by Carmen Reid
Two more hours of Annie fussing about and prodding her with those awful latex gloves was about all she could take.
‘AAAAAArgh, here comes another one,’ a great vice-like grip moved round her stomach and felt as if it was going to squeeze the life out of her. She pushed the button to whack over her back and slowly counted five, four, three, two, one, zero, minus one, minus two, minus three . . . finally the contraction let go of her.
Don was staring at her, fork frozen in mid-air. Annie was eating on blithely. ‘We’ll finish our supper, then maybe you’d like another massage?’ she asked cheerfully. ‘Walk around the room a bit, it might help.’
It’s all very well for you to say that, you hippie ratbag, Bella thought. She was beginning to feel helplessly furious with the pain, the indignity and most of all with Annie.
Another fierce contraction began and Bella dropped onto all fours on the kitchen floor.
‘Owwww!’ she felt so stupid, crawling there helplessly.
Don rushed over to her side. ‘Hon, are you OK?’
‘Of course I’m not fucking OK. It really, really hurts.’
‘Come on, Bella,’ Annie said briskly. ‘Let’s get you upstairs, I’ll give you a nice relaxing massage.’
‘I don’t want one,’ Bella heard herself say petulantly. ‘I want this to stop.’
Somehow, pausing for the contractions that were coming every few minutes, Don and Annie got Bella upstairs into the bedroom.
‘OK, let’s have another quick look, please,’ said Annie lying Bella back on the bed.
Bella groaned.
‘Still about five centimetres,’ Annie said withdrawing the dreaded glove.
‘Jesus,’ Bella exclaimed in frustration. ‘We’re just not getting anywhere.’
‘We’ve got to help you relax and open up. What would help Bella?’
‘Less pain,’ she snapped. ‘Here comes another one . . .’ There was a catch of fear in her voice.
She grabbed Don’s arm and clung to him, groaning.
‘I’ll go and get some music,’ Annie said, and went out of the room.
When the contraction had passed, Don and Bella’s eyes met. He looked anxious to her and she looked frightened to him. That made them both even more worried.
‘I’m really scared, Don,’ Bella whispered. ‘Most women dilate at a centimetre an hour. That’s another five hours to go before I’m ready to push. I can’t do this for another five hours.’
Her face looked stricken again: another contraction was on its way. It seized her violently round the middle and gripped her with a pain hotter and more intense than anything she could ever have imagined before this ordeal began.
She was kneeling on the bed with her elbows up on the bottom bedstead clinging to Don who stood on the other side of it. Her face was buried in his chest, her eyes were closed. Then the contraction let go and she breathed again.
Annie came in with a cassette player in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. She went out again and came back with candles, matches and an aromatherapy burner.
The next contraction set in and Bella buried her head in Don’s chest again.
When she closed her eyes and felt the pain grip, she knew this was what it was like to be tortured on a medieval rack. Lashed down on a frame, she was being cranked and stretched apart, wrenched open bit by agonizing bit. She was waiting to hear the crack and snap of ligaments being torn apart.
Medieval was the word that kept running through her mind. It was the twenty-first century, but she had chosen a medieval way to give birth. She could have been in hospital with an epidural anaesthetic coursing soothingly through her central nervous system but instead, when she opened her eyes, she saw that Annie had turned down the lights and was lighting candles.
There was the cloying smell of incense in the air and awful New Age music. Bella began to feel panicky.
Her hair was sticking to her face and neck, droplets of sweat were trickling off the ends and into her eyes, she could feel sweat running freely down her sides, between her breasts.
The contraction was over and Annie was coming towards her with the mug.
‘Here we are dear, have a little camomile tea, it will help you to calm down.’
That was too much for Bella: ‘Camomile fucking tea?’ she screamed. ‘Do you seriously think that is going to make any difference?’
There was silence in the room. Then Bella moaned because she could feel another contraction cranking up again. It began low down like the cramping pain of a terrible stomach upset and radiated out until she was helplessly overwhelmed by it. She clung to Don and tried to stay afloat.
Suddenly, there was a terrifying bursting sensation and Bella felt as if something had exploded out of her in a rush. Her legs were soaking wet and for a moment she thought the baby must be there.
‘That’s good,’ said Annie. ‘The waters have broken.’
Bella came out of the darkness of the contraction to find Annie mopping at the puddle on the bed with a horrible beige, plastic-backed mat.
She laid another mat over the back of Bella’s legs. The plastic clung to her sweaty calf muscles, but before she had time to be irritated and move it, another contraction was bearing down on her.
In the depth of it, Bella heard a low animal-like groaning and wondered what the hell it could be before she realized she was making the noise herself. Christ, this was awful.
Annie went out of the room and as Bella surfaced from the gripping agony and drew in breath, she spoke to Don in an urgent voice. ‘Get my handbag, quick.’ She pointed at the bag in a corner of the room.
‘You can’t smoke now, Bella,’ Don hissed at her.
‘No, no,’ Bella said urgently. ‘Get the bag!’
He handed it to her and Bella rummaged for her address book. The next contraction was already welling up, she had to be quick.
‘Pass the phone,’ she urged Don, who in disbelief handed it to her.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
She dialled in the number – Answer, ANSWER – the pain was spreading from the pit of her stomach. The receiver was sliding in her hand, wet with sweat.
‘Hello, caller, please leave your message after the tone.’
‘Declan, Declan, it’s Bella, you’ve got to help me.’ She could hear the groan of pain start to enter her voice, she tried as hard as she could to continue . . . ‘Please come round, bring drugs, 18 Park Crescent. I’ll pay you whatever you need.’
She dropped the phone and grabbed hold of Don’s shirt. He put his arms round her back and hugged her. He had no idea how they were going to get through this. He was starting to feel very afraid.
Annie came back in with a bowl and a face flannel.
When the storm of the contraction had passed, she offered to wash Bella down.
Bella realized how much she needed this. The large T-shirt, all she was wearing, was totally sodden and clinging to her. Her hair was completely wet now with salty beads streaming into her face. Her legs were soaked and the plastic mat was sticking claustrophobically on top of them.
Every pore in her entire body was running with sweat.
Annie helped her take the T-shirt off and sponged her face with cool water. She moved on down over Bella’s back and legs.
‘I’m sorry, Annie,’ Bella was wailing now, ‘I can’t trust you to do this. I don’t want this any more . . . candles and shit. . .’ Her eyes were swimming with tears and she could feel the low pain starting up again.
She felt like vomiting and began to retch. Racked with fear, she was beginning to think she might die. She buried her head in Don’s shirt again and started to concentrate on getting through the pain.
When she closed her eyes, she saw a black ocean swell and her own head bobbing in the enormous bank of water, trying to stay afloat. She was just trying to keep her head above the water and survive, but she had no idea how long she could hang on for.
There was no sign of help and she was so
tired of swimming and only very vaguely aware of Don and Annie talking. Way in the distance, she thought she could hear the phone ringing, but it all seemed like a dream she was having while she paddled desperately in this ocean against the black mountainous waves that were trying to drag her down.
At last, it was time to open her eyes and breathe again. The bedroom window had been opened and the sheet was billowing in front of it, sending a cool breeze into the room. The incense and candles had gone, replaced by bright sidelights.
Don was stroking her hair and Annie was prodding about between her legs and listening to the baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope.
‘You’re both doing fine,’ said Annie in a soothing voice. ‘Look Bella it’s absolutely OK with me if you want someone else here. Just do whatever you need, whatever you want. You have time to go to hospital if you like, Bella, but it will be a very uncomfortable journey.’
‘Is Declan coming?’ Bella looked up at Don.
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Very soon.’
‘Oh thank God.’ She was vaguely aware she might be hurting Annie’s feelings somewhat but she knew she couldn’t really care about that right now.
Declan was coming. The fresh air hit her and she began to feel slightly stronger and thirsty.
‘Annie, could I have a drink? There’s apple juice in the fridge.’
‘Of course.’
Annie bustled out and Bella sat back on her heels and tried to rest and breathe but the pain was there, cranking up again.
‘Oh Don,’ she moaned and held out her arms so he could gather her up and somehow get her through this.
She was amazed at how much agony her body could endure. Hours ago she’d thought the pain was as much as she could bear, but each contraction since then had upped the level again and yet again and harder and longer, trying to squeeze the life out of her and still she was surviving somehow. It was becoming a relentless storm with no clear beginning or end to the contractions. It felt as if hours had passed yet it also seemed barely twenty minutes since she had been in the bath thinking labour was OK.
Outside it had grown dark and she was aware of more people coming into the room. At one point she opened her eyes and saw Declan, or was she just imagining it? She managed to smile at him but had to close her eyes and groan again.
But it was him. He was really talking to her in his lovely Irish accent.
‘Bella, hello, how are you doing? Come on my love, open your eyes and look at me for a moment.’
With enormous concentration, she prised open her eyes.
Her arms were still wrapped round Don, but Declan had his hands round her face now and looked into her eyes.
‘Bella, you’re doing fine. It’s just taking a long time to happen, so you’re getting tired and a bit discouraged. Now I’m here, with my good friend Zena, to help you. Annie is here too and together we’re going to help you do this. You are a strong, tough old girl, Bella. I know you can do this. You’ve got your lovely husband here holding onto you for dear life. We are all here for you. We are not going to let you down. OK?’
‘OK,’ she managed to whisper.
‘Now, gas and air. I promise this will really, really help.’
He passed her up a flat white plastic tube. ‘Put this in your mouth and take a deep breath,’ he said.
A blast of cold parchingly dry air hit the back of her throat. She wanted to cough but sucked in again and again.
She pushed the tube away as her face now felt strangely numb and she felt sick to the pit of her stomach.
‘No, no, no . . . I feel sick,’ she wailed.
She could hear Declan: ‘Keep going, I promise, it will be fine.’
She put the tube to her lips again, everything was starting to blur in a dark red melting pot of pain. Declan’s reassuring words felt like a repeating mantra which had been going on for hours.
She knew it was night time, but there were flashes of bright light when she opened her eyes. When she closed them, she was in a sea of hot red liquid pain.
‘We’ve got to get her up.’ Declan’s voice sounded far away in the distance, she was still focused on the tiny head, bobbing in the waves, dipping under in the hot sea. God, she just wanted to rest, just wanted this to be over.
She felt strong arms under her armpits wrenching her out of the sea.
They were trying to make her stand on dry land, but her legs weren’t working.
‘Bella! Bella!’ It was Don with a hint of panic in his voice. She thought she would like to see Don, where the hell was he?
There was cool water on her face and running down her back. She opened her eyes.
Don was standing in front of her, holding her up, Declan was at her side.
She opened her eyes wide and was aware of the terrible, clear pain. They were holding her up, defying the force between her legs, which was dragging her down. She felt her knees buckle with the effort, but still they held her up.
She made a primeval, guttural scream as she felt an enormous weight crash down against the whole band of muscle from her belly button down round to her anus. An irresistible force was urging her to push it out although it went against every instinct of pain avoidance and self-preservation. Her hip joints were screaming at the very edge of their sockets.
And she had to push, knowing it was ripping her in half. Her anus was being pushed inside out. There was a wrecking ball inside her pelvis crushing and destroying everything in its path.
It was coming down, it was coming out.
She was squatting on her knees despite Don and Declan hauling against her.
She could hear roars and screams of agony, which she knew she was making, but her mind was in a small still place. She was alone and quiet in the eye of the storm. Small logical thoughts were forming there: This is it, the baby is coming out. It’s almost over. We’re nearly there. I’ve just done a crap on the bedroom floor. I hope someone’s put plastic sheeting down.
The arms pulled her up so she was kneeling on the bed, Don was in front of her, so she automatically flung her arms around his chest. Everyone else was bustling about behind her. There was an immense burning and a tearing sensation so violent she thought she heard it, then the pain peaked – white hot searing pain and silent screaming. And then it was over.
She sank forward into Don. Oh thank God, thank God, thank God. It was over, she was still alive, she’d got through it.
Don was hugging her head into his chest.
‘Oh Bella,’ he sounded croaky. ‘There’s the baby.’
God, the baby, she’d totally forgotten about the baby. She turned her head and saw an enormous purple baby, with two little tubes in its nose, which Declan was deftly manipulating.
She collapsed into an awkward heap on the bed, blood spilling out from between her legs and was handed this big, slippery solid baby.
She just looked for a long moment, then managed to whisper, ‘Hello.’
The eyes opened and Bella looked into them and somehow in the same moment noticed she was holding a boy. He smelt briny, as if he’d been plucked from the sea.
‘Hello there,’ she whispered. ‘Hello Markie.’
Don’s face was next to hers and they were both gazing at this extraordinary new person.
His dark eyes latched onto hers in an unblinking, steady gaze. They were the deepest, darkest pools of wonder she’d ever looked down into. She was just astonished they had managed to make something so perfect.
The baby put a tiny hand up against his face and Bella took in the fingers with perfect little purple nails and wrinkles round the joints and dimples on the knuckles.
‘My God Bella, he’s just amazing,’ Don whispered beside her.
Bella looked round and noticed three other faces close by watching them quietly.
She smiled and they all smiled back at her.
She looked back at the baby. ‘Just perfect, so perfect,’ she said falling back in elated exhaustion against the p
illows someone had propped behind her.
Chapter Twenty-three
‘OK, BELLA, WE’VE still got some work to do here.’ Declan sounded brisk.
The cord was cut, then Declan handed Markie over to Annie for a wash while he busied himself with delivering the placenta.
When the enormous lump of raw liver slid out from between her legs, Bella saw she was sitting on a damp and bloody plastic sheet. She was naked and her legs were smeared with blood, dried blood and traces of shit. Her fingernails were dark with dried blood, her hair was soaked, blood was pooling between her legs and she was beginning to shiver.
Don was over by the baby bath taking pictures.
‘I’m really sorry, Bella, but we’re going to have to do stitches now,’ said Declan.
‘You’re kidding,’ she managed.
‘I’ll hand you over to Zena, a wonder with a needle. We’ll give you a jab first, then you better have the gas and air to hand.’
Bella sucked furiously at the gas cylinder as Zena cleaned then began to stitch at the long tear on her perineum.
Bella’s face contorted with pain. She could not believe how much she’d had to endure in one night. A deep stoic resignation began to settle over her. If someone had come in and said they were here to pull out her back teeth, she would have accepted it as her lot.
‘You know why it’s called labour now,’ said Zena in a gentle Caribbean accent as she worked away on an interminable number of stitches. ‘It’s women’s work, no man would be able to take this.’
Bella smiled at her weakly in between gulps from the gas cylinder. She wasn’t sure if the gas helped at all but at least it gave her something to do other than scream.
Finally it was over. Markie was dried and dressed and Zena helped Bella hobble into the bathroom for a warm deep bath.
Bella sank into it. She looked down at her body. Somehow, on the edge of the deepest exhaustion, she found the energy to be pleased that her stomach was so amazingly flat.
OK it looked like a strange wrinkled, deflated soufflé, but it was flattish. She could see over it, she could bend. Her breasts were absolutely enormous, especially in comparison to this flat stomach.