Jane tried to adjust herself on the narrow gurney in the
ultrasound room. She shifted to one side and then another in an awkward attempt
for a few minutes of relief. A sharp kick from her unborn put to rest the
notion of comfort.
Birth was no more than 8 weeks away. Jane was fairly certain
they would be the longest of her life. Between the constant heartburn, having
strangers rub her belly and the helpful reminders of “Holy cow, you’re as big
as a house”, the charm of pregnancy had run its course.
The final step – aside from labour and delivery – was a
decision about the name. It was a contentious issue made more difficult by
Jane’s teenage career as a camp counselor. Every boy’s name came with baggage. The
only boy name that Jane could remotely warm to was Paul, but her husband Tim
wasn’t keen on using a name that just happened to be the same as her
ex-boyfriend. Most conversations ran a similar course of suggestions and
rejections followed by both hoping for a girl.
But a girl would only ignite a
much louder and more insistent problem. Jane’s mother, Patricia, had recently
been consumed with the notion the baby should be named after her. She was
convinced it was the perfect name no matter the gender. Out of the blue, she
would lobby her position: “Patrick or Patricia. It’s just so perfect.” This was
often followed by a look of sheer delight to convey how enamored she was with
her own cleverness.
Patricia, or Trisha, as she
insisted she be called, was a delight of a woman. She had the gift to make
everything about her and could give lessons in guilt. For her entire life, Jane
was made to believe that she was to blame for her mother’s inability to have
other children with the often-repeated reminder, “It was such a difficult
delivery.”
Jane found it extremely
difficult to say no to her mother. Now, with the birth of the much-anticipated
grandbaby approaching, the pressure was as acute as when the baby pressed on
Jane’s bladder, but there was no hope of being relieved from the pressures of
Patricia.
Jane’s husband Tim was a
patient man. He had been caring through the vomit. He had ignored the mood
swings. He worked hard to keep thoughtless or foolish comments to a minimum.
But everyone has their limits. Trish was Tim’s limit.
In a naïve bid to avoid the
final confrontation, Jane and Tim decided they would keep the baby’s gender a
surprise. Through every ultrasound appointment they had promised not to ask.
Each would give warning looks if the other looked like they would crack.
At this final ultrasound
appointment, they were ready with their routine, but they didn’t know the room
would be so quiet or the lights so low. The technician said so little that had it not
been for the occasional clicking of the mouse or the pressure of the paddle on
Jane’s belly, they barely registered the her presence. Jane and Tim were lulled
into as if in a dream, watching their baby on the monitor. When the technician
finally spoke, the shock of her voice was almost as stunning as her words.
“She looks good. She’s in the right position.
It’s just a matter of time.”
Jane and Tim stared at her
slack jawed. Tim spoke first. “She?”
“Yup.” She smiled, gave some
instructions that went unheard and said, “you’re good to go” as if she hadn’t
just turned their world upside. She left the room and Jane and Tim in stunned
silence.
On the drive home the
excitement pushed its way through the shock. Jane and Tim bantered like
teenagers in love offering silly and serious ideas for what they’d call their
little girl. The giggles were interrupted by a call from Jane’s mother. Jane
paled and her ease and laughter were whisked away. Even though Jane didn’t pick
up the call, suddenly Patricia was right there in the car.
“You’re going to have to tell
her. We are not naming this baby Patricia,” Tim said. Then he spat the name
“Trish.”
“What about Patti,” Jane tried.
Tim softened momentarily but held firm. Even Jane wasn’t buying what she was
selling.
“No. Do not let her ruin this
for us. You are the strongest most willful woman I know – other than your
mother. Why is this even a point of discussion?”
Jane knew he was right. She
resented her mother for encroaching on this moment and her own unending urge to
please.
Later on that night Jane stared
at the phone, wishing it had never been invented. When she did finally call her
mother it was a nice conversation. They even shared excitement over the plans
for the nursery. Jane felt her resolve decline. Her voice betrayed her
weakness.
“Is everything ok, dear? You
sound a little off. Are you not feeling well?”
“No, no, I’m fine. The baby is
fine. We had the ultrasound today. The baby is in the perfect position.” Jane
hesitated. The conversation was going so well. Jane began to wrestle with the
idea of revealing the baby was a girl. But then her mother started talking.
“You keep your legs crossed for
another few weeks. You came early and we thought you wouldn’t live to see the
light of day. Your grandmother said it was because I walked too much.
Ridiculous woman.”
Grandma Betty. Jane’s love for
that cantankerous old woman grew exponentially when she realized she was her way
out of this drama. If her mother was
able to choose her own name, she couldn’t argue with Jane.
“Mom, why wasn’t I named after
grandma?” She paused for a moment. It dawned on her that there were no other
Janes in the family – not even a distant aunt. “Who am I named after?”
“No one. Your name was kind of
a back up. We were going to name you Francesca. I’ve always loved that name.”
“A back up? My name was a back
up?” An unpleasant clarity came to Jane. "Why didn't you use Francesca."
“Yes, dear. I told you. We
thought you were going to die. I really didn’t want to bury that name.”
“What?” Jane was incredulous.
“Are you saying you didn’t want to waste the name?!”
“I guess you could say that. It
seemed such a shame. Anyway, speaking of names…” she was about to start her
lobbying, but Jane cut her off.
“You know what, mom, you just
gave me a great idea.” Rage was replaced resignation and a sudden relief. Jane smiled
and lovingly rubbed her belly. “Patricia will be our back up.”
