Nancy Part 2

Sister Jones didn’t call herself Sister Jones. She actually called herself Mary. However, she was female and she was Mormon, so everyone in her church called her Sister Jones; this included Nancy. Sister Jones had run track while attending Brigham Young University. She won the admiration of her coach and her teammates with her dedication to her sport. She figured, with some of the other girls on her team, that if she was still menstruating then she wasn’t pushing her body enough. So she ran and ran until she didn’t menstruate anymore. And later when she met Brother Jones, no relation at the time, she held off on her sport in order to fall in love. Since having children is what every Mormon lady was born to do, she was naturally heartbroken when, four years later, the doctors informed her that her battered uterus was too scarred and wasted to hold and grow a baby. “What about my eggs?” Oh, they’re fine, just fine; it’s just that her uterus was in slightly better condition than a well-used baseball mitt. So she cried and cried, having her greatest worth stolen from her athletic body by the silver medal she won in the Atlanta Olympic Games.

# # #

Nancy met Sister Jones on an airplane the summer before Nancy got pregnant; Brother Jones was not traveling with his wife at the time. The two women serendipitously found themselves sharing adjacent seats on two different planes from Anchorage, Alaska to Salt Lake City, Utah. Nancy had spent the summer as a tour guide on a small Alaskan island and had used a chunk of the money she earned to upgrade her return flight to Utah into the only first class ticket she had ever bought. Sister Jones had been visiting relatives in Eagle River. Flying first class was habit for her.

They began conversation quite easily as Mormons often do, and they conversed the whole flight quite easily, as Mormons sometimes do. Many life-long friendships begin in the seats of commercial airlines. Nancy and Sister Jones’ relationship was not one of these. It very well could have been, but no. Sometime in their conversations it occurred to Sister Jones that Nancy could serve a very different purpose.

Brother and Sister Jones had recently come to a decision about how they were going to have a child. Nancy listened to Sister Jones’ plight while on the flight from Anchorage to Seattle. The Jones had tried adopting twice and both times each birth mother had legally taken her baby back after two months. The Jones didn’t want that heartache again. Hence their decision.

Nancy asked questions; Sister Jones answered. They sat together in awkward silence at SeaTac International. In that silence, Nancy chose. Not for money. No, she felt herself drawn into a plan much bigger than she could conceive. On the flight from Seattle to Salt Lake, Nancy offered her service.

Sister Jones didn’t hear her right at first. “What did you say?”

“Choose me. I’ll do it.”

Sister Jones paused, considering. Then, “Nancy… this sort of thing is usually done by a woman who has had at least two successful childbirths before.”

Pause.

Then Nancy said, “I’ve had one successful child birth before.” She glanced at Sister Jones to see her reaction. Sister Jones only leaned in a bit and raised her eyebrows a bit. Nancy opened the floodgate, “I was seventeen. I wasn’t going to church at the time, like that’s the reason, right? I mean a whole bunch of girls don’t go to church and they don’t get pregnant.”

Sister Jones interrupted, “I don’t know. I go to church… and I’m NOT pregnant.” She smiled.

Nancy had to laugh. She continued, “It wasn’t like it is on any shows or movies. Even the serious ones. He was a nice boy, a really nice boy. I spent a lot of time over at his place and his parents worked and… I dunno. One thing led to another, you know? After the first time, I was so scared. He was, too. We didn’t even use anything. Which I know is dumb. I mean Planned Parenthood is right up the street, but how do you go into a place like that without having gone into a place like that before, right?” Nancy couldn’t believe she was divulging so much. She felt compelled and she didn’t understand why. She kept going, “We promised each other we wouldn’t, you know, do it again. And we didn’t. Until after my period came then we were both so relieved. And after you do it once and nothing happens, you get kinda stupid. I mean, I always knew there was a chance, and I think he did, too.” Pause. “But I got pregnant a couple months later. His parents totally freaked. His mom even quit her job to stay home all the time to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. My foster parents didn’t seem to care. They got their check from the state regularly, the baby would come just before I turned eighteen, and then they’d be rid of me. The most they did was call the local Bishop who got me in touch with social services… you know, the Church’s social services.”

Sister Jones nodded, waiting for more. Nancy swallowed and went on, “Did you know that less than one percent of unwed mothers give their kid up for adoption? You’d think it be more. I thought of keeping the baby for a while – even while I was working with the social workers and picking out the adopting parents. Which is weird. Picking the parents, I mean. They all fill out these forms that are like classified ads and they just sell themselves. It comes down to picking your flavor of perfection. I would never be like those people. What finally convinced me to do it was Christmas that year. I didn’t have a job and there was no way I was going to be able to give my kid a clean home much less presents. I hear about other pregnant women who feel connected to their baby – like they love it already. That doesn’t happen when you’re scared and your boyfriend’s parents won’t even let you talk to him on the phone and your foster parents are lazy shits who just like their monthly check… sorry…” She looked up at Sister Jones and saw she was crying. Sister Jones reached over and took Nancy’s hand. “I usually don’t swear,” Nancy said, which was a kind of a half truth; she usually didn’t swear half the time. But Sister Jones didn’t seem to mind. Nancy thought it was weird that Sister Jones was holding her hand and crying. Nancy didn’t know where to go next in her confession. Yes, she realized, that’s what it was, a confession. She hadn’t even told a Bishop this much (not until Bishop Christensen, but that would be later). She didn’t feel like crying, which made Sister’s Jones’s tears all the weirder. A shock of turbulence prodded Nancy to conclude, “Anyway, I’ve had one successful birth. She was born healthy. So they tell me, I told them I didn’t even want to see her… I kinda regret that now, but it’s okay.” Suddenly she felt tears starting to come. She swallowed once. Then twice, and fought them down.

###

Sister Jones thought about this, and thought about this. She liked Nancy, and she felt good about using Nancy. Sister Jones had healthy eggs and Nancy looked like she had a healthy body. Nancy may or may not have needed the money that Brother and Sister Jones were willing to pay. But Nancy didn’t even talk about the money. Sister Jones sensed another reason – one she didn’t understand.

When the plane landed in Salt Lake International, Brother Jones met his wife at the baggage claim. No one waited for Nancy. She wasn’t surprised. The Jones hugged and kissed and such. Nancy waited. Brother Jones, who didn’t notice Nancy, spoke first.

“Good news, honey!”

“What’s that?”

“The lawyers tracked down a single mother in Vernal. She’s had three successful births and no miscarriages.” Pause “Isn’t that great?”

“Vernal? Isn’t that a bit far away?”

“Oh, it won’t be too bad. We’d be able to drive there once a month.”

Sister Jones glanced at Nancy. Brother Jones followed her eyes and looked at Nancy as well. Nancy felt as if she was supposed to say something. She tried to put the words together to explain why she wanted to help them. But all that came out was, “Hi.”

Who are you? Brother Jones asked with his creased eyebrows. Sister Jones grabbed his arm and told Nancy they’d think about it and call her.

“And it was nice talking to you, Nancy.”

Sister Jones started leading Brother Jones towards the exit, whispering explanations as she went. Nancy watched them go. She sat down in a chair at baggage claim for almost an hour before she finally picked up her bag and walked to the airport shuttle desk.

# # #

Two weeks later as Nancy sat in her apartment reading Wise Blood, she got a call from Sister Jones. The following two weeks after that were full of doctors and lawyers and forms to fill out and doctors and lawyers and doctors. One of these doctors was Brother Jones. He happened to be one of the most successful OB/GYNs in Utah (having, of course, a wide range of customers to serve). He examined Nancy twice himself. This was going to be his baby after all.

Before the operation, Nancy prayed and prayed and prayed. She didn’t call her former foster parents in Orem. Instead, she prayed. She didn’t feel a warm fuzzy or love or joy or gentleness or goodness or anything she was taught to feel. After some time of praying she just knew what she was about to do was right. It was knowledge—not emotion.

So she showed up at the agreed upon time that at the Orem Community Hospital a few blocks from where she spent her Jr. High years; and the doctors, Brother Jones among them, placed a part of Sister Jones and a part of Brother Jones up inside Nancy. Sister Jones wasn’t there; she was resting the day in a different hospital with better facilities after having a few thousand of her eggs harvested from her body. Nancy was conscious the whole time and felt some discomfort while the doctors impregnated her, but felt no pain. She didn’t feel much of anything until about five weeks later week later when she began throwing up rather regularly each morning.

And so it went.

# # #

Nancy did have one friend while she attended BYU. She just didn’t know she did until a few weeks before she delivered. His name was John and she actually knew him before his mission when they attended Mountain View High School together. Neither of them went to church very often back then, so they naturally clung together—being too Mormon for the non-Mormons and not Mormon enough for the others. And as it often works itself out, both had decided after graduation (her after her delivery, him after his only possession conviction) to go back to church when they didn’t have to attend with their families anymore. John eventually decided on a mission; he went to Michigan. And Nancy decided on getting a degree—and not that damned M.R.S. either—she was at the college advisement center smoothing out some details for graduation when John walked in to declare his major. They hadn’t seen each other since before his mission.

“Holy crap! Nancy?!!”

“John?!!”

“Yeah! Holy crap!”

“Yeah! When did you get back?”

“Like over two months ago. Last I heard from you, you were going to Alaska for the summer. That was like a year ago.” Implying, of course, that she had stopped writing. Which she had.

“Yeah… sorry… some things came up.”

“Well, whatever, I’ve been trying to find you, but nobody knew where you were and you don’t have anything listed on Route Y.”

“Well, yeah. Just in case Sister Grendel comes looking for me.”

John laughed. That was what John used to call Nancy’s foster mom. “Damn, it’s good to see you, Nancy!”

Nancy glanced at the advisement counselor whose desk they still stood at. The counselor didn’t seem too amused. Nancy still had a few more details to work out… oh, screw it. She grabbed John’s elbow and headed for the door. Over her shoulder she said to the counselor, “I’ll be back in a while.”

“But…” was all Nancy heard before she and John got into the hallway. She slugged John in the shoulder.

“Ow, what the hell was that for?”

Nancy pursed her lips in ticked-off fashion but smiled with the rest of her face. “You’re at BYU now, John. People won’t put up with your crappy language.”

John rubbed his arm, feigning pain. “They didn’t care at UVSC.”

“Yeah, because they’re more worried about their students being able to sign their own names.”

“Oooh, ouch. That hurts more than you punching me. Your husband put up with this kind of abuse?”

Nancy felt her stomach drop. “I…” She looked down at the hugeness that was her belly. Not John, too, oh God, not John. Inexplicably, her eyes began welling up.

John saw her tears and said, “Oh damn, is he dead or something? I’m so sorry. I just…”

Nancy looked up at him. He looked scared and concerned, like accidentally-ran-over-his-sister’s-dog-concerned. The laughter burst out of her in a half-sob. John’s expression quickly changed. His holy-hell-my-friend-is-a-hormonally-insane-basket-case expression made her laugh harder. She wiped at the tears on her cheeks and said through her laughter, “Oh, man, John. No, it’s okay. I’m not married.”

It took a moment for that to register. Then he pointed at her belly and said, “But you’re huge… again…” His face reflected some rapid-fire logic-checking. Nancy could tell if they were just down the hill at UVSC, he wouldn’t have paused for so long. “It’s not Chris again, is it?”

She laughed again. John and her old boyfriend never really got along, though they all used to hang out. “Oh, hell no. You didn’t hear? His Guard unit got called up. He’s in Baghdad last I heard.”

“No kidding?” Pause. “So you’re not married?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Well, are pregnant women as hungry as they say?”

She shook her head. “More.”

“You had lunch yet?”

“Nope.”

“You still like Teriyaki Stix?”

“Love it.”

“Well, let’s go see if the lunch rush has died down. My treat.”

She smiled and hooked her hand into the looped elbow he offered.

When they sat down with their trays of food in the Cougareat, John spoke first. “So you’re pregnant. No offense, but you look huge.”

“Thanks. Didn’t they teach you any manners on your mission?”

“My mission president’s wife tried to.”

“And?”

“I told her husband a J. Golden Kimball story.”

“Which story?”

“The one where he’s sent to St. George or Podunk, Southern Utah or somewhere to shape up a ward that’s not paying their tithing. Of course the whole town shows up because J. Golden’s known to color up his sermons. Anyway, he stands up at the pulpit holding a stack of papers and tells the congregation, ‘This here is the Lord’s shit list and all your names are on it!’ Then he slams the stack of papers on the pulpit.”

Nancy smiled wryly. “Is that story true?”

“Does it matter? My mission president loved it and his wife never bothered me again.”

“You haven’t changed that much.”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Well aren’t guys supposed to come back… I dunno… different from their missions?”

“Well maybe my weird stage took shorter than others?”

“Weird stage?”

“Yeah, you know. I’m going to live all the right rules and get married within a year and memorize everything written by Bruce McConkie. You know—carry the spirit of your mission with you and all that. It’s not human.”

“I’m glad I didn’t see you two months ago then.”

“I’m trying to forget I even knew myself then.”

Pause.

“You ready for this?” she asked.

He nodded. “I think so.”

“I’m a surrogate mother.”

Pause. He’s not saying anything. Maybe he has changed.

But then. “You’re shitting me.”

She smirked again. “Will you stop it? People might start shooting.”

“You’re serious.” A statement. Not a question.

“Yeah, I am.” But she could see he didn’t need her reassurance. He believed her. And he didn’t make any sign of discomfort or trying to move.

“Whoa. Do they even allow that kind of stuff?” By ‘they’ she knew John meant the same they who ran BYU and called young men and women on missions—the Church.

“Well my Bishop says that in his book of instructions, it just says that it’s ‘highly discouraged’ but there’s nothing in the handbook or the Honor Code that says ‘no way.’”

“Well, yeah, I guess that makes sense. I mean, you haven’t broken the law of chastity or anything… anymore…” He widened his eyes and cocked his head in mock seriousness. John wasn’t any more a paragon of virtue in high school than Nancy was and they both knew it. In fact, that one time during the party at Chris’s house when Nancy walked in on John and what’s-her-face… Nancy’s face flushed and she kicked him under the table.

“Ow!”

“I swear, John. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t still kick your butt.”

“Okay, okay. Man, I really think that’s gonna bruise.”

“Like I care.” She laughed. “Now start behaving. No conversations with return missionaries are like this. At least none I’ve heard about.”

“Alright, alright.” He laughed along. “So do you know the people? The ones who you’re doing this for?”

So she told him about the Joneses. And she told him as best she could why she felt she was doing it.

John nodded in apparent deep thought. After a moment he said, almost to himself, “Man, this is wild.” He looked up and both he and Nancy laughed briefly at his summation. “Well it is, isn’t it?”

She had to agree, “Yeah it is.”

“So what are other people’s reactions like when you tell them?”

“Not like this. They usually just stop talking to me. It’s like it’s really awkward for them. Like they don’t know how to process it.”

“Hmmh. That’s too bad. You know, I actually met a woman on my mission in Jackson who was pregnant doing the same type of thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we taught her all the discussions but she just didn’t ever come out to church.”

“Oh.”

“She said she was getting paid something like twenty thousand dollars to carry the baby.”

“People are willing to pay a lot of money to do this.”

“I guess. So when are you due?”

“Next month. Two or three weeks after graduation.”

“Well that sucks.”

“Why?”

“I’m thinking of going to Alaska for the summer. I probably won’t be able to be here when…” He tried to find the least awkward way to say give-birth-to-a-baby-that’s-not-really-yours.

Nancy saved him. “Really? What are you doing in Alaska?”

“Well I have a friend who hooked me up to work with this tourist spot on an island off the Alaskan coast.”

And so they talked about Alaska for the rest of their lunch. John saw her almost every day before he went to Alaska. He also came to her graduation. He brought flowers.

# # #

The soon to be un-mother screamed in pain.

“Oh, God!”

“Hold on, you’re doing fine, honey.”

“It hurts so bad!”

“Yes, I know. You’re going to be okay.”

“... Oh, God!”

“Here, the doctor’s coming. You’re going to be okay.”

“Nurse! How is she doing?”

“She’s completely dilated, Doctor Jones.”

“Is she ready to go?”

“We haven’t given her an enema yet, but there’s no time now.”

“Fine, we’ll just go ahead. Hook her up. Is my wife here?”

“I’m right here, dear.”

“Are you ready for this?”

“I don’t know. Is Nancy okay?”

“She’s fine.”

“But, she’s screaming.”

“So would you. And she won’t be screaming much longer; they’re hooking up the epidural right now.”

“Can I go talk to her?”

“Sure, honey.”

“Nancy?”

“…”

“How are you feeling?”

“…”

“You’re breathing so hard. My husband says you won’t feel that much pain in a moment.”

“...”

“I just want you to know how thankful I am that I met you on the plane that day and that you’re making our family a possibility. And…you can come see the baby whenever you want. And…and…just…thank you.”

“Sister Jones.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t talk to me right now.”

# # #

“You’re doing great, Nancy. Just keep bearing down. Push! Good. Just a few more like that. You’re doing wonderfully. Just keep going. His head is right here, Nancy! You’re so close. Come on! Come on!”

Nancy felt like her bowels were having the largest movement of her life. But she couldn’t feel much of anything below her waist. Brother Jones sat tensely on a stool between her spread legs. His latex gloves dripped blood and slime. And it stunk horribly.

“Oh, God!”

And Nancy churned out a baby.

“He’s here, Nancy! He’s out! He’s okay! You’re just fine! Oh, he’s beautiful! Can you see him, dear?”

“Yes, he is beautiful!” Sister Jones stood just behind her husband. She was crying. So was the newborn baby.

So was Nancy. In between sobs, she could hear nurses in the hallway joking with each other.

“Hey, there’s a code brown in here. Who gets to clean it up?”

Some laughter.

“Didn’t someone give her an enema before the doctor came?”

“There wasn’t enough time. She was in the room then she was giving birth. Well, whose turn is it?”

“It’s Martha’s.”

“Oh, crap. Is it really my turn?”

Some more snickering.

# # #

A nurse cleaned the baby from all the blood, water, and crap he came out with. Nancy watched as the nurse wiped him clean. He was an ugly thing. How can something so ugly be so gorgeous? The nurse finished cleaning the baby and wrapped him in a small blanket. She walked to Nancy’s bed, past her, and placed the baby in Sister Jones’ arms. Brother Jones had discarded his dirty gloves, cap, and surgeon gown and stood next to his wife and son.

Something broke in Nancy’s chest. It fell to her stomach and gurgled up her throat. Her face twisted into a sob as she lay there not holding the child she had held closer than anyone.

# # #

Brother/Doctor Jones sedated her when she wouldn’t stop crying. She slept until mid-evening and woke to a cramping gut and sore crotch. She realized immediately she was in a different room. And that someone was in there with her.

“Hey, Nancy. Nice nap?”

She turned her head and saw the familiar balding head and glasses.

“Bishop.” She managed a weak smile. “How’d you know?”

He put down the book he’d been reading. “Your roommates called their Bishop who got a hold of me. I got here not long after you went to sleep.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh about five hours ago.” He tried to make it sound like nothing.

“You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Well, I’ve had to use the bathroom a few times.”

She smiled again. “Your jokes really aren’t that funny, you know.”

“Yeah. My wife keeps telling me that, too. She was here, you know?”

“Was she?”

“Yeah, she went home to watch the kids.” Pause. “You know what? Hold on a second.”

Bishop Christensen walked out of the room and returned less than five minutes later. In his arms, he carried the baby. Nancy started choking up again. Just outside the door, Nancy could just see the Joneses.

“They wanted to make sure you saw him,” the Bishop whispered, “I think they feel kind of bad for not letting you hold the baby first.”

“They told you?”

“I kind of grilled them. Here, hold out your arms.”

Nancy did and received the baby she’d delivered. He was asleep and wrapped in some sort of blue onesie-bag with sleeves. He wore a tiny blue knit cap on his head. He was less purple than when Nancy first saw him earlier – less ugly, too.

She smiled at the baby and said, “Hello there.” He didn’t respond, of course. Didn’t even move, just kept sleeping and breathing steadily. She wasn’t prepared for how light he felt. He had felt like a bowling ball in her belly. And now… She didn’t know quite what to feel. So many movies she had seen made it seem like a mother sees her baby the first time and instantly falls in love. No one really prepared her for this – that you don’t necessarily love the baby right off. She kept thinking to herself that she had carried this human being in her body. This baby… in her body… It felt unreal. For the first time, she wondered if the Joneses felt anything toward him. It surprised her to think that they would. Of course they would. They’ll fall in love with him eventually and they’ll care for him and he’ll grow up and meet someone and fall in love and have kids himself. His whole life flashed through her mind. And it didn’t bother her that she wasn’t really part of it. And, surprisingly, it didn’t bother her that she was okay with that. Am I shallow, she asked herself, because I’m so willing to give him up now even though the thought hurt me so before? She didn’t know, but thought she could use some time to think about it. Maybe during a long drive to Alaska.

She looked up to the Bishop who stood close by but respectfully out of reach. The Joneses still stood in the hall, apparently okay with not being asked in. Nancy blinked past her tears.

“So,” she whispered, “what did they name him?”