My Mam Shirley

by Julie Shaw

  Several people had asked, but Shirley didn’t care whether she had a baby boy or a girl. Just as long as it was healthy, that was all that really mattered. And when she wasn’t feeling terrible she was in a bubble of pure happiness, feeling so much love coming from everyone that she thought she might burst.

  She was particularly thrilled that the baby’s due date was close to two things that mattered: Christmas and Keith’s twenty-fifth birthday. And her mum and dad’s financial help meant she could do something really special; rather than spend what little they did have on nappies and other essentials for the baby, she could instead make Keith’s birthday extra-special by giving him a Christmas the like of which he’d never had before, including his first ever Christmas tree. Only a 3-foot artificial tree that sat perfectly on the top of their television, but by the time she’d finished adorning it with red sparkly baubles and silver tinsel, it looked spectacular, Shirley thought.

  She’d probably gone a little overboard, she mused as she clutched her belly, aware of the resiny smell that was sharp in her nostrils, and of the completely over-the-top Christmas grotto she’d created in her tiny living room only two days before. There was nothing left untrimmed and no part of the downstairs had escaped her attentions with tinsel and bauble, paper chain and holly sprig, right down to the mistletoe she’d hung above the living room door.

  And it had been worth it, every bit of it, just for the look on Keith’s face when he’d come in from work and seen it. That and the way that he was too choked up to speak when he’d tried to. Just for the fact that by the time Christmas came around, God willing, there would be three of them to celebrate. She’d have her own little family at last.

  But the grotto in the living room was now the last thing on her mind, as the niggle turned into a band of pure pain that seemed to grip her around the tummy like a giant fist. Stunned at the intensity of what she was now sure must have been a contraction, Shirley gripped the bannister and sat down heavily on the bottom step to wait for Keith to appear. It wasn’t the best timing, she mused, as the pain ebbed a little. He’d been out to the Albion, up in the village, having a drink with their Malcolm the previous evening, so she knew he probably wouldn’t be in the best of moods.

  She eased herself back against the cool of the wall. He was also taking his time coming down. ‘Keith!’ she called again, and though she was at least partially reassured by the sound of his answering grunt, she wondered if she shouldn’t try to make it up the street to her mam or Granny Wiggins’s. Perhaps that would be the best thing to do in any case. For all the experience Keith had had dealing with babies over the years, this was women’s business really, and she thought she might feel a great deal more calm and capable with someone who actually understood what she was going through by her side, holding her hand.

  But looking down at her nightie decided it. Even if she could find the strength to haul herself up and out – which she was beginning to doubt – she couldn’t possibly leave the house ‘dressed’ in such a thing. It was a hideous long affair, in a very sickly shade of pink – a virtual tent that her granny had given her as she’d grown bigger, and it made her look every bit the lumbering old lady that she currently felt. ‘Keith!’ she called again, fearful that another contraction might be coming. Though she was relieved to hear the tell-tale sound of him peeing in the bedside bucket, she was also becoming scared. There was much that she didn’t know but she was sure things weren’t supposed to be like this. Shouldn’t there be gaps between contractions, during which she’d feel perfectly fine? Wasn’t that what the midwife from the clinic had told her? That she should time them and keep an eye on when the gaps started getting shorter? Things weren’t making sense to her. She was sure the pain she’d felt had been a contraction, but it hadn’t gone – far from it. And now it was building up again.

  ‘Bloody hurry up!’ she yelled as another horrendous pain ripped through her thighs and belly. ‘Help, Keith, I think I’m dying,’ she wailed, tears beginning to spill down her face. If this was just the start, how was she ever going to cope with it all?

  Keith rattled down the stairs, doing his belt up as he did so. ‘All right, all right!’ he said, in a voice that suggested she was fussing about nothing. But then he saw her expression. ‘What’s up?’ he asked, looking a little more concerned now. ‘Shall I go get your mam to come down?’

  Shirley could only nod, such was the pain – it seemed to have overtaken her entire body. And she had a sudden desperate need to lie down. Not in the stairway, however. No, she needed to lie on the cool of the kitchen lino. She managed to slither off the bottom step and crawl the short distance on all fours. She then curled up on the kitchen floor, groaning and sobbing. ‘Yes, go get me mam,’ she gasped, ‘but hurry up, Keith, please. I’m frightened. I don’t know what’s happening to me.’

  Keith’s response was matter of fact. ‘You’re having a bloody baby, Shirl, that’s all,’ he informed her airily. ‘I’ve seen my mother have a few and that’s all it is, love, honest. It’s the same for all women. Nothing to worry about. All be over soon.’

  He stepped round Shirley then and she watched in astonishment as he reached for the piece of mirror and comb he kept in one of the kitchen cupboards.

  ‘Frig your bleeding hair!’ she yelled, wishing she had the strength to get up and bop him. ‘Go get me mam! I’m dying, Keith!’

  Men, she thought wretchedly. But he obviously didn’t need telling twice.

  What had possessed her? That was the thought that kept coming back to Shirley as, alone now, she tried to get back up. Why had she been in such a ridiculous hurry to start having babies? And why hadn’t anyone told her it would hurt quite this much? Cursing the world and his wife, and herself for good measure, she managed to get onto hands and knees on the lino, her belly hanging low and heavy and almost touching the floor. She wasn’t just in agony, she was terrified, she realised, and the thought of what was to come made fresh tears pour down her cheeks. She gripped the edge of the sink, trying to pull herself upright, and as she did so there was further cause for anxiety – not to mention humiliation – as warm liquid began pouring down the insides of her legs. Had she peed without realising? No, the thought rushed into her brain. It wouldn’t be pee. Her waters must have broken, that would be it.

  Breathing deeply to try to regain some sort of control over the searing pain, she stood still a moment, head hanging over the enamel sink, looking down into the depths of the water covering last night’s dinner plates and seeing her anguished face looking back up at her. Where was Keith? What was keeping him? He should be back with her mam by now, shouldn’t he? She stood up straighter, stretching out her lower back, which was beginning to hurt, too. And it was then, looking down, that she saw it. There was no pool of water on the floor as she’d expected – it was a lake of blood, bright and terrifying, lapping at her slippers and forming a bloom of scarlet against the pale pink of the nightie. She started to scream then, and collapsed back onto the floor.

  Shirley had no idea how much time passed before she heard her mam’s reassuring voice. It could have been moments or minutes; the pain was now so intense that she couldn’t seem to think straight, the sight of the blood the only thing in her head.

  ‘Oh, Shirley, lass,’ Mary cried as she ran over to her. ‘Oh, my poor girl. But don’t you worry. I’m here now. Keith’s gone to ring for the ambulance.’ She squatted down on the floor, taking Shirley’s head gently onto her lap. ‘It’s going to be all right, love,’ she soothed, stroking her hair. ‘We’ll soon have you sorted out in the hospital.’

  ‘Oh, Mam,’ Shirley cried, looking up at her mother and trying to read her expression. Did she look as scared as Shirley felt? ‘Have you seen the blood, Mam?’ she gasped. ‘I’m dying, aren’t I? I must be! What’s happening to me, Mam? What?’

  ‘Shhh,’ her mam said, continuing to stroke her hair. ‘Hush, love. You’re not dying. This is what happens when you have a baby. It’s just normal. Don’t you worry;
it’ll all be over soon, and then you’ll have a bouncing baby to look after, won’t you? And won’t that be worth all this, eh?’

  Shirley couldn’t think beyond the pain and the blood on the lino, that and the exhaustion that had suddenly overtaken her. Yet she’d never felt more awake; the pain was just so bad. She tried to focus on her mam’s face and draw some strength from it. It would be worth it. Of course it would. She just wanted it to be over.

  Keith returned then and announced that the ambulance was on its way, but his expression at seeing the blood on the floor filled Shirley with terror all over again. She tried to wriggle herself up from the floor and sit up but felt herself being held down. ‘Stay here, love,’ Mary whispered into her damp hair. ‘It won’t be long now.’ And as she did so another wave of agony gripped Shirley’s body and she realised she couldn’t stand if she wanted to. She heard screaming then, but wasn’t even sure where it was coming from. That and the sound of sirens, getting louder and louder. Oh, just make it stop, she thought. Someone please make it stop.

  The ambulance men worked like lightning getting Shirley into the back. At least, that’s how it seemed – a blur of smiles and arms and blankets. But why were her mam and Keith standing there outside the ambulance looking so worried? She watched her mam pull her cardigan tightly round her middle, tucking her hands under her armpits to keep out the cold. It came to her suddenly that she’d been taken out there in the horrible pink nightie and felt a pang of embarrassment that strangers were seeing her like this. And why wasn’t her mam coming? They were beginning to close the doors now. ‘Mam!’ she cried out as one of the men started injecting something into her arm. ‘What’s happening?’ she asked him, panicking now. ‘Why isn’t my mam coming with us?’

  ‘You’ll be all right, love,’ he said, smiling at her reassuringly as the engine shuddered into life. ‘Your mam and your husband will be able to come later, but right now we have to get you to St Luke’s, don’t we?’ He pointed towards her stomach. ‘Get that little bugger delivered.’ He then removed the needle. ‘Something which will help you have a little sleep,’ he explained. Shirley flinched. She hated needles, she hated blood, she hated hospitals. She felt frightened and disorientated and unable to clear her vision, and she hated losing her grip on what was happening to her most of all. It will be worth it, she kept telling herself as she felt herself floating. It’s all going to be worth it in the end.

  Chapter 18

  When Shirley woke, the horrendous pain had gone. Disorientated and groggy now, she tried to take in her surroundings, tried to work out where she might be. There was a window directly opposite the unfamiliar bed, which she couldn’t see anything out of, bar a patch of charcoal sky, and as she tried to raise herself up on the pillow to see if she could see anything more by moving, she was shocked to see a cannula taped to the back of her wrist, which was attached by a length of tubing to a drip stand by the bed.

  The back of her hand stung where she’d pulled on it, and she felt achy and sore all over. And, panicking now, as the events of the morning rushed into her memory, she realised she was in a hospital bed, in some sort of side-room, all alone.

  Tears began to well, even before she consciously felt tearful. ‘Nurse!’ she cried anxiously, feeling the panic begin to consume her. And as she gingerly lifted the crisp white sheet that covered her, she realised, with a shock, that her belly had gone down. She placed a hand over it, feeling an unfamiliar softness and fleshiness. The baby! The baby was no longer inside her. Which meant it must have been born while she slept.

  She scrolled back through the scraps of things that she could remember. Of being held down by a nurse – no, it had been two nurses, hadn’t it? – who were trying to quell her mounting hysteria at the intensity of the pain. And they’d spoken to her, hadn’t they? Told her they were going to give her something. Something to soothe her … something to send her off to sleep. Yes, that was it – words came back to her, what the nurses had said. One nurse in particular. ‘Bugger this,’ she had said. Shirley recalled that exactly. ‘I’m giving her another one. It’s not fair she should have to go through all this.’ And then nothing. They must have delivered the baby while she’d slept. She looked at the sky again. It must be evening now – perhaps later. How long had she slept for? It must have been hours.

  She lay back again, these deductions helping her calm down a little. She’d had the baby, she’d slept and she was no longer in pain. The fear that had once again engulfed her was replaced by relief in an instant. Her baby had been born. It was over.

  But if that were so, then where was her baby? She felt the fear creeping in again. Why was she lying in this bed, all alone? Was it all right? Had they taken it to an incubator or something? She tried to get out of the bed but an overwhelming nausea washed over her, and she had to lie back down for fear of being violently sick. ‘Nurse!’ she sobbed again, really scared again now. Where was her baby? And, for that matter, where were Keith and her mam? Why weren’t they with her? Why wasn’t anyone with her? She heard footsteps approach and pulled herself up in the bed.

  A stern-looking nurse appeared in the doorway, her starched blue and white uniform instantly reassuring, despite her fixed expression; she was someone of importance, someone who could help.

  ‘Nurse, have I had my baby?’ Shirley asked hopefully, realising this was one of the nurses who’d been there, wasn’t she? It was all such a blur that she couldn’t quite be sure. The nurse nodded and picked up a chart from the end of the bed. ‘Is it a boy or a girl? When can I see it?’ Shirley asked her.

  The nurse put the chart back and now she did speak. ‘Look, sweetheart,’ she said, and as she came closer, Shirley realised that her expression wasn’t grim – it was distraught. Her mouth was set in a line not because she was being unfriendly, but because she was crying. Trying not to cry, but failing. Tears were tracking down her face. ‘You had a baby boy at half past ten this morning,’ she said. Then took a breath. ‘But he’s died, I’m afraid.’ She stopped then, and came closer still, taking Shirley’s hand now. ‘I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’s a blessing in disguise, though, Shirley, honestly it is. The doctor’ll be round … He wasn’t right, my love. I’m so sorry. He was a thalidomide baby. Have you heard about those, Shirley? He wasn’t right, and he died. But at least he’s at rest now. He was never going to make it, my love. I’m so sorry, I really am.’

  Shirley’s head spun. What on earth was this nurse saying? What was she on about, a thalidomide baby? Heard about what? She’d heard nothing! Thalidomide was the name of the tablets she’d been taking for her morning sickness, that was all. What did they have to do with her baby?

  ‘I want my baby,’ she said again. ‘His dad will be here soon, and my mam. Can you bring him to me, please?’

  The nurse shook her head sadly. ‘Didn’t you hear me, Shirley, love?’ she said gently. ‘I said he died. There is no baby.’ The tears were still plopping down, onto her cheeks, dripping off her chin, onto her uniform, and Shirley wondered distractedly if she had any babies of her own. ‘But listen,’ she said, ‘you’re a young lass, and you’re healthy. There’s plenty of time for more babies to come along. I’m sure it won’t be long before you have another. I’ll get your husband for you, shall I?’ she finished. ‘You’ll be wanting to see him, won’t you? He’s here. He’s still here. Only in the waiting room.’ She placed the chart back on the bed end and left the room.

  As she watched the nurse turn and go, Shirley started to scream. She couldn’t seem to help herself. It was like she’d been taken over by something. She screamed for her baby. Why couldn’t she have her baby? She’d carried him for nine months and been so careful to look after herself. What did she mean there was no baby? There had to be? She cried harder than she’d ever cried in her life, was crying so hard that when the door opened and Keith appeared, he shrank back from the noise.

  And there was something else. His expression; his grey, haunted face. His eyes, which were red, an
d his cheeks, which were sunken, all conspired to confirm that what the nurse had said was real. That he knew exactly what had happened – was still happening now – that her baby boy, their baby boy, was indeed dead. That there would be no waking up from this nightmare.

  ‘Is it true? Is it?’ Shirley shouted at her traumatised-looking husband anyway. ‘What are they on about, one of those thalidomide babies?’

  Keith shrugged helplessly as he came to her and took her in his arms as best he could, taking care not to dislodge her drip. ‘I only know as much as you, Shirl. They said that some women who took those sickness pills have had babies who aren’t right.’

  Keith tried to soothe her, but she pushed him back, angrily. ‘Aren’t right? What do you mean, aren’t right? What was wrong with him?’

  Keith looked wretched. Looked like he was groping for something to say. ‘Shirley. It’s no one’s fault,’ he began. ‘No one’s. So there’s no point getting mad with me. I don’t know. They didn’t say.’

  ‘Keith, they must have told you something! You don’t just say a baby’s not right and not say something about why!’ Her throat was so sore and the sobs just made it hurt all the more. That was it? She was never going to see her baby, ever? Not even once? How could she let that happen? How could Keith let that happen? What was so wrong with the child she’d carried that they wouldn’t even let her see him? ‘Keith, they must have told you something!’ she cried again.