Mother's Story (16 page)

‘You okay?' Matthew stroked the hair from her forehead. She nodded, feeling decidedly less perky than she had a minute ago. ‘Are you going to be all right to sit in the car or shall I call an ambulance?' he asked, concerned.

‘No, I'll be fine. We can just go slowly, right?' She didn't admit to the tiny tremor of fear that travelled up her spine. If this was how she was feeling at the beginning…

Jessica buckled herself into Edith, stretching the belt as far as it would go across her vast bump. She watched Matthew coming out of the house. Just as he was about to shut the front door, he dived back inside; he had clearly forgotten something. She closed her eyes briefly. Hurry up, Matt, please. She considered beeping the horn, but didn't want to incur the wrath of Mrs Not Very at this ridiculous hour. He reappeared, grinning and holding a bag up. ‘Your bag!' he mouthed.

She smiled and nodded through the slightly foggy glass. The bag had been packed and sitting by the front door for the last fortnight. Twice she had checked its contents and on both occasions had removed items that had been surreptitiously inserted between her nursing bra and super-absorbent sanitary towels. The first was a vodka miniature with a label attached saying: ‘DRINK ME!' and the second a picture of Zac Efron cut from a magazine and placed inside a rather cheap wooden frame, with the words ‘I'm the baby's real dad!' scrawled across the front. Jessica giggled as she pictured Polly's handiwork.

Matthew raised his hand, about to grab the knocker and slam the front door, but then he nodded in her direction and dashed back inside again.

‘For God's sake, Matt!' Jessica ran her fingers over her forehead and simultaneously rubbed the flat of her palm across her tummy; she was feeling uncomfortable and getting the occasional flare of pain. Her nerves were building and Matthew's unhurried excitement was threatening to make her shout.

Finally he skipped up the path and jumped into the car, throwing the bag on the back seat before fumbling with the ignition. ‘Sorry. First I forgot your bag and then I had to go back for change for the car park. How we doing?'

‘Okay. I'm good. Let's just get going.' Jessica bit her lip, trying not to cry. She knew none of this was Matthew's fault, and she managed a watery smile.

‘That's my girl.' He winked and flicked the indicator as he pulled away from their house.

St Saviour's Hospital in Shepherd's Bush was approximately fifteen minutes away by car. Jessica knew this as they had driven there in a practice run in the early hours only last month. She looked at the clock: it was 4.30 a.m., which meant they would beat the rush-hour traffic.

Every traffic light was green and in no time at all Matthew was pulling Edith up on the yellow lines with the words ‘DROP OFF' painted on the tarmac. Jessica smiled as she realised that the next time she'd be getting into the car it would be with her baby in tow. A wave of excitement swept through her.

Once inside the hospital, she felt her breathing regulate and her muscles relax slightly. Just being in a building where people were on hand for every eventuality made her feel more confident. Matthew abandoned her to the care of a silent porter who plopped her in a wheelchair while he went off to park the car. She hoped he wouldn't be too long. She wanted him by her side.

The nurse that met them at the entrance to the delivery suite was very calm, bored almost. She leant her elbow on the reception desk as she scanned Jessica's notes and tapped her chewed Bic pen against her teeth. Jessica would have liked a bit more urgency or at least attention; she noted the scruffy, faded scrubs and the way the woman's Crocs were heavily worn, sloping inwards. She decided this woman had the walk of an ambler – nothing was going to hurry her, not even the impending arrival of Leo or Bethan.

‘We'll check you over and see what's happening,' bored nurse mumbled without looking up from the notes.

‘I think what's happening is I am having a baby…' Jessica tried to make her comment humorous.

‘Might be a false alarm; anything really.' She finally looked up.

‘My waters have broken and I think I've started having contractions,' Jessica offered with a quiver of nerves. Supposing she had made a mistake? Was it her waters that had broken? Had she thoroughly checked? Could it have been pee? But she was in pain, of that she was certain.

‘Okay, but things might still be a little way off.' The nurse smiled in a way that said she had seen it all before.

Jessica scanned the little room in which she found herself. The strip-lighting overhead was harsh and the suspended ceiling was stained with what looked like water damage from above. She was strangely glad of the sepia blobs and pondered them, trying to make countries out of the random shapes; one was almost Italy and another, if she squinted, a passable state of Texas. She sat on the bed with her back supported by four plump pillows that kept her upright. She was comfiest with her knees bent up towards her chest and her feet planted firmly on the plastic-coated mattress that crackled every time she moved or flexed her toes. The labour pains were occasional and each one was slightly more ferocious than the last. As the latest one subsided, she heard Matthew's laugh in the corridor. He pushed open the door, waving to the bored nurse and chuckling as he did so.

‘Where on earth have you been?' Trust him to be making friends with the gloomy, Crocs-wearing woman. She hated the fact that she was alone in the brightly lit room while he was enjoying a jolly good laugh somewhere else.

‘Oh God, you wouldn't believe it,' he puffed. ‘Parking is a bloody nightmare even at this time of night. I don't know why anyone has a car in London, I really don't. They are more trouble than they're worth, even Edith! Think I might take Boris's advice and get a bike.' He sighed. ‘That nurse seems nice.' He pointed to the corridor.

She ignored him.

‘How are you doing, love?'

Jessica swallowed her irritation at the fact that only after discussing the traffic problems in W12 and how well he got on with his new nursey best friend, finally – finally! – he wanted to know how she was!

‘I'm good,' Jessica muttered as tightness spread from the base of her stomach to the tops of her thighs. As a new contraction threatened, her legs began to shake. ‘Oh shit!'

‘What is it? Shall I get someone?' Matthew bent towards her, hovering an inch from her face, his fringe dangling close to her nose.

‘No,' she breathed. ‘Just move out of the way!'

‘Right, sorry.' Matthew straightened and paced by the window. ‘You are doing great,' he added for good measure.

‘I haven't done anything yet!' she shouted.

‘I know, but I was trying to motivate you. I read it in my book.'

This made her laugh despite the encroaching pain; she chuckled as she gripped her knees. ‘Can you get the lavender oil out of my bag,' she managed, remembering her birth plan and that to combat anxiety she was going to inhale the sweet scent and let nature's essence work its magic.

‘Yes of course.' Matthew scampered around the bed and retrieved the bag, glad to have something to do. He placed it on the bed. Unzipping the sides, he pulled out a jar of spirulina powder, a mesh bag full of misshapen crystals and a pair of neon-green Lycra leggings. Jessica instantly recognised them as her friend's belongings.

‘What the…?' Matthew shook his head, confused.

‘Oh no, Matt! Please, no! This is Polly's yoga bag. Not my maternity bag. What am I supposed to do with a sodding yoga mat and a block of rose quartz?' She grimaced.

Matthew looked from his pregnant wife to the items in his hands. He hastily shoved them back into the bag and zipped it up. ‘One day we will laugh about this, Jess.' He smiled.

‘One day maybe, but not today!' she shouted. Tears slithered across her temples as she threw her head back and almost instantly she started laughing.

‘See, you're laughing already!' He was delighted.

‘I know, but I really hurt and I'm a bit scared!' she wheezed.

‘Then why are you laughing?' Matthew was unnerved by her giggles.

‘I don't know!' Jessica wailed as she stared at the recessed spotlights in the suspended ceiling and thumped the mattress. ‘Nerves, maybe. Do you remember when I shut my thumb in the car door but laughed because Mrs Not Very was watching and I didn't want to cry in front of her?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, it's a bit like that.' She sighed.

‘What, you think Mrs Not Very is watching?'

‘No! Of course not!' She raised her voice and scrunched the top sheet in her fingers, in no mood for his humour. ‘But it bloody hurts and I know people in the corridor can hear me, so I'm trying to stay happy and positive, even though I feel a bit shit.' Jessica took a deep breath and arched backwards; tears spilled from the corners of her eyes into her scalp.

‘It's okay, baby.' Matthew smoothed her hair back over her forehead.

She lifted her head and smiled. ‘I'm sorry.' She sniffed up her tears.

‘Hey, don't be sorry. It must be scary. I wish I could magic it all over.'

Jessica saw his eyes crinkle with love and concern and it lifted her. ‘Not too much longer and we will have our little baby.'

Matthew beamed at the realisation. ‘I can't wait.' He gripped her hand.

‘Me neither.'

The wave of pain subsided, a midwife came and went, things seemed to have slowed.

Jessica dozed. Matthew half straddled the mattress and with one foot on the floor, he held her close.

Opening her eyes, Jessica shifted her position and looked at her husband. He was drooling onto his QPR shirt. He snored loudly and woke himself up. ‘Oh, hello, you.' He smiled. ‘How are you? Any action?'

Jessica shook her head. ‘I feel like a fraud. It was all happening so fast and now nothing. What will they do if nothing happens?'

‘Well it's got to come out eventually.'

‘Thanks for that, Einstein.' She shoved Matthew in the ribs and watched as he wobbled and slid from the mattress until both feet were firmly on the floor.

‘Think I'll adjourn to the chair.' With his hands on the small of his back, he lumbered across to the blue vinyl chair by the side of the bed and plopped down into it.

‘Do you want to play I Spy or Who Am I?' he offered cheerily.

‘Neither. I want to play Let's Get this Bloody Baby Out and Go Home to our Comfy Warm Bed and our Nice New Nursery!' Jessica wriggled further down the mattress and smiled at the thought.

Matthew stood and bent in to kiss his wife on her forehead. ‘It won't be much longer, Jess.'

Jessica raised her arms and leant forward to kiss her husband. At that very instant a powerful stabbing pain ripped through her lower abdomen. This was in a different league to any contraction she had previously experienced.

‘Oh God… Matt!' Her eyes were squeezed shut as she held her breath and shrank back against the pillows, gripping the blanket inside her knotted palms.

‘Shall I get someone?' Matthew hovered, placing his hand over her bunched fingers and trying not to let the panic show in his voice. He had never seen her in pain like this and it scared him.

Jessica nodded as sweat poured from her forehead, her cheeks flushed, her face contorted. Matthew yanked the red cord that dangled loosely against the wall over her head.

‘It's okay, Jess. It's all going to be okay. Hang in there, baby.' He looked towards the door. ‘Where the fuck is everyone?' he shouted as he made his way over to it.

‘Don't… don't leave me!' she managed through gulps of air that fuelled her pain.

‘I have to leave you to go and get someone, but I am literally only going to poke my head outside and I'll be straight back. No one is responding to the cord!' He yanked at it twice more as he looked into her eyes. ‘I'll only be a second. I promise.'

Matthew let go of her hand and ran from the room. As the warm gush of blood flowed over her inner thighs, Jessica sensed the bright lights swimming in front of her eyes. The room spun as if she was drunk. She looked above her head and tried to focus on the red cord that flickered in and out of focus. She wanted to pull it again, she wanted Matt to come back and she wanted someone medical to come and help her, but to reach for the cord or even call out felt impossible. She felt herself slipping as if drugged. Though she knew she had a job to do, a baby to deliver, she couldn't resist the black mass that pulled her in, sending her tense muscles soft and throwing a welcome veil of indifference over her panic.

14th March, 2014

Today we had a visit from the priest. He made his way along the corridor, popping into rooms with his usual fixed, happy smile and air of serenity. As one of the girls pointed out, it's all right for him, he only has to be here for an hour a week, no wonder he's bloody happy. I shy away from him, keep my distance, unable to look him in the eye. I don't want his words of kindness or understanding, as I deserve neither. His God knows what I have done. I do think about when I die and where I might go. When I was younger I used to wonder where Danny had gone. I would lie in my bed, trying to picture how something so solid could just disappear. Then I really did start looking at his bed and feeling sad and confused that he was not going to use it again. Half of me wished my mum and dad would throw all his stuff away so I wouldn't have to think about how he had disappeared and half of me wanted it preserved forever, so all I had to do was sit on his duvet and look at his books neatly lined up on the shelf, books that he had touched.

I went through a phase of picturing him sitting on a cloud with Grandad Maxwell and Flossy the rabbit; everyone we had ever lost all sitting together on their spongy white cushion, sharing memories and watching the world below as if we were tiny ants. I pictured them pulling crackers at Christmas. I realised one day that this was rubbish. There were no deceased relatives sitting on clouds: they would have dropped right through.