A Mothers Work, a Mothers Life

The hospital smelled sterile—like antiseptic and something colder, something final. Claire sat on the edge of the examination table, hands folded in her lap, waiting for the doctor to confirm what she already knew.

“It’s a perfect match,” Dr. Rowe said, her voice neutral, practiced. “Your son will make a full recovery.”

Claire exhaled, her relief immediate, but it was hollow. The cost of his survival was her own.

She had known this moment would come, when her son, fidgety, pale and unnaturally quiet came and told about his heart. How it wasn’t right. How he needed a new one, hers.

When the Maternal Sacrifice Act passed two decades ago, it changed everything. It was of course frowned upon to not give your organs voluntarily, but now it was the law. Mothers owed her children her body. Abortion had been outlawed first, but this was so long ago now that many forgot that it had once been allowed. Then came the Organ Priority Mandate, which dictated that a mother’s body was the first and primary resource for her child’s survival. If a child needed a kidney, part of a liver, even a heart—mothers were expected to comply. There were no exceptions. She had up until that day on the examination table, never thought she would be the exception either.

Claire was with her family checking into the hospital the same day Dr. Rowe gave them her go ahead. Her husband was giving the receptionists her details and Claire herself was standing next to her son. He hadn’t been able to look her in the eye. She wanted to touch him, tell him it was alright, that it would all work out, but her hands felt like lead.

Instead of looking at her son that made her heart ache, she was looking at the other women in the queue. A young woman was sitting by herself, her face so pale Claire wondered she was in for being anemic. But then she saw the flyer the doctor had handed her. When expecting, it read and Claire could feel a surge of worry for her in what was supposed to be the best moment of her life.

Claire had been 22 when she gave birth to Noah, too young to have figured out her feelings of what she would have chosen. Many of her friends had already decided to never have children because of the consequences it could have down the line. She had her choice taken away before she knew herself. Her body, and those few minutes of desire had made it for her. She had whispered promises to him in the dark, swearing she would always protect him. Now, those words had taken on a weight she hadn’t foreseen.

A commotion pulled her from her fugue state and when she looked up a woman being put down by two security guards broke down in tears and screamed. The hysterical woman was restrained and led away from her family huddled together. What seemed like her daughters, cried with her and called out to her. Her husband had to look away. But they all watched her be led away awaiting the surgery.

“All done,” her husband said and turned toward Claire. He followed her gaze to the woman being dragged away, kicking and screaming. He put his arms around her and turned her away from the scene.

“Can you believe it! Some people are just born selfish,” he said and helped her into the elevator. Right when the door closed she caught the sight of her son in the mirror. He had his eyes down, not saying anything. She felt a fire then, something warm spreading through her body. If she didn’t know better, if she didn’t know how much she loved her family, she would have thought it was hate.

Her son and husband were staying in another place to prepare for the surgery. Their goodbye had been silent. Lovingly silence. There wasn’t really much to say. Her husband had kissed her forehead and with a hand to his heart thanked her. Her son had grasped her so tightly and long that his father had to take him by the hand.

Her nurse hooked her up to the machine doing her vitals. Almost lovingly, motherly, she tucked her into the bed, making sure her feet were covered. Another mother was placed in the bed opposite her, thin and frail, her arms crisscrossed with scars from repeated surgeries. Not many mothers made it out alive from life without giving some of herself.

“You’re here for the transplant?” the woman asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Claire nodded. It was only polite conversation, they were all here for the same thing. The woman leaned closer. “It’s your first?.”

Claire told her it was, meaning to sound proud, but she sounded afraid. The woman’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s my third,” she said. “I’ve had three children. They’ve taken my kidney, my bone marrow, part of my liver… And now it’s the heart. The thing we all think our children already have.”

Claire didn’t say anything as a nurse entered the room to check their board. She didn’t have to. Only heart-mothers were allocated in the top floors with the view of the sunset and the comfortable beds with the Egyptian cotton bed sheets. This was the last thank you from the world, as they wouldn’t return from the operation table at all.

“I hope the longest life for your children, you’ve done well,” Clair said mechanically. She had said it to many women over the years now.

“Flesh of the blood,” the woman nodded.

“Flesh of the blood,” Clair answered and tried to ignore the single tear running down her cheek. The woman drew her unsteady breath and the nurse, a young woman with her mouth covered by the mask, gave them a look.

“Sometimes…” the woman started and tried to sound out her words as they existed in her head: convoluted, opposing and longing. “I love my children… I wanted them before I knew myself. I never questioned giving my organs, my skin and my life… But I just thought… I would have more time. More… Not death…”

The woman looked toward the sun that was setting, sniffling away her secret tears. Claire and the nurse exchanged glances. Quickly before Claire averted her eyes, and the nurse pretended she had never heard a word. She gave the woman something that seemed to calm her down and she fell asleep.

The sun was setting. Claire never really had time for sunsets anymore. What mother did? But there was something spectacular that made her want to tear up. She wanted to be grateful for the view, but somehow felt upset. Almost angry that they showed her something so beautiful before taking it all away. During the night the nurse came and brought the woman next to her to her operation.

“Do you need anything else, Mrs. Mother?” the nurse asked Claire and something in her bones and blood called out.

“Claire!” she said out loud and the nurse stopped.

“Excuse me?”

“My name… My name is Claire!”

She looked at her and Claire couldn’t read her face because of her mask. Then she gave her a nod and released the breaks on the lady next to her bed.

“Of course. Mrs. Claire. If you need anything, let me know.”

The lady going for the operation gave a silent wave as she was rolled out.

The night passed and she fell asleep to a view that disappeared one by one by the oncoming clouds. She dreamt of nothing. Only blackness. They all were giving something to have a deep sleep undisturbed by dreams.

She was woken when the nurse shook her hard. Sleepy and confused, she tried to make out the time. operation wasn’t until the morning. It still looked dark.

“Is it time? I thought it would be light.”

Claire wanted to get back to sleep, she wanted to dream, and have more time. The nurse shook her hand and removed her mask. She put her finger in front of her mouth and whispered.

“No, there are still hours until your operation. My shift is ending now. Now listen,” she said and pulled up a card. It looked like a keycard.

“This will take you out to the back of the hospital. A car is waiting.”

“Waiting?”

“Yes!” the nurse sounded frightened and her eyes kept darting back to the door to make sure no one was seeing her.

“You don’t need the operation. You don’t need to go through with it.”

“No, It’s for my son. He needs it. He won’t survive if not.”

“You won’t survive it you mean. There is still a donor list, we keep forgetting. What you choose and what you must do are two different things.”

Claire started to understand what she was asking her to do. To not go through the operation. To not donate her heart and life.

“It’s not allowed,” she said and the nurse was startled when the sound of a door slammed somewhere down the corridor. She turned back, she was really looking at her.

“There’s a network. There’s tremendous respect for those choosing to die for their children. There is also tremendous respect in choosing to live. Mothers who refuse to be carved up until there’s nothing left. We leave. We live.”

She pulled up her shirt and a scar across her stomach. Claire instinctively put a hand on it. They looked at each other, mother to mother. Woman to woman. Human to human. The nurse put the keycard on her table.

“You have a choice. What that is, will be yours alone. I only ask you to not tell on me so that I can keep giving the woman after you the same choice.”

She put her mask on again and disappeared slowly out the door. Claire felt breathless and she felt her pulse and her heart beat. She put her hand above it and could feel the subtle vibrations under her palm. Clouds were starting to part in the sky and she could see a glimmer of red color paving the way through the blackness.

When she took the card in her hand she saw that something was written behind it. Turning it over she saw the little handwriting saying: Follow the pink arrows. She hadn’t noticed any pink arrows at all, but was curious and stepped out from her bed. Peering out the door, she didn’t notice anything at first, but then it caught her eye. On the ceiling, the angle that only the patients in beds would see. In the dark the pink glow in the dark arrows illuminated the places where the corridors parted ways. Claire looked back to the bed and could feel the whole body shake. It wasn’t necessarily that she wanted to go for the doors and pink arrows, it was that she knew she could never get back into that bed again.

Barefoot she entered the hallway and her eyes peeled for the pink arrows lighting her way. The arrows led out to the emergency stairway and spiraled down and down until it pointed her out. In a basement-like corridor the arrows led her out from the building and a wave of sound and air hit her. The back of the hospital looked desolate.

A couple of seconds went by and she breathed in the night air before a couple of headlights turned on and the engine of a car revved before approaching her. Standing at the curb, she put up her hands to shield her eyes from the strong light. When she opened them, the car was beside her and the windows rolled down. The woman in the passenger seat pointed to the backseat. A big eyepatch covered one of her eyes.

“Get in,” she said and Claire opened the door. The two other seats in the back were already taken. She recognized the young woman in the seat by the window. She was crying, her eyes red and swollen. Another woman, a little bit older than Claire, had a relieved look on her face. There was no sight of the woman that had shared the penthouse room with her earlier. Claire got in and the car sped away from the hospital. Claire was given a pair of shoes and a knitted sweater to slip into. The woman in the passenger seat was saying something to the driver.

“Take the alley route tonight, Amanda. There are patrols on the highways out of the city. The woman driving nodded and took the darkened streets with her headlights dimmed. The woman in the passenger seat turned to them and pulled out a thermos. She poured them each a cup and put them in their hands.

“Here, take this. Mulled Wine. Something warm for you and… well. wine because…”

Claire took the cup and gulped down the warmed up wine. First then she realized how much body heat the adrenaline had taken from her, she was shaking.

“What have I done…” the young woman gasped suddenly, looking like she was about to hyperventilate. The woman in the front put her hand on her knee.

“The best you could do out of a bad situation. Choosing something in a shitty situation doesn’t make it bad, it just makes it hard. Now, drink,” she said and gave a nod to the woman in the middle. She turned towards the younger and put an arm around her. An old tune filled the silence in the car. Claire fixed her eyes through the window. The landscape was opening up as they got further away from the city. The sky was clearing up. The colors came out. Dawn.