Composing Amelia (39 page)

Tears stood in Amelia’s eyes at Marcus’s affirmation. “Really?”

“Really. Just do what I’m doing: Picture everything she did as an example of how not to be an awesome mom—and then just do the opposite. I know you don’t believe it, but babe, you’ve got the makings of being a truly fantastic mother. Remember when we worked with the inner-city kids during college? You were a natural, and they all loved you. You always seemed to know what they needed to hear. You made them feel important, and cared for, and respected. You’re fun, you’re funny, you’re passionate, you love like crazy.… What kid wouldn’t want a mom like that?”

Amelia wanted to hug him through the phone. “Thank you, Marcus.”

“Anytime, babe. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They hung up and Amelia let her hands rest on her growing stomach. She took a deep breath, blew it out through pursed lips, then said, “Okay, kiddo. We’re going to give this a shot, okay?” She closed her eyes and imagined holding the baby and enjoying it. She pictured herself pushing the stroller down Main Street, doing dinner dishes with the baby in the wrap she’d seen on a mom at church, sitting on the couch with Marcus and staring at him/her on the cushion between them. She pictured diaper changes, late-night feedings, baths in the kitchen sink. After a few minutes she opened her eyes and let out her breath as though she’d been holding it.

“That wasn’t too bad. I guess at the beginning it’s pretty easy to be a decent mom, right? Feed you, clothe you, change your diaper, put you to sleep … I think I can do that.” The baby gave a kick and Amelia chuckled. “Glad you agree.”

A contraction seized her around the middle, driving her breath from her lungs. When the tension released she grabbed her water bottle and downed it all, then picked up her phone and squeezed it as she stared at the clock on the DVD player. A minute passed, then another, and after the third Amelia began to relax. “Are you just playing with me? Because I don’t actually find that amusing.”

Six minutes passed before another one struck, and this time Amelia was dialing Marcus before it even finished. “Contractions again,” she said through clenched teeth when he answered. “Six minutes apart.”

“I’m on my way.”

At the hospital, Amelia was dosed with terbutaline and a steroid to mature the baby’s lungs. After twenty-four hours, the contractions still hadn’t stopped, and her OB prepared them for the possibility that the baby would be born in the next day or two. “But I’m only twenty-seven weeks along,” Amelia said, trying not to panic. “The poor thing will barely be …”

The OB put a hand on Ameila’s shoulder. “Odds for survival at this stage are good, though—80 to 85 percent. And the facility here is excellent; this is the hospital you want to be at if you can’t be in Omaha or Lincoln. We’ll do everything we can to put this off, but you need to stay positive and prepare yourself for the possibility of labor soon.”

When she’d left Marcus and Amelia alone, Amelia groaned and buried her face in her hands. “What am I doing wrong? Why does this keep happening?”

“I don’t know, Ames, but listen, it’s not your fault, all right? There’s nothing you did to start it and nothing you can do to stop it. You just have to go with it and try to stay positive. Whatever happens, God’s in control. I know you’re having a hard time believing that these days, but I believe it and I’m confident that no matter what happens, God will use it for good.” He kissed her hair. “Now, is there anything I can do for you? Anything you can think of that we didn’t bring from home that you might want?”

Amelia shook her head, her arm over her eyes. “No. Nothing.”

“Would you mind if I prayed? I’ll do it in my head if you want—I just want to be with you when I do.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

They used to pray together all the time, but Marcus’s prayer now was nothing like the ones he used to pray. He’d always sounded so confident, so eloquent, so
pastorly
when he prayed. But this time, the first time she’d heard him pray for her since before he’d moved to Nebraska, the posturing was gone. Instead, his words were humble, simple, and straight to the point. “God, we’re scared for our baby, but I know You know what’s going to happen and that, whatever it is, it’s what has to happen for Your plan to be fulfilled. But even so, God, I’m asking You to please protect him or her, and protect Amelia, too. Prepare us for what’s coming next, and help us to cling to You for our peace and comfort. Amen.”

“Thank you,” Amelia whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

She peeked out at him. “Would you feel awful if I wanted to be alone for a bit?”

He smiled. “Not at all. If you need me, just tell the nurse I went down to the lobby. I’m going to call Ed and let him know what’s going on. Okay?”

She nodded and they kissed once more before Marcus disappeared down the hall. Amelia brushed tears from her cheeks and whispered, “What are you up to in there?” Another contraction was the baby’s reply, and when it was over Amelia squeezed her eyes shut and took a chance.

All right, God. I’m desperate here. I don’t know what else to do. I’m scared about labor, I’m scared the baby is going to have all sorts of problems … I can barely imagine parenting a normal child, God; I can’t even begin to fathom parenting one that has special needs from being born too soon. If You’re real, then please don’t shut me out here. Give me some hope or something. Reassure me that whatever happens, I can actually handle it. Because honestly, all this is making me want to flee the state even more than the thought of being a mom to a regular baby did. I know I told Marcus I’d give it a shot, but that was when I thought things would be normal. I don’t know if I can agree to that if things go south here.

Amelia opened her eyes and shook her head at her prayer and muttered to herself, “That was so lame.”

I want your honesty.

Amelia twitched, startled by the strong impression that had flashed into her mind. Had that been real, or just her imagination? She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart before the nurses thought she was going into distress. “God?” she whispered. “Was that You?”

Nothing happened, and Amelia tried to rub away the goosebumps that had risen on her arms. She didn’t know who else it would be, but if it
was
God, then she had to appreciate the sentiment.

All right then. In case it
was
You … I’m mad at You, about the whole bipolar thing, and the baby thing. Really, You thought the timing of all this was good? I don’t see how You could. It sucks, all of it. I do not get Your way of thinking.

A verse came to mind.
My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.

Okay, so maybe I can’t see the big picture like You can,
she prayed further. Was there a big picture? Or just random crap that had no meaning and would never get redeemed somehow?
And I don’t just mean the bipolar and the baby,
she prayed.
I mean all of it—not being the pianist I always wanted to be, not living the life I thought I’d live.

She looked up at the ceiling, wishing she could see past the roof and the atmosphere and the stars and look God in the eyes.
Tell me I’ll be able to look back on all this at the end of my life and see how it all came together for good like Marcus thinks it will.

The impression that came next was so strong she thought it must have been a memory of something that had already happened. In a millisecond flash Amelia saw herself and Marcus and a young woman she knew was the baby she was carrying now. She was beautiful, with Amelia’s red hair and Marcus’s eyes, and she was playing Mozart on a baby grand in a living room somewhere. It came and went so quickly she had no time to study it, but she was overwhelmed with confidence, with no explanation as to why, that everything really was going to be all right.

A contraction gripped her, followed quickly by a second and a third. Two nurses ran in, and Amelia sent one after Marcus, knowing in her heart that this was it. The other nurse performed an internal check and said to Amelia, “You’re nearly ten centimeters. Dang, that was fast.”

“Is the baby all right?”

“Baby’s at station one—you’re in active labor, Amelia.”

Marcus came on the heels of the second nurse, who began to convert the room for delivery at the instructions of the first, who was paging the OB. Marcus grabbed her hand. “Are you all right?”

With the picture of their daughter burned into her memory, Amelia couldn’t help but smile. “I am. You were right. Everything is going to be okay.”

C
HAPTER 15

Within an hour of Amelia’s vision, Hope Aisling Sheffield was born and taken straight to the NICU. Amelia sent Marcus to be with her and to observe what they did so he could give her a play-by-play later on, but he wished she hadn’t. Seeing his daughter surrounded by wires and hooked up to a ventilator just about killed him.

“When can we hold her?” he asked Marcela, the NICU nurse who was on shift when Marcus followed Hope down to the ward.

“Not until she’s off the vent,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “But once we’re sure she’s stable, we’ll start some touch therapy. That’ll be you just stroking her with a finger. Some babies can’t handle much of it, but it’s all just trial and error. We’ll do as much as we can without overstimulating her.”

Marcus stared through the incubator at Hope’s thin chest rising and falling with the rhythm of the vent. He could see her veins just below the surface of her jaundiced skin. He didn’t want to stare, but he couldn’t help it—she was a miracle.

When he’d asked every question Amelia had given him, Marcus returned to her room to give her an update. “One pound, twelve ounces; fourteen inches long exactly. She’s on a vent for breathing right now; they said it’ll take a while before they know if there are any complications. So far, though, everything looks good.”

Amelia reached out to hug him and then burst into tears. He sat beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. “Hey, babe, it’s gonna be okay, remember? God’s got this, He’s totally in control.” He smiled a little. “I guess this means you’re more attached to her than you thought you’d be, hm?”

She hiccuped a chuckle and nodded against his shoulder. “I didn’t expect this,” she said when she was able to talk. “I didn’t expect to feel so … protective.”

“Well, you’re a mom now. That’s what happens when you have a kid of your own, I guess.” He grinned. “Hey—we’re parents.”

“I know.” She sniffed and gave him a quavery smile. “For better or worse, huh?”

“Definitely better. Better than we both had.” He kissed her, relieved that she was doing as well as she was. He’d been encouraged by her sudden change in mind-set but had worried it would dissipate when they learned of the obstacles Hope would face. For all they knew, worse things were down the road, but for Hope to be this healthy was a true miracle, and the longer Amelia could rest in the belief that all would be well, the better she’d be if things started going downhill.

He also wondered if that belief was going to translate to their marriage. His heart was already filled to capacity with love for Hope, but he didn’t see how he’d ever be able to raise her and work at the same time. And the thought of not having Amelia there, not just as a mom but as his partner through it all, made that almost-bursting heart want to break.

He knew it might not be the best time, but he had to know what she was thinking about her life. If he was going to be raising Hope alone, he wanted to know that now, so he could start figuring out exactly how he’d make it work. “Amelia. I need to ask you something.”

Her face clouded. “Okay.”

“Listen. I know we had an arrangement all worked out. But … You seem more at peace with things now than you were when we last talked about it. And that’s raising my hopes, but if there really isn’t any hope I don’t want to—”

“Marcus, you’re not making sense.”

He took a deep breath and said in a rush, “Are you still thinking you might leave us?”

She blinked. “Ah.” She licked her lips, her eyes trained on something beyond his shoulder. He tried not to read anything into how long it was taking her to respond. “Um—”

Marcus waved a hand and mentally cursed his impatience. “I shouldn’t have brought this up now. I’m sorry. I just—when you said everything was going to be okay I thought maybe—”

“No, it’s all right, I understand.” She held his hand and smiled, though her eyes looked weary. “I … I want to say that I’ll stay.”

“You
want
to?”

“Yes.”

“But you can’t.”

She bit her lip, then said, “I think I need to figure out first how I can make sure I can follow through with it.”

His hopes went up another notch. “Okay, okay. We can figure that out. Like—therapy, together? God knows—literally—that I would benefit from it.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes … That might help.”

“And time alone to keep up with your music? Although …” He stopped, not sure if he should say what had just become clear to him.

“Although what?”