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  Monique understood all of the jargon. However, she didn’t expect such a lengthy time frame.

  “I suggest you go home and leave your baby with us,” the doctor recommended.

  Monique kissed Nia on the top of her head, left the hospital, and was on the afternoon train heading back home. While she didn’t have enough money for a sleeper cabin, she did have a few dollars left for a couple of stiff rum and Cokes.

  Chapter 17

  Hello Little Stranger

  The train ride north was uneventful. Flynn had taken the day off to pick up Monique and go to their home to grieve this tragedy of a less than perfect baby together. They wanted to handle this situation in bed, holding each other tight and getting lost in their passionate lovemaking. The mood was not robust and sultry; it was melancholy. They stayed interlocked for quite some time, trying to have emotional comfort rather than orgasmic ecstasy, which was their norm.

  A few days passed, and Owen arrived with Lily in tow. Flynn was at work when Monique’s father-in-law opened the side screen door. He brought only a few of the toddler’s favourite things, as Etta didn’t want the other toys “ruined” by her daughter-in-law’s lack of attention. Etta was angry with Owen’s unilateral decision to return Lily to her parents for a few days. He said, “It’s not right for a baby to be without her mother this long. We’re wrong to keep her from her parents’ care.”

  Etta knew he was right; however, intuitively, she knew Monique would never be able to meet the task, certainly not by her standards.

  Owen didn’t come in; he just passed Lily over to Monique, who said, “Hello, little stranger.” What an admission of detachment, he thought and was thankful Etta didn’t hear Monique’s greeting.

  Lily cried as her Papa left. When her crying turned into deep sobbing, Monique put Lily in her sterile room with a cold bottle of milk and shut the door. The afternoon didn’t go well for either of them. Flynn returned home from his shift to find Monique and Lily both depleted from crying.

  The little news they received from Toronto was not encouraging, and the days felt like weeks for all of them.

  October arrived, and Nia had her first set of surgeries. Monique hadn’t been back to Toronto for three weeks and was planning to go the following week. Flynn was working double shifts to get extra money to cover the added financial burden of having a sick child. It was cheaper if Monique went alone; he didn’t have to miss work, and his hidden reprieve was that he did not have to deal directly with the hospital issues or see his baby suffer. For Monique, going to Toronto meant not being suffocated with trying to mother Lily.

  This was taking its toll on the entire family. Lily became sullen and forlorn. She had no appetite, nor did she find interest in her structured day. If she wasn’t in her crib, she was bundled up and put outside in the buggy “to get fresh air.” Jigger, Flynn’s trusty four-legged mate, was left in charge of protecting the area surrounding Lily. The highly-organized day was Monique’s way of coping with what she felt were the overwhelming demands of mothering.

  Lily still wasn’t walking, nor did her parents playfully encourage her to ambulate. Owen dropped by periodically (Etta never wanted to go since she knew it would only upset her, and she didn’t want to say anything to flare up Monique or her son), and he could see no one was thriving, least of all Lily. Again, he made the unilateral decision to scoop her up and return her to Etta’s stabilizing and nurturing love and care.

  Both Lily and Etta returned to their happy state within moments. Lily had her grandmother feeding her the food she loved, her favourite toys were in their places, and her bear with the walker frame was ready to roll.

  Monique hadn’t seen her parents since the previous Christmas with the potato heaving incident. One weekend when Jacque asked Flynn to help on the farm—despite it being his weekend off his day job—Monique went too. Deep down, she wanted to see her parents.

  “Hi Mom,” Monique casually said as she opened the door to the farm kitchen.

  “Hi,” her mother replied without emotion while rolling out a pie crust.

  Monique reached for the kettle, filled it, and put it on the stove to make each of them a coffee. While the water was set to boil, Monique reached for two clean mugs from the dish rack. She placed them on the oilcloth-laid table where the spoons and instant coffee were placed. She then went to the fridge for the can of Carnation evaporated milk with the hole already punched in. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent aside from Adele’s heavy-handed thudding of her rolling pin against the counter and the bubbling of the heating water. Both sat down, Adele in her usual spot and Monique in hers. “How’s the baby, Monique? Your dad tells me she is in Toronto with deformed feet. Is this true?”

  Monique quietly nodded in a sorrowful manner.

  Adele took a long, undignified slurp of the hot coffee then reached for a pink wafer cookie that Monique had found in the pantry. She dunked the cookie in the coffee and leaned forward over the cup to catch the pink, coffee-soaked mush in her mouth. Adele finished the last swallow of her coffee. Monique knew this would be the moment of reckoning with her mother.

  “Monique, I told you bad things would happen when you disobeyed me, God, and your father by marrying that Protestant. You are a very silly girl to believe otherwise!” So the rant went on and on.

  While Flynn went to the field, Jacque hung back, not trusting Adele and Monique could be civil to each other. The gloves were definitely off. The words of mortal sin, commandments, obey, confession, bastards, purgatory, and hate flew like bullets from opposing sides. Monique was hysterical while Adele was escalating her hurtful pontificating.

  “I hate you. I hate you,” was all Monique could muster up in retaliation as Jacque entered the kitchen.

  “Stop this now! Monique, get in your car and drive home,” Jacque shouted.

  Monique quickly left, knowing her father would drive Flynn home after getting a full day’s work out of him.

  Monique didn’t remember the drive home. When she arrived, she sat in the driveway a long time, tormenting herself about her choices in life and fundamentally believing her mother’s accusations and judgements. Eventually, she went into the house and packed for her Toronto trip, knowing that she would be miles away from her mother.

  The next morning, Monique was tired and didn’t feel up to packing Flynn a lunch before his seven-to-three day shift. Flynn opened a can of peaches, made some toast, and ate quietly in the small kitchen, knowing his wife was leaving for Toronto to see their suffering baby. How did his life get so upended? How did things get so beyond his control? He looked in his wallet, took out $150, and laid the money on their shabby kitchen table. That was all the money he managed to save. Monique will have to make it last, he thought to himself as he closed the door and headed off to work.

  Chapter 18

  Back to Toronto

  The sounds and the movement of the train to Toronto soothed Monique once again. Soon her thoughts drifted to a quiet splendour. Her tranquil mood ended when the conductor bellowed, “Union, Toronto Station.”

  Monique quickly turned her clinical mother role switch on and headed off to The Sick Children’s Hospital. As she pulled the heavy front door open, the familiar hospital smell hit her olfactory nervous system, cueing her stoic clinical response to forge ahead.

  Nia had been in the hospital’s care for over a month. She was still in the orthopaedic ward at the end of the hall. All ten metal cribs in the sterile room had a tiny human form inside. Monique read the name cards at the end of each crib. In the far back corner was her baby. Nia was lying still on her back, her little hands clenched, and her eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling as if she was mesmerized by the cracks.

  Monique’s gut reaction to this sight was sickening. Her baby wasn’t thriving. (What did she expect?) Monique pulled the small flannel sheet back and saw the heavy casting covering her scrawny little legs from the knees to the toes. Her baby couldn’t move her legs as the casting was too weighted. Monique’
s nose scrunched from the foul smell coming from the diaper. Monique reached for one of the nearby sanitized diapers to replace the soiled one. Monique was shocked that the stench was evidence of diarrhea still oozing from Nia’s raw, rash laden bottom. Her nurse training taught her that diarrhea in a baby this young could be fatal.

  The nurse came into the room while Monique was still trying to manage the explosive situation. “Hello, Mrs. Kross. I wanted to give you a few minutes to get reacquainted with Nia.”

  “She is by no means doing well. Why didn’t you let me know of her poor state?” Monique demanded.

  “We knew you would be here today and decided not to alarm you and your husband unduly. I’m going to ask the doctor if we should start an IV today, as she isn’t taking in any fluids,” the nurse explained.

  “This is very serious. I’m afraid she’s going to die!” Monique responded frantically.

  Monique quickly went into clinical action mode. She released the metal side rail; it descended, jarring Nia from her dulled state. Monique sensed her baby was too weak to cry, given her deteriorated condition.

  The nurse explained a gastrointestinal bug started a week prior. “Nia has had diarrhea for the last four days. Her little bottom is raw because of the casting; we couldn’t get the plaster wet, which prevented us from cleaning her properly.”

  Monique understood the rationale; however, she couldn’t accept her baby withering away in runny excrement. The nurse informed her the casting had another month before the next round of surgery. Monique, summoning her clinical knowledge, could see her baby wouldn’t survive another day with this degree of dehydration. Despite her flowing tears, Monique put into motion a gentle, thorough washing, avoiding the casting. She held the baby over the sink and let the warm water flow lightly and continuously over the raw, reddened areas. Nia responded to the gentleness and nurturing of her mother’s touch. Monique saw the small baby bottles of sterilized water. She grabbed her purse, knowing she had a few packets of sugar saved from the train in case there was no sugar at the residence. She then broke the bottle’s seal, poured the contents of the sugar packet into the baby bottle, and shook it. Monique then warmed the bottle by running it under hot water. She took her weakened baby to the rocking chair in the hallway, realizing Nia needed her mother more than ever.

  A few minutes later, Monique looked at her nursing watch, which she always wore. She knew the train schedule well. The north-returning train was one hour from departure time, which meant Monique had to make decisions quickly. With her baby in her arms, she hurried to the nursing station, the casted little legs clanked together the entire way. “I’m taking my baby home. She’ll die if I leave her here.” Monique paused to catch her breath. “I’ll need some supplies.”

  The nurse behind the desk knew Monique was right but professionally said, “I will need to get the doctor’s permission for discharge.”

  Monique didn’t wait for the answer; she marched into the supply room as if she was the attending nurse and packed what she needed for the trip home. With the baby wrapped in hospital blankets, she proceeded to the elevator with the paper bag of supplies, her suitcase, and her purse. As she passed the desk, she said to the nurse, “Call my husband and tell him I am on my way home with our baby.”

  Outside the front door of the hospital, she luckily saw an available cab. “Train station, please, and hurry.” Once in Union Station at the ticket booth, Monique was relieved there was a sleeping cabin available. Thank God, she thought to herself, grateful she had the money for this needed upgrade.

  A porter quickly helped her get to the gate and moved her to the front of the pre-boarding line. Once in the confines of the sleeping cabin and the familiar soothing motion, Monique sighed and felt a huge sense of relief. She sat back, looking at her sleeping baby on the train cot, her bag of supplies, and her purse. Knowing she would have a long night of caring for the infant, she rang for the cabin steward and asked for a chicken salad sandwich, a butter tart, and a rum and Coke.

  Despite the rocky night ride, both mother and baby were soothed. Every two hours, Monique woke her daughter to feed her the sweetened water. It was a small feat if the baby would drink at least one ounce. After the bottle, Monique gently washed the baby’s raw bottom. Monique implemented a two-hour treatment regimen of hydration, cleaning, and airing of the rash, followed by sleeping throughout their trip home.

  Flynn was waiting at the station as the train rolled in. He kept the car running, with the heater on, knowing the fall morning air would be too cold for the baby. He could see his wife descending the train stairs with the assistance of the conductor. Flynn’s chest swelled with fear, love, devotion, and more fear. He held them both in his arms, and he tearfully said, “Let’s go home.”

  Chapter 19

  Lily, the Big Sister

  After a week of the strenuous regiment of restoring basic health to their infant, Flynn and Monique were anxious to have Lily finally meet her baby sister.

  Etta reluctantly came with Owen to bring Lily back to her parents. Etta hadn’t seen Nia yet (she would never step inside that dago hospital), and then her new granddaughter was whisked off to Toronto. In truth, she felt ashamed for her son to be living on the wrong side and outside of town.

  The house was a small wood frame with two small windows at the front and a door with no steps (they couldn’t afford them yet). Roof shingles for siding covered the exterior of the house. Mortified with the dwelling, Etta tried to avoid the puddles with her high heel shoes as she navigated toward the side door. Meanwhile, Lily was carefree and happy in her Papa’s arms as he sang “Mary Had A Little Lamb” to her.

  Inside, the tiny house was in shambles: dishes piled in the sink, dirty pots on the stove, the table still had egg streaked plates, and half-full cups of cold coffee were carelessly discarded around the kitchen.

  Monique could see the predicted disdain of her mother-in-law but chose to be silent for Flynn’s sake. She couldn’t afford an emotional row now with Lily’s homecoming and baby Nia napping in her crib in the second bedroom off the living room. Monique lifted the heap of clean diapers off the couch that were just in from the clothesline, ready to be folded. She felt a running list of Etta’s judgements like ticker tape as her eyes swept the room.

  Etta could see the diapers were greyish and certainly not to her bleached standards. She’d prepared herself not to have even a cup of tea or have to need to use the bathroom—she knew it would be filthy. To ensure she would stay true to her strategy, she kept her ivory kid leather gloves on.

  Flynn picked up Lily and took her to the bedroom, where Nia was just rousing from her morning nap. Monique stood by their side as Flynn said, “Lily, this is your new baby sister.”

  Not yet two, Lily tried to repeat the word sister, but it came out “Sissy.”

  Monique picked up Nia, quickly changed her, and then brought the fresh-smelling baby to her mother-in-law.

  Etta momentarily softened toward Monique and her immense list of shortcomings and felt a warming joy cover her as she gazed at the blonde-haired, rousing, sweet-smelling baby working hard to open her hazel eyes. Just like Flynn’s, she said to herself. Regardless of the weight of the discoloured plaster casts, Etta felt grateful; at that moment, there was an ever-so-brief feeling of all of them belonging together.

  Lily cried as her Papa and Nana kissed her goodbye and sat her on the cold hardwood floor with her Raggedy Ann doll. Lily’s crying frightened her Sissy, but neither Monique nor Flynn reached to reassure her; they were both caught up in their feelings of being overwhelmed once again. This was the first time all of their family was together.

  A week passed, and no one was content except Nia. She was gaining some weight, her bottom was healing, and she savoured the rocking in her mother’s arms. Lily became the child not thriving. She cried many times in the day until she discovered how to self soothe. She had a blanket in her crib with satin edging. She would rub the smooth fabric between her fingers on her left
hand and then suck the index finger of her right hand. (This toddler obsession lasted well into her teenage years.) Lily’s habit became so hardwired that even her Nana couldn’t diminish or eliminate this need for Lily to comfort herself.

  On the weekends, Lily would go to her grandparents to resume what Monique referred to as her daughter’s “spoiled life.” It was necessary to have a break from their restless, irritable, and discontented daughter. Flynn and Monique kept Nia with them.

  Nia was much easier to satisfy; all she needed was to be held close and rocked. Monique liked this because she could relax with this child. For hours they would rock together, Monique singing softly all the Doris Day and Perry Como songs she knew. When Monique had had enough, she would put the lulled baby down in the crib, and she would go to her bed, and both would sleep for at least three hours. Flynn loved the weekends too; he enjoyed the quiet and the comfort of knowing at least two of his girls could be easily pleased.

  Etta didn’t want the responsibility of having Nia on the weekends. She was distressed with the casting because she felt it was evidence to her friends and neighbours that this grandchild was less than perfect.

  Owen was relieved to have Lily back as he truly missed her. He didn’t feel at ease for the whole week, worried that Flynn and Monique couldn’t give Lily all the love and attention she needed.

  On Sunday nights, Flynn, Monique, and Nia would come from the township for a beautiful family meal. On their arrival, Owen would have the makings of the usual cocktail hour before dinner. Monique and Flynn would have their rum and Coke on ice, Etta had her two jiggers of gin, and he would pour a whisky on the rocks for himself.