I wished she’d listen. I wished she could hear the things you asked me when we were lying in bed at night, before we fell asleep: Amelia, will we all live here forever? Amelia, will you help me brush my teeth, so I don’t have to ask Mom to do it? Amelia, can your parents ever send you back to the place you came from?
Was it any wonder that I found myself staring in the mirror at my disgusting face and even more disgusting body? My mother was going to a lawyer to sue over a kid who had turned out less than perfect.
“Where’s Emma?” Piper asked.
“In the juniors’ section, scoping out tops.”
“Decent ones, or the tight kind that look like ads for porn?” Piper asked. “Some of the clothing they make for kids your age must be illegal.”
I laughed. “Emma could always hire a lawyer. We know a good one.”
“Amelia!” my mother cried out. “Look what you made me do!” But she said this before she managed to knock over the entire display of blouses.
“Oh, shoot,” Piper said, hurrying to fix the racks. Over her head, my mother gave me a tight-lipped shake of her head.
She was angry at me, and I didn’t even know why. I slipped through the forest of girls’ clothing, my hands spread to brush against the vines of pant legs and sleeves. I ducked my head as I passed by Emma again. What had I done wrong?
Then again, what didn’t I do wrong?
It was almost like she was mad I had brought up the lawyer in front of Piper. But Piper was her best friend. This legal thing was front and center in our house, like a dinosaur at the dinner table that we all pretended wasn’t sticking its big, slimy face into the mashed potatoes. She couldn’t have forgotten to mention it to Piper, could she?
Unless…she very intentionally hadn’t.
Was this why she hadn’t wanted to go shopping with Piper? Why we hadn’t recently dropped by Piper’s house when we were in the neighborhood, the way we used to? When my mother talked about damages and getting enough money to really take care of you the way that would help you the most, I hadn’t really given much thought to the person who’d be on the receiving end of the lawsuit.
If it was the doctor she had been seeing when she was pregnant…well, that was Piper.
Suddenly I wasn’t the only person in my mother’s life who had turned out to be a disappointment. But instead of feeling let off the hook, I just felt sick.
I stood up, turning corners blindly, until I found myself standing in the lingerie section. I was crying by then, and just my luck, the only Target employee who was on the floor instead of the cash registers happened to be standing right in front of me. “Hon?” she asked. “Are you okay? Are you lost?”
As if I were five years old and had been separated from my mother. Which, actually, was not all that far off the mark.
“I’m fine,” I said, ducking my head. “Thanks.” I pushed past her, heading through the bras, even as one got caught on my sleeve. It was pink and silky, with brown polka dots. It looked like the kind of thing Emma would wear.
Instead of putting it back on its hanger, I stuffed it into my pocket, next to my Ziploc bags. I curled my fingers around it and checked to see whether the employee had been watching. The satin was cold between my fingers. I could swear it was pulsing, a secret heartbeat.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” the woman asked again.
“Yes,” I said, the lie coming easily, reminding me that, even as much as I hated her right now, I was my mother’s daughter.
Piper
September 2007
I’ve always said that the best part of my job is that I don’t do the work: that’s up to the prospective mother, and I basically monitor what’s going on and keep it running smoothly.
“Okay, Lila,” I said, removing my hand from between her legs. “We’re at ten centimeters. Almost there. You’ve got to push for me now.”
She shook her head. “You do it,” she muttered.
She’d been in labor for nineteen hours; I completely understood why she wanted to pass the buck. “You are so beautiful,” her husband crooned, holding up her shoulders.
“You are so full of shit,” Lila snarled, but as a contraction settled over her like a net, she bore down and pushed. I could see the fetal head swelling closer, and I held up my hand to keep it from popping out too fast and tearing the perineum. “Again,” I urged. This time, the fetal head rushed forward like a tide, and as the mouth and nose broke the seal of Lila’s skin, I suctioned them. The rest of the head was delivered, and I slipped the cord over it, supporting it as I turned the baby to control the shoulders. Five seconds later, the baby was balanced in the scale of my hands. “It’s a boy,” I said, as he announced, with a healthy cry, his own presence.
The cord was clamped, and Lila’s husband cut it. “Oh, baby,” he said, kissing her on the mouth.
“Oh, baby,” Lila echoed, as her newborn son was settled in her arms by the labor nurse.
I smiled and resumed my position at the foot of the birthing chair. Now came the unceremonious part of the happy event: waiting around for the placenta to present itself like a late houseguest; checking the vagina, cervix, and vulva for lacerations and repairing them if necessary; doing a digital rectal exam. To be honest, the parents were usually so engrossed in the newest addition to their family, some women didn’t even notice what was going on below their waists anymore.
Ten minutes later I congratulated the couple, stripped off my gloves, washed my hands, and headed outside to begin filling out the mountain of paperwork. I had barely taken two steps outside the patient’s door, though, when a man wearing jeans and a polo shirt approached. He looked lost, like a father who was staggering into the birthing pavilion to locate his wife. “Can I help you?” I asked.
“Are you Dr. Reece? Dr. Piper Reece?”
“Guilty as charged.”
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out what looked like a folded blue brochure, which he handed to me. “Thanks,” he said, and he turned on his heel.
I opened the document and saw the words WRONGFUL BIRTH ACTION.
Birth of an unhealthy child.
Parents’ right to recover is based on the defendant’s negligent deprivation of the parents’ right not to conceive a child or to prevent the child’s birth.
Medically negligent.
Defendant failed to exercise due care.
Plaintiffs suffered injury or loss.
I had never been sued before, although, like every other obstetrician, I had medical malpractice insurance. On some level, I’d known that my lack of lawsuits was sheer luck-that it would happen sooner or later. I just hadn’t expected it to feel like such a personal affront.
There had certainly been tragedies during my career-babies that were stillborn, mothers whose complications during childbirth led to excessive bleeding and even brain death. I carried those incidents with me, every day; I didn’t need a lawsuit to make me revisit them over and over, and wonder what could have been done differently.