Beauty from Ashes

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 25

I’ve been on my phone looking at the same posts for half an hour or longer when Dr. Bell finally steps in. I get this sense she’s a fascinating woman. You’d think that somebody nerdy enough to get all the way through medical school wouldn’t waste too much time on things like fashion or makeup, but Dr. Bell could probably pose for one of the articles in the mommy magazines she keeps in her waiting room. She’s not gorgeous, not the kind of woman you wouldn’t trust your boyfriend around. More like the big sister you look up to but know you’ll always stay stuck in her shadow no matter how hard you try.

Dr. Bell smiles and shakes my hand. It’s not formal when she does it, and when she’s done she gives my shoulder a short rub. “How are you today?” That’s the difference between an actual pediatrician and all those specialists we saw in Seattle. The specialists never think to ask the parents how they’re doing.

“Pretty good,” I answer automatically, afraid she might not believe me. It’s stupid and immature. I feel like the new kid in junior high all over again, just hoping the pretty girl takes pity on me and asks me to sit at the cool table in the lunch room.

Dr. Bell’s got these soft eyes. I think that’s part of why she looks so young, that and her fabulous skin. If we were friends, I’d ask her what products she recommends, how she keeps her complexion so smooth. But that’s not the kind of relationship we have, and as she flips through Natalie’s chart, I fill the uncomfortable silence by saying, “You know, she had a really good day Monday.”

Dr. Bell sets down her clipboard. “Tell me about it.” I find myself wondering if she has a husband. Maybe a dark, sexy boyfriend. Heck, for all I know, she might have both.

“Well,” I begin and pray that I don’t yak her ear off and make a complete fool of myself, “she was awake for half an hour or more in the afternoon. I mean, she still doesn’t make eye contact or anything, but she stayed pretty alert. More than normal, at least.”

I can hear the hopefulness in my own voice. It’s pathetic really. That’s what I was so excited about? That’s the progress I couldn’t wait to tell her?

“Oh, and she didn’t need to be suctioned that whole time.” I’m saying this, but all I’m thinking about is how pretty Dr. Bell must have been as a teenager, how all the boys probably had crushes on her and all the teachers adored her and all the girls wanted to be just like her. Even the way she holds that pen. She’s so poised and confident. That’s why I say she could be in one of those mommy magazines.

“Still three or four times an hour on average?” Dr. Bell’s looking at me, and I have to rewind what I just heard to figure out she’s asking me how often I suction Natalie these days.

“Yeah, about that. It gets worse after she eats.”

“Immediately after?”

“No, about half an hour.”

“So you give her a tube feeding, and then about thirty minutes after that is when she needs the most suctioning?” Now you know what I mean when I described her as being thorough.

“Yeah. That’s about right.” I like this conversation, this back and forth we’re having. I realize I don’t have anyone in my life to just sit down and talk with.

“Now tell me about her eating habits. She’s still taking 95 mLs six times a day?”

“Yeah.” I’m amazed at the way she remembers the number without looking at Natalie’s chart.

“Well, let’s go ahead and increase that to 105 mLs. See if we can get her weight up some more. And those six feedings, is that spread out just through the day, or does she need a snack at night too?”

I love the way she talks about Natalie as if my baby understands concepts like snacks or hunger. With the G-tube, she doesn’t even have to be awake to get fed. In fact, most of the time she’s dead to the world.

“She gets a feeding at night, but that’s just because it’s the schedule she’s on.”

Dr. Bell nods. I wish I could have her over to my house. I have the feeling that if she saw Natalie there, she’d be even more understanding. More sympathetic. I want to sit with her in my living room over coffee. Talk about our jerky ex-boyfriends or what med school was like. I don’t even know if doctors still have to practice on corpses or not. There’s no way I can picture her covered in sweat and grime and dissecting some dead stiff.

Dr. Bell’s writing on the chart. “Let’s try this. Let’s stick with six feedings a day, but let’s do them every three hours starting first thing in the morning. I want you to try it and call me Friday to let me know how she’s handling it. What I’m hoping is it will give you a chance to sleep straight through the night for a change.”

She looks at me with so much compassion that I wouldn’t tell her that my mother-in-law takes care of the night feedings even if I had to testify under oath.

“And what about you?” Dr. Bell asks me. “Are you getting the support you need? It’s not easy to ask for help, I know that, but sometimes it’s the best thing you can do for you and your baby.”

Now she sounds like she could write a mommy magazine article in addition to modeling for one. It’s kind of funny in a sad way how she thinks that my biggest problem is not having enough help.

“We’re managing ok.”

“I know it’s a lot of work,” she says with a soft smile, “but it’s really paying off. I don’t know if Barb told you, but she’s gained four ounces since last time she was here. I think increasing the formula’s going to help a lot too. Good job, Mom.”

I’m pretty used to medical professionals calling me mom by this point. That’s basically all I went by with the nurses in the NICU. But part of me’s afraid I’m about to say something really cheesy like Call me Tiff. It’s what my friends do. Thankfully, Dr. Bell turns those kind eyes away and writes something on her clipboard.

“Just hang in there. This new schedule will hopefully get you some of that rest you need. And don’t forget, it’s perfectly fine to take a nap. I know some parents in your situation get nervous about that, but that’s why we got you the apnea monitor.”

I meet her smile this time and decide then and there that I’m not going to bring up the DNR today. Dr. Bell thinks I’m doing a good job. I’m not about to burst her bubble.