LOVE IS MORE THAN A FEELING
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rose waddled through the house, off-balance
from her now-enormous middle. She was nine months pregnant now, and the baby would
be born any day. Sighing, she sank down in a chair, rubbing her back.
She could hardly wait for the baby to be
born. Her swollen mid-section made it difficult to get in and out of bed, or
even in and out of chairs. Her ankles were swollen, and the baby kept her awake
at night kicking. But she was also looking forward to holding the baby in her
arms, to caring for her own child.
With effort, she pulled herself from the
chair and walked toward the door. There wasn’t much housework, and she had
already finished it. Usually when her work was done, she liked to sit and read,
or go out into the sunshine and relax, or visit with neighbors. Today, however,
she felt restless.
She had actually been restless for the past
few days, first impulsively cleaning the house from top to bottom, and then
writing letters to everyone she knew outside of Chippewa Falls, including Fred
and Monica, who had not yet found a buyer for the apartment building, and her
mother, who had at last given up on the idea of Rose marrying Cal, and now
accepted her daughter’s marriage to Jack. Ruth still wasn’t too fond of her
son-in-law, but she had visited in June, and had decided that she could
tolerate Jack, if not like him.
Rose had been relieved by her mother’s
acceptance of the situation, and had gotten her to promise to come to visit
again after the baby was born. Ruth had stammered her thanks at the invitation
and tried to make an excuse about not having enough money, but Rose knew that
her father’s debts hadn’t been as great as her mother had feared, and Ruth had
plenty of money. She was just uncomfortable at the idea of frequent visits with
her daughter and less than well-liked son-in-law. But Jack and Rose did not
have the time to make frequent trips to Philadelphia, so if Ruth wanted to see
her grandchild, she had to come to them.
Looking out the window at the bright summer
sunshine, Rose decided that it was the perfect time to go for a walk. After she
had the baby, it would be a week or so, at least, before she could go out walking
again. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she placed a large straw hat on her
head and headed out the door.
Several people that she knew waved as she
walked past. Rose waved back, smiling contentedly. She paused to watch a
toddler pick a handful of dandelions and present them to his mother with a
grubby fist, wondering if her own baby would ever do that.
Slowly, she walked on, enjoying the warm
summer air and the scents of roses and other flowers in people’s yards. She was
slowly but surely learning to keep her own garden, but the flowers were not
nearly so magnificent as those of some of her neighbors. Shrugging to herself,
she stopped to smell a patch of flowers. Hers would be as nice once she learned
what she was doing.
It wasn’t long before Rose found herself at
the lake. No longer frozen, the waves lapped gently at the shore, the sunlight
sparkling off the surface. Scooping up a few smooth, round stones, she tossed
them into the water, watching them skip across the surface. She smiled, remembering
the day Jack had taught her to skip stones.
She strolled along, watching a trio of boys
fishing and yelling with delight as one of them reeled in a large trout.
Laughing softly at their antics, she moved on, looking out at the spot where
she had caught the fish back in March.
The water was cool and pleasant when she
dipped her fingers in it, so she found an open stretch of sand and took off her
shoes, holding up her skirt as she waded into the lake. A man in a boat stopped
and stared as she moved farther out, exposing an indecent amount of leg, but
Rose just smiled and waved. Shaking his head, he paddled away, wondering what
the world was coming to.
Rose splashed about for half an hour before
she decided that she’d had enough. Wading back to shore, she lowered herself
carefully to the sand, letting her feet and legs dry, before brushing away the
sand and slipping her shoes back on.
Reaching into her pocket, Rose felt the small
amount of money she had placed there before she left home and decided to walk
into town for lunch. Maybe she would stop by Jack’s workplace at the small
newspaper building. His boss never seemed to mind if he had visitors, as long
as he still got his work done.
After eating lunch at a small restaurant,
Rose wandered down to the newspaper building. The receptionist waved her on in,
recognizing her from previous visits. A moment later, she knocked at the door
of Jack’s office.
"Come in," he called.
Rose could hear the shuffling of papers as
she opened the door. Jack sat at his desk, several drawings in various stages
of completion scattered around him. His fingers were smudged with black, and he
had a streak of charcoal on his nose.
She laughed as she came into the office and
shut the door. "Hello, Jack."
"Hey, Rose. What are you doing in town?
And what’s so funny?"
"I decided to go for a walk and wound up
here. And as to what’s funny..." She pointed to the charcoal smudge on his
nose. Jack swiped at it, succeeding only in spreading it farther across his
face. Rose giggled and came over to him, wiping the smudge away herself.
"Thanks," Jack told her, looking at
the smear of black on her fingers. "Have a seat."
"Do you mind if I stay awhile?"
Rose asked, sinking into the chair beside the desk. "It’s been a long
walk, and the baby is kicking me unmercifully today."
"Maybe it wants out." Jack looked
at her distended middle. "Stay as long as you like. I’m really making
progress today. Look at this."
He showed her his cartoon for the next
morning’s edition, a political cartoon of Woodrow Wilson. Rose examined it. He
had caricatured the president humorously, commenting on his latest actions.
"I also finished this," Jack told
her, showing her an ad for people to work on the fair in the fall. It featured
cows, corn, and if Rose wasn’t mistaken, a curly-haired milkmaid who looked
like her. She grimaced when she saw it.
Jack shrugged casually. "You’re my
inspiration," he told her.
"You think I’d make a good milkmaid, do
you?"
"I think you’d be good at anything you
wanted," he said, ducking as she swatted playfully at him with the paper.
"I think I’d better have this baby
before I try milking any cows. I can hardly get up and down as it is." She
leaned back, closing her eyes and rubbing her stomach as the baby gave her
another hard kick.
"Rose? Are you all right?" She
opened her eyes to see Jack looking worriedly at her.
"I’m fine," she assured him.
"The baby is just kicking, is all."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I’m sure."
*****
Rose sat in Jack’s office all afternoon, watching
him work. When she grew bored, she read that day’s edition of the newspaper,
which she hadn’t looked at before leaving home.
Jack watched her with increasing concern. She
continued to complain about the baby’s hard kicks, more and more frequently as
the afternoon passed. At times, she would lean back, close her eyes, and rub
her back and stomach, but she always insisted that she was fine when he asked.
Finally, it was five o’clock and time to
leave. Jack packed up his art supplies and helped Rose out of her chair,
walking out of the office with his arm around her. They were walking toward the
front door when Rose stopped, bending over and holding her stomach, her eyes
tightly closed.
"Rose! Are you all right?" Jack
asked, steadying her.
"I think I was wrong about those
kicks," she told him, straightening up. "I think the baby is ready to
be born."
"The doctor’s office is only a couple of
blocks away. Do you think you can make it there?"
Rose nodded. "I think so."
They started toward the door, but had gotten
only a few steps when Rose gave a shocked exclamation.
"Oh! Oh, my goodness!"
She looked down as a warm gush of fluid
rushed from her body, puddling on the wooden floor. Stepping back, she turned
bright red with embarrassment.
The receptionist had rushed out at the sound
of Rose’s voice. "Oh! Your water broke," she exclaimed, seeing the
puddle on the floor. The older woman was a widow and the mother of three
children, giving her plenty of experience in such matters.
"My water?" Rose asked faintly, not
understanding what she was talking about.
"The water that cushions the baby.
You’ll be a mother soon." She began issuing orders. Escorting Rose to a
chair, she told Jack, "Go get the doctor. He has a carriage he can bring
both of you back to your house in." To Rose, she said, "Just sit
still. Your husband will get the doctor for you as soon as he can."
She stepped over to a small closet and
removed a mop, wiping up the puddle on the floor. Rose watched her, still not
quite believing that she was in labor, that in a few hours she would be a
mother.
The receptionist kept up a running dialogue.
"Nothing to worry about, really. I’ve had three of my own, back when there
was no doctor in this town. The womenfolk helped me then. And all my babies lived,
and grew up. My two sons are still in this town, and my daughter lives in Eau
Claire with her husband."
She rambled on, talking about whatever came
to mind. Rose had little to say, but listened quietly, soothed by the woman’s
confident words. She could only hope that the birth would go well.
*****
Jack returned a short time later, the doctor
in tow. They helped Rose out of her chair and into the carriage, hurrying her
toward home. Jack held Rose’s hand the whole time, not objecting when she
squeezed his hand so hard he winced. She was in considerably more pain than he
was.
They finally reached the house. Jack helped
Rose from the carriage and into the house, going up the stairs with her and
helping her change into a nightgown and lay down on the bed. The doctor
followed them, allowing Rose privacy to change.
There was an argument, however, when he
insisted that Jack leave.
"No!" Rose and Jack protested in
unison.
"I want him here," Rose added.
"I’m staying," Jack told the doctor,
refusing to leave.
The doctor shook his head and rubbed his
temples. The Dawsons weren’t the first to object to the father not being
present at the birth, but the fact remained that fathers did not belong at
births. It wasn’t something they needed to see.
"Mr. Dawson, I must insist that you
leave. You’re welcome to wait outside—"
"I’m not leaving," Jack insisted,
sitting down beside Rose on the bed. Rose took his hand gratefully.
"You don’t belong here."
"Why not?"
"It’s not something you need to
see."
"No, I don’t need to see it, but
I want to see it."
"Look, Mr. Dawson—"
"He’s staying!" Rose declared,
gripping Jack’s hand tightly as another pain came over her. When it ended, she
added, "If he leaves, so do I!"
"Mrs. Dawson, you can’t honestly mean
that you want your husband here."
"Yes, I do mean it. I want him here.
This is our baby, and he deserves to see it born." Both Dawsons glared at
the doctor, challenging him to separate them at this moment.
Overruled, the doctor shrugged. "Have it
your way," he told them. "But if you, Mr. Dawson, can’t handle seeing
this, you’ll have to leave."
"I’ll be fine. I’m not the one who’s
giving birth."
"No, you’re just watching it. There’s a
reason why fathers don’t belong at births."
Jack soon learned why the doctor didn’t want
him there. He paled and fretted over Rose, who seemed to be in an incredible
amount of pain. But every time he began to object to something, the doctor sent
him a warning look, telling him that he was welcome to leave any time. Rose
glared at him when he considered leaving, latching onto his hand and refusing
to let go.
*****
Hours later, near eleven o’clock, the baby
was ready to be born. Rose half sat up, clinging to Jack’s hand and crying out
in pain. She pushed when the doctor told her to, but it seemed to take an
incredibly long time.
Soon, Rose didn’t need the doctor’s
instructions to push. Her body took over, bearing down, struggling to bring the
child into the world. It hurt, but every push brought her closer to her goal—the
birth of her baby.
Finally, at 11:15, Rose gave one final push.
Bracing herself, she put all of her strength into that last push, squeezing
Jack’s hand and gritting her teeth. The baby slid from her body, wailing in
protest as the doctor picked it up.
"It’s a girl!" the doctor
announced, cutting the umbilical cord and clearing out the infant’s mouth and
nose. The baby continued to cry, furious at being squeezed out of her warm,
dark home and into the outside world.
The doctor handed the newborn infant to her
parents, allowing them to see their firstborn child. Rose held the messy,
squalling baby, while Jack sat at her side, touching the tiny hands, feet, and
face of the baby.
She had her mother’s red hair, and, they
quickly observed, her father’s blue eyes. It was a beautiful combination,
though the baby quickly closed her eyes again and continued to wail, kicking
and waving her arms, unaccustomed to the freedom of movement.
All too soon, the doctor finished taking care
of Rose and took the baby to clean her up. Rose sat up, pulling the quilt over
herself, as she watched the doctor wash her newborn daughter and check her
over.
"She’s beautiful," Jack commented,
looking at his daughter. The infant had quieted, but began squalling again at
being bathed, flailing her tiny limbs and howling in protest.
"She is," Rose agreed, laying back
down. She was exhausted from the birth, but also overjoyed. They had a
beautiful, healthy daughter.
"What should we name her?" Jack
asked, taking the baby into his arms as the doctor brought her to them, clean,
dressed, and wrapped in a blanket. He handed the tiny girl to Rose.
Rose cradled her, stroking the little red
head. "What was your mother’s name?"
"My mother’s name? Elisa."
"Then that should be her name. After
both of our mothers. Elisa Ruth Dawson."