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Once those tasks were completed, I clicked the link. There were fifty-two photos, and I went through each one.
The first was Catherine in a hospital bed, machines around her, looking small despite the basketball she was carrying around in her middle. And maybe I was reading too much into her expression, but she also looked afraid.
Next came a few of Davida and Raymond posing around her. All three were grinning, though Catherine’s smile was the smallest by far. I wondered what part of labor this picture had been taken. Surely, in the beginning, since none of them looked worse for wear.
There were several more of the three of them, then they focused on Catherine. In one, she was holding Raymond’s hand. In another, he was wiping her forehead. There was a shot of Davida leaning over her, saying something in her ear while tears glistened in Catherine’s eyes. Curiosity made me willing to give up a lot to learn what she’d been saying to her.
I clicked to the next picture and came to a standstill. Catherine was curled forward, her forehead misted with sweat, tears rolling down her reddened cheeks, with her baby on her chest.
My stomach churned at the feeling I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to. Catherine had to have no idea these were the photos Davida was sharing. And even if she did, would she want them shared with me?
None of my reservations stopped me from looking through the rest, though. There were more of Raymond and Davida crowded around Catherine, now holding a wrapped-up Josephine.
The final few pictures were of Josephine by herself. She’d obviously been bathed and was swaddled snugly in a hospital blanket.
I studied her tiny features, finding Catherine in her everywhere. The shape of her rosebud lips. Her almost pointy nose. The tufts of auburn hair sticking up from the top of her head. As she grew, I imagined she’d look even more like her mother.
Mother.
Just like that, Catherine was a mother.
At a loss for what to do next, since Catherine was the one who kept me on track, I decided to email her my well-wishes. It seemed like the right time to do it.
From:[email protected]
Catherine,
Congratulations on the arrival of your daughter, Josephine.
I was told by Raymond and Davida you were goddess-like when bringing her into the world, which I don’t doubt. I’m also not surprised you managed to give birth in an efficient amount of time. Ten hours of labor should be applauded. Not too long or too short. Good going.
I’ve seen pictures of Josephine, and she’s as lovely as expected. Good going on that too.
Please let me know if you need anything, and I’ll be happy to provide it.
Yours,
Elliot
I was preparing to leave for a meeting at the Rockford building when Catherine’s reply came in. It had only been twenty minutes. I was surprised and eager to know what she had to say. I sat back down in my chair and opened the email on my computer so I could read it on a bigger screen.
From:[email protected]
Elliot,
Only you would praise me for my efficiency in childbirth. I wish I could take the credit, but I had no idea what I was doing, so I think we can both agree it was just luck—and there was nothing goddess-like about it.
I am cringing thinking about which pictures Davida might have shown you. There weren’t any of me, were there? I’m really hoping you’ll tell me you only saw my Joey-Girl. Please tell me she didn’t send you any pics of the emergence. I’ll never be able to look at you again if she did.
Thank you for saying she’s lovely. She really is, isn’t she?
Yours,
Catherine
