U Is For Undertow

After thirteen hours, when little or no progress had been made, Dr. Frantz laid down the law. Deborah was allowed to remain in the room while he explained the impasse. If the fetus was born bottom first, there was a possibility the body would fit through the mother’s pelvis, but the baby’s head would most likely get stuck at the level of the chin. With this condition, known as a trapped head, the possibility of injury was high. Once the baby’s body emerged, the umbilical cord would cease to pulsate, which would cut off the oxygen supply. With the baby’s head still inside, the infant wouldn’t breathe on its own. Without surgical intervention, there was a better than even chance the baby would die.

It seemed clear to Deborah there was only one choice. She wanted to shake Shelly until her head rattled, the answer was so obvious. Even Greg was in favor, urging Shelly to consent. By then, she was too worn down to protest. They prepped her for surgery and rolled her into the delivery room. Patricia Lorraine Unruh was born on July 14, 1963: six pounds, four ounces; twenty inches long; and bald as an egg. Greg and Shelly called her Rain.

Deborah went home and had a stiff drink.

Shelly and the baby were in the hospital three days. Greg spent most of that time at her side while Deborah was left to cope with Shawn. At first, whatever Deborah suggested, he would voice the doctrine according to his mother, reciting her tenets as an article of faith. It was nearly comical hearing Shelly’s sentiments coming from a six-year-old. Deborah moved ahead without argument and soon Shawn was sharing lunch with her. The two of them had adventures-the botanical garden, the beach, the Museum of Natural History. The boy was not only bright but interested and quick to learn. Deborah revised her view of him and began to enjoy his company, especially once he went back to wearing clothes. He had a sense of whimsy she hadn’t seen before.

Shelly came home, still in pain, incapacitated in the aftermath of the cesarean. Deborah offered her the use of the guest room while she recovered. Shelly was fragile and her defenses were down. She moved into the house without putting up a fight while Greg and Shawn remained in the yellow school bus. She withdrew, staying under the covers with the curtains in the room pulled shut. She seemed to be suffering postpartum depression, but Deborah realized it was something else altogether. She was humiliated, not angry so much as silenced now that Nature had betrayed her and she had nothing to boast about. How could she espouse her many closely held convictions when she’d failed something as elementary as the natural delivery she’d anticipated with such confidence? She’d had the wind knocked out of her sails. In the absence of dogma, she was strangely deflated. Deborah looked on from the sidelines, wanting to reach out but not daring to do so. Any gesture on her part would signal a compassion that Shelly was ill equipped to receive.

Contributing to the edgy cease-fire was the fact that Rain showed very little interest in nursing. Shelly had breast-fed Shawn until he was three, so she was an old hand at the process. Rain wouldn’t cooperate. She’d whip her head back and forth, mouth barely brushing the nipple. If she finally managed to latch on, she became agitated, arching her back and screaming, red-faced, her fists flailing. After a few days, Shelly had no patience for the feedings. At the first sign of trouble, she’d thrust the baby back at Deborah and turn her face to the wall. Rain went from being fussy to crying nonstop. Deborah knew she wasn’t getting enough to eat, but she wasn’t sure what to do.

Greg appeared at one point. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine. We have a few wrinkles to iron out, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Keep Shawn occupied, if you would.”

“Sure, no problem,” he said. “Any suggestions about how?”

Deborah had to bite her tongue. She already had her hands full and couldn’t stop to educate Greg about amusing a child. “Let me give you a few bucks and you can take him to the zoo.”

Greg frowned. “Did Shelly say it was okay?”

“She’s asleep. I’m sure she won’t object. You might also try the kiddy pool at the beach. He likes to wallow in the water playing hippopotamus. There are lots of other children. He’ll have fun.”

She put in a call to Dr. Erbe, a pediatrician she’d met at a cocktail party welcoming new members to the country club. She apologized for the imposition, not wanting to take advantage of their acquaintanceship to ask for free medical advice. She explained the problem as succinctly as she could. Dr. Erbe suggested waiting for a couple of more feedings before supplementing with formula. Maybe the baby would get the hang of it and all would be well. By then, Rain’s crying was relentless, pitched at a level that would drive any ordinary mortal insane.

With Shelly in such a vulnerable psychological state, Deborah was afraid she’d take out her frustrations on the baby. She finally made up four ounces of formula and fed Rain herself. Rain settled in to eat, taking the entire four ounces before falling asleep. She put the baby in her crib, which they moved into the sewing room down the hall so Shelly could rest undisturbed if the baby fretted in her sleep. Deborah could remember how attuned she’d been to Greg as a newborn, when any slight sound from the crib would have her on her feet and standing over him.

She peered into the guest room where she saw that Shelly was awake. “You can try the breast again when she wakes up. Dr. Erbe says some babies take a little longer catching on.”

“Who gives a shit?” Shelly said, and turned over on her side.

Deborah waited for a moment and when it was clear Shelly wasn’t going to volunteer another word, she went downstairs and cleaned up the breakfast dishes. Twenty minutes later, the baby started crying again. Deborah heard Shelly’s bare feet hit the floor and thump down the hall. Deborah dropped the flatware she was putting in the dishwasher and headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Shelly was leaning over the crib. “Goddamn it, shut the fuck up!”

She was just reaching for the baby when Deborah blocked her arm. “I’ll take care of her. You rest. Everything will be fine.”

“What do you know, you fuckin’ Pollya

Deborah knew better than to respond. Shelly had reverted to her old ways and any reassurances would be met with hostility.

Shelly stared at her darkly and finally turned on her heel. “Have at it, Deborah. You think you’re so smart, you do it.”

She went back into the guest room and shut the door.

Deborah picked up the baby and took her downstairs. She settled in the rocker, put a diaper across her shoulder, and laid the baby up against her, patting her gently until she erupted in a satisfying burp. Rain was quiet then. Deborah continued to pat her, humming, until the baby drifted off to sleep. She debated about returning her to her crib and thought better of it.

Still holding her, Deborah crossed to the wall-mounted phone in the kitchen and lifted the handset. She called A

“Sure. I set aside all the baby paraphernalia for the next garage sale. I’ve been letting it sit until I was sure I wasn’t going to opt for one more. Let me haul it out and dust it off. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“Don’t ring the bell. Come around to the kitchen door and I’ll let you in.”

Fifteen minutes later A