The Seven Pieces of a Feuilleton

Chapter 36

Preparing for their children in France, they had learnt, was immensely more intricate than preparations in les Etâts-Unis.

Following the first ultrasound, they had been required to fill out a declaration de grossesse form to declare the pregnancy. This form was sent to the Assurance Maladie and Caisse d'allocations familiales. The expectant parents immediately submitted an application for the twins' crêche, as advised. Brenda was given regular screenings for toxoplasmosis infection, in which she monthly visited her local laboratoire to urinate into a cup and become accustomed to needles. Chloé, Sèbastien, and even Blaise Rennard took turns bringing Brenda to those appointments. Dylan always arrived just before the needle, bolting into the room to hold Brenda's hand after his work days ended at the museum. In the evenings, Dylan attended French lessons which specifically taught medical terminology so that he could follow along with everything the obstetrician and midwives told Brenda.

In her eighth month, her vagina was swabbed for streptocoques B, or Group B strep. To her relief, she tested negative.

Also in her eighth month, Brenda began to feel something pressing against her upper abdomen. By the shape, Dylan assumed, and Brenda agreed, that it was one of the twin's heads.

Whilst both babies had been initially breech, they were informed, one had turned. The other had not.

Concerned she would need to undergo a second Caesarean when she had hoped for a natural birth, Brenda was assured that the best course of action was to deliver both babies vaginally.

Cindy diluted her daughter's fears when she told Brenda that Cindy, too, had delivered her breech and non-breech children vaginally.

"They didn't have drugs back then, right?" Brandon teased, the third party on their three-way call.

"Oh yes," said Cindy, "no drugs in the day of the Ice Age. We had to spread out our legs, squat over a bucket and hope for the best."

"Way too much information, Mom," said Brandon.

Iris, too, had been unconcerned.

"Dylan was breech," she said, her voice tinkling in mimicry of the film stars of old from her Hawaiian home. "Did your father ever tell you that, sweetheart?"

"No," said Dylan, looking at the startled Brenda, "I had no idea."

"Breech and jaundiced," said Iris. "Oh, I was absolutely beside myself! Your grandmother recommended jasmine tea, which calmed your father. Then you flipped, on your own, just before the doctor went in to turn you."

"Jack was freaking out?" asked Dylan as he grabbed Brenda's hand.

"Your father was so worried, I thought he'd slam into the glass door!"

Whilst Brenda was thrilled at the childish delight on her husband's face, she could not help but be distracted by Iris' words.

"Jaundiced?" She blanched at the thought of her newborn children being placed in incubators.

"Oh, no, Brenda," said her mother-in-law, dragging out Brenda's name in her typical way, "you've nothing to worry about, dear. The spirits have assured me that both of my grandchildren will be born in perfect health."

What the spirits had not warned Iris of was the two weeks past Brenda's due date that the twins would continue to lounge around in their mother's womb, or how fucking difficult it would be for her to walk across the Cannes carpet.

Dylan had been her crutch, which he was more than willing to serve as, despite the throng of cameras capturing their every move and Brenda's refusal of Dylan's offer to shove at the paparazzi.