Positively Yours

by Amanda Hearty

  Ethan resisted the urge to say ‘I told you so’ to his wife. He’d never thought the cold and fizzy drinks sounded like a good idea for someone who was about to pop. Instead he passed her a glass of water and listened to her rant.

  Half an hour later and Grace still didn’t feel well.

  ‘Oh my God, you couldn’t have cooked those burgers properly,’ she shouted at Ethan. ‘I told you I wanted mine well done.’

  ‘Grace, if that burger had been any more well done it would have been a piece of coal. It was all but burnt to pieces.’

  Grace nodded her head. ‘My stomach is upset, and considering that burger is the only bit of meat I’ve eaten all day it must be the reason I feel so bad. You’ve given me food poisoning.’

  ‘I thought it was the ice-cream float that had caused your stomach to be sore.’

  ‘How dare you suggest my dead father’s speciality could have caused this!’ she shouted.

  Ethan could sense he was losing this battle. He decided to be quiet while Grace sat on the toilet crying. Suddenly a shiver ran up his back.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not in labour?’

  Grace glared at him.

  ‘No, it’s just an upset stomach. My waters haven’t broken. I don’t have contractions.’

  ‘But you said your stomach is sore. Are you sure that’s not cramps? Labour cramps?’

  Suddenly Grace felt light-headed.

  ‘Oh my God, maybe I am in labour. What do we do?’

  Ethan stood up. ‘You stay there. I’ll ring the hospital.’

  Ten minutes later Grace was sitting in the front of Ethan’s car watching him lock up their house. The hospital had suggested she come in and be seen. As they sped through the city Grace rolled down the window and took deep breaths. The night air was crisp but fresh. The city was dark and peaceful, but inside the car she was beginning to panic.

  ‘I don’t think I’m ready,’ she said, gripping Ethan’s hand.

  ‘You are, Grace. We’ve read all the books, talked about it for weeks. You’ll be great.’

  Grace dismissed his response – talking and reading about labour was bound to be completely different from experiencing it.

  42

  BY THE TIME Grace had been admitted to the maternity hospital and brought up to the labour ward she had decided she didn’t want to give birth. The pain was bad enough already.

  ‘Listen,’ she said to the midwife, ‘I don’t want to be in this situation. I want to go home.’

  The nurse just smiled and continued taking her blood pressure.

  ‘Don’t worry, the doctor will be here in a few minutes to assess you,’ she said.

  ‘OK, I don’t think you’ve understood. I don’t want to be here. I’ve changed my mind. I saw those women in the corridors as we were going by. I heard them screaming. I know I could be like them, waiting hours or days until I finally dilate and go into labour. They’re walking around this hospital crying and in pain. No, I want out.’

  ‘You’re stronger than those women,’ said Ethan, placing his arms protectively around his wife. ‘You’ll be fine. Trust me.’

  Grace pushed him away. She gazed at the door; she was thinking of bolting out of it when a very handsome young doctor walked in.

  ‘Hello. My name is Doctor O’Sullivan, and I believe you might be in labour? How are you feeling?’

  Grace wanted to shout and scream. She felt sick, sore and anxious. But the doctor was so calm and attractive that instead she mumbled something about feeling unwell and let Ethan explain the situation. She held her tongue and considered the potential of the window as an escape route.

  ‘OK Mrs Miller, you’ll be glad to hear you are one centimetre dilated. Congratulations, you’re in labour.’

  ‘Can I have an epidural?’ said Grace, asking before he had barely finished speaking. Yes, she was relieved to be in labour, but the pain in her stomach and back was getting worse and she wanted it to stop.

  Dr O’Sullivan laughed.

  ‘Wow, you know what you want! But first Nurse Kenny will explain to you about the gas and air option, and then . . .’

  Grace interrupted. ‘Listen, I know all about gas, air, breathing and the flipping yoga ball. But I’ve found the last half-hour excruciating, so I can only imagine what is to come. Can you please order the epidural?’

  The doctor looked at Grace’s hand. She was squeezing Ethan’s fingers so hard that they had gone blue.

  ‘OK, it’s your decision. I’ll get the anaesthetist up to you straight away.’

  And with that Grace Miller was in labour and beginning the countdown to her baby’s arrival.

  Ethan was about to voice his opinion, and remind Grace how they had hoped to be drug free for as long as possible in the labour room, but when he looked at her angry expression he knew it was best to keep quiet.

  The nurse tied back Grace’s long red hair, and handed her a cold facecloth.

  ‘I can’t let you have any food or drink, but this should cool you down.’

  Grace thanked her, but all she really wanted was the epidural.

  Soon she was changed into a hospital gown, and Ethan was sitting beside her, rooting through her hospital bag.

  ‘I swear to God,’ Grace said irritably, ‘if you’ve brought that flipping camcorder in here I will kill you. This is not America, no one wants to see me pushing a baby out.’

  Ethan placed the camcorder back into the rucksack. He pretended he had just been looking for Grace’s warm woolly socks instead.

  ‘No, I just wanted to take these out for you. Everyone says your feet will get cold.’

  Grace relaxed. ‘Oh yes, thanks.’

  Ethan looked at the nurse, who had seen it all before. She winked at him.

  Forty minutes later Grace was in agony, but lay very still on her side as the anaesthetist carefully inserted a needle into her lower back. Grace sucked hard on the gas and air as she waited for the proper pain relief to kick in. She sucked and sucked.

  ‘Try not to suck in that much,’ said the nurse, but it was too late. Grace was tripping. She could hear the anaesthetist talk, but everything he said was repeated three times. She could hear the sound of music on the little bedside radio but the same song was repeated again and again. She looked at Ethan, he smiled back. It all felt so dreamlike.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered. It repeated inside her head over and over. It was lovely. Love, love, love she thought, as the doctor told her she would start to feel the effect of the epidural soon. She began to let go and relax.

  The next two hours passed quickly. Grace felt much better, the epidural made the whole process so much easier. Yes, she couldn’t stand up or go to the toilet, but she didn’t feel like her back was cracking, either.

  Ethan never let go of her hand. He was a rock.

  ‘You’re doing great,’ he said encouragingly.

  Grace looked out of the window, it was still night. While people slept she was giving birth, while people lay in their beds she was here, waiting for her child to be born.

  There was a small radio playing in the room.

  ‘You can turn that off if you want,’ said the nurse, but Grace liked the distraction. As one hit song after another played quietly she became calmer, knowing the end was in sight.

  ‘OK,’ said the doctor, who had just come in to check on her. ‘You’re ten centimetres now, which means in a few moments we are going to ask you to push. Now, don’t push unless I ask you to, no matter how it feels. OK?’

  Grace nodded. Oh my God, this is it, she thought. The room filled up with nurses and doctors. They were all talking, but Grace wasn’t listening. She had total trust in them, she knew she would be fine. Instead she listened to the radio. As the sound of Coldplay, The Script and then Bell X1 all poured out into the room Grace wondered which song would be playing when her child was born.

  ‘I hope it’s Coldplay,’ she said to Ethan.

  ‘Grace! Just focus on the doctor and the pushing!’ he insis
ted.

  Grace turned to the doctor, who was now telling her to push. Grace could feel her baby getting closer and closer to entering the world.

  Nine minutes passed, but it felt like seconds. Suddenly Grace gave one big push, knowing this was the one. As she felt the pressure of the baby’s head she couldn’t hear or see anything. It was like an out-of-body experience. Suddenly she heard a baby wailing, the doctor calling to the nurse, and Ethan crying.

  ‘Oh my God, Grace. It’s a girl. A little girl, and she’s perfect!’

  Grace looked down. The doctor was holding a tiny baby. That’s my daughter, she thought.

  ‘Can you hear the song playing?’ exclaimed Ethan. ‘Listen to the song!’

  Grace didn’t take her eyes off her baby, but started to become aware of the music.

  Pouring out of the radio was a song so appropriate, so apt, that Grace couldn’t believe it. If she had read about it in a book she would have thought it was made up. As she looked at her daughter the song played loud and clear. It was the Prince hit, ‘The Most Beautiful Girl in the World’. Grace’s little girl had been born into the world with that song playing.

  The nurse wrapped the baby in a warm blanket, placed a little hat on her head and handed her to Grace.

  She was perfect, she was amazing, and, as the song said, she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Grace’s life could now be divided into two. Her life before and after meeting the most precious thing in the world – her daughter. She took one look into the big blue eyes of her child and knew it was love.

  Two hours later the night attendant at Ireland’s National Maternity Hospital opened the large wooden entrance doors to a woman frantically knocking.

  ‘I’m looking for my grandchild,’ she announced.

  He looked down at the woman’s slippers, it was then that he noticed she was also in her nightie.

  Patsy Slattery pulled her coat tightly around her. She still had one curler hanging down from the back of her head.

  ‘I’m here to meet my little angel, my first grandchild. I’m here to see Ava Miller.’

  The attendant was about to explain their visiting hours, rules and policies to her, but as he saw the determination in her eyes, and watched her clasp a large bottle of holy water in her hands, he knew not to mess with this woman.

  ‘I’ll let them know you are on your way up,’ he said as he watched her run up the stairs. He knew better than to stand between a woman and her first grandchild.

  43

  ‘SO WHEN WILL you return to work?’ asked Tom Maloney, as he tried not to stare at Beth’s ever-growing belly.

  Maybe never, thought Beth, as she sat opposite him.

  She looked around his huge office, with its superb view of sunny St Stephen’s Green, expensive furniture and paintings.

  ‘God, I think you can actually see the ducks from here,’ she said, as she stood up slowly to look out of the large glass window.

  ‘Ducks? We’re talking about work here. Sit down,’ said Tom.

  Beth would have liked to ignore his command, but with only three weeks until her due date, she wanted to sit and take the weight off her feet as much as she could.

  ‘I don’t know the exact date of my return. But I’m taking the full paid maternity leave, and to be honest I plan on taking the unpaid, too,’ she replied.

  ‘Even the unpaid? I didn’t think you would do that,’ said Tom, who sounded shocked. ‘Of course, legally you are entitled to, but what with your job being so sought after, I didn’t think you’d want to leave your position for very long.’

  ‘Are you implying my job could be taken away from me because I’m on maternity leave? You know you can’t do that,’ Beth replied calmly, staring into his eyes.

  ‘Of course I’m not.’ Tom was flustered. ‘I’m just surprised. You love work.’

  ‘Not as much as I plan to love my baby,’ she replied.

  There was silence.

  Suddenly Tom’s shoulders slumped. ‘OK, let’s talk about this properly. If you want to take the unpaid leave from work, then I can personally help you out.’

  ‘It’s not about your money. I don’t need it or want it. All I needed was you.’

  ‘We’ve been over this a million times. I’m sorry, but I don’t want any more children.’

  ‘I’m not expecting you to become the father of the year, but you have sat in your office, metres from me, every day for the last few months, and rarely asked how I’m feeling. Or how the baby is. What kind of man are you?’

  Tom looked ashamed. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to handle it.’

  ‘And I do?’ shouted Beth. ‘I’ve never been pregnant before. Never been dumped, then had to face working with my ex-boyfriend day in, day out. God, get over yourself. I don’t know what I’m doing, either.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.

  Beth stood up. She’d had enough of his expensive, yet icy, office. And mainly she’d had enough of him. He might look the part, but underneath he was a cold-hearted empty man. She walked out of his office knowing it might be the last time she ever saw it. Beth was beginning to lose interest in her work. The numbers and figures were becoming boring. She was sick of spending her day making wealthy clients even richer. There had to be more than that to life. She had made some bad life choices, but now she was determined not to make the same mistakes again. She was taking ten months’ maternity leave off work, and while that was happening she was going to make some big decisions – one of them about her future at Burlington. But, for now, she was just going to get through her last day in the office.

  ‘This is from all of us, Beth. Best of luck,’ said Susan, as she stood at the top of the office canteen.

  ‘We’re really gonna miss you,’ added Graham O’Reilly, as he put a protective arm around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  Beth stood forward, accepted the envelope from her friend, and thanked all her co-workers. She couldn’t believe how fast the last few months had gone, and that in another few weeks she was due. She’d insisted on working right up until the end, as she wanted to have as much time as possible afterwards with the baby, but she had to admit that in the last few weeks it had been hard to get out of bed early, and she had dreaded fighting her way through the packed Dublin streets every day. She had also found it hard to fit into the maternity work suits that she’d had custom-made by a dressmaker. Even though they’d been specially cut to fit her, they had had their limits when it came to a very large bump. She was looking forward to lie-ins and her tracksuit for the next few weeks. Nothing else seemed to matter when you had a little person kicking inside you, or when you were wrecked from a bad night’s sleep. Work had always been so important to her, but over the last few months she had seen how she had focused way too much on it, to the detriment of her relationships with family and friends. But today her colleagues had been kind enough to buy her a gift and were all wishing her well.

  Beth opened her present. Inside was a card and two vouchers. One for Mothercare, and another for a health spa.

  ‘So, one gift for the baby and one for you!’ said Susan, giving her a hug. Beth would have been lost without her the last few months. Susan was still the only one of her co-workers who knew it was Tom’s baby. Tom had been working in America a lot recently, and so Beth had been spared having to see him every day. But it had still been the hardest few months of her life. Beth had always done well at everything she had put her mind to: from school work and college exams to getting a great job and working her way to the top. But her relationship with Tom had been a failure. All she had ever wanted was a good strong man by her side, and instead she had chosen a selfish coward. She was still upset at how things had turned out, but after months of hating him, she knew she had to try to let things wash over her, and instead just focus on keeping well, and being prepared for the baby.

  She had a lot to do the next few weeks, between preparing the nursery in her apartment and looking for a nice crèche. Secretly
she was hoping not to go back to work, but in case she had to she didn’t want to be caught out, the way she had been with her choice of doctor and ante-natal class. This time, she was going to be one of those ultra-organized women, and book her unborn child into the best crèche she could find. She might even book him or her into a good school right this moment!

  Beth took one last look around the busy office, thinking of all the work it had taken to get there. She was proud of what she had achieved. But when she looked at the window she was very glad that it was now her turn to be on the other side of the glass: one of those people taking a child by the hand and bringing them to see the ducks. Afternoons in the park would be her plan now. It was a far cry from the stock exchange, but she didn’t care. Motherhood, here she came!

  44

  BETH WAS SITTING watching the newest George Clooney film when she started to feel unwell. It was so hot in the cinema that there was sweat pouring down her face. She gulped down her large Coke.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked her friend Laura.

  ‘I’m fine, just a little hot, and these seats were never built for a six-foot, extremely pregnant woman.’

  Laura laughed, and then turned back to the large screen.

  Beth was now two days overdue, and had decided not to sit at home waiting for the baby, but to enjoy her last few days of freedom. Ever since she’d finished work she’d been meeting friends, shopping, going out for dinner and cinema trips, and taking long walks down the pier. Today she had finished organizing the baby room, gotten her hair blow-dried, had lunch with her dad, and was now mid-way through a cinema date with two of her school friends, Laura and Michelle. But she wondered if maybe she had pushed herself and her extremely large belly too far.

  ‘I think I’m gonna have to leave,’ she said to Laura. ‘Even the sight of the divine George Clooney can’t stop me feeling that I’m about to burst out of this seat. I need to stretch my legs.’

  Both Laura and Michelle looked at her, alarmed.

  ‘No,’ Beth said. ‘Before you ask, I’m not in labour. I just feel the need to stretch and get out of this roasting hot over-packed cinema. Listen, I’m going home. Enjoy the rest of the film. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’