Mother Bears

  Maura had seen the posters at the doctor's office.  "Never shake a baby!" they said.  Now she understood how it could happen.  She was exhausted; David had been fussy all day, and neither of them had slept much the night before.   All morning she had been doing her best to comfort him.  She tried nursing him, feeding him with a bottle, walking around the house with him and laying him on the floor so he could stretch out.  None of it worked. He was inconsolable.  Maura's boyfriend, Jason, couldn't stand the crying.  His way of coping was to strap on his skis and escape to the trails.  He usually stayed out until about an hour before he had to leave for work.  Today that left Maura with a crying baby, a messy kitchen and the task of making bread rolls to take to Thanksgiving dinner.  She finally put David in his crib and let him scream so she could get a few things done. 

    Maura's neighbor Kathleen had called a couple of weeks ago to invite them over for Thanksgiving dinner.    "I'm having some friends over and they're bringing their daughter and son-in-law.  They're about your age and expecting a baby. It would be great if you joined us."   As it turned out, Jason had to work the evening shift for the holiday, so just Maura and the baby were able to go.  And now, as she was getting ready, she wished she hadn't accepted the invitation.  She didn't feel like socializing with strangers, but it was too late to cancel.  And they were counting on her to bring the rolls.

     She packed a knapsack with extra diapers and clothes for David and wrapped the rolls in aluminum foil and towels to keep them warm.  Then she grabbed a headlamp for the walk home after dark and bundled up the screaming baby.  He was too small for a sled and the snow was too deep for a baby jogger, so she clutched him close to her belly in the infant carrier and started up the hill toward her neighbor's house. 

     It had been snowing for most of the day, but the sky was beginning to clear, not to blue exactly, but to white. The low-angle sun had just set below the mountains to the southwest.   Heavy snow clung to the young birch trees on either side of the unplowed road causing them to bow low to the ground.  The fresh, cool air seemed to have a soothing effect on David.  For the first time all day he quieted down and seemed content.  Maura had noticed this before, how he calmed down when he was outside, even when weather was less than ideal.  A few days earlier, in a moment of frustration, she carried him out onto their deck in the middle of a big storm.  She held him under the eaves of the house trying to keep the sleet off of him, but let the wind blow on his face.  He closed his eyes and turned his head to face the huge gusts head on.  His pudgy little hands reached out, grabbing at the air.  Maura stayed out longer than she normally would have, trading the violence of the storm for a few moments of relief for both of them.

     Now, as they were walking toward Kathleen and George's house, Maura wished she could stay outside; just keep walking for a while.  She knew that as soon as they were inside he would start crying again.  It was frustrating enough to be in her own house when David was unhappy, but it was worse away from home.  Her inability to console him made her feel inept.  Maura had read everything she could get her hands on about colic, and her pediatrician had reassured her that his discomfort was temporary.  Still everyone offered advice, as though David's unhappiness were her fault. "Why don't you hold him facing out so he can look around?"  "Have you tried swaddling him?"  "Have you put him on a feeding schedule?"  "Maybe he's cold."   "Maybe something you're eating is upsetting his stomach." 

     As Maura started up the driveway to her neighbor's house, she looked down at David.  He looked comfortable, and even though he was still wiggling around, it was different than his usual rigid kicking and flailing.  "You like it outside don't you baby," she said to him.  "Please stay happy for a while," she added as she leaned down and kissed the top of his knitted hat.  He looked up at her with his vivid blue eyes and gave her the first smile she'd seen all day.

     Once they had settled inside, Kathleen introduced Maura and David to the other guests.  Victor and Miriam were longtime friends of George and Kathleen's from the Army.   They were immediately drawn to David who, for the moment, still sat quietly against Maura.  "Our first grandson is due in just a few weeks," Miriam said as she pointed toward their pregnant daughter across the room on the couch.  Lilly did indeed look like she was about to burst.  She leaned against the armrest of the couch with her feet propped up in her husband, Michael's, lap.

     "How old is he?" Lilly asked, not bothering to acknowledge meeting Maura for the first time. 

     "Almost five months," Maura answered.

     "How was the birth?  Was it awful?" 

     "It was fine, no complications.  Not as bad as some of the stories I'd heard."  Maura remembered how scared she had been, so tried to sound encouraging.

     "Did you take drugs?  I'm planning on taking drugs.  I don't do pain."

     "No I didn't take any drugs, but I guess I would have if it had gone on for a long time."  

     "Oh you're one of those types.  You probably felt like you needed to be present through it all."  Lilly said, as her husband Michael laughed.

     "Honey, you know the epidural will be fine, don't worry so much."  Miriam gracefully tried to cover for her daughter's abrupt line of questioning.

     Maura, ignoring Lilly's last statement, turned her attention on retrieving the rolls from her backpack.  They had looked delicious when she'd pulled them from the oven, but now instead of golden brown on the top, they were moist from condensation and all lumped together. 

     "I'll put them in the oven for a few minutes, and then they'll be as good as new," Kathleen said.  Maura followed her to the kitchen where she spread the rolls out on a cookie sheet.   After the rolls were in the oven Kathleen handed Maura a small glass of liquor. "This will help with digestion after a big meal."  

     Evidence of Kathleen's hours of cooking and planning sat on the kitchen counter; pumpkin pies, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, gravy and cranberry relish.  As soon as George finished carving the turkey and the rolls finished drying out in the oven, dinner could be served.  The table was beautifully set with china and crystal that Kathleen and George brought home from Germany after they had been stationed there. The smell of the food made Maura remember her hunger.  She hadn't eaten well lately.  Cooking seemed like such a chore with David needing her constant attention, and with Jason gone most of the time it hardly seemed worth the effort.  

     "I'd love to hold the baby for a while," Miriam said as she eased in next to Maura in the kitchen.  "I could use some practice, it's been a long time since Lilly was a baby, and she was our only one."

      Maura was reluctant to take David out of the front pack that she was still wearing, but wanted to be obliging.  As she pulled him up and out of the carrier she felt his limbs go rigid, but she handed him over to Miriam in spite of her better judgment.  "He's beautiful, look at all that dark hair," she said as she held him up to examine him.  David had the look of a contented, mild mannered baby with his chubby cheeks and his long dark eyelashes, but he was already starting to breathe faster.  Maura knew the crying would start soon. 

     Miriam was patient at first.  She tried bouncing him up and down in the air, then she took his sweater off, thinking he might be too hot.  "Maybe he's hungry, or wet," she said, handing him back to Maura. 

     "I'll see if I can get him settled down before dinner," Maura said, even though she doubted anything would work.  She grabbed a fresh diaper from the knapsack and retreated to a bedroom. 

     "It's alright baby," Maura cooed to him as she struggled to change his diaper.  His chubby legs were stiff and his face was turning crimson.  He had gone from quiet a few minutes before, to unstoppable screaming, with only a few whimpers between the two. Tears welled up in her eyes as she heard the others gathering around the table.  She was hungry, tired and embarrassed that she couldn't get her baby to calm down.  Maybe the doctor was wrong and David wasn't healthy.  

     "How's it going in here?"  Kathleen stepped in to check on Maura and the baby. 
     "I think he's sick or something.  Nothing I do seems to help."  Now the tears were falling.  Kathleen closed the door behind her and lifted David up off of the bed. 

     "He looks alright.  Sometimes babies just have a hard time adjusting to the world, and they're unhappy for a while.  It's not you, you're doing everything right.  It won't always be this way.  You must be exhausted."  Kathleen held David in one arm then put her other arm around Maura.  "Dinner's on the table, why don't you come eat.  You'll feel better after you've had some turkey."  Kathleen didn't seem bothered by David's crying, so Maura started toward the door.  But she stopped short when she overheard Lilly, already sitting at the table.

     "Our baby won't be a screamer like that one.  God, what's the matter with him?"

     Maura stood frozen in the doorway of the bedroom. Her tears stopped and rage inched through her body, replacing her feeling of inadequacy.  Calmly she turned back to Kathleen, "Thank you so much for everything, but I can't stay."  She gathered up her pack and started bundling David again, causing him to shriek even louder and more intensely than before.  Within a few minutes she was back outside in the cool air.

     "Maura, wait!  I've got something for you."  Kathleen ran down the driveway and handed Maura a plastic container filled with warm food.  "I'm so sorry it turned out this way.  Lilly doesn't understand.  Get some rest if you can and I'll call you tomorrow."  She gave Maura a quick hug before returning to the house.

     Maura started toward her house and David's howling slowed after they'd been outside for a few minutes.  He involuntarily gulped cold air into his lungs as he recovered from the crying fit.  The drink Kathleen had given Maura buzzed comfortably in her head, and she wasn't sorry she had stormed away.  Her anger kept her focused on the ground ahead. The heavy snow from earlier lost its weight as the falling temperatures pulled the moisture out into the night.  It was beginning to get dark, so she switched on her headlamp.  Occasionally a bent birch tree, relieved of its heavy load, would spring back into shape, startling Maura for a second with the sudden movement.  David, finally worn out, laid his head against Maura's chest. She stopped to zip the bottom of her coat around his legs dangling from the infant carrier.  He needed rest so badly, and a break from whatever tormented him, so Maura decided to keep walking for a while to see if he would fall asleep. 

     She walked past her house and continued down the road.  David was still and content bundled up against her.  For a while he emitted sweet humming noises in sync with her footsteps, but soon he was completely quiet and she knew he had finally fallen asleep.  A crescent moon rose, and Maura switched off her headlamp to see if she could see well enough without it.  The night sky reflected blue off of the snow, so Maura continued without the lamp.   At the end of the road she passed the trailhead sign marking the entrance of the Chugach State Park and she followed the familiar path that led to the Eagle River.   Maura had hiked this trail dozens of times before, but never in the dark.  Now it felt like unknown territory.   She thought about the scary things that should have kept her from continuing; moose, wolves, hypothermia.  But none of the potential dangers mattered to her as much as David getting some sleep, so she kept going.

     The wind storm of a few days ago had taken its toll on the trail, and in several places Maura had to step over large snow-covered branches that had fallen.   Finally she came to an obstruction that was too big to climb over with the baby.   An old cottonwood had fallen across the path.  Maura reached up and turned on her headlamp so she could find her way.   The wind had pummeled the tree from the east and left it broken near its base.  The hollowed-out stump was open on one side and Maura looked around.  A squirrel's midden smelling of earth littered the floor inside the stump, and branches from a neighboring spruce tree protected it from snow. 

     Maura shrugged the backpack off of her shoulders, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby, then stepped into the stump.  With her back leaning against the inside wall of the tree she slid down until her butt rested on the soft ground.   

     After several minutes of forest silence, David let out a deep sigh but didn't wake.  Maura dug around in the pack for the dinner Kathleen had given her.  She removed the lid and pulled out a piece of turkey, still warm, and tore off a bite.  Then she fingered the potatoes into her mouth.  With a bread roll she soaked up gravy and cranberry sauce.  She ate until the dish was empty and then licked it clean. As she wiped her face off with her jacket sleeve she wished Kathleen had thought to pack her some pumpkin pie. 

    After finishing her meal she sat for a while listening to the night.  She could hear two owls calling to each other, but it was hard to tell how far or how close they were.  She mostly listened to David's breathing.  He seemed warm enough, but she thought she would take him out of the carrier and hold him across her lap, that way she could better wrap her coat around both of them.  As she jimmied him out of the carrier he woke up, but didn't cry.  She laid him down on her outstretched legs for a moment while she unfastened the carrier and pulled it out from under her jacket.  He was awake, but barely, so she opened her sweater and nursed him.   

    As David filled his belly she considered the bear sows hibernating nearby.  With their cubs nestled next to them and a protective layer of fat they could rest warm through the winter.   For a while they were free from the hard work of survival and defending their young.  Maura clicked off her headlamp and pulled David closer.  She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the stump, breathing deeply for the first time in days.