One Good Egg: An Illustrated Memoir (30 page)

Lorene and I were back
at the old gynecologist’s. It still didn’t feel like we belonged. This was a waiting room for women who naturally rested their hands on their burgeoning bellies—for women who
had
burgeoning bellies. Women who relished wearing maternity clothes and went to ultrasounds alone. I sat up straighter and focused on a magazine. “Suzanne?” We were no longer in the land of “Suzy B.”

“We’ll do an ultrasound first, and then you’ll see your doctor,” the nurse explained. “Is this your first—” She hesitated. “Yours, right?” she asked Lorene.

“Oh, no. Thank you, dear,” Lorene said. “My first is twenty-four.”

The nurse laughed and handed me a gown. “This is a little like going on a fishing expedition,” she said once we were situated. Lorene held my hand as the nurse set the scanner on my belly. “We just need a heartbeat. Now, it doesn’t mean anything if we don’t find it.”
Oh, please, please . . .

“I hear it!” Lorene said. I couldn’t. I couldn’t quiet my own heart pounding between my ears.

“There it is!” the nurse found it. “One hundred and twenty beats per minute.” I could hear them! “That’s what you want. Did you girls want to know what you’re having?”

“Isn’t it too early to tell?” Lorene asked.

“Look at this.” She made an arrow. “You’ve got a baby boy.”

I looked at Lorene; her face had clouded over. “Wait, what about your vision? I thought you knew it was a boy!”

“I know, it’s—I guess I was still hoping we’d get a girl.” She looked at the nurse. “I already have a son. Daughters are supposed to take care of you . . .”

The nurse laughed. “You can get dressed and head down to the doctor’s office.”

She left us alone. “Lorene, I was so worried he was gone. I couldn’t feel him when he was there, how would I have known if—”

“You wouldn’t. But he’s there.”

“We’re having a boy!”

Lorene cradled my face. “Now get dressed, I don’t want to make her wait.”

“Congratulations! It’s very exciting,” our doctor said, and promptly yawned. “I’m sorry, I’m giving up caffeine. So, how far along are we?”

“Thirteen weeks,” I answered while she scanned my file.

“Now, has either one of you been tested for cystic fibrosis?”

“I haven’t.” I wasn’t sure about Steve.

“It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t have to be you. How about you?” She looked at Lorene, then went back to the file.

Lorene hesitated. “Me?”

“
Either
one of you—” She checked her own impatience, shifted into explanatory mode. “You need a double positive, so if one of you—”

Lorene interrupted, “My genes aren’t really part of this picture.” The two of us laughed until it became apparent she wasn’t going to join in.

“I’ll ask Steve,” I said. “But I doubt he’s been screened.”

“It’s the caffeine,” she said, and she handed me lab orders. “Have them schedule your amnio on the way out.” We got ready to go. “Have you given any thought to your delivery?”

Not a one. We still had a week until we were officially out of the miscarriage woods.

Lorene had. “As naturally as possible.”

“Have you spoken with your neurosurgeon? I will need his okay for you to push.” I added it to my to-do list.

He’s got a good heart (120 bpm), two brain halves, two femurs, two kidneys and two antennae. Just kidding, but he looks, no offense to either of us, like an alien. Have you ever been screened for cystic fibrosis? I’m thinking not. All (it’s a lot!) for now, love, xoxo, Suzy

That night, Lorene felt the baby kicking. I would’ve said gas.
What to Expect
said we were both right; early movements are often mistaken for gas.

“I’m kind of relieved it’s a boy,” I said.

“I’ll love another boy, but I will say, David gave me a run for my money in his teenage years.”

“I guess I worry about the two-mom part, you know, not having one of us who can relate to his experience.”

“You mean sex? Kids don’t talk to their parents about sex.”

“I meant all of it.”

“Moms raise sons all the time. I raised a son. We have plenty of guy friends. You could’ve had a daughter you couldn’t relate to . . . ”

She was right. I’d worry about the amnio instead.

I had a girl. She was beautiful, lying next to Lorene on a white pillow. I went to get my camera and when I came back, their heads were wrapped in turquoise and purple tissue. Just their faces were showing. The baby had little glasses just like Lorene’s.

I
checked the clock—6:40—and rolled over. Lorene was facing me. “I don’t want that woman delivering our baby. Too hurried, too humorless, too—”

“Neither do I.” And as long as we were making a switch, I wanted someone who delivered at the hospital where I had my brain surgery, on the very off chance I popped my cork while pushing.

April 16, 2004

To Whom It May Concern,

Ms. Suzy Becker is a patient under my care. From my perspective, it is fine for her to undergo a normal vaginal birth of her child and specifically, I have been asked to comment if it is alright for her to push during delivery. I see no problem with this.

I wish her a smooth delivery and the joys of parenthood.

Warm regards,