all my life?” I sang in my usual off-key voice.

For the first time I took a good look at her face. As tiny as her features were, she looked like Romero! She even resembled his daughter, Bianca. In fact, she looked like the baby picture of Bianca that Romero had once showed me. Her eyes were light hazel when she opened them. “Thank you, Lord!” I said. “You look like your big sister, little one.” So I did
get
pregnant on my last night with Romero.

I decided to sit in the rocking chair and rock my daughter for the first time. In the gentle movements, my thoughts raced. For the past twenty-four hour, I had been in an animal-like space. Grunting, bearing down, and having a baby. My body had had a primitive mind of its own. Now, my worries were returning. I was wondering how soon it would be before the reverend came to see me so we could get to a hospital.

I calculated how I would survive. I had enough food for a week, and plenty of water, which reminded me that I was thirsty now. I walked over to the refrigerator and drank a gallon of water. I also fixed a sandwich. I did know with breastfeeding I had to eat. I took my prenatal vitamins. I could make it, I assured myself. The baby had my milk, and I had food. The cabin was warm. The snow had slowed up and I would be all right. I was not bleeding heavily. Each time the baby nursed, I felt my uterus contract, my stomach go down, and the bleeding lessen.

The baby cried only when she was hungry, but overall, she was a good baby. She would nurse, then fall back to sleep. The blizzard had slowed up, but the snow was still falling.

“Angel,” I said as I cooed to her in my arms. She grabbed my finger and held onto it. I felt my heart break I was so full with love. “You're a little angel.” I'd never fallen so instantly and deeply in love. Then it hit me. I would name her “Angel Romera Soldano-Gonzalez.”