Chapter Five Excerpt–Dot’s Loss

The baby had no brain.

Barry had handled the news with concern mainly for her. He’d held her hand when the doctors insisted she terminate the pregnancy.

They’d sent her to an abortion clinic, as the regular clinic couldn’t perform the surgery. Barry had shielded her from the others in the waiting room, mostly teens, anxious with their parents.

“They’re getting rid of their babies, when we’ve lost ours,” she said to him as the nurse called back another young woman, this one hanging on to her teenage boyfriend.

He’d squeezed her arm. “It’s hard I know. But they’ve got their stories, their hardships too.”

Dot nodded and leaned on his shoulder. The baby was kicking her. “Hey, feel him,” she said. “We won’t get to much longer.”

He put his hand on her belly. “Hey Bubba,” he said, leaning close to her distended stomach. “You probably can’t hear us, but we’re here. We’re right here.”

Dot pushed his hand hard against her belly. “Please tell me you can feel him. I know he doesn’t kick very hard as small as he is, but tell me you can feel him.”

Barry looked straight at her with his crystal blue eyes. “Here, let’s try this.” He ran his hand beneath her shirt, oblivious to the people around them, the clerk at the desk, the ding of the elevator outside in the hall.

“There it is again,” she said, and shifted his hand. “Please tell me you can feel him, this once.”

Barry closed his eyes and held firm, his hand warm on her skin. “Is it small, like bubbles breaking on the surface of water?”

“Yes.” Dot turned her face into his shoulder. She had told herself she could be strong in this, but she didn’t feel strong. She was afraid to start crying, afraid she couldn’t stop.

“I feel it, Dot. I do. It’s Bubba.”

The nurse called her name. She stood as if in a dream, the scene had gone liquid around her. They couldn’t do this. Bubba was alive, and they were going to kill him. Her knees gave out and she stumbled. Barry caught her and wrapped an arm hard around her waist. “Here, I’ll help you,” he said.

“I see God,” she said. The nurse had opened the door and light poured from overhead. Her wet eyes magnified its intensity and she was momentarily blinded.

“He’s here to watch over you and the baby,” Barry whispered.

“He’s here to carry out his punishment,” she said. “My child is dying for my sins.”

Barry led her into a room behind the nurse and seemed to concentrate on the instructions. Dot quit listening. She could not follow the stream of words. She looked around the room–a table with stirrups on the end, not little ones for feet like at the doctor, but big ones for your knees, like the ones where she’d had her babies. It seemed wrong, somehow, to have those kind here.

The room was partitioned, and beyond the half wall she could see crates of glass bottles with big open mouths. Did they put the babies in those jars? Surely not. Surely they wouldn’t be clear. Surely they couldn’t do that–look at the babies in jars.

The nurse left and Barry helped her undress and settle on the table. “Why won’t they let us just have him?” she said. “Why do we have to do this?”

“Baby, the doctors, I guess they just know. They said it’s dangerous, that you could die. You got all those kids, Dot. You can’t risk it.”

Dot rolled away from him. “I can’t see you no more, after today, Barry. It may be a risk of dying to see this baby, but seeing you another day is risking my burning in everlasting hell. I will have to work hard every day of my life to earn forgiveness.”

“Dot, you’ve been talking this way every since we found out. I love you. I want to take care of you. We’re going to get you divorced and get this all straight. You’ll get right with God.”

She couldn’t see him, facing the half wall and the jars. “You really think those jars are for the babies?” she asked.

He expelled a rush of air. “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to know.”

The nurse returned. “Here’s Dr. Glenn. He’ll be taking care of you.”

“Hello, Dot,” the doctor said.

Dot turned on her back. “Are we sure I have to do this?”

“Your doctors sent you to me. That means they were sure. We’re going to fit you with some monitors while we do this–blood pressure, heart rate. You should have taken some medications this morning. Did you get those?”

Dot nodded.

“I’m going to check your laminaria,” he said. “Make sure you’re well dilated. They went in okay yesterday?”

“It was a little uncomfortable, but I didn’t feel it once they were done.”

The doctor helped lift her feet in the stirrups. “You might want to lose a little weight before getting pregnant again,” he said. “Not healthy.”

Dot washed cold. They were taking her baby before her eyes and he wanted to talk about her weight? She turned to look at Barry, who sat stiffly in the side chair, his knuckles white on his grip on the arm rests. He wants to punch him, she thought. But he won’t. He’s too good a guy. Buster would’ve punched him.

“It all looks good,” he said. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes. The nurse will start the gas.”

A large woman in pink scrubs fitted her with an arm cuff and checked her blood pressure. Then they placed a monitor over her belly. Bubba’s heartbeat flooded the room, a rapid whomp whomp. The nurse flicked off the sound. The screen still silently showed the pulse of it, a small corresponding number like the one on the sonogram blinking in the corner.

184. 178. 192.

Dot closed her eyes until she felt the nurse touching her face. “Try not to cry,” she said. “It will interfere with the gas.” The woman fitted a rubbery mask over her nose and mouth.

Barry took her hand and she concentrated on that one touch, the warmth, every callus, each rough spot in his skin. Had she just told him she couldn’t see him anymore? It seemed the right thing at that moment. But his being here felt right in this one.

The door opened and the doctor came in again. “Is she prepped and ready?” he asked the nurse.

“Yes.”

He sat on a stool between her knees. She felt the cool slide of metal inside her and the opening of the instrument. She looked over at Barry, who sat on the edge of the chair, leaning hard to hold her hand.

“Does she have to be awake for this?” Barry asked. “I didn’t know she would be awake.”

“There’s no need for a general for this procedure,” he said. “It’s expensive and riskier.”

Barry looked at Dot and drew his eyebrows together in concern. She shrugged.

“Here we go, Dot,” the doctor said. “You’re going to feel a little pressure, but no pain.”

“Is the baby going to come out alive?” Barry asked.

The doctor paused a moment. “No,” he said. “We are not dilating her to get it out whole. That would require labor and delivery.”

“It’s going to be in pieces?” Barry turned ashen.

“Yes.” He and the nurse exchanged a glance. “If you think you’d rather not be here, you can wait outside.”

Barry leaned his head on the arm leading over to Dot. “No, I’ll be here.”

The doctor settled back down and Dot struggled with the rubber pieces on her face. She felt claustrophobic, but the air was hot and sweet. She felt mirth rising, a bubble of funny, and she stifled a giggle.

How could they do this? Make her want to laugh when she should cry? She looked over at the nurse, who scowled slightly, as a warning. She looked past her at the monitor.

186. 178. 182.

The doctor reached beside him for a long tube. She couldn’t see much more, as the blue paper sheet blocked her view. She turned back to the monitor and felt Bubba moving within her, slowly, like a wave.

The pressure began low near her vagina and pushed up, as if she were swelling, then reached higher and higher until she could feel it near her belly button, then even higher by her rib cage. The graph on the monitor began spiking and she couldn’t tear her eyes from the screen.

196.

186.

0.