4 July Fireworks – Part 2

As the United States of America celebrates two and a half centuries since its founding, one family grapples with its own issues…

I whistled two notes and Felix materialised.
“Mom thinks Portia is about to have her baby.”
“What? Sooner than she thinks?”
“No. Round about now.”
“Shit. What needs doing?”
“I’ll get her to sit in the shade and have a nice cold lemonade. You go talk to Anthony. Tell him to get the stick out of his ass because he’s about to become a daddy.”
He sighed. “Wouldn’t you like to talk to him?”
“Nope. He gets right on my tits.”
“Mine too but I’ll brave it.”
I put my hand on his arm. “Can you also send your mom over here?”
Felix’s mom arrived carrying the quiet she always brought with her. She grasped the situation quickly and without fuss.
We got Portia into a comfortable chair in the shadiest part of the garden. When I got close I didn’t reckon she looked too good, her natural pallor had a greyish tinge and her eyes looked as if they belonged to a cornered deer.
“What’s up?”
She looked at me as if surprised I would notice her discomfort.
“I’ve just got a little backache.”
“You sit quiet and rest a bit.”
As she sat her filmy dress lay flat against her stomach and I saw the ripple of a contraction.
So did Mom.
“How long have you been having contractions?” she asked gently.
“Since about breakfast time. It’s only braxton hicks. I called my doula and she assured me it’s too early to be anything else.”
I could feel Mom’s anger, but she kept her voice gentle.
“Have the contractions been getting closer together?”
Portia nodded.
“Then it’s not braxton hicks.”
Portia’s idiot of a husband spoke from behind my left shoulder.
“And you know better than a doula attached to a nationally acclaimed natural birth program?”
Mom looked at Portia’s sweating face and at the contractions moving under the flimsy broderie anglaise of her dress.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes I do.”
“An uneducated redneck woman, whose daughter married above her?”
Before I had chance to retort, Felix’s mom leaned across and clipped him smartly round the ear.
“Quiet Anthony. I expect better manners. Even from spoilt little boys.”
You could have heard a pin drop – until Portia gave a strange little cry.
“I think my waters broke.”
Mom knelt in the grass at her feet.
“Let’s have a look shall we.”
Felix’s mom and I formed a human curtain while Mom spoke gently to the frightened girl.
Anthony opened his mouth to say who knew what, but a large red hand covered his mouth. My cousin Cletus spoke for all of us I think.
“You just hush up now. Auntie Ella-Mae is a community midwife. Been delivering babies for better’n forty years. Right now she’s the best hope your wife and child have.”
You could feel the fight leave him and Cletus removed his hand.
“It’s too soon.”
Mom stood up.
“Soon or late this baby is coming. And it’s coming fast.” She looked Anthony straight between the eyes. “Do I have your permission to assist your wife and child?”
“Yes. Please do. Please take care of them.”
Mom softened.
“I will. You call her obstetrician and tell them she’s dilated two and a bit inches and her contractions are strong.” Then she turned her attention to me. “Half fill your big bath with water nice warm water. And get all your big towels out.”
“Water birth, Mom?”
“Probably not. But she’s scared, and a float in warm water will calm her fears.”
I ran to do Mom’s bidding, leaving behind a plethora of questions but no actual shouting.
By the time our big sunken tub was half full of water Mom was in the room with her delivery bag and the quiet air of confidence that has smoothed countless children’s way into the world. I stood up and went to lay my face against her shoulder.
“How I remember,” I said softly. “I hope Portia has a gentle birth and a strong child.”
Mom touched my cheek. “I remember too. I especially remember how many swear words it took to bring two boys kicking and screaming into my hands. But now. Towels.”
I opened one door of a big linen closet full of towels.
“How many do you need?”
Mom let out a small squeak of surprise. “How many do you have?”
“I’ve never actually counted. Felix’s granny had a thing about towels. She left her collection to him in her will. This is about half. We donated the other half to a shelter for mothers and kids.”
Mom rubbed a hand over her face. “Can you spare a dozen?”
I chuckled and pulled out a pile of soft, thick bath sheets.
“You need me?”
Mom shook her head. “No. Only me, Portia, and her wet weekend of a husband I think.”
I grinned. “Besides which she’s a bit scared of me. It’s the tattoos I think.”
Mom grinned back. “One of the many nice things about having you for a daughter is that I never have to explain things.”
“I love you too Mom.”
Footsteps on the stairs heralded the arrival of Felix, who was carrying his sister, and being followed by a grey-faced Anthony.
“Her doctor is rattled, and desperately trying to claw back the initiative,” Anthony said in a voice devoid of pretension. “Demanded we bring Portia to the birthing centre. But we can’t. There’s a Fourth of July parade happening and the road is closed.”
Mom smiled the smile that has reassured hundreds of expectant parents.
“We’ll just get the baby born and worry about logistics later.”
Felix set Portia gently on her feet and Mom moved into action. Me and Felix left, shutting the door quietly behind us.
On the landing he pulled me into his arms and held on tight. He spoke into my hair.
“You know that I love your Mom.”
I nodded.
“And you know how much respect I have for her.”
I nodded some more.
“But right now all of that pales in the face of the relief I feel that she’s here for Portia. I was pretty unsettled by the idea of a place where they seem to think burning sage leaves will ensure a safe birth. Now I know my silly sister will be okay.”
I looked up at him. “She will. Now we’ve a job to do downstairs. We have to avert class warfare.”
Only we didn’t need to do anything.

More of this tale by Jane Jago tomorrow…