The Midwife's Confession

“Sorry,” I said, and Bryan gave me a sympathetic smile. Haley’s steroid-induced irritability was in full force, but I didn’t blame her for snapping at me. She did a better job of living in the moment than I did. Today, she had no nasty poison pumping into her veins and I needed to let her savor every second of that freedom.

I was pushing the start button on the coffeemaker when we heard a car door slam out front.

“They’re here!” Haley yelled, and ran toward the living room. I followed her into the room and saw her pull the door open, then freeze. “Holy shit!” she shouted loud enough for people on the other side of Alexandria to hear. “Mom, look!”

I walked to her side and saw Marilyn getting out of her car as four bald-headed girls ran up the front walk.

“Oh, my God.” I laughed, stunned and moved. Haley ran out the front door and down the walk and I watched the four bald heads and one blue-and-yellow-dotted ban danna bouncing up and down as the girls hugged one another. “Bryan!” I called toward the kitchen. “Bring your camera.”

He came to the door. “Look at that,” he said with a smile as he snapped a picture. Then he put his arm around me and it felt right. He gave my shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand to his side again.

Marilyn skirted the clot of girls on the walk and smiled at me as she climbed the front steps. “It was their idea.” She gave me a big hug, then a shorter, more anemic one to her brother.

“That’s the sweetest thing,” I said, pointing to the girls. I watched as one of the twins—I had no idea which one—handed out turquoise baseball caps to each of her sisters and Haley. The cousins had all had their cheeks swabbed during the past week. Everyone I knew had had his or her cheek swabbed, and not one of them was a match for Haley. Not even close.

Haley whipped off her bandanna and all five girls put on their hats, giggling and pointing at one another as they headed toward us.

“Girls,” I said to my nieces, “you’ve blown my mind.”

“That’s a beautiful thing you did,” Bryan said to them.

It had been hard enough to tell my four nieces apart when they had hair. Now, it was impossible. Twelve-year old Melanie was the only one I could pick out with certainty. She was thinner, slighter and smaller breasted than her sisters, but she still shared their round brown eyes, their small chins and the smattering of freckles across their noses.

“We had to drive like ten blocks out of our way to get here because the streets are blocked off for the festival,” one of the girls said.

“Can we have money, Mom?” Melanie asked Marilyn. “I know I’m going to want to buy a ton of stuff.”

Marilyn doled out a twenty to each of her daughters and I reached for my purse where it hung from the banister, but Bryan beat me to it, pressing a bill into Haley’s hand.

“Thanks, Dad.” Haley grinned. Then the girls were gone as quickly as they’d arrived, a whirlwind spinning down the sidewalk, this time with Haley at its center.

“God, she looks so good!” Marilyn said as we followed Bryan toward the kitchen. “If it weren’t for the round face and the hair—the lack of hair—I’d have no idea anything was wrong.”

“I know,” I said. “She’s tough as nails.”

“And how about you? How are you holding up?” She stopped walking, turning me toward her and holding me by the shoulders to study my face. She leaned close to whisper, “Is it a help or a hindrance having Bryan around?”

It’s wonderful, I thought. “He’s been a huge help,” I said. “The bone marrow drive is set for next week and he’s taken care of all the arrangements himself.”

“I’m so glad he’s coming through for you,” Marilyn said.

“What are you two talking about?” Bryan asked when we reached the kitchen.

“You.” Marilyn put her arm around him. “Tell me all about the bone marrow drive. How can I help?”

“How about some coffee first?” I asked, and she nodded and sat on one of the bar stools at the island.

“Well—” Bryan pulled out another of the stools and sat down facing his sister “—we’re going to get some press going. The Post will be sending someone to Children’s this week to interview Haley and Anna. Then closer to the drive, one of the TV stations will do a piece on them, too.”

“Really?” Marilyn looked a little worried. “That’s okay with Haley?” she asked me.

I nodded. “She understands why we’re doing it. We might not find a donor for her through the drive, but if we can get a few hundred more people to register in the global data bank, it might help someone else.” I did have misgivings about going public. I’d never been quiet about my own story—how Lily’s disappearance led to my passion for finding missing children. But I wasn’t entirely comfortable trotting Haley’s story out for all the world to see. Yet I knew Bryan was right. From everything I’d heard, personalizing the need for a bone marrow donor was the best way to encourage people to show up for the drive.

We drank coffee and talked a while longer, then Marilyn looked out the window. “It’s the most beautiful day,” she said. “What do you say we go to the festival, too? It’ll be fun.”

So that’s what we did. We strolled among the throng of visitors and vendors along King Street with what seemed like every other citizen of northern Virginia. Occasionally we’d catch a glimpse of five turquoise baseball caps in the crowd and we’d head in the opposite direction to let them enjoy their independence. It choked me up a little every time I saw them. I knew it would be Haley’s last day of feeling well for a while. One of her last days to act like just another kid. For today, she was one of five giggling bald girls in a turquoise baseball cap.

I tried to adopt my daughter’s living-in-the-moment perspective as I walked through the crowd. I tried not to think about our return to Children’s the next day. Instead, I breathed in the scent of hot dogs and popcorn and the river.

I reveled in the friendship of my sister-in-law and the new and unexpected friendship with my ex-husband, and in that moment, the world felt right and full of hope.

26

Tara