Delia's Gift (Delia 3)

Custom-made

Not long after I showered and changed, Teresa returned with a tray of food for me. Mrs. Newell, the private-duty nurse and nutritionist, walked in right behind her to introduce herself. She was in a nurse’s white uniform with an RN’s cap and was perhaps in her fifties, although she looked younger. She was an inch or so taller than I was and had a nice figure, bright light-brown eyes, and a firm, straight mouth that would certainly make mi tía Isabela envious, although I wouldn’t call her pretty.

Anyway, I thought that someone who dictated to others how to eat healthier had better look healthy herself. I was sure it was the same for doctors. It would be hard to take their advice if they smoked or were seriously overweight themselves.

She flashed a smile at me so quickly it was more as if her face had blinked. Then she nodded at Teresa to serve me my tray on a table in the sitting room.

“I’m Millicent Newell,” she said. “I understand Mr. Bovio has already informed you that I will be looking after you during your gestation?”

“Yes, he has told me.”

“Good. Then let’s start.”

“Start?”

“There is much to go over concerning your health and the health of your fetus.”

From the way Mrs. Newell continued, I assumed Señor Bovio had told her that I knew nothing about how to take care of myself. She had the tone of a lecturer but also of someone who had been given authority over me.

“I am here to guide you safely through this ordeal,” she said.

I thought it was odd to refer to pregnancy as an ordeal, but later I learned that although she was married, she had no children. I would wonder why not. Had she and her husband chosen not to have children, or was she simply unable to conceive? If it was for the latter reason, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was jealous of the women she took care of in the maternity ward. It wouldn’t be long before I learned more.

“Because of your condition, you have a greater need for nutrients such as calcium, iron, and folic acid. I don’t imagine you know what folic acid is.”

“Yes, I do,” I said, but she acted as if she didn’t hear me.

Once she had begun her lecture, she was like an unstoppable robot. “Folic acid is a water-soluble B vitamin that occurs naturally in food. We usually recommend that women take a folic acid supplement prior to conception and for the first three months of pregnancy to help reduce the risk of neural-tube defects such as spina bifida.

“Unfortunately, you conceived without planning and weren’t even aware of it until nearly the third month, as I understand.”

She sounded disapproving, even a little disgusted. I glanced at Teresa and then back at her, answering with a slight nod.

“Actually, you’re the first patient I’ve had who’s a prospective unwed mother. Accidentally pregnant, I guess, is the kindest way to put it. Consequently, there is a great deal more for me to do, and there is a great deal more with which we must be concerned, medical concerns, dangers that can destroy your baby.”

Teresa stood by, gaping at me, her eyes widening as Mrs. Newell proceeded to describe a terrifying scenario.

“For example, I mentioned spina bifida. Spina bifida simply means an incompletely formed spinal cord. I won’t get into all the consequences of that. You can discuss it with Dr. Denardo later, but we’ll do the best we can to compensate for your poor nutritional preparation.”

“I ate well before I came here,” I said sharply. She was making it sound as if I had been living in the street.

“I’m sure not well enough,” she insisted, blinking that smile again. “For example, pregnancy increases the need for iron. The developing fetus draws enough iron from the mother to last it through the first five or six months after birth, so the need for iron is very significant if you want to have a healthy child. As you will see, I will provide red meat and good sources of vitamin C to help absorb the iron. I’m sure that’s something you never knew,” she added. “Most poor rural people have no idea of—”

“We might not have had formal education, Mrs. Newell, but we knew instinctively what we had to do.”

“There is no such thing as instinctive knowledge of nutrition, my dear,” she said, this time smiling at me as if I were clearly an idiot. “Did you know that the RDI of iron during pregnancy

is ten to twenty milligrams more than for nonpregnant women? I guess not,” she sang. “I’m sure Dr. Denardo will do the proper blood analysis to see what your storage of iron is. One side effect of this increased iron intake is constipation, so we’ll have to do something about that.”

“That’s a relief,” I said, looking at Teresa to try to lighten the conversation, but she didn’t smile. She lowered her eyes quickly.

“To continue,” Mrs. Newell said, ignoring me, “the RDI of calcium during pregnancy is eleven hundred milligrams per day, which is about three hundred milligrams more than for nonpregnant women. Don’t tell me that rural women living in some poor Mexican village are aware of that.”

“I was quite healthy when I was born, Mrs. Newell. I’m sure it wasn’t by accident.”

“No, not by accident but by luck,” she countered without skipping a beat. “We’re not going to depend on luck here, Delia. I know that Dr. Denardo is going to keep very good track of your nutritional health, and with the food groups I provide, you should do very well. You shouldn’t require any supplements, in fact. I will warn you against eating late at night, and we will prohibit caffeine and alcohol. You could suffer discomfort, heartburn, because as the baby grows, there’s more pressure on the abdomen. During the later months, I’ll keep your portions smaller.

“The reason I wanted Teresa to remain here while I spoke with you is that I don’t want her bringing you any snacks or any garbage food from the outside,” she said, glaring at the maid, who shook her head to assure her that she had no intention of doing such a thing. It was almost as if she suspected Teresa already had done so.