53. For Those About to Rock

October, 2000

Twenty five weeks. They were twenty five weeks. It was an amazing, frightening number. There were only fifteen weeks, plus or minus, to go. She wasn't ready. He wasn't ready. They were going to have to be ready.

Rick had worked non-stop on the birthing shelter. It was actually connected to the kitchen, making the whole thing look L shaped. He'd added a covered walk at one end, so they could move from the kitchen to the shelter without getting wet, if it were raining. The tub would be along the wall that bordered the kitchen sink.

However, it was the tub that was giving him fits. He'd tried a few different designs, without much success. Using bamboo as the sides was simply going to require far too much caulking.

Kate had come upon him sulking one day, about 2 days after he'd finished the shelter and its roof. She had woven some mats for half walls; the baby was due during rainy season, and they both wanted the area as dry as possible.

"What's the matter?"

"This stupid tub," he muttered, kicking some of the offending bamboo pieces he'd started to cut to size. "It's never going to work, unless I practically empty a whole breadfruit tree's sap onto it. If I could use a real saw, and some industrial glue, I could do strips of them. But that's a fantasy. The reality is bamboo is just not going to work."

"I can see that."

"I wanted to work on it next, so you could enjoy it while you were pregnant."

"It's fine, Rick. Why don't you move on to the next project, and we'll both keep thinking about ways to make a tub."

He kicked another piece of bamboo. "Ok, Kate."

She just smiled. He could be such a stubborn child about some things. Of course, so could she, but she would never admit it out loud. Besides, Rick already was well aware of her shortcomings. He loved her anyway.

Rick started in on the construction of what he called the birthing chair—which he could and did make from bamboo. It was low to the ground, but could adjust to several different positions—both the back and the seat. It was a marvelous contraption, and when he showed her, she was quite impressed. He'd even made some armrests for her to grip.

Finally, he made a rope device that hung from the rafters. Not clear on its purpose, Kate was quite curious about it.

"It's a way to suspend you if you want to be able to stand and squat at different times. This is actually more accurate to how women give birth on the islands, but they usually have a ton of family to support them."

"Why do they squat? In the movies and on TV the women are always laying down."

"Hina told me that most women prefer to let gravity help. She said it's faster, in terms of engaging the baby, and more comfortable for the mother. I wanted to give you options, and since we don't have others to help hold you up, this is the next best thing."

Kate felt her heart turning to a puddle of goo over his thoughtfulness. A few tears trailed down her cheeks, and she sniffed a couple of times.

"Hey now. Why are you crying?"

"I just love you so much, Rick. And you know I'll cry for nearly any reason these days."

It was true. She'd been caught crying over a little baby lizard that had had the misfortune of catching two of their chickens hungry eyes. She'd not been able to move fast enough to rescue it, and a bewildered Rick couldn't figure out the story for over half an hour as she cried violently against his shoulder, sobbing out unhelpful words like 'baby', 'chicken' and 'lizard' at such random moments he couldn't put the story together at all.

"So, now that this part is done, what else are you planning to do?"

"Well, the stupid tub is still off the table. I haven't figured it out yet. But, I'm going to make a small fire pit in here, so that we can boil water in here without having to go back and forth to the kitchen. I know it's only a few steps, but I want to be at hand for everything."

Kate nodded. It made sense, though she wasn't sure why they needed so much boiling water. However, on every show with a lady giving birth that she'd ever seen on TV the women told the men to go boil water, so it must be a key thing to do.

"I've got a few shelves to build. We'll use them to store linens and dry grass to use to line the floor when the time comes. And after the baby is born, we're planning on using this area as storage, so we'll need a few shelves anyway."

"Ok, well, it sounds like you've got work lined up. I'm gonna go do some foraging. We need more breadfruit and the taros need to be divided."

"Do you have your whistle?"

She nodded. She always wore it. Thankfully, they'd never had to use it, but she'd be loath to leave it behind. Bad things were bound to happen when you weren't prepared.

Grabbing a basket, she decided to walk away from the waterfall. Rick had to walk that way every day, in order to check on the pipes they were using for watering the trees and plants, along with the one that ran to the house. He'd gathered all the ripe fruit he could see. Their second taro patch was towards the bamboo grove, and since he hadn't needed to cut anything for a while, she was certain she'd find a bunch of food.

She discovered a treasure trove before she'd gone far. Which was nice, as the baby was pushing on some nerve in her back, and walking was painful. To say the least. Reaching down, she pushed on his head gently.

"Hey, buddy. You're hurting momma. Any chance of moving a bit in there?"

He kicked a few times in response, but kept his butt firmly on top of the nerve that seemed to be responsible for transmitting pain from her right leg directly to her cortex.

"Should have known that you'd be as stubborn as your father," she muttered, casting about for someplace to sit and try and reposition the demon-Rodgers child.

Spying a fallen tree she'd walked past earlier, she started to sit in the middle of it, but noticed just in time that it was partially rotted at the top. She moved down its length until finally finding a solid area to rest on.

"C'mon, kid. Give your old mom a break." She partially reclined, then tried poking at him some more. That led to some irritable kicks, but no change in position. Exasperated, she resorted to the next level up: she started applying gentle pressure to the side of him that was sitting on her nerve. At first he just gave another flurry of kicks, but then suddenly—finally—he shifted his butt. Gasping in relief, she sat up, though she decided to rest for a bit longer.

Reaching down to rub her belly softly, she continued the conversation from earlier.

"Listen, we've got another 15 weeks, longer if you decide to really be stubborn. And don't think I'm encouraging that, either. But, you're going to run out of room, and I'm going to be hot and miserable. So, please give me a break once in a while, ok?"

She got what felt like an elbow in response. Since it was better than nothing, she elected to count it as a victory and gathered her things. It was time to head back; she'd gathered enough, and she wanted to lie down for a bit. As she cast around for the basket, she took another look at the fallen tree she was sitting on. It had been a large candlenut tree. A grin flashed across her face; she couldn't wait to get back and talk to Rick.

Rick groaned, sweat pouring off of his body. He wasn't sure this was going to work. Pushing with all his might, it finally moved. An inch. Maybe. But, it was one inch closer to the hut, right?

It was now mid-October. Kate had bounced back to Pereora talking about some tree she'd sat on. He hadn't really paid much attention, truth be told, until she dragged him out to look at it. Then, realization dawned.

The middle part was nearly hollow. What wasn't missing was rotten and ready to be removed. The empty portion was roughly five feet long and several feet wide. Rick had understood what Kate was excited about the minute he saw it. It was the perfect natural bathtub. In the forest. Relocating it was proving that perhaps it ought to stay in the wild.

First, he'd spent four days chopping through the incredibly tough trunk that bookended the hollow. Then, he'd taken a break for 3 days while they'd gone to the outside beach. They both felt it would be too dangerous as Kate's pregnancy advanced. She was still fairly mobile right now.

They'd spent their days fishing, gathering some more sponges, and Rick secretly gathered a few more pearls. He now had ten good sized ones, all beautifully round or nearly so. They looked great hanging from the cord he'd made for her.

Once back from the outer beach, he'd resumed bathtub duty, this time hollowing out what was left of the middle, and taking the bark off the outside. The result was a breathtaking tub—a work of nature augmented somewhat by his own hands. It would be amazing—if he could get the damn thing back to Pereora.

Which was why he was now losing gallons of sweat and contaminating the surrounding air with curse words, some of which he simply made up on the spot. There was no way he could drag it alone. Even less likely than "no way in hell" that he'd let Kate anywhere near the thing. So, he had to come up with some other clever plan when clever plan number one (brute strength) came up far short of the mark.

He'd opted to try bamboo rollers, which sort of worked. The lever attempt from a candlenut tree branch did not. The ground was too soft to gain any purchase with it. Then, he just tried pushing it. It wasn't far, thank goodness, but any distance is too long if the object you're trying to move weighs a ton. Plus or minus a few thousand pounds.

It was just really awkward to try and push the thing from behind. He knew the rollers would work—if he could get some momentum going. Sitting down on the ground, he leaned against the tub and thought about how people would do this in the past. The pyramids were composed of giant blocks of rock, after all. Yet, they'd had access to multitudes of manual laborers. He had one: Richard Rodgers.

Suddenly, the image of a man pulling a giant passenger plane sprang into his head. Pushing wasn't the answer—pulling was what he needed to do.

The rest of that day and the next were occupied with making, fitting, adjusting, then using a harness. It went over his shoulders, then ran to the tub and attached firmly there. Thus, combined with his roller idea, Richard Rodgers was able to bring a giant wooden tub to his wife. He had to do a little expansion of the shelter, but in the end they had a marvelous bathtub—one they could both fit in quite comfortably together. They weren't able to try it out until the end of October, but the wait was worth it.

November, 2000

Twenty nine weeks. Kate felt like she was going to hyperventilate. Actually, come to think of it, she did feel short of breath most days. Her belly was enormous at this point. Sleeping was becoming more and more of a challenge. She'd made a body pillow weeks ago, which definitely helped. However, she had to get up frequently to use the bathroom, so consecutive hours of sleep were growing shorter and shorter.

Rick had made her stop trying to waddle to the outhouse in the middle of the night after she'd tripped and fallen one dark, moonless night. Luckily, she'd been able to hang on to the handrail and so twisted to land on her hip. Her cries of pain had brought him to terrified wakefulness, and they'd both been relieved when her only injuries were an ugly bruise down the side of her leg and a wrenched wrist.

"No more walking to the outhouse at night."

"Rick, I have to pee like every half hour. This kid is parked on my bladder. Just how is that order going to work?"

"Kate, it's too dangerous. Even with the handrail, the path is too uneven, and you can't see it in the dark."

"What do you suggest I do then, Rick? Are you installing flush toilets next?"

He just sighed and gave her a look that she'd hurt him a bit. She'd have felt guilty, too, if the baby hadn't chosen that very moment to drop kick her in the ribs.

"Oof."

"What is it? Are you ok?"

"Fine," she gasped.

"You don't sound fine. Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine. Your kid thinks I'm his personal punching bag, is all."

"Oh. Sorry."

"What're you sorry for? Nothing you can do about it."

"Ooookay, Kate. Listen, back to the outhouse at night issue. I seriously don't want you going that far."

"Rick, please give me another option, because I'm not seeing a chamber pot and maid waiting around for me."

"Yes, Miss Cranky Pants. Want to know what I think you should do?"

"First of all, I'm not wearing any pants," she declared. "Second of all, yes!"

"Use the shower."

She gaped at him. Perhaps pregnancy, in its advance stages, induced a mild form of hearing loss. She wished for the fifteen thousandth time that they had a book about pregnancy and babies with them. The third trimester was not pleasant, and if she couldn't understand what her partner was saying to her, it would be even worse than originally thought.

"The shower, Kate. It's got a drain, and we use it pretty much every day, so nothing will sit around in there. I'll even make you a little stool to sit on, if you want."

The argument had ended with Rick winning—not that he'd had to be too firm: her leg had hurt like heck from the bruise, and it had really scared her how easily she could fall. She was so awkward on her feet these days. Her center of gravity had shifted markedly towards the front, and she seemed to be in danger of falling even on smooth ground.

The only time she felt still like herself was when she was swimming in the lake. The water felt so nice on her often overheated skin, not to mention how buoyant it was. She wasn't ungainly in the water.

She shifted in her seat. She was supposed to be lying down for an hour or two this afternoon. However, she'd felt like sweeping the house first, then had spent some time reorganizing the shelves that held the blankets she'd made. Rick was putting a crib together this week; they had already made a mattress for it. She'd also finished her sling, and had a few items to try to use as diapers. It would be an experiment to see what, if anything, worked.

Rick had spent an afternoon pressing more candlenuts. He had made some torches, and larger oil lamps. He'd wanted to be ready if the baby came at night. Other than knitting some more clothing and covers for the baby, Kate felt like she couldn't do anymore. Physically, she couldn't do more. Most days were spent waddling from the house to the kitchen and back again. A trip to the lake each evening, swimming with her husband, was usually the highlight.

Rick had made her another chair with a back to it and a footstool to put her legs up. It sat in the dining area, and was where she tended to knit. She'd stopped banging on tapa cloth, as it hurt her wrist to do so now. She felt bloated half the time, though she didn't have any swelling. Rick checked her every night for leg swelling, and was pleased nothing beyond some mild fluid retention had appeared.

After dinner that night, Kate used the outhouse one last time before night fell, then joined Rick on the front porch as the sun descended into fiery clouds.

He pulled out a piece of paper that was covered in ink: his writing on one side, hers the other. They'd used up the last of his pen in the process, though Rick was confident he could make ink from some of the various nuts and roots found on the island.

"Ok, we're getting down to the nitty gritty, Kate. We've eliminated many; just a few remain. However, I have a question."

She looked askance at him. When did he not have a question? The man was more curious than George. "Yes, Rick, what is your question?"

"Does it have to be narrowed down to just one each? What if we have a few for each and decide once he or she arrives?"

"The problem with that, is that I'm afraid we'll still be arguing about it even after the birth. I'll name him Max and you'll call him Ethan, for example. I think we should agree on something. We're not far apart."

Rick nodded, acquiescing. He wouldn't deny her much these days. He could see how much the pregnancy took out of her, especially as the hot, rainy season was rapidly approaching.

"So, let's do boy names first. You know, this might be easier than if we were trying to do it in New York." Her raised eyebrow prompted him to explain. "If we had a full book of baby names and their meanings, how long do you think it would have taken us to figure something out? Here, it's just what names we can remember. Not having any idea of their meanings makes it hard, but I doubt any of them mean something horrible."

"I'm just sure we're missing a bunch of names, and we'll have lost the opportunity to name him or her something great, but didn't because we were stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere," Kate replied.

"Yeah, but if he hates it, he can always change it if he wants to. It's not like he'd be saddled with it forever. Besides, we've thought of classic names. It's hard to imagine he'll grow up hating it."

Kate nodded. "Ok, I guess I buy that. Should we start?"

"You're still against using your dad's name?"

Kate's nod was sharp and unmistakable. "He's a drunk. I wouldn't name a dog after him."

Rick kept his own counsel. He'd been married to Kate just since March, but he couldn't imagine life without her. He pitied poor Jim Beckett, wherever he was and in whatever state of inebriation he existed. The man had lost his beloved wife, due to an act without any regard to humanity. Rick couldn't condone the drinking, but he understood it.

"Ok, I've got Benjamin, Patrick, Ethan, Alexander and Robert. Robert is my favorite…we could call him Robbie."

"Really, Rick? Robbie Rodgers?"

Rick's face deflated. "Oh, I hadn't sounded that out in my head. Yeah, I don't like that."

"I like all of yours except for Ethan, and Robert. I've got Daniel and I like Joseph for a middle name. Are you sure you don't want Richard in there?"

"Uh, no. I don't want my kid being called Dick and Dicky like I was. Rick is a good name, but I hate Ricky, and only my mother calls me Richard. I think it'd be confusing. I could see it being a middle name, but not a first name."

"Alexander Richard? Or is that too cutesy?"

"Too cutesy, Kate. If you really want to use a piece of my name, I think Alexander is fine. Did you pick Joseph for a particular reason?"

"It was my mom's father's name. He was a great grandfather to me; I loved him a lot, and I'd like to honor him somehow."

"Ok, how about Alexander Joseph? He could be Alex or Xander, or AJ. Do you hate any of those?"

"No, those are all ok with me," she replied.

"Anything you'd like better?"

"Honestly, no. What about a Tahitian name?"

"I could give you some names, but I certainly don't know all of them," he explained.

"Well, we agreed that we didn't want to use it for the first name, but I'd like to honor the place where we fell in love and where the baby will be born."

"We could have two middle names."

"I think I like that idea best," she responded slowly. "What are some boy names?"

"Well, there's Rahiti, Purotu, Tehei, Teva to start with."

"I like Rahiti, but what about honoring Anapa?" she asked.

"Alexander Joseph Anapa Rodgers? I think it works," he grinned. "I learned so much from Anapa; I think he'd be pleased with the baby carrying his name."

Rick, I think we have our boy name!"

"Almost too easy. I'm sure the girl name will be a bigger challenge."

Two hours later, they'd moved the argument…discussion…to the bed. After a lot of compromises and passionate defenses of certain names, they finally agreed to a girl name as well: Sarah Katherine Eeva. It was the first middle name that Kate objected to; she'd wanted her grandmother's name. Rick had hated the sound of it with their chosen first name. He thought 'Sarah Rose' sounded too frilly. Or something like that.

Kate had finally given in when he'd explained how beautiful he found her name. Plus, the boy name used part of his personal name; he wanted Kate to use part of hers for their little girl. They had their names. It was now just a matter of staying healthy, finishing the little projects that were needed before the baby came, and preparing for the birth. Kate thought the last weeks left would never pass.

A burning sensation in her throat woke her…again. Her chest felt as though it were on fire. This had become an all too familiar sensation over the last few weeks. It had started off slowly, appearing around late September. She'd only noticed it once or twice a week, and it was fairly mild. It had progressed as her child grew, shoving her own parts upwards and squishing organs that didn't like to be squished. She assumed. Certainly her stomach had declared war.

She tried to reach for the bottle of water sitting on a side table Rick had installed for her a month or so ago. Unfortunately, her position—lying on her side, with her body pillow underneath her belly and supporting her top leg—did not allow her to stretch that far. Rick had anchored the bed tightly to the floor, so it had a very limited amount of sway. It was either slowly sit up on her own and eventually be able to reach the bottle, or wake Rick up. It wasn't even a hard choice.

"Rick," she gave him a tap with her hand, but could barely reach him. He'd stopped spooning with her weeks ago when she kept shoving him awake and telling him he was too hot. And she didn't mean in a handsome fashion.

"Rick." This time she reached out with a foot—much easier to accomplish shaking his legs.

"Whaa, whaat? What is it Kate?"

"I need help. I can't reach my water bottle."

"Ok."

He was adorably monosyllabic in his fatigue. She thought it was near dawn judging from the building dawn chorus of the birds. Sadly, she'd become more and more of an expert in assessing the stages of the night after being awake for pretty much all portions at one time or another in the last month.

Rick stumbled out of bed, coming around to her side. He grabbed a few pillows that had been tossed to the floor earlier when she was feeling too hot and placed them against the short backboard he'd included in the bed frame. He then gently helped her maneuver to a sitting position, handing her the water bottle when she was comfortable.

She sipped in relief. It didn't relieve the heartburn for long, but she didn't have a lot of alternatives. It was hard to imagine how she was going to make it 9 more weeks with this nightly torture. Between the heartburn and the peeing every half hour, she was beginning to question why anyone would willingly have more than one child.

"All better?"

She nodded her thanks. Unfortunately, the movement and Rick's voice woke the baby, who promptly let her know in no uncertain terms what he thought of the vanishing room in her uterus.

"Is he kicking again?" Rick could see she was in pain. She nodded miserably. He walked back around to his side of the bed and climbed up beside her. Laying his hands on the baby, he could feel just how active the little guy was being.

"Hey, hey, calm down in there. This is your father, and you need to learn to listen to me. It's a special day for your mom, and you need to be good for her."

Kate hadn't been really paying attention to what he said. Whatever it was about Rick's voice, it always seemed to work on their baby. He'd almost always settle down if Rick talked to him and gave her tummy a light massage. She relaxed back into the pillows, his words still echoing in her mind. Cracking an eye, she saw him looking at her with such love and devotion it made her heart skip a beat.

"What special day? I'm not sure what you're talking about, Rick."

"Kate, it's your birthday! Happy birthday, my love."