Page 43 of Forever Christmas
“It has,” I say. We walk that way, to the wicker furniture with overstuffed cushions, Mom’s indoor plants, and the huge glass windows. I wantto ask him something hard, and it’s better to do it there.
When we’re settled again, I gather my courage, then ask it. “Dad, did the doctors ever figure out why Mom lost those four babies?”
His eyebrows lift above the rim of his glasses. “Well, that’s been a lot of years ago. But when Finn was diagnosed, we went over all that paperwork again. Mom even called her old ob/gyn’s office. Dr. Jenneris long retired, but the clinic is still around.”
“What did they say?”
“In those days, they didn’t test like they do now. But it seems like the problem was with the shape of your mother’s womb. Nowadays they do some surgery to correct it, I believe. But then you just had to hope one of the babies would make it through. Like you.”
“So no heart problems in the babies?”
“Not that we knew about.One of the babies was…” he hesitates, then coughs into his hand. My eyes spring with tears again. Faking a cough is how he’s always covered his emotions.
He begins again. “One of them was fully formed. A boy. Stillborn. But yea big.” He holds his hands about a foot apart. “Looked perfect.” He brushes his graying hair back even though it’s nowhere near his face.
“They did an autopsy. But nothingwrong. Not a thing. Just died inside her. They think he didn’t get enough blood supply. He was small for what he should have been.”
“Did you give him a name?”
Dad shakes his head. “No, that wasn’t really done then. We only saw him a minute or two before they whisked him off. They said the more we held him, the worse we’d feel. Didn’t get any pictures or anything.” He taps his temples. “He’sjust up here.”
“That’s terrible,” I cry. The pictures I have of Finn are the most important things I own. They are what got me through.
“I understand things are different now. They let you hold on to them. Do special photo shoots and all. That’s good.” He nods vigorously and clears his throat.
“I don’t have a problem inside,” I say. “Nobody has said anything if I do.”
“You’re probably allright then,” he says. “And this baby should be too.”
A few hot tears track down my face for all my parents lost before me. So much pain in the world. It is hard to bear.
We sit in the sunroom as the day comes to a close. The yellow light fades across the alley, disappearing over Gavin’s house just beyond the fence. I hope he and June are doing all right, and that whatever happens with his fatheris something everyone can handle.
Life is precious and fleeting. Seven days for Finn. Forty-seven years so far for Mr. Mays. We have to hold on to every moment and make them count.
