Oh, Baby!. Judy Baer

Чтение книги онлайн.

      “Never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just a pipe dream.”

      “It’s too late now. You’ve already started.” She also refilled the plate of tender date cookies and rich macaroons.

      “I have this vision,” I admitted reluctantly, “of creating an agency through which mothers and doulas can connect. Somewhere an expectant mother can go to discover if a doula is right for her. Currently moms are referred to us by health nurses, nurse practitioners, doctors or by word of mouth from friends who’ve used a doula. Some doulas have formed small group associations in order to promote their practices, but I envision something more.”

      I was on a roll now, excited, like I am every time I think of what I’d like to have happen. “I want everyone to know what a doula is and how to hire one. I’d like to create an agency that not only has a roster of doulas but also educational programs and support groups about all things concerning mother and baby.”

      “It sounds like a wonderful idea. Why would you give that up?” Emily sat down, kicked off one shoe and tucked her foot beneath her leg.

      “I’m not giving it up entirely, but I may have to give up on creating it at Bradshaw Medical Center. I’d love to start the program through a hospital. Because of Bradshaw’s size, it would be a good place to begin a pilot program. They already have a free clinic in one of the more depressed neighbor-hoods so it would be a simple matter to add an agency like this. But now that Dr. Reynolds is head of the obstetrics department…”

      Emily had an odd expression on her face as she patted my hand. “Don’t worry about the hospital or Dr. Reynolds right now, my dear. That can be worked out. You did, after all, sell me on the value of a doula.”

      For no good reason that I could discern, Emily’s words comforted me greatly.

      After I left the Hancock home, I drove my red Volkswagen convertible to the Yarn Shack to buy what was, for me, almost better than chocolate or sleeping in late—baby yarn.

      “Back already?” Matilda, a robust woman in her sixties, said when she saw me enter. “You knit faster than anyone else I know.”

      “Not really. I just buy yarn faster than anyone else you know.” I headed straight for the soft pinks, blues, yellows and greens. “I want enough to knit a couple of baby hats.”

      “I’ve got something you’ll like even better.” Matilda dug beneath the counter and came up with a pattern book. “New hats. Look.”

      She opened the book to reveal a massively colorful jester’s hat with six points and silver bells on the tip of each point. There was also a knitted stovepipe hat reinforced with a cardboard liner that looked like something the Mad Hatter might wear, and an alligator hat with its jaws open at the back of the wearer’s head. “Anyone you know need a new hat?”