The Antenatal Group

by Amy Bratley

  ‘Perhaps its nerves,’ said Katy to the group, raising her eyebrows as if in question. ‘Perhaps he thinks he can’t cope with the pressure of being a father. Some men can’t face the whole fatherhood responsibility issue. Do you think it could be that?’

  Ginny, who was pouring Mel a glass of water, nodded in agreement.

  ‘Some men should be strung up and de-balled,’ said Lexi. ‘That might help iron out those responsibility issues. I see so many men get their girlfriends pregnant then disappear into thin air it makes me question the male species.’

  Alan had a coughing fit.

  ‘Quite,’ said Katy, smiling politely at Lexi, while Mel shrugged hopelessly. She felt a flicker of annoyance. Mel needed to pull herself together and take control. Her eyes skimmed over Mel’s open bag, which was like a bomb site, with old banana skins – and was that a knitting needle and ball of wool tangled up with a hairbrush? That made sense. Mel looked like one of those craft-mad women, with that flower in her hair, those leopard-print tights and her oversized jewellery. She was probably knitting her baby clothes – unlike Katy, who didn’t have the time or inclination to knit, sew or bake. What was the point when the world was full of lovely shops to buy gorgeous things from? But that handbag! It was all she could do to stop herself from pouring it all out on to the floor and sorting it out.

  ‘Could be that,’ said Mel in a small voice, with a sniff. ‘I’ve no idea what’s going on in his head.’

  Katy suddenly thought of Anita’s husband, Giovanni, who had cheated on Anita more than once. Anita had been thrown off course when she found out – as if it weren’t completely obvious just by looking at him that he was a snake, him with his slicked-back hair and roaming eyes. Couldn’t you just tell when a man was going to turn out to be a shit? Katy had known enough of them before she got wise and looked for an older, wealthy man who wanted a younger wife. In other words: Alan.

  ‘Could there be another woman involved?’ asked Lexi, glimpsing at Alan, for some reason. ‘I’ve seen that a lot, too. I’m not saying Leo’s being unfaithful, I just mean an old flame in the wings or something?’

  Mel looked completely distraught and violently shook her head. Katy frowned, knowing that she knew Lexi from somewhere, but finding it hard to place her. Perhaps she’d been into Spotted for an interview with Anita on their latest recruitment drive? Thinking of work, Katy checked her watch. She had a really important meeting with the National Trust about a filming location just after lunch which she couldn’t miss. She might have to leave early if all this crying went on too much longer. Crying got you nowhere in life – Katy had learned that years ago. Growing up in a poor family with parents who worked two, three jobs at a time to make ends meet, no one had time for tears. It was nose to the grindstone, and that work ethic had stuck. Most women would be on maternity leave by now, but Katy was working until the end. Not that she’d told Alan. He had encouraged her to take more time away from the office to nurture herself in these last few weeks, but the agency was just as much of a priority as the baby. Anita was making sure she didn’t forget that.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Alan. ‘Despite what I said about wanting to kill your boyfriend, I have to protect my species. We’re not all unfaithful deserters! Personally, I would crawl to the ends of the earth to make sure Katy was happy and healthy while – and after – she carries our child. I don’t know your story, Mel, and I’m sorry you’re so upset today, but the guy may have issues he’s not being honest about. I’ve seen men do strange things when their wives get pregnant. He’s probably feeling confused about his role – that kind of thing. It’s difficult for men, too. I have to admit to confusion myself, over what having a baby means for me. Give him time.’

  ‘I don’t think it should be about the man at all,’ said Rebecca, holding her hair up from her neck. ‘The man gets to carry on with his life once the baby is born. Even though men and women are supposed to be more equal now, you just have to look around to see it’s still women who look after the babies and children. It’s a female domain. I’ve seen it in the school opposite our house. The gates open at home time, and who’s there to meet the kids? The mums. Same with the nursery I helped at when I moved here. On the whole, it’s the mums who do the childcare. So why should he be so fearful? It’s the woman whose life changes, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Ginny. ‘But the man’s life is very affected, too. You have to be careful not to pit the sexes against one another.’

  ‘That won’t happen to us,’ said Alan, a steady smile on his lips. ‘Katy has a successful business and is going to carry on working, so I’m going to be looking after the baby part-time when she goes back. I can do a lot of my work from home, so I’ll do that. This attitude that men don’t pull their weight really grates with me. We do, don’t we, Lenny and Edward? Back me up here.’

  ‘I’ll be leaving the whole thing to Becs, mate,’ said Lenny, ‘while I stick to wine, women and song.’

  Katy threw Lenny a disapproving glance and watched Rebecca sigh then tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Katy was taken aback by how beautiful she was. There was something feline about her eyes, her nose was delicate and her lips curled up at the edges in a constant smile. When she did truly smile, she was radiant. Katy glanced at Alan, who, let’s face it, was probably imagining what it would be like to have sex with Rebecca. Erin’s husband, Edward, probably was too. Clearing her throat, she rested a protective hand on Alan’s knee.

  ‘It’s an economic decision, isn’t it?’ said Edward. ‘There are families who can afford for one partner to stay at home, and families who can’t. Often, the woman breastfeeds and so it works out that the woman takes time away from her job. I think it’s different for everyone.’

  ‘I want to look after the baby,’ said Erin. ‘I can’t wait.’

  ‘I want to, too,’ said Rebecca. ‘But I was trying to say that Leo, Mel’s boyfriend, shouldn’t be the one panicking about his life changing. It’s Mel’s life that’s going to change the most.’

  ‘A baby’s a big deal,’ said Alan. And Leo’s probably scared by the responsibility of it all. You might be physically having the baby, Mel, but his life is going to change too. That’s what I’m saying.’

  ‘I know,’ Mel sniffed. ‘But I just don’t get it. He seemed happy—’

  Katy watched Mel closely, her eyes and nose bright red from crying, balls of tissues scrunched up on her lap, and, though she felt sorry for her, she also felt slightly embarrassed and wished she would pull herself together. It was a similar feeling to when she had meetings with people who were excruciatingly bad at presenting themselves in a positive light. Though she had to be polite and patient while they stuttered and shook, sometimes she wished she could press a button to open a trapdoor and put everyone out of their misery. What was it with people like Mel? Yes, she’d just had a horrible shock, but everyone in the room was a stranger. Shouldn’t she wait to share this news with friends or relatives after the class? She picked up a pen and scribbled ‘unplanned baby’ on the corner of the handout Ginny had given her, shielding it so only Alan could see. He shrugged at her noncommittally and mouthed, So what? Katy sighed. Alan could never be persuaded to say anything remotely negative. She had just been trying to say that might be why Leo had left so abruptly. Maybe they had never planned to have the baby. Maybe he had never even wanted a baby. Not the sort of question you could ask of a stranger.

  ‘Pregnancy and birth can cause all kinds of problems within couples,’ said Ginny. ‘I’ve seen it myself, running these classes. There was once a spectacular bust-up when a couple disagreed about whether the husband should be at the birth! But if you talk to each other, I’m sure you can work it out. The worst thing to do is not to talk.’

  ‘The pregnancy wasn’t planned,’ said Mel apologetically, as if reading Katy’s mind. ‘But I didn’t see any reason why we shouldn’t go ahead. Obviously, it was a shock, but Leo had never said he didn’t want a baby and I always k
new I definitely did. I’m an only child and it’s always been a bit of a dream of mine to have a big family—’

  She started to cry again, her hair sticking to her pink cheeks. Lexi put her hand on her back and rubbed it gently and Mel looked up, half laughing, half crying.

  ‘I’ve got to shut up,’ she said, with a great big sigh. ‘You must think I’m nuts. Sorry, everyone.’

  Ginny, leaning forward slightly, had her arms folded across her middle. Katy silently urged her to take charge and get on with the antenatal class before it turned into an Oprah Winfrey show. Thankfully, she did.

  ‘Mel,’ Ginny said, ‘whatever happens with Leo – and I hope it works out – you need to stay positive and empowered, for the birth. This is an amazing journey, with or without your partner in tow.’

  Ginny handed Mel the glass of water and started to talk about the other signs that indicated labour was near: the appearance of the mucus plug, an upset stomach, waters breaking, contractions. Mel leaned back in her spot of the sofa, listening, holding the water in both hands, and fell quiet, deciding she had said enough. Katy felt relieved that the drama was over. Emotional outbursts had never been her strong point.

  ‘Right,’ said Ginny. ‘Anything else anyone wants to share at this point before we move on?’

  ‘For what it’s worth, our pregnancy was unplanned, too,’ said Rebecca, holding up her hand and looking at Mel. ‘I probably would have waited another ten years, so I could get on with my own thing. I wanted to go travelling and do voluntary work overseas, but you can’t plan life out like that, can you? We decided it was fate and to go with the flow, have the baby and see what happens.’

  Katy smiled and nodded, but she was baulking. She couldn’t disagree more with what Rebecca had said. Of course you can plan. She resisted the temptation to point out that the pill had been made available on the NHS in the sixties exactly so that women could plan and have rewarding careers doing something they loved. Where was Rebecca’s drive? There was no way Katy would have got pregnant aged twenty. After witnessing what having a baby too young did to the lives of some of the girls on the estate she grew up on, Katy had been crystal clear about what she wanted from life: a career as a businesswoman, a financially independent husband, money in the bank. Then – and only then – a baby.

  ‘Okay, thank you for that, Rebecca. It’s always interesting to hear everyone’s stories, and I’m sure you’ll all become friends,’ said Ginny. ‘Building a network is extremely important for new parents. Might be an idea to swap numbers after the class. I still know the women from my antenatal classes. One became my best friend. So, on to where you plan to give birth. If I remember right, Rebecca, you’re having a home birth, while Erin, Mel, Lexi and Katy plan to have a hospital birth. It’s worth remembering at this point that normal pregnancies can last from anywhere between thirty-seven and forty-two weeks, and only 5 per cent of babies are born on their due date, so don’t get hung up on the date you’ve been given. It will probably come and go without a murmur.’

  Everyone nodded and murmured.

  ‘By now you’ll probably be seeing your midwife every week,’ Ginny said, holding up her pelvic-bone model. ‘And she should be able to tell you which way your baby is lying. Your baby will still move, sometimes right up until he or she is born, but the best position for your baby to be in for birth is head down, with her back against your belly, facing your back, so she can fit through your pelvis.’

  ‘My baby is lying back to back,’ sniffed Mel, ‘so I’m trying to get it to move.’

  ‘Right,’ said Ginny. ‘You can use a birthing ball to encourage the baby to shift position, or get down on all fours, and swimming is good, too. Try to avoid sitting for too long. But there’s plenty of time for the baby to get into position for labour. Okay, so let’s split up into groups, so we can talk about your expectations about labour. Mel, if you and Rebecca and Lenny group with Lexi; then, Erin and Edward, you put together a list of your hopes and fears with Katy and Alan. We’ll take five minutes to do that, then watch a birth on film and talk through the stages of labour.’

  There were a few moments of movement in the classroom while Ginny bobbed around with her marmalade beehive. She gave Katy a whiteboard. Katy pulled a whiteboard pen out of her bag, whipped off the lid and felt instantly at ease. She loved lists most of all. She wrote down the title – Birth: Hopes and Fears – and waited, pen poised, for someone to speak.

  ‘My hope is that a baby pops out within half an hour,’ said Alan, trying to break the tension. ‘Just a pretty pink baby in a clean nappy making gurgling noises and wanting her daddy.’

  Erin and Edward said nothing at all but looked as serious as ever.

  ‘I’m no comedian,’ muttered Alan, ‘but surely that deserved a smile?’

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ Erin said, ‘I’m miles away. I have a lot on my mind.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Alan, clearing his throat awkwardly. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Mel,’ Lexi said, focusing all her attention on her, ‘do you have anyone else who can step in? A mum? A sister? What about your best friend? You know, sometimes it’s better to have a woman as a birth partner. I read all this research done by a top gynaecologist who said that men shouldn’t be at the birth of their child because they make the whole thing more stressful. Might be bollocks, you know, but could be a grain of truth in it—’

  Lexi knew she was gabbling and probably irritating Mel, but she couldn’t stop. When nerves hit, her tongue had a life of its own. Useful sometimes, but not today. Even though she was trying with all her might not to look at Alan, he was a magnet for her eyes and she repeatedly turned around to see if he was still there. Alan Nicholls. The only man she’d ever had an orgasm with. Alan Nicholls, the man who no other man in the last five years, or in the whole of her life prior to their meeting, had lived up to. Alan Nicholls, the man who had, for a brief moment in her confusing life, made her believe she had a soulmate. What a joke that was. Ha bloody ha.

  ‘My mum lives up north,’ said Mel. ‘But I think I’ll have to ask her to come down if Leo doesn’t . . . doesn’t. . . My best friend could help, but she’s up in Manchester for a new job. I’m not sure who else I’d ask—’

  Lexi nodded and murmured her response, but was only half listening to Mel. Her mind had cast itself back to the day she had met Alan. They had been on the same bus in central Brighton when one of the passengers, a man, had had a heart attack and collapsed. Lexi, dressed like Bettie Page for a fancy-dress party, was trained in CPR and so she gave the man mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Alan, also trained in CPR, took over briefly, when she took a moment to breathe. When the ambulance arrived, the man had regained consciousness and the passengers had given Alan and Lexi a standing ovation. They had, between them, saved the man’s life.

  ‘If anyone was going to save my life,’ Alan had said when they got off the bus, running his eyes up and down Lexi’s curvy body, ‘I would choose you. Amazingly cool woman. Let me buy you a drink. I’m Alan—’

  And that had been it. Alan hadn’t realized Lexi was in fancy dress as a vixen until her wig came off in a gust of wind, but that had broken the ice and he had said, being a gentleman, that he preferred blondes. She told him that this was the more glamorous end of social work. They walked, elated from saving a man’s life, adrenalin pumping, to a bar, where, in a red leather booth, they drank half a pint together. The half-pint led to a bottle of wine and a bowl of pistachios, unshelled, which Lexi was grateful for, because it gave her something to do with her hands. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to resist reaching over the table, grabbing his trousers and ripping them down. After a long stretch of alcohol, Alan suggested he should walk Lexi home. They both knew what was going to happen. When Alan touched Lexi – with trembling hands, she noted – she knew it was different this time. That here, finally, was the man she’d been waiting for. The couple made love repeatedly that night, stopping only to talk and drink, then for an omelette, cooked by Alan. Lexi did
n’t know what it was about her, but she thought she must have been born with a sign above her head saying ‘Tell me everything.’ Many, many people had confessed their innermost secrets to her over the years, and Alan was no exception. He had told her everything about his life. The difference with Alan was that he had wanted to know about her, too. For the first time ever with a man, she’d opened up, properly, about her mum. By the morning, they were exhausted, and slept, entangled, in a room full of sunshine, until the late afternoon. When they woke, Lexi knew she was in love. Utterly, desperately, in love. Or so she thought. She had held her breath, waiting to hear that Alan felt the same. ‘Do you—?’ she’d asked, clutching the bed-sheet around her, unable to conceal the hope in her voice. His protracted silence spoke volumes. He didn’t. Alan, after much sighing, admitted to being at the very beginning of a relationship with the love of his life, Katy, and, though he liked Lexi, he didn’t want to lose Katy. In other words: not on your life. He left her on the doorstep with a scratchy, hot kiss on her lips, wearing a silk dressing gown so shockingly short that it barely covered her bottom, her hair wild as brambles. When the door closed, Lexi refused to cry. She wondered whether the night had happened at all. She decided to pretend to herself it hadn’t. She washed the bed-sheets and did some casework on the computer. It was easier that way, to stare at somebody else’s hideous problems than to think of her own, to admit to the crushing disappointment standing on her chest in heavy black boots. It was easier to cope alone.