The Quiet Mother

24

Valborg sat in the waiting room and grew more restless by the minute. She’d requested an antenatal check and was asked to come to the Women’s Health Unit at this time to see a doctor. Three other women were waiting there for the same purpose, all at different stages of pregnancy. Two of them appeared to be close to delivery, but the third showed no such signs; she was quite stout and was reading a foreign fashion magazine, the very picture of serenity. Valborg was anything but calm. She flipped through several fairly worn issues of Familie Journal that were lying there on the table, but couldn’t fix her mind on anything. She was deeply restless and worried about the meeting with the midwife. She was worried about the antenatal check-ups. About having to discuss her situation. She cursed everything the pregnancy had brought upon her.

Her worst fear had come true and she didn’t know how to deal with it. The first thing that crossed her mind, as terrible as the thought seemed to her, was to have an abortion. She couldn’t imagine having the baby. She wasn’t used to such a feeling, such aversion, but she knew that the child would always be a reminder of what had happened and she wanted most of all to forget it and act as if it never had happened. She’d felt such dismay since then, and even, for a moment, contemplated taking her own life. It didn’t help that she couldn’t imagine talking to someone about what happened, and struggled with it in her loneliness and isolation through long sleepless nights.

One of the women in the waiting room was called in and Valborg knew that it would be her turn next. She tried to concentrate on what she was going to say. She’d practised it before coming to the waiting room and went over it in her mind again and again, left out some parts of it and changed others until she hardly knew what to say any more, deepening her anxiety. Then she calmed down. First and foremost, she’d come there for advice. She simply had to talk to someone about her situation, and feared she’d put it off too long.

She was startled when her name was finally called, and instead of following the woman who called her, she simply stood there and began to make excuses, then backed out of the room and left. She’d lost heart. There was no obligation to go for an antenatal check, but she wanted to know whether it was too late to ask to have an abortion. And she longed to talk to someone. Anyone. So a week later, she was back in the same waiting room, and when her name was called this time, she had enough strength to follow the secretary manning the reception desk into a small room where a midwife would soon come to see her. ‘Have a seat,’ said the secretary. ‘She should be here any minute. Let me know if you need anything.’

The woman left her alone in the room, and shortly afterwards the midwife came in. They shook hands and it was as if the midwife sensed immediately that something was bothering her, so she asked if everything was all right. If she wanted a drink of water.

Valborg accepted the water. She felt like throwing up. The woman handed her a glass of water, and, speaking soothingly, asked if this was her first visit to a midwife, whether she’d ever had children, when she was due, if anyone had come with her. Every single question was like an attack on her, an accusation, a judgement. But she realised that these were only routine queries, and she knew she had to calm down if she was going to get the help she so desperately needed. The problem was that, on the one hand, she didn’t know what she wanted, but on the other, she was adamant about what needed to be done. She was hesitant, yet at the same time determined. At a loss one day, but confident the next. All she knew for certain was that she didn’t feel well and hadn’t felt well since that terrible night just before Christmas.

‘I don’t want to know about this child,’ Valborg blurted out. ‘I want nothing to do with it. I know it’s not a nice thing to say, but I have my reasons. Don’t ask me what they are.’

‘And the father?’ the midwife asked sternly. ‘Does he know about this? Is he of the same opinion?’

‘No,’ said Valborg. ‘He doesn’t know about it.’

‘Are you planning on telling him?’

Valborg shook her head.

‘No, I’m not going to.’

‘May I ask why?’

Valborg shook her head again in silent anguish.

‘Did he rape you?’

‘I would appreciate it if you would stop asking me these questions. I haven’t talked about this with anyone. I don’t want to talk about it.’

The midwife hesitated.

‘Are you talking about abortion?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know. Probably. Still, I don’t want to... I’m afraid it may be too late.’

‘How far along are you?’

‘Almost three months.’

‘So it was in December that...?’

Valborg nodded.

‘I’m afraid you’re cutting it fine,’ said the midwife, her expression even sterner. ‘Are you sure you don’t want the child? Sometimes a pregnancy can be difficult and stir up all sorts of ideas; it can lead to depression and the psyche becomes vulnerable. Abortion is a most serious matter and not permitted except under special circumstances. Strict conditions must be met. I’m afraid you can’t get... just expect to get...’

‘Are you refusing me?’

‘It’s complicated. You may have to accept the fact that what’s done is done.’

‘I don’t want to see this child,’ Valborg whispered. ‘I feel bad enough having to admit that. Dear God, I can’t do this, I just can’t do this.’

She stood up and walked to the door.

‘You can’t refuse me. I’m sorry, but... you can’t refuse me.’

Then she ran out.

Two days later, her phone rang. She didn’t recognise the voice and even less the name when the woman introduced herself and said she’d heard she had a problem. Valborg didn’t know what was going on, but the woman on the phone seemed to read her mind and had a strangely calming effect. She said she was a midwife and had got her number from a friend of hers, and she wanted to know if she could help. It was her understanding that the child might have been conceived under special circumstances without there being any need to go into any detail, and that Valborg had mentioned abortion.

‘Yes,’ said Valborg, ‘I’m of the opinion that it’s the best way for me but I’m not sure I can get...’

‘And the child?’ said the woman on the phone. ‘Don’t you think you should give a thought to the child?’

The woman didn’t say this accusingly, and continued in the same calm tone.

‘Naturally, it’s your decision,’ she said, ‘but I wanted to know if you would consider finding the child a good foster home, instead.’

‘I’ve also considered that,’ said Valborg. ‘At least I can’t imagine keeping it.’

‘I can help if you want. Of course, it’s entirely up to you, but you shouldn’t do anything rash. I’ve heard from women who have been in your position and know that you don’t want to do anything you might end up regretting. I suggest we meet and see if we can find a good solution to this.’

This is what the woman said on the phone, and her words soothed Valborg and gave her the peace and comfort she’d sought for so long. She seemed to have a complete understanding of the situation and only wanted to offer Valborg her help.

‘What did you say your name was?’

‘Sunnefa.’

‘And have you... have you done this before?’ Valborg asked. ‘Been in contact with women like me?’

‘You’re not entirely alone in the world,’ said Sunnefa. ‘It’s bigger and more complex than you can imagine.’

‘Do you know of others? Like me?’

‘If you’re asking if I’ve met women who’ve been in your shoes, I can’t deny it. I understand you feel very bad about what happened. You’re not the first and, sadly, you won’t be the last either. I want to know if I can help you. If you’ll let me. And if you think that abortion is the only answer for you.’

Valborg was silent for several long moments as she considered her words.

‘If you want, I can place the child in a good home,’ the woman continued. ‘Naturally, it’s for you to decide how we go about this, but we can make it so that no one needs to know anything.’

‘No one needs to know anything?’ Valborg repeated in surprise.

‘If that’s what you want. No one needs to know anything.’

No one.