Waiting.
It’s brutal.
I was waiting for the woman I loved. Waiting to hear the worst, waiting to hear the best.
And when I’d seen her lifeblood draining out of her, the pain in my chest felt as if my heart was ripping in two.
Two more nurses ran into the operating room discussing a placental abruption, and I heard one of them place a call to Dr. Spinoza who I knew was the senior obstetrician.
Kes glanced at me sideways.
“I’ll find out what’s happening,” he said.
I nodded, sunk into a numb, helpless nothing. Unmoving, unthinking, just whirling unfocussed images torturing me.
A few minutes later, Kes came back with a doctor, her expression serious.
“Mr. Colton, thank you for your patience. I’m Dr. Spinoza. Let me explain what’s happening with your partner, Sara. She’s lost a lot of blood because of a uterine rupture. This sometimes happens after a prolonged labor with a baby that’s too big for the mother’s pelvis. We’re going to perform a C-section now to take the baby. Then Sara will need a blood transfusion and an operation to repair the uterus. But I have to tell you, Mr. Colton, if we can’t control the bleeding, we may have to perform a hysterectomy.”
I couldn’t take it in. All I could think was, She’s so small. She’s too small for the baby.
I heard Kes’s muttered thanks and was vaguely aware that he said he had some calls to make.
I sat by myself, alone in an island of misery. I was completely helpless. There was nothing I could do. No one I could fight. Nothing I could face except the crippling fear that I could lose Sara, maybe Peanut, too.
Kes reappeared and told me that he’d passed on the latest news to everyone, including Sara’s parents and my brother.
I wasn’t sure she’d want them here, but if they were prepared to come, I think she’d like to see them if she was able to. If, if, if.
An hour later, a nurse in pale blue scrubs stood in front of me to say that Sara had given birth to a baby boy. He was being checked over, but everything looked good and I could see him shortly.
Little Peanut—he was strong. Please, make Sara strong, too.
Then her face became more serious. Sara was still in the OR, and I had the absurd thought that she’d never liked being the center of attention. I thought how she’d hate all of this.
“Can we see the baby?”
It was Kes who asked.
I felt an irrational surge of anger at Peanut for putting Sara through this, and then I felt guilty.
“I’ll find someone to take you,” she said, her voice professional, her eyes understanding.
A short while later, another nurse appeared and told me to follow her. Kes came with me, and I was grateful for that. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel.
She led me to a narrow room with a glass wall and pointed to a tiny crib on the right.
“There he is. Would you like to hold him?”
There was a short pause then Kes said, “Yeah, he would.”
The nurse smiled and collected the soft bundle, carefully placing it my arms. The weight was nothing, and I wondered how something so small could cause so much trouble.
“A healthy baby boy, Mr. Colton. He weighs 8lb 8oz, and because he was born by C-section, he has a perfectly shaped head, too.”
I nodded.
“You’re lucky, bro,” Kes whispered as I peered down at the red, wrinkled face. “Dove had a real pointy head for a few days. Aimee was worried that she’d have to wear hats for the rest of her life.”
I didn’t smile. It all seemed so far away.
I peered into the creased little bundle and watched with amazement as Peanut opened his round, toothless mouth and mewed like a kitten.
“That means he’s hungry,” said the nurse. “Would you like to feed him?”
I couldn’t believe that I was the one this little dude had to rely on till his mama was better. It seemed like an enormous responsibility, and I swallowed hard.
I nodded, and she showed me how to situate Peanut along my arm, and hold the bottle in my free hand. I’d had some practice with Dove, so it wasn’t too hard.
The nurse smiled.
“Well done! You’re a natural.”
A surge of pride swept over me. Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could be a father after all. Because Peanut needed me, and until I’d met Sara, I hadn’t felt needed for a very long time.
Love. That’s what I felt for this tiny human being. Pure love. And paralyzing fear that would probably last a lifetime, as well.
“I wish Ollo could see him.”
Those were the first words I said, and Kes smiled sadly.
“Yeah, I know. Ollo loved kids. He was great when I was growing up.”
Peanut sucked on the bottle with a surprisingly strong suction, draining most of the bottle of formula. Which then got spit up over my arm.
“Welcome to fatherhood,” grinned Kes.
“He needs his mother,” I replied.
Kes had nothing to say to that, but stroked his finger across Peanut’s downy cheek.
Two hours later, Sara was out of surgery.
“We were able to repair her uterus,” said the doctor with a tired smile. “But for any future pregnancies, she’ll need a repeat C-section. Try not to worry, she’s going to make a full recovery.”
I thanked the doctor and felt like the fog in my brain was finally lifting.
“Can I see her?”
“Give us a few minutes to get her situated, and then you can both see her.”
At first I thought she meant me and Kes, but then I realized that she was talking about Peanut.
“Hey, buddy, let’s go find your mama so you can say hi.”
It was nearly another hour before we were allowed to see her. She was laying in a hospital bed with the metal sides raised. I had to swallow back the memories of being in prison—it was too similar, and my stomach flipped over.
She was deathly pale and so still. Fuck, she didn’t even look like she was breathing!
Her eyes were closed as I sat down next to her, but when Peanut let out a quavering wail, she turned her head to look at us.
“Hey, beautiful! Look who’s come to see you!”
She turned her head away again.
I didn’t know what that meant. I kept waiting for her to look at us, but she didn’t. What was going on?
I edged around the bed so she could see us.
“He’s amazing, Sara,” I said encouragingly.
She gave a weary, cynical laugh.
“I couldn’t even get that right either, could I?”
Fear rippled through me, a crack on the face of my fragile happiness.
“What do you mean?”
“Couldn’t even give birth properly. Women have been doing it for millions of years, but not me.”
“Sara, don’t. It’s fine. You’re fine, Peanut’s fine. He’s healthy and you’ll be okay. Do you want to see him?”
Tears spilled from her eyes.
“Go away, Zef.”
“What?”
Her voice rose to a scream.
“Go away! Leave me alone!”
Peanut let out an answering wail, and a nurse hurried in, quietly telling us we should go.
“But . . .”
“It’s best for now if you just go,” the nurse said firmly.
A sliver of ice cut through my heart.
Kes was waiting outside the room, and I could see from the look on his face that he’d heard everything.
“Give her time, man,” he said. “She’s been through a lot.”
I’d been awake thirty hours, and the nurses were trying to make me go home. I didn’t want to leave without seeing Sara again, but they insisted that she needed complete rest. And while Peanut was doing well, because he was born via C-section, he’d have to stay in the hospital for 72 hours minimum. Besides, Sarah hadn’t said if she wanted him to be circumcised and I hadn’t thought to ask. There was so much to think about.
I stayed at the hospital, holding Peanut while he slept, leaving only for an hour so I could get a shower and change my clothes.
I was sitting in Sara’s room, keeping Peanut entertained while she slept with her back to us. He was making random swipes at my finger, which he seemed to find pretty darn fascinating. I wondered what the world looked like to him. He seemed laidback for the most part, only getting stressed when I tried to get Sara to hold him. I didn’t push it, but it scared the hell out of me.
The doc and nurses said it would take time. It worried me that Sara was behaving so differently from Aimee. But then again, Aimee had an easy birth. Aimee hadn’t nearly died.
I closed my eyes, trying to banish those memories.
I heard a soft tapping at the door and Sara’s dad walked in, followed by her mom.
“Sara’s sleeping,” I said.
I wasn’t entirely sure that was true, but she sure didn’t want anyone to know that. I had to respect her need for silence. For now.
I stood up, carrying Peanut me so we could talk in the corridor.
“Come and meet your grandson,” I said.
Sara’s dad peered at the bundle in my arms, his worried expression softening. He prodded Peanut in the stomach gently. I don’t know what he was trying to do, but Peanut objected loudly. It made me think he hadn’t been the most hands-on father. Or maybe he was just out of practice.
“For goodness sake, Nathan!” Sara’s mom said sharply, shaking her head.
Without asking, she took Peanut from my arms and rocked him efficiently.
“Sara was an ugly baby, too,” she said thoughtfully.
My spine stiffened.
“Be careful what you say about my son,” I said quietly, a soft menace in my voice.
Her eyes snapped up and I thought she was going to argue, but Sara’s dad cut her off.
“And then she turned out beautifully,” he said with a lingering smile of regret. “How is she?”
I shook my head, my shoulders sagging.
“Physically, she’s doing okay . . .”
“And . . .”
I met his eyes.
“She’s scared shitless about being a mom. She’s convinced herself that she can’t do it. Right now . . . I’m pretty lost here. But I’m not going anywhere.”
He gripped my shoulder.
“Thank you for everything. Thank you for being here.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d be.”
Sara struggled to feed Peanut, her stress fueling his. In the end, the doctor suggested that she express some milk instead. What was this? Some sort of weird-ass Dairy Queen? A Boob Blizzard? Yeah, maybe not.
Sara wouldn’t let me in the room while she pumped for her son, and she didn’t want to feed him either. I couldn’t work out if she was in too much pain, or afraid of dropping him, or just terrified of being a mom. Probably a little of each.
For now, the best compromise was me feeding Peanut in her room while she watched us, her expression withdrawn and sullen.
Her mom was more helpful than I’d expected, and something about her impersonal, bustling efficiency put Sara at ease. I began to think that with everyone telling her how much she’d love Peanut, that it was just adding to her worries in case she didn’t. I knew she loved Peanut because otherwise she wouldn’t have been so scared. But I tried to take the pressure off by copying Sara’s mom—not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.
Sara’s parents checked into the same Arcata hotel as Aimee’s mom, and more recently, her sister and nephew, although Sara’s mom seemed to spend most of her time complaining about the lack of clothing stores in Arcata. The grandparents got along pretty well, although I think Sarah’s parents were surprised to find that Aimee had a ‘normal’ family as well as her carnie family.
Whatever. If it eased things for them.
Three days later, the doc decided Peanut was well enough to come home but Sara needed to stay another couple of days. Kes drove us back with bottles of breast milk like some freaky as fuck milkman.
He wanted me to come and stay with Aimee and Dove, but I decided to go home. And besides, Tucker and Tera had arrived if I needed backup.
And the grandparents were ten minutes away. Great.
I set my phone to wake every two hours to feed Peanut, but as it turned out, I didn’t need an alarm—the little dude had a powerful set of lungs, just like his mother.
Nathan and Norah visited with us. Yeah, we were on first name basis by then. It was a little awkward, but they cared about Sara in their own controlled way, and they cared about Peanut, so for everything else, I’d give them a pass.
When Peanut and I visited the hospital the next day, I wore one of those papoose things that Sara had bought. It took me a while to figure out how it worked, but once I got the hang of it, it was pretty cool. I was so tired that I fell asleep in the chair next to Sara. When I woke up a few minutes later, she was staring at Peanut, and he was gripping her finger tightly in his little fist. It was the first time she’d willingly touched him, and my heart gave a hopeful lurch.
Her eyes met mine.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know. So am I.”
“Really? Because you look so . . .”
“Believe me, Sara. I’m freakin’ terrified.”
I’d already started adjusting my tendency to swear around the little bundle. I didn’t want him picking up any of my bad habits.
“He’s so tiny.”
“Yeah, he is.”
“I’m afraid . . . that I’ll do it wrong.”
“You will. And so will I. I already have.” I wondered if I should tell her about the diaper disaster we’d had earlier when Peanut managed to get covered in green-colored shit. “Every parent gets it wrong sometimes, but we’ll be okay. We’ll help each other. I promise.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears.
“I can’t do it! I can’t!”
Her words tugged at my heart and I glanced down at Peanut’s face.
“Look how tightly he’s holding onto you. Little dude has a strong grip.”
She blinked and looked at the way he tugged on her finger.
“Yeah,” she whispered softly.
“He’s strong. Like his mama.”
She shook her head and I saw the panic start to rise in her eyes again.
“I’m not! I’m not strong! All of this . . . it terrifies me.”
“Hey, hey! Sara, you’re the strongest woman I know. You kept him safe for nine months when the world was a big and scary place. You’re doing great. It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out together.”
Tears trembled at the corner of her eyes.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“No, you don’t. You deserve someone a helluva lot better, but I guess you’ll have to put up with my sorry ass now, because me and Peanut have a deal.”
She gave a watery smile.
“You do?”
“Yep, but I can’t tell you ‘cause it’s guy talk.”
“Is that right?” she smiled tearfully.
“Do you think maybe you’d like to hold him now?”
Worry creased her forehead, and I held my breath.
“I might drop him.”
“If you do, I’ll catch him. Or he’ll bounce. One or the other.”
“Zef!”
She gave a soft giggle and then I placed Peanut in her arms, and a look of wonder spread across her face.
Which is how her parents found us an hour later.
“Oh, sweetheart!” and her mom carefully gathered the new mother and son into her arms.
Nathan Weiss shook my hand.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”
Two days later, Sara came home. It wasn’t exactly the celebration we’d imagined, but it was a start, our new life.
For the first several days, she was weak and lightheaded and wasn’t allowed to get out of bed unless I was there. She had to rest, drink plenty of fluids and eat nutritious meals. Luckily, I had help with that, not being much of a cook, although I was actually a lot better than Sara. She’d also been given some iron tablets to help boost her recovery. Tera made a load of meals with green stuff in it, which she said was important because they contained iron. Thank God Tucker was helping her because at least he could find a way to make it edible, too.
Aimee was in and out of our kitchen, as well, but with her own newborn to look after, she tired quickly and either I walked her back to the cabin, or Kes came and took her home.
Sarah’s mom found a grocery store and a deli in town and stocked our cupboards as if we were planning a year-long siege. I guess she didn’t cook either.
“Mom! I do know how to fry an egg!” Sara snapped when her mom tried to take over in the kitchen.
“I’m just trying to help, darling.”
“No, you’re not! You’re interfering!”
I was on full alert, expecting Norah to hit back, but she didn’t.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’re right. But I honestly was just trying to help. I worry about you.”
“Because you think I can’t cope!”
Norah took a tentative step forward and put her arms around Sara’s tense shoulders.
“You’re coping beautifully, darling. I’m so proud of you. I . . . I know I don’t say it very often . . .”
“Or ever . . .”
“I deserve that . . . but I am. Your father . . . both of us . . . we’re so proud of you. And . . . we love you very much.”
I quietly grabbed Peanut and tiptoed out of the kitchen while they both shed some tears. I think they’d needed that for a while now.
Nathan gave me a quick smile and nodded his head.
They stayed another week, getting to know their grandson and repairing their relationship with Sara some. When they left, it was with promises to come again soon and a standing invitation to visit Missoula. I thought it be some time before we went back there.
It took a little while, but gradually Sara started becoming more confident around Peanut. We learned together that yeah, babies are really slippery when they’re wet, and yeah, they shit more than you’d think was humanly possible. Sometimes the little dude was leaking both ends at the same time. It’s amazing how much gross stuff you can get used to.
Socrates was fascinated by Peanut. We’d been cautious, introducing them carefully to each other, but it soon became clear that we’d inherited a guard parrot. Every time a stranger came near, or even Sara’s dad, Socks would yell his head off, shouting, “He’s a tosser! He’s a tosser!”
He liked to stand on the edge of Peanut’s crib and peer in. And you know what, that crazy lil bag of feathers learned to rock the crib when Peanut started to cry. I swear, we didn’t teach him to do it, but after watching us a few times, he started doing it by himself.
Kes and Aimee tried to borrow him for baby-sitting duties, but he’d stay all of five minutes before flying back to us.
Since Peanut and Dove seemed to enjoy being snuggled up together, we’d often put them down for naps in the same crib.
Bo took a little longer to get used to not being the youngest one anymore. He was quickly bored with both Dove and Peanut, since all they did was eat, sleep and shit, and wouldn’t play with him. But he liked them when they were quiet and would often join them—then we’d find two human babies and Bo’s furry body all curled up together, with Socks on duty. If that isn’t the definition of a carnie family, I don’t know what is.
A week after coming home, Sara began moving around by herself. She was still stiff and sore, but definitely doing better, and smiling all of the time. And that’s when I knew we were going to be okay.
Not that I thought for a second it would be easy, but we had each other, and we had our son.
But there was something else that I did care about.
Since we didn’t need a paternity test for legal reasons like child support or custody, I had hoped that we could order an at-home DNA paternity test, but it turned out that because of the likely high similarity between Liam’s DNA and Owen’s, it needed to be done by a registered clinic.
Sara hated doing it, but she needed to be able to tell Peanut who his biological father was one day. Fuckin’ sucked.
Owen was quick to send in his swab and the result came back with a ‘probability of paternity 35%’. Owen wasn’t Peanut’s father.
It took a lot longer to chase Liam down, but in the end he complied and the results came back: 99.9% probability of paternity.
I didn’t know how to feel about that and neither did Sara.
In the end, she decided to tell Owen first.
I was pacing in the other room as Sara made the call.
“I thought you’d want to know, you’re not the father. No, I’m sure. No . . . no . . . it’s Li—it’s your dad’s.”
She took a long stuttering breath and added,
“I’m sorry.”
I strode into the room as the phone slid from her hand.
“It’s okay, Sara,” I held her tightly and kissed her forehead as she clung to me. “It’s okay.”
“He was so . . . so . . . cold,” she sighed shakily, and I hated Owen even more for being such a dick.
Then she took a deep, shuddering breath.
“I didn’t think . . . well, I guess I’d better phone Liam with the good news,” she said, her face twisting.
“I’ll do it for you.”
“No . . . I should do it.”
She picked up the phone again and dialed.
As our nerves began to shred, he answered on the tenth ring.
“Liam, the test came back positive . . . yes. I don’t want to make trouble for you, Liam . . . yeah, well, you deserved that . . . no, look . . . I’m sorry about Tilly and . . . I am . . . I don’t want to fight with you. I’m emailing you some papers . . . no, listen! Zef wants to legally adopt him. He wants to be the father—he already is. The papers explain the termination of rights. All you need to do is sign on the dotted line and that’s it. You never have to see me or Peanut again. Ever.”
The silence stretched out and I found it hard to breathe.
Finally, she yelled, “Fuck you!” and tossed her phone onto the table.
Peanut started crying and I immediately went to him. But Sara pushed past me, gathering him into her arms and pressing her cheek against his, as if she was drawing strength from his softness and sweetness, his touch soothing her.
“How’d it go?” I asked, taking him expertly from her arms while she unbuttoned the front of her shirt and pulled out a boob.
She winced slightly as Peanut started sucking, and my balls hid, traumatized by the pain I could see on her face.
I was beginning to think the kid was born with teeth, and I could testify to the fact that those gums of his had a pretty strong grip.
Sara shrugged when I mentioned Liam, but I could see the hurt on her face.
“Pretty much what I’d expected. He doesn’t want anything to do with Peanut. He’ll sign the papers.” She took a shuddering breath. “And even if he didn’t, the lawyer told us his rights will be terminated if he doesn’t come forward to actively object.” She laughed mirthlessly. “So there’s no chance of that.”
Yeah, the lawyer had told us that, but until those papers were signed, until it was irrevocable that Liam wanted nothing to do with Peanut, I didn’t believe it would happen.
If we would’ve gotten married, I would legally be assumed to be the father so there would’ve been no process, but I wanted to do it right, not in a rush or in any way that could make her I think I didn’t want her for her.
She was still struggling with being a mother—I didn’t need to add to her stress right now.
When we arrived at Arcata’s courtroom that cold, gray February morning, I’d half-expected to see Liam there. Even knowing that he’d signed the papers, I thought he might come to see the kid he’d fathered, just once. But he didn’t.
Maybe it was better that way, but it made me want to punch him. I decided holding Peanut was a safer bet because he’d keep my fists out of trouble. Gently, I took the soft bundle from Sara’s arms and she threw me a questioning look.
I just shook my head and she raised her eyebrows, then smiled at me and my boy.
Peanut was sleeping soundly. His cheeks were flushed and the dusting of light brown hair stuck to his skull in the overheated courtroom. I was probably underdressed for a formal occasion, but my jeans were clean and oil-stain free, and my plaid shirt wasn’t missing a single button.
Sara sat next to me, smiling down at Peanut. She was also wearing jeans, and a light cotton jacket that she told me was smart-casual.
But it irritated me that I couldn’t completely hate Liam either, because he’d given us Peanut. Jeez, we were really going to have to begin using his real name, sooner rather than later, or he’d start thinking that he’d been born into a family of nuts.
The judge greeted us all, then questioned Sara, making sure she understood her rights as well as the rights he was terminating on Liam’s behalf. I was questioned, too, so the judge knew that I understood my rights, what I was signing up to. Hell yeah, I knew!
Then the documents were signed and witnessed, and that was it. I’d jumped through all the hoops for the social worker, and guess I’d passed with flying colors. I’d proven financial ability, survived a psych evaluation and home-study, and even gotten through the criminal background check since I hadn’t reoffended and been leaving clean. I was legally Peanut’s father.
Sara looked down at Peanut and across at me, and although her expression was a little sad, her lips curved upwards.
“Guess this is it,” she said, a small smile on her face.
“Guess it is.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah, I’m ready to be Peanut’s dad for real.”
She smiled up at me.
“You don’t need a piece of paper for that, Zef. You’re the one who was there when he was born; you were the first person to hold him; you’re the one who gets up and feeds him in the night; you’re the one who changes his diapers; and you’re the one who tells him stories about the carnival. You’re his daddy. His real daddy.”
I pressed my lips against hers, then bent down to kiss Peanut’s forehead.
It was true. I already felt like a father—a piece of paper was just the legal icing on the cake.
I signed my name with a flourish and stood up, the proud, legal father of a six-week old baby boy.
Next stop was the nearest tattoo parlor—I had two new names to add to my ink.