The Baltimore Princess
Shay watched the clock, eleven-fifty-eight p.m. Two excruciating minutes to wait for the news
she needed to hear. She rubbed her
distended belly affectionately and smiled.
Her baby had to be a girl; just had to be for everything to work out
right. Contractions startled and then
pained her.
“Now I know you want to come out little one, but we
have to wait for Princess Kate to deliver first. I just know it gonna be tonight. Her baby gonna have a wonderful life and so
are you, cause I’m gonna name you the
same. You two be linked forever. I know it true, you’ll
see. Life will be heaven for the
princess and you.”
Outside her two-room apartment in the poorest section of
Baltimore, gunshots were fired.
Instinctively, Shay crouched low behind the decaying sofa, but made sure
she snatched the remote so she could turn on the TV. “Ain’t
nobody gonna harm you little one. They
can’t, just impossible.”
She fixed her gaze on the clock, barely visible beyond the top of
the sofa. 12 a.m. She pushed the ‘on’
button of the remote. The
nineteen inch tube set hummed as it warmed up.
Finally, horizontal lines jiggled across the screen before a clear
picture of the CNN news set appeared.
Sitting straighter, the sixteen-year-old giggled like the little
girl she was, and wrapped arms around her child within as Breaking News, flashed
across the screen. And then she slumped- bad news!
“A house fire in Loch Raven has taken the lives of
four family members and a fireman who tried to rescue them.”
Brushing the bad news aside, she recovered. “Come
on Kate, you gotta have that girl soon, cause I ain’t gonna
last this night.” More contractions sent a wave of pain
through her and she grimaced. “Hold
on girl, we gotta wait, you know that.”
The TV blared, “In other news, the baby
watch continues for Kate Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge and Prince
William. Just as interesting is the
speculation as to what the royal couple will name the little girl.”
She watched, fascinated.
“There is a tremendous amount of speculation about
what they will name the new Princess,” the
co-anchor said.
“Everyone in England is captivated, anxious about
learning any news concerning the newest member of the Royal Family.”
Shay sat, no words graced her lips. Then the spasms began again. One involuntary
scream escaped her mouth. She turned the
TV volume up, hoping if she tuned into the news and focused totally, the pain
would go away. Breathing deeply and
concentrating on the screen distracted her enough. The newsman commented, “Stay
tuned tonight for special coverage of Kate, William and the new baby. We will bring you the news as soon as it
happens, which, we are told, will not be long.”
Shay took short, quick breaths and stared at her focus point, the
TV screen. The nurse who visited earlier
in her pregnancy, had instructed her what to do when her time was near. She remembered and concentrated. Sirens pierced the night, and filled the
street below, as gunfire erupted one more time.
The contractions backed off by 2:28 a.m., causing her to be
euphoric. “We gonna
make it, little baby. We gonna make it.” The angry and screaming voices outside
her window had ceased and the television anchors kept saying that any minute
news of the royal baby would come.
Shay moved to the couch and sat cross-legged, leaned back,
cradling her belly in her arms. Her eyes
never left the TV screen, fearing she would miss the initial news if she
allowed her gaze to wander.
A story about wild fires in California, and soaking rain and
tornadoes in Oklahoma kept her interest.
She hummed lullabies, learned from a baby book the home health care
nurse had provide; Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, Brahm’s
Lullaby, and her favorite, Hush, Little Baby.
During a commercial about iPhones, she began singing, changing papa to
mama:
Hush little baby don’t say a word,
Mama’s gonna buy you a mocking
bird
And if that mockingbird don’t sing,
Mama’s gonna buy you a diamond
ring
And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama’s gonna buy you a looking
glass
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama’s gonna buy you a billy goat
And if that billy goat won’t pull,
Mama’s gonna buy you a cart and a
bull
And if that cart and bull fall down,
You’ll still be the sweetest
little baby in town.
She had barely begun to sing again when the news broke. Kate had her baby. A girl as expected, just
like Shay knew she would have. She
sprang to her feet, happy tears burst from her eyes. She even managed a tiny leap off the floor,
clapping her hands as she did so.
“Now, now you can come, my baby. We workin' on this right now,”
she said emphatically. Supporting
herself by holding onto an arm of the couch, she rose to her feet and began
pacing the room. “This’ll
get you goin'.”
She stopped to squat several times and then rose up and resumed
as fast a pace as she could. Stopping,
she suddenly thought of making sure the bathtub was prepared. A large pillow and two blankets to lie on
were in place. No sense getting the whole
house bloody and full of mucus and what the nurse had called amniotic
fluid.
Shay took the towels she had prepared. They were warm. She paced to the small kitchen counter and
filled the bowl with hot water, placing a washcloth in it, and carried it to
the floor by the tub. She resumed her
pacing. An hour later, she wailed, “No…why
ain’t you comin', little one?”
Desperate tears flowed down her cheeks, dripping onto the floor she
walked. “You gotta
come!”
Quickening her pace, she cried a torrent of tears, Shay
remembered what the nurse had said, “Stay calm, keep your focus.”
She always knew her baby would be born here, not in a hospital,
not with a midwife to help. This was the
place where destiny awaited her child.
This was why the apartment had been prepared so well. She was proud of that. One day, when her baby was old enough to
understand, she would tell her just how much her mother had wanted her, to bear
her at home where they could be as close as a mother and daughter ever could
be.
Shay had never known her birth mother, or real father. At least her little girl was going to know
her mother loved her, wanted her, had dreams, hopes, fears, for her. She would know that her mother had sacrificed
to guarantee she would have every advantage she possibly could. That’s why this whole thing was
so important. Her baby girl would have
to be born the same day as the royal child…and she
would have to bear the same name.
Shay gritted her teeth, “You comin' little girl, you
comin' soon.”
Her pace became hectic; she squatted several times and then
resumed walking, skipping…Finally, she felt labor
spasms. “‘Bout time, little girl.” She quickened her pace, walking
briskly to the bathtub and eased herself down, pulling her loose skirt up
around her waist. Struggling, her
panties came off and she discarded them over the side of the tub.
“Now, baby girl, you come!” Pain like she had never felt before
coursed through her body, the spasms brought relief…and
terror. Sweat poured from her forehead
as she cried in pain and happiness.
Pant, the nurse had said.
She panted, focused on the faucet on the opposite end of the tub. Sweat, more sweat. She was so hot now. A scream escaped, but she quieted
herself. “Gotta do this by myself! Don’t
want no one comin' in!”
Forty torturous minutes passed, and then, the time was right. Her
water broke. She sensed it, could feel it, knew it. Push, push, gotta push. Pant, push, pant, pant, push. She could feel her baby moving inside. Gotta guide her. Sweat getting in her eyes, she strained
to see. Her baby was coming out,
now. Don’t pull on her head,
guide her out.
The crown of the baby’s
head emerged and then her face. Shay
gently placed her hands against the shoulders of the baby and guided her as
more was revealed. It all happened so
quickly. She was out totally, still
connected by the umbilical cord. Shay
gently stroked downward on her baby’s
nose to help expel the excess mucus and amniotic fluid.
Shay shouted with joy and relief when she saw her baby was a
girl. She placed her little one
skin-to-skin on herself with the baby’s
head slightly lower than her body to help drain the mucus. The baby coughed, wailed a tiny one, while
laughter erupted from her mother.
The placenta had accompanied the baby. Shay stared and marveled at what her baby had
lived in for nine months. Clutching her
baby girl close, she wrapped the warm towels around both of them. Chills had set in and she noticed a bloody
discharge flowing from her vagina. She
was glad she had thought ahead and prepared the bathtub for the delivery.
The nurse had told Shay about the cord and how doctors didn’t cut it right away. Holding her baby close to her chest, she
could feel blood pulsing through the cord, but the pulse was gradually
diminishing and she instinctively knew that with the placenta fully expelled
from her body, that she could tie it off and cut it soon.
She picked up the scissors she had placed in the hot water bowl
earlier and pinched the cord with her other hand. Her baby lay securely on her chest, breathing
beautifully. The cord was tougher than
she had thought it would be, taking some effort to snip. Laying the scissors back in the bowl, she
tied the cord tightly and then relaxed.
Her baby felt so much a part of her as she lay on her chest, warm and
happy.
Although exhausted, Shay maneuvered the infant’s mouth to a
nipple. Instantly, the alert baby’s mouth found it and
began sucking. Shay marveled at how her
baby just seemed to know how and what to do.
Her amazement turned to concern when her daughter released the nipple and
cried. No milk? Fear gripped her as she thought the
unthinkable. What if I can’t make milk? No, keep tryin’! Shay guided her infant to the nipple again.
Again her daughter glommed
on and furiously sucked. When she
released again, Shay saw a yellowish liquid dribble from her breast. Gotta keep workin'. She maneuvered her baby to the nipple
again. This time her daughter continued
sucking for several minutes. Relief
flooded Shay’s
soul as her body produced enough colostrum,
the nutrient-rich "pre-milk" or "practice milk”. The yellow color didn’t concern her because the home health nurse had
warned her that it might not be white, like she expected.
The rest of the evening and late morning, the baby would awake
every hour and suckle at her breast.
With difficulty, Shay was able to clean herself and move to the sofa,
which she had fitted with a sheet and blankets.
The TV was still on CNN.
She couldn’t
miss the naming of the new Princess.
Soon, her very own “Princess” would bare the same
name, guaranteeing a heavenly life.
Shay was calmer now, relaxed…but alert. She
had managed to fix herself a baloney sandwich on white bread and mayonnaise and
drink a large glass of whole milk. Tired
as she was, her strength was beginning to return and the anticipation of naming
her child provided her with an alertness that was surprising, even to her.
The entire day of May 2, 2015, passed with no news of the new
Princess’s
name.
On May 3, 2015 at eleven a.m. the funeral of Freddie Gray was set
to begin. He was the black man who had
died a week after being taken into police custody. At 1:42 p.m. his casket was loaded into a
hearse. At 3:30p.m. dozens of police
gathered on the streets. Protesters
began to confront police at 3:34 p.m. and began throwing bottles at officers at
3:41. Soon smoke was billowing from the
street and a car was wrecked. A massive
fire at Federal and Gay Streets raging by 5:51pm.
Shay watched in horror as the carnage continued throughout the
day and evening. Camden Yards was closed
at 6:19 p.m. Rioters cut fire
hoses. CVS was looted and went up in smoke. A curfew was imposed from 10pm to 5am.
Tears streamed from her eyes as she watched everything unfold on
national and local television. Her baby
was born into chaos. How can this
be? It’s gotta stop, gotta stop!
Shay slept fitfully during the day and evening of May 3,
2015. Her baby continued on a schedule
of sleeping and eating every one to two hours.
Curiously, it had been quiet outside her small apartment. Whether people were afraid to go outside or
not, she didn’t know or care. She welcomed the order and
silence. The riotous streets of
Baltimore appeared to be calming and her baby had settled into a sleep and eat
routine she found natural and relaxing.
Still…one act needed to be complete.
The Princess had to be named.
Why they taking so long to decide? Shay found herself becoming
anxious again. Something wrong with
the baby? God, no, don’t
make it so!
May 4, 2015 at 2:05 p.m., Baltimore time, the news broke. Across the screen, Breaking news, Special
Report, appeared. Shay clutched her
baby to her breast. She was feeding
again. Milk was now plentiful, satiating
the baby whenever a need arose. Turning
the volume up, Shay listened intently.
She was shaking as the announcer broke the news. Charlotte Elizabeth Diana.
Laughter erupted from Shay, causing her baby to pull away and
stop nursing. A tiny cry escaped from
her mouth. “I’m
sorry, my little girl, I’m sorry, but you got a name
now.” She
guided Charlotte Elizabeth Diana to her nipple where the Baltimore Princess eagerly
resumed feeding.
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