Stuck - Facing Forward
Aviva Bel’Harold
Copyright Orange Monkey Publishing 2010
Published by CoolCats Publishing at Smashwords
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Foreword:
Everything in this book was made up: people, places and events. However, every one of them are based on things that have taken place in real life. It has come from situations and people I’ve heard about (some I’ve met). Stuck - Facing Forward may be a classified as a novel but it should also stand as an eyeopener ~ These things are happening every day to kids you may know and interact with.
Just to let you know here are the statistics for child abuse today: One in six boys and one in four girls are abused.
If you are being abused, or if you know someone who’s being abused here are a few people and places who’d like to help:
The Kids Help Phone: http://www.kidshelpphone.ca/teens/home/splash.aspx
Little Warriors: http://littlewarriors.ca/
National Association of Adult Survivors of Child Abuse: http://naasca.org/
Acknowledgment
Normally this section is used to mention all the people who helped the author put the book together. There are a lot of people who have helped with this project ~ professional, friends and family. Yet for Stuck - Facing Forward none of it would have been possible if people hadn’t come along side of me helping in my life.
I want to make mention of my grade three teacher, though her name is lost to me, her good heart will never be forgotten. She was the one who took my mom aside and showed her the talent I had with the pen.
I also wouldn’t be who I am without support for my Baba (grandma), or Aunt Marion; who kept every letter I ever sent her to her last day, or Aunt Dasha, Aunt Fruma and my Cousin Marcia. As well as my Mom and Sister.
Another teacher who made all the difference in my teen years, when I needed it the most, was Mrs. Rose (my grade nine english teacher) and my grade eleven Creative Writing teacher (name again forgotten), who pushed me to do my best.
Linda Parsons deserves a double portion of praise as well as Big Sisters of Canada. Linda put up with me through my prickles and grumps and loved me when I was sure I was unlovable. Thank you Linda for holding on and looking deep within to the good that was hidden there. And Thanks to Big Sisters of Canada who put together a program to help little sisters like me.
Thank you once again to my two childhood friend: Larissa Code and Roxanne Wells and to your mother’s who allowed you to hang out with me even though they sometimes worried about the kind of influence I was. Thank you, also, for being able to borrow your loving character and your awesome name for the imagined up people in my story.
Finally thanks to Dave Harold: for falling in love with me and sticking by me through years of self loathing and subsequent therapy. You truly are a prince among men - I love you.
One post thanks: to everyone who’s shared their stories of abuse with me. I will not name names (you’ll know who you are). However, you should know that your experience didn’t just help me come up with a more detailed story but you helped me release that I am not alone nor am I as crazy as I feel sometimes because we victims of child abuse have similar feelings and reactions to what others would consider normal situations. So, thank you my sisters and brothers for being honest and sharing.
Finally, the last acknowledgment I want to make is to everyone who’s survived - you are not the dark creature you’ve come to believe yourself to be. Please, allow yourself to be loved and treated right. Seek out help and never stop searching until you’ve discovered just how special, beautiful, kind, wonderful, and precious you are.
===> Aviva B.
Chapter 1: The one thing I could depend on
My hands held tightly to the simple rope ladder as the ground shook all about me. One slipped, but I managed to keep my hold by locking my elbow around the cord. It stung as I was thrown back and forth, my body slamming into the narrow cement tube that I found myself in.
In desperation, I looked up. The way I had come was barred; no more light came from that direction. Only a faint glow came from below. Down was the only way out now. Carefully, I unhooked my arm, feeling my muscles groan in protest. If I survived – that was going to hurt later. The ground about me gave another great shudder like it was trying to dislodge me. It worked. I felt my grip slip and my body start to fall towards the room I had been promised awaited me below.
As I fell, I knew this was going to be the end of my life… How had it come to this?
*** *** ***
To say my life had been an easy one would be an absolute lie. Thinking about it, I was transported back to my strongest memory. Strongest, because it was the most repetitive: The road. It had always been there. It was the only constant thing in my life. As I closed my eyes, I could feel the cool car window pane as I rested my head against it, watching the lines whip past. It was always the same – yellow on the left and white on the right. I could count on that, if nothing else. Sometimes it would have up to eight lanes going in opposite directions with a huge green space between them. Other times it would be only two lanes with nothing but a line drawn on the dark pavement to divide the oncoming traffic. Yet, no matter where I went, it always took me there. Always forward.
Every time my mother loaded up the car, I ended up somewhere different. I had lived in large cities where everything was made of concrete and steel and the skyscrapers seemed to block out the sun, and in the smallest of Hamlets where everything was green and the land so flat the sun took hours to set.
It was odd to view my life this way, almost like I was living it all over again. Now it was so easy to see those subtle mistakes, those wrong choices that led me down this one-way tunnel headed in the wrong direction. I hoped I’d reach the bottom and die before I had to make it to this horrible conclusion – the end. Mercilessly, the reminiscence continued and I got to live every painful moment in my stinking life all over again…
First, I was seven and helping my mother off the kitchen floor. Then I was eight, and I had locked myself in the bathroom as my mom’s current boyfriend demanded to be let in. Then I was nine, and it was just me and my mom again. Sarah, my mom, was sober and promised she’d stay that way. Next I was ten, eleven, twelve, and she wasn’t. She was drinking, again… Yet weaving all these events together was that road. I just couldn’t get away from it. It raced me forward…forward to the very day when I’d find myself trapped like a rat down a hole while the whole world fell apart.
Not that my world felt all that together to begin with. My mother was an alcoholic, after all. I had known it almost as far back as I could remember. At a very early age I had learned how to use my mother’s ATM card to deposit our government allowance and withdraw cash. I was actually quite proud of myself. I also knew how to buy things, and which things were important: food, clothes and personal items. Not candy, toys or magazines!
Perhaps if my mother hadn’t sobered up from time to time I wouldn’t have had such a devoted love for her. Maybe that wouldn’t have mattered. Regardless, she did sober up and then she was fun to be with.
I could recall with perfect clarity all the good times we had – the trips to the movie theatre, amusement parks, beaches, zoo, the hikes and picnics. Mom did know how to play, and I delighted in her sharing those times with me… I remember in detail the day I came home from school and she had transformed our living room into a jungle with live plants and stuffed animals. However, I could also see the plants dying, withering and losing leaves; my mom staying out too late then forgetting to come home altogether. Those were some of the longest and loneliest nights I had lived through.
It was a vicious cycle: either my mother was sober and things were better than good, or she was drinking, forgetful and neglectful. I had never thought my mother was a bad mother; just things would go wrong – something always went wrong. Then it would be too much for my poor mother to handle: like when the landlord got angry about the fire alarm being set off, or the day her boyfriend had broken up with her. There were those times when I didn’t understand, like when she got sad because she didn’t have a boyfriend. She’d tell me she was just too lonely. I couldn’t fault her for that – I knew lonely, and it wasn’t fun.
She’d say something like, “It’s just too much to take,” and I knew it was the beginning of the end. It was a slow process; though to someone less skilled it might not look like it. I was an expert at noticing the signs. I’d even foolishly tried to stop it when I was much younger. That never worked. I knew I was trying to hold back the inevitable. So I got smart and learned to wait it out. Eventually she’d sober up, she always did! I knew that if I hung in long enough, sooner or later I’d get my mother back…
After Sarah fell, I felt like I was the only thing that kept her world together. at times like I was the only thing that kept her alive at all. I never once contemplated leaving her. How could I? My mother needed me; it was my job, my responsibility. Besides, if I didn’t fix things, then who would? I had to because I needed my mom, and the only way to get her back would be to wait for her to find herself again. So I’d never leave her. Never!
But one night, when i was thirteen, that all changed. Funny, when I think about it I feel like it should have been stormy. In reality, it was just an average evening. I had watched a show that sent chills down my spine; it made me feel more afraid than anything else in my whole scary life! It was silly really, a re-run of an old movie about surviving nuclear war, or stopping it (I hadn’t been paying much attention). The graphics were old and less than realistic. Then came the nuclear explosion; that looked and felt real – so much so that it terrified me. Funny how certain images get stuck in your head. For someone who’d seen so much worse, to let this show worm its way deep into my psyche… Really silly!
Yet as I lay in bed closing my eyes, the memory of it was vivid inside my eyelids. It became the theme of a very real-feeling nightmare. I could see it all: the impact, the immediate formation of a mushroom cloud, the ring of light that rippled out in all directions, the wave of destruction that caused skyscrapers to snap like toothpicks. Such chaos. Such devastation. I knew it was chasing me alone! I ran and ran, seeking some protection. I hid behind a solid brick wall. It was no good, it kept coming. I also knew it wouldn’t stop until it consumed me, so I gave up. I found a field of green grass and lay down. Somehow I could tell that this was my life’s destiny, that this was the end. I was no longer terrified. Actually, I was relieved.
And then that wasn’t the end. Instead of burning me up, leaving nothing to claim I’d ever had a life, it passed over me, and I woke up. The sound that filled my ears as I reached consciousness was more terrifying than my dreams and enough to erase that whole silliness from my head.
It was my mother. She howled like a wounded animal. Her screams pierced the night and caused an instant cold sweat to break out over my neck and back. She had been gone for almost a week this time. Now she was back, somewhere in the house, and hurt – bad. I rushed towards her voice, finding her in the bathroom, lying in the tub. I’d come to find my mother in similar situations before. I had nursed her back to health countless times. Yet something about this felt different. First, Sarah had never, ever, screamed in such a bloodcurdling way. Second, upon closer inspection, she was far worse off than I’d remembered seeing her before.
Her hair was damp with sweat, her clothes where soiled, and there was blood. A lot of blood. So much that she was covered in it, and I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Oh, Mom,” I moaned as I bent down to try and make sense of everything.
I ended up stripping her, and that’s when I discovered that the flow of red was pouring from between her legs. What could she have done to cause this much blood to literally gush out of her! I had found her with the occasional nosebleed that would continue for hours and hours. She’d even returned once or twice needing stitches. But this, this was far, far worse. She needed help. More help than I could give her.
I felt real panic set in, my breathing kicked up a notch and my heart started to race. I felt the rush of adrenalin sting my muscles with the urge to fight or flee. It froze me where I stood. Not so helpful in this situation. That’s when the answer came – I had to call 911. She was dying right before my eyes, bleeding her life out.
I got to my feet. I could feel my body shake around me. That’s when my mother’s strong hand clamped over my wrist. I couldn’t believe how much strength she had left.
“Please,” she begged, “don’t leave me.”
It should have been odd for me to feel like the adult and not the child. That was an oddity I’d grown accustomed to in all my years of practice.
“Mother… Sarah, you are bleeding…there’s so much. You need a doctor.” I tried to keep my voice calm, authoritative and in control, like she didn’t have a choice.
“No,” she panted.
Her fingers grasped my wrist so hard they were cutting off circulation to my hand.
“It will be over soon,” she said like she was making a promise.
Panic. Blinding panic rung in my ears and made my voice sound too high and tight. “What will be over?” My lips quivered. Was it too late? Was she dying?
“This,” she spoke in a grunt.
The next sound that hit my ears was like nothing I’d ever heard before, but I wouldn’t forget it for the rest of my short life. It was a sort of wet squelch. Sort of like a water balloon smashing against the side of a house. That’s when I looked down in the tub to see a baby. It was all purple and blue…it was a girl.
My mom was as white as a bleached sheet. “See?” she said, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “I told you it would be over soon.” She released my arm and rested her cheek on the edge of the tub. I could tell she was losing consciousness, but I was distracted.
I reached down to pick up the still baby that fell out of my mother. I was shocked, and yet I was also amazed. It didn’t stir, its eyes didn’t flutter open, it didn’t respond in any way as I held it up.
“She’s not breathing!” I choked. “She’s dead.”
“Good,” my mother replied without concern. “Leave it. It’s better this way.”
I couldn’t. Even though I hadn’t known my mother was pregnant, (I took a moment to try and recall if there had been any signs… None – she hadn’t even gained weight or gotten bigger.). Yet, as I knelt on the bathroom floor with the limp, motionless, beautiful baby in my arms, I just had to do something.
I gently, as gently as I could, pulled her towards my lips and tried to do CPR; I had no clue how to do it. All I knew was from TV shows: put your mouth to the other person’s face, then what? With my sister’s lips against mine, I took a deep breath in. Somehow that felt wrong. But then the baby coughed, sputtered a bit and let out the most precious sound I’d ever heard. Cries, gasps, wails – music to my ears.
I watched as her little body pinked up and she began to wiggle. She squirmed and flailed about so much, I had to get a better hold. She cried and cried, and soon I found myself crying with her and softly assuring her that everything was going to be alright.
I pulled her next to my chest, blood, gore and all. Then I looked down to my mother, now completely unconscious in the tub. The bleeding had slowed to almost a stop, and though she looked paler, she really didn’t look all that worse then I’d seen her before. She breathed deeply. I figured she’d be fine.
For the next few minutes I had to deal with things far too gross to describe. It left me with a dilemma – the baby was still attached. I improvised. I found some unused floss and tied it around the umbilical cord, then got a kitchen knife. Presto, she was free of our mother.
Wrapping my new sister in a mostly clean towel, I walked out to the living room and sat down on the sofa. The night was filled with awe and wonder. I wish time could have stopped in that instant, frozen in that moment. That was the happiest I’d ever felt. She was a true miracle. I might have saved her from our mother’s quick assessment, but she saved me from my life. In that moment, I was no longer alone – I never realized how alone I had been before. And now I would never be alone again.
My sister stopped crying, her eyes opened and she stared back at me. Peace fell over my whole body. In that instant, I made a solemn promise that I’d never, ever, let anything bad happen to her. I imagined she could understand as she stared back with such deliciously blue eyes.
I must have dozed off. I spent all that time admiring her, my sister, her perfect face with its button nose, and her crown of golden hair, and those tiny hands that she’d throw out in a stretch. I loved her scent, even if it carried a faint aroma of blood and other unfriendly smells. And she fit so perfectly into the crook of my arm, like she was made for me.
I awoke to the sound of our mother in the kitchen. I got up from the sofa, the baby safely in my arms, and went to investigate. Sarah was leaning forward with her head in the fridge, an unlit cigarette dangling loosely in her mouth. Great, she was smoking – I hated it when she did that! She always seemed angrier then. I stood in the doorway, not daring to come any closer. The kitchen was bright with the rising sun. I watched, trying to determine Sarah’s mood as I held the baby to me like a shield.
She didn’t even bother to look in my direction. “I must have had some wild night. Do you know where I woke up?”
Was this a test? I hated it when she asked questions like this. Had she really forgotten? How could she forget?
“In the bathtub,” I answered quietly.
“Yeah.” She seemed to stiffen slightly. “But do you know what I was covered in?” I heard shock in her voice, but she also sounded curious. She hadn’t looked over at me yet.
I cringed and spoke like my words were dangerous so they had to be uttered with care, “Blood. Bodily fluid. And…and afterbirth.”
The change was subtle; Sarah straightened and at the sight of me holding the baby she scolded, “I thought I told you to leave it!”
Her words filled our little kitchen, bouncing off the wall. I flinched like she’d hit me. Perhaps she would have if I was standing closer.
I stepped back, with my mother’s eyes upon me like a hawk on its prey. “Don’t be angry,” I chocked out. “I couldn’t leave her…”
My arms instinctively tightened around my sister’s body. I heard her let out a soft sigh. Looking up, I could see Sarah also heard.
My mother’s voice sounded flat and defeated, “Oh, she lived.” I saw her blink, look away then refocus on me. The fridge door swung closed with a soft snap. Something new blazed in my mother’s eyes. “We should give her away!”
I’d never heard my mother so insistent.
“Anna, it’s the right thing to do.” She took a step towards me.
Every muscle tensed like I was ready for a fight.
Sarah stopped. She looked scandalized.
“No,” I whispered, while tears started to spilled over my face. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. This baby was important to me. I’d saved her – but I needed her! If Sarah sent her away, I’d go with her.
A look of indecision flashed through my mother’s eyes. She stepped back, the cigarette dropping from her lips and hitting the floor unnoticed.
“I fell in love with you, you know. So deeply in love the moment I saw you,” she said quietly, her voice was soft, reminiscent. Her eyes darted back and forth like she was seeing it again. “I should have given you up like…like she told me to. Yet I couldn’t. Not after I’d seen you. Held you.” She focused on my face, “I see that same look in your eyes now.” She turned away. “I’m not a fool. I can see the way you hold it. If I made you give her up, you’d never forgive me.” She glared at me. “I can see that in your defiant eyes! I’m not sure I could live with that pain; the pain of you losing her, or the pain of me losing you.” My mother sighed deeply.
“Fine,” she rubbed at her bloodshot eyes. “But the baby is your responsibility. You will have to take care of it. And we need food.” She walked towards me, stopping only briefly to look down on my sister’s tiny face. “She has a bit of her father in her.”
I looked up wanting to ask who, but Sarah just shook her head.
“If only I could remember which one he’d been,” she continued away, adding as she shuffled down the hall, “You’ll need to get diapers, I remember you went through a lot. And formula, I’m not breastfeeding again. Once was more than enough. And you’d better come up with a name.”
Relief washed over me, I could actually feel my muscles relax.
“You hear that little sis? You are staying. I get to keep you. And I’m gonna take such good care of you. I’m gonna love you better than anyone else could. I’ll protect you. I will be your best friend, and you mine. You will be such a happy little girl. I promise.”
I bundled my sister in a blanket then wrapped her up in my coat, hoping this would be enough to protect her from the early morning chill. The walk to the mall took longer than usual. I had to stop every few steps to re-adjust her and make sure she wasn’t falling. The day was mild; a weak sun was trying to break through the smog. Yet it was summer, so the air was warming quickly.
We didn’t have a lot of money left, and over a week to go before the next check arrived. Yet somehow I managed to get what I thought the baby would need. I was quite lucky. A helpful sales lady came up to me and gave me advice. She had an opinion on everything, what brand of bottles, soothers and diapers I’d need. I got enough for the week and crossed my fingers that the check would come on time. I had a bit of money left, enough that I could get food for me and my mother, nothing fancy, but food all the same.
By the time I returned home, Sarah had gone out. Sometimes I wondered how she did that… Wasn’t she supposed to be all tired out from giving birth? I was tired, and I wasn’t the one that had gone through labor and delivery. I hadn’t lost all that blood… She didn’t come back that night, or the following one, or even the one after that.
Perhaps if I was paying more attention, I would’ve worried about her extended absence, especially after having a baby – she could have ended up in the hospital, or worse, dead. But in all honesty, this time was just one big, happy, blur.
Between my sister’s crying, dirty diapers (Sarah had been right, it was surprising how much a new little baby could go through) and making bottles, then the almost constant puking… I barely had time to breathe. I went several days hardly eating, not because I was trying to save on groceries (though it did help), I just plain forgot. All my thoughts were devoted to my new sister. And I wouldn’t have changed one day of it, even if I could have gone back to do it over. For me, these were some of the best moments in my whole miserable life.
I took several days deliberating over what to call her. I had no clue what would make a good baby name. I thought and thought about it. Finally, the only name that seemed to fit was Madison. I wasn’t even sure where I’d heard it before, but just the sound of it made me feel good. It ended up suiting my sister quite well, because I shortened it down to Maddy, and that’s what she seemed to be, because she was an almost constant crier (at least she was for those first few days).
If she wasn’t crying, she was puking. So I was continuously washing her two sleepers, or my shirts. I ended up hand-washing her clothes at least twice a day and my wardrobe (consisting of four shirts) at least once. Usually we both ended up wearing no more than a towel. All this left me little time to think about anything else – but that was a blessing, really.
For the first time in my life I felt happy. Though I’d been taking care of my mom for so long, there was something more rewarding about caring for my sister. Funny, it wasn’t much different; they would both complain and yell if I wasn’t quick enough to meet their demands. With my sister, her gratitude towards what I did for her was much more obvious and when the day was done I didn’t have to worry about her taking off, leaving me all alone.
I held Maddy, day and night. Part of me was scared that I’d wake up to find out it was just a dream. I was sure that if it was I wouldn’t be able to return to the way life had been before. If it was a dream, I hoped it was a coma, because I never wanted to wake up. The other part of me was scared, scared that Maddy would die while she slept. If that happened I knew for sure that I wouldn’t even want to go on living.
Time seemed to speed up and slow down all in the same moment! I would spend hours watching Madison yawn, stretch and sigh. But despite this feeling of being in limbo, time was racing forward. Almost one week passed without Sarah’s return. It was strange. In the past, a week would have been enough to make me go insane. Yet now I didn’t even notice it.
Maddy seemed, in my assessment, a fairly healthy baby, not that I had a real reference to go by. I was rather lucky, considering how her life started. But worry ate at the corner of my conscience. I knew she should see a doctor. Weren’t there shots and other things newborns needed? In fact, I was chillingly aware that she should have seen one right away. Yet I was terrified that if I took her, the doctor would take Madison away from me. So I just kept putting it off. Fear gnawed at my stomach late at night, during the few quiet moments that I got in those days. Then they grew and took on form, becoming larger than life.
I’d awake from the few moments of sleep I’d managed to find, sometime between midnight and three in the morning, with cold sweats. I was not taking care of my sister like I had promised I would. Then, as the sun rose and the light of a new day broke into the gloom of our basement apartment, I could ignore all those thoughts. I was far too busy with the little things to concentrate on the bigger ones.
Sarah stumbled through the door and collapsed on the floor on the ninth day. I jumped up when the door was thrown open and I found myself standing over my mother’s unconscious body. Maddy was agitated by the sudden disturbance, and she used all the air in her lungs to let me know it. Sarah didn’t even stir.
I softly shushed my sister and gently rocked her in my arms, but part of me was trying to calm myself down. When she was finally settled, I put her on the sofa and worked on getting my mother into her bed. She smelled of stale beer, but she was also lighter than I last remembered her. I’d lost count by this point how many times I’d done this before. I stripped her and tucked her in then I left her to go prepare a meal for when she finally woke up.
For the next three days, I was on double duty: I fed, changed, held, and cleaned up after my sister. Then I fed, changed the bed sheets, and cleaned up after my mother. What little rest I’d been able to carve out of life seemed to disappear upon Sarah’s return. It’s no wonder that I fell asleep, or more to the point collapsed from fatigue on the sofa (I’m just glad I didn’t do it while I walked down the hall). I had my sister wrapped to my chest in an old bed sheet, like I’d seen the woman wear on a documentary about Africa.
Madison was only thirteen days old.
It felt like I had only just closed my eyes, but it must have been a few hours later. I was startled awake by a scream that rent through the house.
“The baby! I’ve miscarried!”
As I often did, I felt for my sister before I opened my eyes. With my hand on her I’d wait to feel her chest rise and fall with her breath. She was still here, and alive. I sighed with relief.
My mom continued to lament. “My baby! It’s gone! Where is it? Where is it?”
The panic in her voice helped my feet move faster. I sped to her room.
“Here she is, Mom. It’s alright. Here’s your baby!”
I didn’t even think about it. I was unwrapping my sister from the sling and holding her out to my mother.
Sarah stopped her moaning. “How…” she didn’t finish her thought. Instead, she reached out her arms, and I put Maddy in them. This would be the first time my mother held Madison, and I didn’t even stop to consider that maybe she shouldn’t.
“My sweet baby,” Sarah crooned at Madison, holding her as if she’d been here all along. “Oh, thank goodness you are alright.”
I watched my mother, and everything clicked into place. Joy coursed through me. The world felt right. Sarah was back and herself. I was now the big sister, not the mother, but I was content with it. I sat down on the bed next to my sister, feeling extremely relieved that I had my mom back. I always felt like this at first. And I always wished it would last longer than it did.
“Wow. I must have really overslept,” my mom said, searching my hungry face. A shadow ran through her eyes but it was repelled quickly with a grin. “The dreams… They were only dreams.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Sometimes I have the deepest, darkest nightmares. I’m so glad that you don’t have to know them.”
I smiled back.
Madison started to fuss.
“Anna, dear, be a darling and make up a bottle for your sister.” She looked down at her baby with an odd expression. “What…is…her name?”
“Madison,” I said softly.
Sarah made a face like she’d just swallowed fish oil. “My goodness, is that really what we ended up naming her?”
I nodded and when my mother continued to look like she was trying not to remember a detestable taste, I added, “I like it. Her nickname is Maddy.”
She wrinkled her nose once, then a grin spread from her lips to her eyes. “Then I’ll like it too… Maddy,” she cooed.
I hurried off to make my sister a bottle. When I returned, I perched on the side of the bed and timidly watched my mother coax Maddy into taking the formula. I didn’t feel jealous of my mother for taking care of Madison instead of me, or of my sister being cared for by my mother not by me. It all felt right. This was how it was supposed to be and I took comfort in that.
Sarah took over as if she’d been there all along and gave no indication that she might leave again. She seemed most happy as she played with Madison and talked to her. And she was always smiling when she looked at me. It really was a relief, even though I did end up doing most of the work; changing diapers, making formula and shopping. The burden of being responsible was lifted. I didn’t have to worry about Madison’s health anymore; if she needed to see a doctor, or if she wasn’t growing properly Sarah would take care of that. Sarah was a good mom…after all, she’d raised me, and I turned out healthy. She’d take care of these things if they were important. At least that’s what I told myself.
Sarah had been home for just two days. Somehow it felt longer. She sat at the kitchen table, Maddy tucked snugly in her arms. The way she looked adoringly at my sister I could believe there was nothing more important in the world to my mother than her – after all, that’s exactly how I felt.
“You know, Anna, I don’t remember you being such a pukey child.”
I had been at the stove, warming a pot of beans for on our toast, but I paused and listened. I enjoyed it so much when my mother told me stories about my childhood. It was rare and I latched on, remembered and clung to any little detail she’d give me. It felt extremely important to me, yet it was mysteriously secretive most days.
“You were always such a good baby,” she continued, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “A good sleeper, a hardy eater. Always so content and peaceful.”
I felt my chest swell; it’s funny that I was proud of this, like I needed to hear that I was a good daughter…
“Maddy is so fussy all the time.” Her voice rose in complaint.
I nodded. I didn’t find her fussy, but I could tell my mother was feeling exasperated by it when she would hand Madison off after a few minutes of my sister’s whines. I’d settle Maddy down, and hand her back.
“You know, it might be time to take her to see a doctor. Let’s plan a trip to the clinic tomorrow morning. Sound alright?”
I almost sighed out loud with relief.
The clinic was located downtown, attached to the mall. I followed my mother past windows dressed in brightly coloured flowers; summer was in full bloom here. Twice Sarah stopped to peer into a shop because something had caught her eye, so it felt like it took a lot longer to get to the clinic. The waiting room was full. The receptionist explained that it might take a while to see the doctor on duty. I wondered fleetingly if I’d packed enough formula.
The receptionist gave my mother a questionnaire to be filled out, then Sarah went to sit in a seat, her baby held against her chest. I joined her placing the diaper bag by our feet. She scratched some answers down, but soon she started to act like she was agitated by something.
“Here,” she said turning and handing my sister to me.
I responded instinctively as Madison was thrust into my arms.
Sarah stood up and without a backwards glance she left, saying, “I need some gum.”
I watched her walk away, refusing to acknowledge the panic I felt fluttering against my rib cage. She wouldn’t leave me. Not here. Not now.
I gathered my sister to myself and moved the diaper bag closer, along with the clipboard that my mother had dropped on the floor next to it. The wait seemed to go on for hours. I was now waiting for my mother’s return more than to see the doctor. Just how long should it take to get gum anyway? I wanted to get up and search for her, but I knew my sister needed to see the doctor. That was the only thing that kept me in my seat.
We arrived just before lunch. I observed several families that came after us be seen and leave. I even watched as one receptionist was replaced by a second, a tall lady with a crisp suit. A little after that an elderly man with greying hair and a larger nose than looked right for his face came in. He talked briefly with the new receptionist while his eyes swept the room. They paused at me, then he turned his back to finish the conversation. Once he was done he walked past the desk and through a set of doors that led down a brightly lit hall.
A moment later the receptionist came to my chair and bent down next to me. “What’s your name dear?”
“Anna Willerton,” I answered automatically.
“Are you waiting to be seen by the doctor, or are you waiting for someone else?”
I could have answered yes to either question. The panic escalated. “Um, we came to see the doctor.” I wanted to explain that my mother had just stepped away and she’d be right back, but I wasn’t sure she would.
“Why haven’t I got you on my waiting list?” It wasn’t an unkind question; she seemed to be puzzled. When she continued, her voice was soft and filled with compassion. “Did you fill out a new patient form?”
I reached down and picked up the clipboard my mother left. “I have this…”
She took the questionnaire from me with a smile. “I’ll try to get you in as soon as I can.” She left me then, returning to her desk, where someone was waiting to talk with her.
I waited. Maddy cooperated by sleeping.
When the nurse came out and called my name my heartbeat sped up. I felt like I should run out of the office. What was I doing here? Alone! I took so long to gather up all my things. I was praying that my mother would come back just in time to join us. When I was finally ready, the nurse gave me an encouraging smile and guided me through a set of doors that led to a back hall and several examination rooms. I was instructed to wait in the room behind door seven while the nurse put my patient information on a clip outside the door. She closed it as she left.
The room felt too bright. Maddy woke up because of all the movment, and cried with all her might. I felt miserable. I was almost out of formula and had no more diapers. All I wanted to do was leave. Would they stop me? Would they tell on me? Would they take my sister away?
The elderly man (with the larger nose) entered the room holding my clipboard. He wore a white doctor’s coat. I was too shy to meet his eyes so I missed if he was smiling or not.
I gulped. I couldn’t help myself.
“I’m Dr. Fontune.” he said, consulting the board, “and you must be Sarah.”
“No, sir,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm while I also tried to get my sister to settle down. “Sarah is my mother.” Then I felt like I should explain. “She’s just gone to the mall to do some shopping.”
He hardly looked up. His brow was scrunched up as he read the chart. “Hmmmm.” His eyes dashed over the paper. Finally he put the clipboard on the counter. I noticed it was only half filled in.
He turned away from it with a welcoming smile. “This is Madison?”
“Yes. She…”
He interrupted. “She was born at home?” He sounded surprised and maybe even a little impressed.
“Yes, sir. I wanted to call for an ambulance, but there just wasn’t enough time.”
“And you delivered her all by yourself?”
I nodded slowly. “Well, my mother was there, but she wasn’t much help.” I added the second part quietly.
This time I was sure that Dr. Fontune’s eyes were filled with some emotion I couldn’t put my finger on. “How was the pregnancy? Did a doctor examine…”
It was my turn to interrupt him. “I didn’t even know about Maddy until that night. It was a surprise to me! And there was all this blood, then suddenly she came out… I didn’t have time. She wasn’t even breathing. I tried CPR, she started crying. I didn’t know what I was doing.” My words came out in a rush, and it felt good to be able to tell someone.
Dr. Fontune gave a soft chuckle. “Well you wouldn’t be the first to have found yourself in that situation, though it’s not that common. Now this happened how long ago?”
“Um…” The blur of time felt more prevalent in light of his question. “Two week ago? Sunday, I think. Yeah, it was the second weekend after school finished.”
Dr. Fontune gave a gentle nod and turned to write something on the clipboard. “That would make it Sunday July seventh. At about what time would you say?”
“Late? Maybe it was more like early Monday?” I hadn’t paid attention to the time.
Again he scribbled some notes down on the chart. The doctor continued to ask me all sorts of questions, and I answered them as best as I could. As I said more and more, I started to relax. It was actually a relief to be able to speak about Maddy to someone who knew what they were doing. He also asked me some things about my home life; those were not as easily answerable. When he started asking about my mom, I shied away from saying too much. Despite all his prying questions, I was becoming quite comfortable with him.
This all took a very long time. Dr. Fontune would talk with me, then a nurse would interrupt, and he’d go off to see someone else who was waiting. Afterward, he’d return and pick up where he’d left off. During this time, he examined Maddy from head to toe and declared her healthy under the circumstances.
When he returned from one of his moments away, he brought the nurse with him. “Now, Anna, I’d like to examine you. Please give Madison to Mrs. Plack, and we will allow you a moment to prepare.”
I obeyed, not wanting to create a scene. But I had to explain. “It might be a bit bloody.” I’d only just started having my periods and I wasn’t completely used to them.“I wouldn’t expect any less. I just want to be sure everything looks healthy.” He said as he pulled the door shut with the nurse, who had Madison in her arms.
No matter what I told myself in those moments alone, I couldn’t get it out of my head that they meant to take my sister away. As I sat on the cold table, naked from the waist down, staring up at the bright florescent lights, I couldn’t stop my tears. They poured from my eyes as I waited.
Dr. Fontune reentered after a quick knock. “Ready?” he asked in a friendly tone.
I couldn’t even find my voice between the sobs.
“Anna?” He stood over me, his dark eyes filled with confusion, “What is it?”
“You’re going to take Madison away from me now,” I sobbed.
He looked down at me as if deciding what to do next.
I hid my face, not able to contain my grief a moment longer.
“Mrs. Plack.” I looked up to see the doctor had the door open, and he was calling into the hall. “Could you please bring Madison Willerton back here?”
I just watched, trying to catch my breath.
As the nurse came through the door, Dr. Fontune stepped over to my side and took my arm. “Here, sit up and take her,” he said gently, moving aside for the nurse to pass my sister to me.
He dismissed the nurse and waited for me to calm down enough to listen. Even though it seemed to take forever, he waited patiently. Finally, with my sister’s perfect, warm body snuggled against my chest I was able to stop the shudders.
“Now, Miss Anna Willerton, I want you to listen to me. I’m not here to take Madison away from you. That is not my job.”
I rubbed at the last of my tears as I listened.
“You came here today to get Madison looked at. And I must say, from what I can see, she is well cared for and deeply loved. You are doing a fine job.” He reached out and tapped Maddy’s nose affectionately, “I’m being honest when I tell you that I wasn’t happy with the manner in which she was brought into this world. But I don’t see how you could have done anything different. You are both lucky that it went so well.”
It took a moment or two for all his words to sink in. He not only said he wasn’t going to take my sister from me…he also gave me a compliment! I was taking good care of her. Finally I could smile.
He returned my smile. “Now, are you ready for your exam?”
I shrugged. Faced with the reality that he wasn’t taking Maddy from me, I was more relaxed, but now I felt nervous having him, this man, see all of me. Things that were supposed to be off limits to men. Even though he was a doctor, my stomach started to squirm at the thought.
He seemed to take note of my hesitation. “I’ll call Mrs. Plack back, and she can hold Madison, in the room, while I have just a quick look.”
I nodded numbly. I let the nurse take my sister. I lay back on the table and stared at the ceiling while he poked around. I was immensely happy once it was all done and I was allowed to get dressed, even when he and the nurse took my sister out with them so I could.
When he returned, he announced I was free to go. “But would you care to join me and my staff for a late dinner? I’m afraid I’ve kept you here past closing, and I wish to rectify the mistake by treating you to a meal. Mrs. Plack just ran out to get some pasta from the Italian restaurant up the street.”
Dr. Fontune walked me out to the waiting room. It was empty, and the lights were dimmed. The wall clock read past eight at night. I couldn’t believe I’d spent more than half the day here. My stomach growled as Mrs. Plack came through the doors; the aroma of rich pasta in a white sauce filled the little room.
I stayed. The secretary and Mrs. Plack as well as Dr. Fontune all seemed delighted that I had, and they took turns holding and cooing at my sister. Once it was done, I was sent home with a full bag of diapers and a new formula to try, to see if Maddy would be able to keep it down better. Dr. Fontune also sent me away with several numbers of charities and support groups that would be able to help me. As I walked home I was a little sad to be leaving. Even though the day was filled with stress and worry it had turned out to be the best I’d had since Maddy was born.
Yet I was also anxious to get home and see what had become of my mom. As I came into the house, I knew immediately all was well. I could tell because of the faint smell of bubblegum that lingered in the air and the littering of wrappers all about the house. I found her curled up on the sofa.
That night Maddy returned to sleeping in my bed with me. She slept better, which I attributed to the new formula. I enjoyed the almost five hours that my sister gave me. My mom wasn’t as kind.
“Let’s go do something!” Sarah leaned over me, shaking me awake. “Come on, sleepy head!” She made a smacking noise as she chewed her gum.
I coughed as the sickly sweet smell of watermelon filled my nose. It wasn’t even seven in the morning.
“It’s too early,” I moaned.
I noticed, through sleepy eyes, my mother’s brow wrinkling.
“Okay,” I hastily amended, sitting up so fast it made my head spin and Maddy wake up. “What do you want to do?”
“Let’s go down to the beach! I want to make sand castles.”
I drew my sister to my chest before she could complain about the rude awakening. Despite my lack of sleep and exasperation over my mother’s disappearance the day before, I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of excitement. This was the sort of thing that Sarah would do. Spontaneous outings. They always proved to be more fun than I would imagine. I was instantly looking forward to it.
It took nearly all morning to pack up and leave the house. Sarah complained like an impatient toddler, but once we made it to the beach, her mood lightened. I picked a nice spot, with enough shade to keep Madison safe from the sun. It was near a weeping willow, and I enjoyed watching the soft breeze catch the vine-like branches that blew out reminding me of party streamers. Maddy also seemed quite content being out on this nice day.
I watched my mother as she built a sandcastle; she even enlisted help from a group of children who were having a picnic nearby. She really looked like a loving and involved parent as she patiently helped her little friends with the building. In the end, they had created a two-foot high castle with several turrets and a moat all around it. Then Sarah and the kids took only seconds to demolish it, but that was all part of the fun.
“The giants are coming!” My mom squealed. “Come on kids – we are the giants!” I watched as she and the three kids ran and stomped the castle flat. It was fascinating to watch and I felt just a trickle of jealousy that I couldn’t join in. I sat with Maddy against my chest.
Afterwards it was time for her friends to go.
Sarah ran over to the blanket and threw herself onto it. Sand flew up in every direction. I shielded Madison’s face.
“Wow. I’m hungry. Let’s buy lunch at the stand!”
“We don’t have any money left. The check is due soon though.” I smiled at my mom.
She sighed, or rather huffed. “But I’m hungry now. Didn’t you bring anything to eat at all?”
She had already eaten all the snacks I’d packed, so I cleaned up as quickly as I could while my mother continued to complain. Then we walked home. Three blocks felt like miles as Sarah dragged her feet. I held everything, the towels, bag, baby and the huge blanket I’d brought to lay on that was now heavier with all the sand it had collected.
Sarah went to her room in a huff to wait for the food. I tried to settle Madison and make a meal. It was almost an hour later when I was able to bring my mother a plate.
“Not beans and toast again!” Sarah screamed as I opened the door. Her voice was so loud and piercing that I heard Maddy, who was in the living room, startle at the sound of it.
“I’m sorry,” I pleaded, more for her to remain calm than over the fact that we were out of anything more appealing to eat. “Please, Mom. It’s all we’ve got. The check will come, and then I can buy something else.”
Sarah wasn’t listening to me. She was straining to hear Madison’s plaintive cries.
Her eyes narrowed. “I hate that baby!”
I knew that voice. Her tone filled with ice. It caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up and a chill to race down my spine. If it had been just the two of us, I would have run to my room without a second thought. But Maddy was on the sofa. I bolted from the door way, dropping the tray with her food, and raced to my sister. I prayed I’d be able to make it in time to get her and double back to the bedroom before my mom got there. It was a long shot. I didn’t succeed. I was cut off by Sarah in the hall just an inch from my door.
“I never should have let you keep her!”
Sarah stood with both her hands on her hips. I wanted to slip around her and into my room, but I feared she’d strike. She was poised like a cobra.
Her eyes were filled with fire. “You love her more than you love me!”
I was frantically trying to find the right words to calm her down. Everything sounded lame in my head.
“Don’t you!” she shrieked.
Madison howled louder, and I drew her into a more protective hug.
“No…” I stammered. “No, I don’t.” But in that moment, I didn’t even convince myself.
Sarah threw out one hand. I never knew if she meant to hit me or Maddy but it didn’t matter. I turned my body so that my mom’s clenched fist hit my side, punching the wind out of my lungs and sending a pain into my leg. I gritted my teeth, trying to muster up enough strength to stay vertical. When I got the chance I ducked past her and into my room, shutting the door in her face. She looked ready to kill.
With the lock in place, I had just enough strength left in me to slide to the floor and gently place Maddy in my lap. I panted while I waited to see what my mother would do next.
Madison calmed down enough that her howls became noisy hiccups. The pain receded into a numb feeling through half of my ribcage. Breathing felt like I was bruising from the inside out. I waited and listened, my head resting against the door, my eyes closed.
A soft knock came.
“Anna, sweetheart?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t tell if her voice was calm enough yet.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice had lost its edge. “I didn’t mean… I just get so angry sometimes.”
But in the admission, I could hear a quiet rage returning. So I just stayed.
“Anna. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Mom. Just leave me alone.” I tried to keep the hurt from my voice.
My mom listened to me then. I didn’t hear from her for the rest of the night, and when I was finally brave enough to leave my room, she wasn’t anywhere in the house. She stayed away for days, and when she came home, neither of us mentioned the fight. It was safer that way. She retook an interest in Madison, feeding her and changing the occasional diaper, but I didn’t trust her. So I quietly waited, and as time wore on, she proved herself unreliable. Again and again.
A new, broken routine started. I learned how to recognize Madison’s needs as well as my mother’s ever-changing moods, which seemed to happen with greater intensity. It was hard enough for me with Maddy, and far worse when my mom was home. Yet there were moments when Sarah would settle into a fragile calm, and life would feel more manageable. I found myself living for those quiet moments. I’d enjoy my sister’s first smile, and when she discovered her hands, and the precious sound of her giggles. That was enough to make up for the rest.