A Year of Second Chances

by kendra Smith

  ‘Suzie, it’s OK.’

  ‘Yes, right, no, you’re right, you’ve done this before, so you’re just going to do this again!’ She sounds like she’s talking to schoolchildren. If I wasn’t in so much pain it would be funny. ‘But that contraction came faster than the last one,’ she says looking at her watch and scratching her forehead.

  This time the contraction is profoundly stronger than the last time as I brace myself for its full force. I can hear Suzie tapping numbers into her phone, some snatches of conversation: ‘Yes, you need to get here. South Elton Street, Chesterbrook. NO, right away. No, I can’t get her in the car; she’s on all fours! Ambulance? Yes! What accident on the A31? No, yes, right.’

  She comes back into the loo and looks at me. ‘She said that they are sending both an ambulance and a midwife in a separate car. There’s been a terrible accident on the A31 and many of the ambulances are already out, or they can’t get through. Oh God, Charlie. Right, I’ll get some towels. Where are they?’

  ‘Hall. Cup— Oh God – cupboard. Top of stairs.’ Just when I thought that maybe the pain was at its maximum it’s got me in a vice-like grip. Suzie reappears and helps me back to the lounge and lays out the towels on the couch.

  ‘No, the floor,’ I screech; this pain is unbearable. I kneel on all fours.

  ‘OK, breathe,’ Suzie says. ‘Shouldn’t you be breathing? Charlie?’

  ‘I’m just trying to survive.’

  ‘Maybe I could go and get help. Next door any good?’

  Suzie looks around furtively.

  ‘He’s – ahh – a plumber, always out. And their twelve-year-old daughter spends all day in a tiger print onesie listening to iTunes. No, don’t you dare leave me.’

  ‘Right.’ Suzie’s hand is on my back, massaging it gently. I simply can’t bear it, even though Suzie is trying her best. ‘Suzie, please, no! I can’t stand you touching me, it’s just—’

  ‘It’s fine, I read about that too, don’t worry.’ And with that she removes her hand quickly and replaces the back rub with holding my hand on the floor. She’s kneeling right next to me; her eyes are wide.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘What? No, I want a bloody epidural!’

  ‘OK, breathe…’

  She’s right. I take a deep breath and realise I need to remove my soaking underwear, and probably tracksuit bottoms, but just then another contraction hits and I have to take a deep breath. But that’s not enough and I scream with the pain. I don’t think I can do this. Finally, it subsides.

  ‘Suzie I need you to help me – ah – remove my clothes.’

  Between another two contractions somehow we manage this, me wriggling around on the floor. Suzie has now come back into the room wearing one of my aprons. It would be utterly comical if I wasn’t in absolute agony. The woman has no idea how much blood and gore is on its way.

  ‘The baby is really on its – ahh – way now!’ Another contraction hits me – and so does the sudden urge to push.

  ‘I need to push.’

  ‘What now?’ Suzie’s face is panic-stricken.

  ‘Suzie, calm down, we can do this.’

  Suddenly, there’s a loud banging on the door and Suzie sprints to open it.

  ‘Thank God you’re here.’

  Two paramedics walk into the room, but I can hardly register what’s going on I’m in so much pain.

  ‘Where’s – ah…’ A tall man in high-visibility clothes is suddenly kneeling on the floor next to me. He smiles at me. ‘I’m Nick by the way.’

  ‘Can you help her onto the couch?’ Suzie is pacing up and down.

  ‘We can if she wants to go there?’

  I nod. The two paramedics hold on to an arm each and gently help me clamber onto the couch. But the respite from agony is short-lived. I’m gripped by a violent pain and the urge to push is utterly overwhelming.

  ‘Right, darling, now hold on, just hold on, don’t push,’ says Nick firmly and I try my best not to but it’s too hard.

  ‘I need to push,’ I wail.

  ‘Wait, sweetie, the baby’s head’s crowning, but just a mo, don’t push till the next contraction… right, now!’

  With one more contraction, I push my hardest, hear some odd squelchy noises and to my utter relief, finally deliver this baby with a gush of fluid between my legs. I lean back and cry. And am entirely spent.

  ‘Oh, he’s beautiful.’ I look up to see Nick holding the baby and smiling. ‘A boy!’

  The other paramedic carefully clamps the umbilical cord and cuts it. Nick has wrapped the baby in a towel and is rubbing his back. There is an angry, desperate little voice – his little lungs are having a proper workout.

  ‘Hey, Mum, let me just hand him to you.’ Nick is holding out the baby to me.

  ‘No,’ I say firmly and take a deep breath, even though every inch of my being is aching to hold the tiny being, yearning to let the little child rest on my chest, to let him feel the warmth of my skin, to feed him, to quieten him from the shock of coming into the world…

  ‘She’s the mother.’ I nod over to where Suzie is standing, quiet and with her arms beside her, hands clenched into fists. ‘I’m the surrogate,’ I whisper to Nick. ‘She’s the mother.’ And with that I lie back against the couch.

  He gently wipes the baby’s face with the bath towel and hands him to Suzie.

  ‘Coo-ee!’ A woman in a nurse’s top and black trousers has just appeared in the living room. ‘Door was open and I guessed you needed my help, but, by the looks of it—’ she casts her eyes to me, then Suzie and the paramedics ‘—you’ve got it covered!’ She smiles.

  She kneels down beside me and opens up her medical bag. ‘My name’s Linda by the way and you are?’

  ‘Charlie.’

  ‘Right, Charlie. Let’s just take a look shall we, and let these boys get back to their other jobs.’ The midwife looks up at Nick. ‘Traffic’s terrible out there. Right, I’ll get on with delivering the placenta, and give the baby a once-over, then Mum can have some rest.’ She winks at me.

  Nature’s little joke: a postscript to giving birth. You deliver the baby, and yet there’s still the placenta. I do what the midwife says and try to relax as she injects me with oxytocin – I’d forgotten about that with Tyler. It will help me deliver the placenta. As I lie back, exhausted, I glance at Suzie. Everything I have done is worth it for this moment. She is looking with utter adoration at the tiny baby, wet curls plastered across his forehead, wrapped in one of my fraying blue bath towels, as her tears fall onto his head.

  66

  Suzie

  Jacob was snuffling again. She hauled her weary limbs out of bed and sat up on the side, her heart thumping. Was he all right? She looked over at Rex. How can he sleep? How he’s not awake with this tiny angel next to us in the crib is unimaginable. What if it’s the first signs of cot death? Is he still on his back? She shook Rex awake.

  ‘What is it?’ Rex was drowsy with sleep.

  ‘Jacob seems to be a bit sniffly.’

  ‘OK, darling, well we’ve been through this before. He’s nearly four weeks now so let’s pick him up and let’s see if that makes a difference.’ He yawned.

  Suzie leaned over and looked at him. He was swaddled tightly in his little blue blanket, with his tiny head poking out. She’d done it just like the YouTube demo had shown her, a neat little fluffy blue bundle. Her bundle.

  He looked so fragile it almost made Suzie cry. She had been overwhelmed with emotion since she’d had him home. Nobody told you. Nobody said what it was really, really like to have a newborn in your arms. She couldn’t let him out of her sight. Couldn’t stop licking her finger and holding it under his nose to check he was breathing. Then there was the crib monitor, which she was constantly checking.

  She leaned over him and smiled, let her fingers stroke his tiny, downy cheek. He was making small movements with his lips, twitching in the dim light of the nightlight she insisted they have in their bedroom so sh
e could look at his little face. Was he dreaming? What was he dreaming of? She gingerly picked him up and held him close. She could never get enough of his smell, that intoxicating mixture of baby lotion, milk and sweet, pure baby. He was hers. Hers! She carefully laid him down again.

  The urge to pick him up all the time was very strong indeed. The health visitor had insisted she stopped picking him up so much after her last visit – but what did she know? This is my baby, my baby… She still couldn’t really believe it, couldn’t believe how lucky she and Rex had been after all the years of waiting, of longing. She was finally able to hold her own baby in her arms, dream of birthday parties, first steps, baby yoga, his graduation, and his organic-only diet.

  She gazed at his minuscule fingernails, smiled and thought about yesterday. She’d passed the mothers in the playground at the local school yesterday with Jacob in his pram. It was all she could do not to shout out: ‘This is MY baby!’

  One of them had been leaving the school and clicked the gate shut. She had bent over and looked at Jacob in his pram. Suzie’s heart had nearly burst with pride. She had brushed over the birth questions, but was able to talk to her about colic, about feeds, about how he was sick – she loved it when he was sick, because she knew then that the milk had gone down, that she was doing the bottle-feeding properly.

  She’d talked to the woman for ages. She hadn’t wanted to leave this hallowed Mothers’ Club on the pavement, a club she, until recently, could only watch from the sidelines. Standing, talking to another mum about her baby. A few months ago, it was just a dream. Now, an amazing reality. She looked over at Jacob again and had to sit on her hands so she didn’t pick him up.

  It hadn’t been so easy for Rex; he adored Jacob but was just that bit more removed from him because he was away from the house so much; he was either in London working or on overnight business trips. And when he wasn’t away, he seemed to be spending all his time on a bike, or at those stupid spinning classes. What was wrong with him? Weren’t they the perfect family now? She couldn’t understand why, now that they had got exactly what they wanted, he wasn’t more pleased. She adored Jacob. Why wasn’t Rex happy with their cosy family unit? What else was missing?

  She pushed the nagging doubts to the back of her mind. She glanced at her sleeping husband, at his handsome face; even in sleep she loved looking at him, the dark eyelashes resting peacefully on his cheek, the way his thick hair framed his face, those lips… what he’d done with those lips. She smiled at the memories. And yet they’d had another row yesterday; they were having endless rows at a time when they should be so happy. But she didn’t want to analyse her feelings, the ones where she was feeling slightly guilty about how much time she was spending with Jacob. Rex can look after himself, can’t he? Isn’t it what we always wanted?

  She thought about her appointment with Annie that was looming in a few weeks. It was too soon! Her heart lurched. Rex thought she was ready to discuss going back to work; Annie thought she’d been looking at nurseries, that everything was sorted. But she hadn’t waited nearly eight years to have her own child to give him to someone else to bring up, had she? Ramone was great, but she wasn’t going to leave her precious baby with him all day, was she? What if his first word was ‘Hola’?

  She would just go to the meeting, see how she felt; maybe it would all seem more possible when she got there, when she walked back into that building maybe she would feel her old self flooding back with the desire to nail the best possible deal for her clients. She tried to summon up those feelings, that hunger to fight for her clients, to get the best outcome, to fight off the competition, the desire to stay into the small hours to get the pitch absolutely right, to not eat, to drink endless coffee, that determination – but instead she found herself wondering if there was enough non-biological washing powder to wash the crib sheets later.

  67

  Dawn

  The sides of the road whizzed by in multicolour flashes as if she was seeing things from a train window. Rex was cycling at great speed – it was hard to keep up! Dawn had to concentrating on her pedalling – and her breathing – as little beads of sweat built up along her hairline. She was trying desperately not to look at Rex’s rear end in front of her. To not notice the way the muscles moved in his backside, how his strong calf muscles bulged, the sheer raw power across his shoulder blades… He slowed down and came to a stop at a junction and put his foot down. It was a small, twisty country road out by the back of the gym. It had been his idea, she reminded herself. Come for a proper ride. It’s a glorious August day – let’s forget this spinning class. I really need to get out.

  She had looked at the sunshine, the cloudless blue sky – such a treat – and at the yellow rapeseed stretching across in the fields and felt a spark ignite inside her. That and a thumping heart. She needed to get a grip. But there was nothing wrong, was there? She’d just traded going to a spinning class with Rex for being outside, just the two of them, with no one else around… God, it almost felt like a date.

  ‘Dawn?’

  ‘Yes!’ she trilled, alarmed at how she seemed so eager to please.

  ‘Shall we carry on down the hill to Lillyhook, or turn back?’

  ‘Don’t mind, but I do need to watch my time…’

  ‘OK, I know a little ice cream shop on the way back if we go this way.’ Rex signalled to the left with his hand and sped off.

  Good Lord. Perhaps the class would have been easier. Dawn pushed against the pedals, willing the wheels to go faster up the hill.

  After about half a mile, she saw Rex pull in on the roadside next to a tiny paper shop. She’d never been this way before; it was enchanting. The road was clear, apart from the dappled light of the sun making its way through the leaves and dancing on the tarmac. She looked up. Some streaky clouds had built up on the skyline – it looked as if candyfloss had been lazily stretched across the sky.

  Rex emerged from the shop carrying two orange ice lollies.

  ‘Here you go! Let’s put back on all the calories we just burnt off.’ He laughed and handed one to her.

  ‘God I’m exhausted!’ she said leaning on the handlebars. ‘That was tough!’ She took a bite of ice lolly, they were orange on the outside, but filled with delicious creamy ice cream. Perhaps she was imagining it, but Rex seemed to be staring intently at her.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Sorry! I was just thinking how Suzie would never in a million years eat an ice cream; it’s so refreshing to see you tuck in!’

  ‘Oh dear, do I look a bit greedy?’ Dawn immediately put her hand to her mouth and wiped it.

  ‘Not at all! Nice to see you enjoying it; it’s actually quite se—’

  Was he going to say ‘sexy’? Good heavens.

  ‘Look, Rex, Suzie’s just pretty uptight right now, with the baby thing and all…’

  ‘Yes, I know, I know.’ He unclipped his helmet and stared at her. ‘But first the IVF took over our life, seven years of trying and trying. We did four rounds in just over six years; then we decided to give up, all the money we spent, the specialists, the – I don’t know. Nobody warns you,’ he said shaking his head. ‘All you can think about is having a baby, being a father. Your sex life becomes mechanical – it’s engrossing. You don’t ever think about what it’s like after. You don’t allow yourself the hope, you see?’ He looked at her, took a bite of his ice cream thoughtfully and hung his helmet on the handlebar. ‘But there is an “after” – and I’ve gained a baby. I know, I know and I’m so grateful, but it’s kind of like I’ve lost my wife.’ He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘Let’s just say it’s taken its toll.’ Rex bit hard into the remaining piece of his ice cream, then slid it off the stick with his teeth.

  ‘I’m sure.’ Dawn was transfixed by his mouth. By the smooth lips, the way he licked them just then and how they gleamed.

  ‘And now,’ he sighed, breaking her daydream, ‘it’s all “the baby” this, “Jacob” that. I mean—’ he looked u
p at her ‘—I love him, I really, really do; in fact, I never knew what it was like, that feeling – you know? The love, the overwhelming desire to protect them.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, I do, Rex, I know only too well, especially as new parents.’ She remembered those feelings as if it was yesterday.

  ‘But,’ he continued, ‘it’s just there are so many fears – especially where Suzie is concerned – the worry that every night he will stop breathing, that she won’t know what to do with him in the day, that he will suddenly stop feeding, that it’s too hot, too cold.’ He let out a long sigh. ‘Jacob’s really changed our life.’ He looked at her. ‘It’s changed Suzie. The other night she woke me at three in the morning to tell me that he was sniffling. I mean sniffling!’ He shook his head, and clipped his helmet back on.

  ‘I’m sure she will get used to it all. I’ll talk to her again. Reassure her that she’s doing a great job, that everything will be OK?’ It was the least she could do. The poor man. ‘It’s just that the baby means so much to her, Rex.’

  ‘And what about what I mean to her?’ Rex looked up at Dawn from under long, curling eyelashes and held her gaze. ‘Thank you, by the way.’ And with that he leant towards her. She could smell his sweat and aftershave mixed together as her heart fluttered in her chest. She stopped mid-bite of her ice cream and stared into the golden flecks of his green eyes. He edged a little closer, then he veered to the left and threw his ice cream stick into the bin behind her. ‘For listening.’

  She quietly let out the breath she’d been holding.

  68

  Charlie

  A melancholy feeling washes over me as I sit expressing breast milk. It’s so mechanical and there’s not even a baby. The pump is making an awful sound and my nipples hurt. I’ve managed to fill about four ounces in one bottle from one breast; now I’m onto the next. I want to give Jacob the best start and I told Suzie I’d express milk for a few weeks and then she could put him onto formula – plus, even I can see that it’s really helping with the weight coming off, so I should be thankful for some things, I guess.