Ask laura, p.17
Ask Laura, page 17
‘How often are they coming?’
‘Every fifteen or twenty minutes. It hurts so much.’
I swallowed the witty remark which was on my tongue and made sympathetic noises instead.
‘It looks like this baby’s in a hurry. Don’t you have another couple of weeks left?’
‘Yes, by my reckoning, but the midwife thought I was further on or that the baby’s very large.’ We were both silent then until we turned into the hospital car park.
‘Can you walk if we leave the car here, or shall I drop you at the entrance?’
‘Please stay with me. I think I can manage to walk.’ Zoe was seriously scared; she must be to turn to her husband’s ex, whom she’d never particularly liked.
‘It’ll be fine, and I’ll stay as long as you need me to.’
Zoe let out a sigh. Whether it was with relief that I’d agreed to stay or the contraction being over, it was impossible to tell. After pulling the car into a vacant spot, and there were plenty so early in the morning, we got out and made our way towards the entrance.
The lady yawning on the reception desk looked at us and pointed toward the lifts.
‘Straight up to floor six, maternity,’ she said, and we dutifully obeyed.
Zoe was leaning heavily on me by then and I would be as glad to sit down as she was. As we opened the swing doors to the darkened corridor, new-baby noises could be heard at the far end of the ward. A shivering cry, akin to a cat, made me smile. I loved the tiny baby stage – everything is so uncomplicated and exciting. A smiling nurse led us to a side room and asked Zoe to undress before telling us she’d be back in a minute. I turned away and began to fuss over the bag I’d carried in.
‘Do you want a nightdress from in here?’ I asked. Zoe was down to her bra and knickers then, and as she nodded, I pulled out an unsuitable, chiffon-layered, short nightdress. It was going to be hot and uncomfortable during labour; cotton would have been much better. I was surprised she hadn’t been advised about it at antenatal classes. The first spots of breast milk and baby sick would soon have her sending Paul shopping for something more appropriate. For someone so close to her time, Zoe seemed quite unprepared.
‘Now what should I do?’ she asked as if I was the oracle.
‘Hop up on the bed. They’ll probably want to examine you.’ It was eleven years since the twins were born; things would have changed considerably. Zoe cast a puzzled look at the stirrups at the end of the bed but said nothing. What delights awaited the poor girl! The nurse came back in just as another contraction made Zoe groan.
‘How regular?’ the nurse asked.
‘Fifteen minutes or so, I’m not sure.’
‘Well, let’s take a few details, and then we’ll have a look, shall we?’
I always love the way people phrase such statements, as if ‘we’ really have a choice.
‘Shall I wait outside?’ My question was directed at Zoe, whose doe eyes suddenly widened with fear.
‘The birthing partner, are you?’ asked the nurse.
‘No, just a... a friend.’ We could hardly go into complicated details, could we? And at least she didn’t take me for Zoe’s mother.
‘You can stay if you like,’ she offered.
‘Please!’ Zoe pleaded. So I took the seat by the window at the top of the bed, not wishing to be at the business end of things. Answers to the nurse’s questions were recorded in a file, and then it was time for the examination. I busied myself searching in my bag for nothing in particular, catching only a brief glimpse of Zoe’s bewildered expression as her legs were raised into the stirrups.
‘Yes, baby’s head is well down, just as it should be, and dilation’s about eight centimetres.’ The nurse spoke kindly and explained what would happen next.
‘I’m just going to have a little feel of your abdomen to make sure everything’s okay there, and then I’ll listen to baby’s heartbeat and check your pulse and blood pressure if it’s all right with you?’ Zoe nodded, looking more and more like a frightened rabbit.
‘I think you’ll be heading for the delivery room pretty soon.’ The nurse chatted as she worked, while I wondered why Zoe seemed to know nothing about what was happening. Still, she’s young, I thought, but not as young as I was when Lucy came along.
The nurse left after the routine examinations and I checked my watch. It was almost seven. A sudden thought crossed my mind, what if this took all day? What about my date with Steve? It was such a selfish thought – Zoe’s need was far more important than a meal out, even if it was a first date.
‘Can I get you anything?’ I hadn’t a clue what; perhaps a coffee, then I could escape to the vending machine we’d passed on the way in.
‘No, nothing, thanks, but could you try to phone Paul again for me? I forgot to bring my phone.’
I took out my phone and scrolled through the contacts to find Paul’s number, wondering if he’d even be out of bed. Surprisingly he answered after three rings.
‘Laura, whatever it is, can it wait? Zoe’s started with the baby, and I’m driving back.’
‘I know, I’m at the hospital with her.’
‘What? You, but why?’ His shock made me smile, I could picture the astonished look on his face.
‘It could be because you are away, at the same time as your parents? I’ll pass the phone to Zoe.’ Trying to be tactful, I went outside to give them privacy to talk. It was warm in the hospital and stuffy. I felt relieved it wasn’t me who was giving birth, yet strangely I envied Zoe. If Paul and I had stayed together, would we have had more children? It was academic and a waste of time and energy even thinking about it. I took a walk to the end of the corridor and back, then knocked on the door and went back in to resume my undefined role with Zoe.
‘So, he’s on his way?’
‘Yes, he was up early and found my message. The conference was due to finish later today, so he won’t miss much.’
‘Any idea of when he’ll arrive?’ The answer was delayed as another contraction came. The nurse returned and told us the delivery room would be ready shortly and she immediately turned to leave. When the contraction eased, Zoe asked me how much longer it would be, hoping the baby would be here soon.
‘It can take longer than a few hours, Zoe, especially for a first baby. With a bit of luck, Paul will be here in time for the birth.’ I poured water from the jug the nurse had left. Zoe was warm and uncomfortable, but I couldn’t think of much to say which would be helpful. Talking about my own childbirth experiences was hardly appropriate, so I smiled and sat quietly until the next contraction. It was a bad one, or a good one depending on your point of view. I moved to Zoe’s side, and she gripped my hand, her beautifully manicured nails digging into my palms, generously sharing the pain.
After it eased, Zoe confided, ‘I skipped most of the antenatal classes. I’ve been depressed, and being pregnant isn’t what I thought it would be. I’m an only child and haven’t had much to do with children, but I so want Paul’s baby.’
I hoped she wasn’t going to stray into topics about which I’d rather not know. Time to change the subject, perhaps?
‘After the baby is born you’ll forget all about this. It’s worth all the pain just to hold your child close and marvel at such an amazing miracle. I take it you don’t know what sex it is?’
‘No, we wanted it to be a surprise...’ We were interrupted by the midwife and a porter who came to move Zoe to the delivery room. A look of panic crossed her face again, and I stayed close by the bed as the porter moved it, assuring her I would still be there. Strangely I was warming to Zoe, we’d never exchanged more than a single sentence to each other before, but I was seeing her in another light. We all have different facets to our personalities, and I’d never before attempted to view her from any other angle except one of home-wrecker.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I would not have recognised the room Zoe was trundled into as a delivery room, so different was it from my pregnancies. An oscillating fan cooled the air, and music played from a small unit in the far corner. The blinds were discreetly drawn, unnecessary perhaps as we were on the sixth floor, but they presented a more homely feel than the clinical room I remembered giving birth in. A sofa was against one side wall with a couple of beanbags sagging beside it. There was even a water cooler with a stack of those little conical paper cups to help ourselves, presumably.
The midwife repeated the examination performed earlier by the nurse and pronounced baby to be coming along nicely. She put me in mind of a television chef, checking the sponge cake in the oven.
‘We’ll leave you for now, but there’s the buzzer if you need anything. You seem to have started a rush, Mrs Green – four more mothers-to-be have come in since you.’ She smiled reassuringly and left the room. I filled two cups with ice-cold water and took one over to Zoe.
‘You don’t have to stay on the bed, you know. I think these days you can choose whatever position is most comfortable to give birth, hence the beanbags.’
Zoe swung her legs off the bed. I had noticed a clean hospital gown folded on a trolley and picked it up.
‘Why don’t you change into this? Cotton will be much cooler than what you’re wearing and more practical too.’
‘Do you think I should?’ She looked like a frightened little girl.
I nodded and turned away while she changed. Another contraction made her squeal, they were coming quickly, and it probably wouldn’t be too much longer. Zoe bent forward over the bed until the pain eased.
‘It’s more comfortable leaning forward; it doesn’t seem to hurt my back as much.’
‘Good, well, if you want to deliver baby that way, then say so. It’s your baby and your labour, and the midwife will want you to be as comfortable as possible.’ I remembered my first pregnancy. Being so timid, I did exactly as I was told, even as to when Lucy could be lifted from her crib. By the time the boys came along, I’d decided to take charge. They were my babies and I would do what I thought was best. Zoe, at twenty-seven, was older than I’d been with Lucy, but she seemed so young. Perhaps it was just me getting old. As if to confirm my thoughts, a doctor came into the delivery room who looked no older than seventeen! The midwife hurried in to stand beside him as he looked at the notes. She told him about Zoe’s blood pressure and dilation. He smiled at his patient, saying it was looking good, then they left us alone again.
‘What time is it?’ Zoe’s look was pleading.
‘It’s 10.30,’ I replied, assuming she was counting the hours until Paul arrived. In a way, I was too. A shower or perhaps a long soak in the bath seemed so appealing. I’d intended to spend time on my appearance in readiness for going out with Steve. But all was going well, so hopefully, the baby should arrive soon, and when Paul came, I would be able to take my leave. It wasn’t turning out to be the kind of day I’d anticipated.
Zoe was half lying on the sofa now, looking tired and worried.
‘He’s not going to make it for the birth, is he?’ Her eyes were moist.
‘Sorry, but it doesn’t look like it.’ I sat down beside her. ‘Why don’t you close your eyes for a few minutes and rest? You should take every opportunity; you’ll need all your strength for the birth.’
‘Is it very awful?’ Her brow was furrowed.
‘Well, they don’t call it labour for nothing.’ I smiled. Zoe returned my smile.
‘I’ve always envied you, Laura...’ she began.
‘Me? Why on earth would you?’ Now, this was a surprise.
‘You’re such a natural mother, whereas domesticity doesn’t come easy to me. You cope so well with three children, and I’m petrified about looking after just one. And you have such a glamorous job too. It must be so exciting working for a magazine. I’ve always felt I could never match up to you as Paul’s wife.’ The last sentence was spoken with such sadness – where on earth did she get such ideas?
‘Zoe, can you hear what you’re saying? You are the one who Paul is with now, not me. And I don’t still blame you, it’s history now. You’re the one he chose, the one who makes him happy, which I obviously couldn’t do. As for managing the children, you know the situation with Lucy, so I’m certainly no great mother figure. And the job, well, I don’t have one anymore but it wasn’t a particularly glamorous job, even though I loved it.’ It was hard to believe she’d been envious of my life. Zoe opened her mouth to speak but another pain gripped her, only about five minutes after the last one. I rang the buzzer then took her hand.
‘I think baby’s ready now, even if Paul isn’t.’
The midwife arrived with a different nurse and asked Zoe to get on the bed for another examination, after which she sent the nurse away to get something and told us it was almost time.
‘Are you happy to stay there, or would you like to walk about?’ the midwife asked.
‘I’m okay here, perhaps on my side?’ She rolled over to get comfortable, and the delivery began.
I knew how frightened Zoe was, but she did remarkably well and I felt a strange empathy with her. I was almost proud of the way she got on with things when I’d assumed she’d be a wimp.
During the worst contractions, she gripped my hand so hard I thought my fingers would break, but it didn’t matter, and I found myself encouraging her and praising her efforts. Having dampened a face-cloth from her bag, I cooled her face with it and offered sips of water to moisten her lips. I rubbed her back in between contractions, trying to make her as comfortable as possible.
Time passed quickly, for me at least, and then, almost suddenly, Zoe’s baby was born.
‘It’s a girl!’ the midwife announced, lifting the squirming, mewing infant so the new mother could see her beautiful daughter. After cutting the cord, the baby’s face was quickly cleaned, and she was laid on her mother’s breast, skin to skin.
Zoe looked at me with tears in her eyes and whispered, ‘Thank you.’ I could hardly speak. It had been an incredibly emotional experience. Instinctively I leaned over to kiss Zoe’s cheek and gently touch her daughter’s tiny fingers.
‘Well done!’ was about all I could manage.
The nurses were content to leave the baby, now swaddled in a blanket, bonding with Zoe while they cleared the trolley away, presumably to reset for the next delivery. It was a busy day. The porter appeared again to whisk mother and baby on to the ward. By now, it was almost midday, and the smell of food made me realise how hungry I was. Zoe too must be starving after all her effort. She still held her daughter. I didn’t like to ask if they’d chosen a name yet. It was none of my business. All in all, it had been a swift delivery without complication, which is all any mother can ask.
We were now in a small, six-bed ward with a bathroom at one end. I sank into the easy chair next to the bed, glad to sit down.
‘Would you like to hold her?’ Zoe asked. Naturally, I wanted to but was uncertain. What would Paul say if I held his new daughter before him?
‘Yes, please.’ Why worry about Paul? – new babies are irresistible. I took the little bundle, breathing in the distinctive baby smell which turns adults into malleable putty.
‘She’s so beautiful.’ Tears threatened to fall, but then I lifted my head and saw Paul walking through the ward doors, a massive bunch of flowers in his arms and a somewhat ambiguous expression on his face. Zoe’s face lit up as she reached out for him, everything was forgotten except the happiness she was experiencing. I felt like a child caught with their hand in the sweetie jar and gently passed the baby back to Zoe.
‘Congratulations, Paul, she’s beautiful. I’ll leave you now. I’m very pleased for you both.’ With one last smile at Zoe, I left.
It was a relief to get out into the chill air. Hospitals seem to have their own microclimate, and you could almost forget what season it is once inside its walls. The car park was full by then, outpatients, staff and visitors all scurrying around like ants. I yawned, opened the car door and climbed in to head home.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Once home, I took two fruit teacakes out of the freezer, defrosted them in the microwave and put them in the toaster. I wanted something fast and comforting to eat, and a toasted teacake fitted the bill nicely. A proper meal would come later, with Steve. I turned the gas fire on in the lounge and put my feet up with a huge mug of tea and my teacakes beside me. So far, the day had been totally unpredictable, and I wondered how the evening would turn out. I closed my eyes; my body clock was out of sync and tiredness was overtaking me. It wouldn’t hurt to sleep for a while to catch up. It would be embarrassing if I fell asleep over dinner tonight.
The next thing I knew, it was four o’clock, still plenty of time to Skype Holly and the twins before getting ready for this evening.
‘Hey!’ Holly’s beaming face came into view on my laptop. ‘I was expecting to hear from you later, after the date! You’re not going dressed like that, are you?’
‘Of course not. I thought I’d wear a smart navy business suit.’ I grinned.
‘Don’t you dare!’ my friend growled.
‘Are the boys about?’
‘They’re helping Brian in the garage. Shall I get them?’
‘No, not yet, I want to tell you about my day first, but I think it will be better for them if they hear it from Paul himself.’
‘Sounds intriguing; tell me more.’
‘I got an early morning call from Zoe; labour had started, and she wanted me to take her to hospital.’
‘No, the bloody cheek of it!’ Holly laughed. ‘Did you give her the number of a taxi firm?’
‘Actually, I went. She was frightened and alone, Paul was still away, and Janet and Bob are on holiday. It’s rather sad, don’t you think – she only had me to call on for help?’
‘So, what happened? Has she had the baby?’
‘Yes, a beautiful little girl. But it’s only right that Paul should tell the boys when they get back home. Paul missed the birth by an hour, so it was left to me to hold Zoe’s hand.’
