Árdís - 01.01.1953, Qupperneq 54

52
ÁRDÍ S
to warm the formula. She held the infant in her arms while it
gulped down the milk, then held it across her shoulder, and patted
the small back. Still sitting there, with Cecilia May cradled in one
arm, she fingered the nap-worn flannelette gown, and faded bootees.
I can’t let her be seen in these, she thought. I’ll get her a new ward-
robe, then remembered she was tied to the house. She couldn’t go
anywhere without this child.
“My word,” she complained, “how did I get talked into this
mess?”
Tired though she was, Grace did not take a sleeping pill that
night. She lay awake in her bed listening to the baby’s regular
breathing in the crib beside her, recalling the times she had lain
awake like this happily listening to her family in their slumber,
thankful they were all well.
Then she was startled by a sharp, pathetic cry from the baby,
and switching on the bed lamp, jumped out of bed. At first glance
it was evident that Cecilia May was in a convulsion. Panic squeezed
Grace’s heart. Should she run a tub of warm water? Should she
call the doctor?
“Oh, oh,” she moaned, watching the wee contorted face.
Reluctant to leave the infant, even for a minute, she picked it
up, and held the struggling body against her bosom, with one arm,
pressed the head against her face, with the other. And as she felt
the small chin quiver against her cheek, Grace was filled with over-
whelming compassion for this unfortunate child.
Then it was over. Grace sat down on her bed with the infant
still clutched in her arms. Now she remembered Dr. Midfjord had
requested a report on Cecilia May’s reflexes, so she raised one small
arm. The baby opened her eyes for a second, and pulled her arm
back. She is not in a faint, Grace thought, thankfully, placing the
child back in the crib, and getting into bed.
She must have slept, for the sun rays were pushing through the
Venetian blind when she was awakened by loud cries.
“That’s better,” she told the protesting baby, sliding her feet
into mules, and slipping into a house coat. “No more whimpering
and mewling. When you want something, demand it.”
The baby was fed and bathed, if bathing it could be called,
sponging with water in spots, and smoothing on cream, and salve