From Here to Maternity

by Sinéad Moriarty

  By the time I got to Mum’s to pick up Yuri, I was starving. I headed straight for the bread and was soon buttering myself three large slices of toast.

  ‘You’d want to watch that,’ said Mum, shaking her head as she watched me stuff the toast into my mouth.

  ‘Watch what?’

  ‘Eating too much. You don’t want to turn into one of those big pregnant girls who let themselves go. You have to be careful, Emma. It’s all very well saying you need to eat for two but the truth of it is that if you do you’ll end up looking like young Maureen Doherty before the Weight Watchers.’

  ‘I didn’t have time for lunch, OK? I’m starving, so I’m having a few slices of toast. It’s not as if I’ve just got up from a large meal.’

  ‘If you pile on the weight while you’re pregnant, you’ll find it very hard to lose. Believe me, trying to shift those pounds after you’ve had a baby is very difficult, especially at your age. You need to stay away from those car-bo-hydrates,’ she said, almost spelling the word out for me. ‘Apparently that’s what does the damage. According to Nuala, if you cut out bread, potatoes and pasta after six o’clock, you’ll never put on any weight. She read it in an interview with Catherine Zina-Jones on how she lost all her weight. Nuala’s trying it out and she’s lost two pounds already.’

  ‘Zeta. How long has she been doing it?’

  ‘Four weeks now.’

  ‘Hardly miraculous.’

  ‘She looks well on it and says she feels more energetic. Those carbohydrates are no good for you after six. They won’t break down and just stay on your hips. Fruit and veg is what you need, and it’ll be good for the baby too. And no crisps or biscuits at all. They are the easiest calories to put on and the hardest to lose, Nuala says.’

  ‘OK, well, I’ll –’

  ‘Oh, and the other thing she said was that you have to drink eight litres of water a day, which seems an awful lot.’

  ‘It’s eight glasses, Mum,’ I said, trying to be patient. Nuala had been on a diet for thirty years. In the past she had waxed lyrical about the cabbage-soup diet, the Atkins diet, the grapefruit diet, Unislim, Weight Watchers, the Fit for Life diet, the Scarsdale diet and Slim-fast. You name it, Nuala had been on it and, as far as I could see, none had worked: she was exactly the same shape. But every time she discovered a new diet, she’d ring Mum up and tell her, in detail, what it entailed.

  ‘I was wondering. I knew it couldn’t be eight litres. Anyway, if I was you, I’d stay away from lumps of bread and butter or you’ll end up with big hips you’ll be stuck with for life. And you’re small, Emma, you haven’t got height on your side. You’re a pear shape like me, so you need to be careful. Your sister’s taller, she could get away with it more easily–’

  ‘Speaking of Babs,’ I said, interrupting her before she could depress me any further by pointing out the rest of my shortcomings, ‘have you heard from her recently?’

  ‘No, nor your brother. It’s only eight weeks to the wedding and he still hasn’t told me what Shady’s mother’s wearing so I haven’t been able to look round the shops for my own outfit. Whenever I ask him anything about the arrangements, he tells me not to worry, just turn up and smile. Sure I’ve no idea what type of a day to expect. I posted him a list of the people we want to invite five days ago and I haven’t heard a dicky-bird since. I might as well be a distant relation for all the information I’m given. I want you to ring him and find out exactly what’s going on. He’ll tell you. Then you can let me know. Be sure to ask him what colour Shady’s mother’s outfit is – or maybe she’s not allowed wear colours at all, maybe it has to be black. I know nothing. Totally in the dark I am about my own son’s wedding. Is it too much to ask for a little involvement? Well, is it?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll head off now and try to catch him in work. I’ll let you know what he says,’ I said, backing out of the door with Yuri under one arm before the tirade got worse.

  When I got home I rang Sean. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hey, how are you? How’s my nephew?’

  ‘Great thanks, getting bigger and cuter by the day. Look, I’m ringing to warn you that Mum’s on the warpath. She’s feeling very left out of all the wedding arrangements so you might want to give her a buzz and feed her some info before she goes totally mental.’

  Sean sighed. ‘I got her guest list in the post yesterday. She wants to invite sixty people when I specifically told her that the entire wedding was only going to be eighty. She even has Father Murphy on the list.’

  ‘What?’ I said, laughing. Father Murphy was the local parish priest. He was a nice man but by no means a close friend of the family.

  ‘She obviously wants a Catholic priest at the blessing to try to convert Shadee or something equally awful. Anyway, he’s not coming.’

  ‘Who else is on the list?’

  ‘The entire bridge club and every relation we have.’

  ‘What’re you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll have to call her. She can have twenty-two people max. Shadee’s folks have invited eighteen, and we’re having forty.’

  Yikes! Twenty-two people. That would just about cover the uncles and aunts, leaving no room for friends. Mum was going to freak and I knew that Dad had invited his two partners in the office already. Still, it wasn’t my wedding – I had fought enough battles over my own – so I was going to leave Sean to fight his own corner.

  ‘How’s Babs? Has she settled into her new place?’

  ‘I think so. It’s a nice big one-bedroom apartment overlooking the Thames.’

  ‘Typical of her to land on her feet. Do you think she has any friends to hang out with?’

  ‘She seems to be out all the time. Whenever I call to take her out for a meal or invite her over, she’s busy.’

  ‘Have you seen her show?’

  ‘No, she’s always on during the day, but she seems to be doing well. She’s extremely confident about having her contract renewed and getting a big raise. She keeps telling me it’s all in the bag.’

  ‘Well, you know Babs. If anyone’s going to get what they want, it’s her. You must be glad to have the place back to yourselves.’

  ‘God, Emma, you’ve no idea. She’s impossible to live with. I nearly strangled her on several occasions.’

  ‘Do you think she’s seeing anyone? I mean, you know –’

  ‘Do I think she’s sleeping her way around London?’ said Sean, cutting to the chase.

  ‘Bit harsh.’

  ‘This is Babs we’re talking about.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘I don’t know. She’s pretty secretive about her social life. Whenever I ask her what she’s been up to she just tells me she’s having a laugh and enjoying London, unlike me, who’s a boring old fart apparently.’

  I laughed. ‘Oh, well, good to see nothing’s changed. I’ll give her a call to see how she’s doing. You better phone Mum and nip her invitations in the bud before the bridge-club women charter a plane for the wedding.’

  Sean groaned. ‘I’ll have to have a stiff drink before facing that.’

  Later that night, when Yuri was in bed, I called Babs.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Charming way to answer the phone.’

  ‘Oh, hi,’ she said, sounding exceedingly unenthusiastic to hear my voice.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Grand.’

  ‘I’m good too, thanks for asking.’

  ‘So, what’s up? Did Mum tell you to call me and make sure I’m not living under a bridge in a cardboard box, mainlining heroin?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m just ringing to see how you are. It’s something sisters do from time to time. It’s not that unusual in civilized society.’

  ‘Well, I’m fine.’

  ‘Sean said your new place is really nice. Are you OK living on your own? Is it not a bit lonely?’

  ‘Unlike you and Sean, I have a life. I actually like going out after sundown a
nd partying, so no, Emma, I’m not lonely. In fact, I’m having a ball over here. Living in Sean’s was doing my head in. Now that I have my own place things have got much better.’

  ‘I hope you’re not going mental, are you?’

  ‘Mental?’

  ‘Yes, mental. Overdoing it. Drinking too much. Partying too hard.’

  ‘Jesus, you sound like Mum.’

  ‘Is that a denial?’

  ‘It’s more of a sod-off-and-mind-your-own-business.’

  ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

  ‘Seeing anyone? What are you? Seventy years old? No, Emma, I don’t have a significant other, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘I’m shocked. You’re such a charmer – how can they resist you?’

  ‘Hilarious.’

  ‘How’s work?’

  ‘Very good, actually, I’m due a promotion soon. My contract’s up for renegotiation next month. I’ll start earning real money then.’

  ‘How come you’re so sure?’

  ‘I just am.’

  ‘Did your boss say it to you?’

  ‘Not in so many words.’

  ‘Well, what did he say?’

  ‘Look, I just know he’s going to promote me.’

  ‘Well, you must be doing something right.’

  ‘You can safely say I’m the most dedicated employee he’s ever had.’

  Chapter 21

  Leinster was due to play Bath in another of the qualifying rounds of the European Cup and James, as usual, was up to high-do. With Donal out of the team, James had appointed Ben Casey as captain but he didn’t seem too sure of Ben’s leadership skills. ‘I just don’t know if he’ll be able to fire the boys up,’ he said, chewing on his steak at dinner.

  ‘Well, why did you make him captain then?’ I asked.

  ‘Because he’s the best player we have and I’m hoping he’ll lead by example, if not by rousing speeches.’

  ‘Did Donal really give inspiring team talks?’ I asked. ‘I thought that was your forte.’ I somehow doubted that Donal would be the type to quote Churchill or Lincoln, as James had done when he wrote his pre-Final speech last year. He had spent hours poring over books of quotes. Personally I thought a more direct approach would have been better, but it seemed to have worked: the team came out and played brilliantly.

  ‘I talk to them before they go on to the pitch, but it was Donal who kept them focused during the games. I don’t know if Ben has that skill.’

  ‘Well, you could shout from the sidelines. Get one of those megaphone things and roar encouragement through that.’

  ‘I hardly think that’s appropriate. Have you ever seen a coach do that?’

  ‘No,’ I admitted. ‘But, hey, I could start a cheerleading team if you like. Myself and Lucy could come out with pom-poms and dance up and down the sidelines like those American girls at the football games. I’ve always quite fancied being a cheerleader. I bet you that’d get the boys going.’

  James glanced pointedly at my bump and raised his eyebrows. ‘Much as I love the idea of my wife swinging her legs about on the sidelines of the games, I’m not sure you’re quite cheerleading material in your present condition.’

  ‘Good point. I’ll just have to be the coach and Lucy and the other girlfriends could do the dancing. I’d say I’d be a good choreographer.’

  I imagined six girls lined up in a row, all dressed in red and blue shouting, ‘Give me an L, give me an E… Whadda you got? LEINSTER!’ and waving their pom-poms in the air. I could watch American football on Sky Sports and copy down some of the routines. It was bound to be easy enough.

  ‘Earth to Emma,’ said James, bringing me back to reality. ‘I can see you’re already planning the first cheerleader session, and while I appreciate the support, I think it might be best left to the Americans.’

  ‘The Leinster Lovelies – isn’t that perfect?’

  ‘Tell me you’re joking,’ said James, beginning to look worried.

  ‘Deadly serious.’

  ‘Darling, it’s just not the done thing.’

  ‘Stuff the done thing! Let’s have some fun. I’ll call myself Busty Hamilton and Luscious Lucy will be the chief cheerleader. Come on, James, give me an L…’ I said, waving my napkin in the air and giggling as I saw the look of horror on his face.

  A few days later we were in Dr Philips’s clinic to have a check-up and an ultrasound. I was just over six months pregnant and had heard that I’d be able to see the baby really clearly on this scan so I was very excited. We chatted as Dr Philips took my blood pressure. He asked James about the upcoming game against Bath. Dr Philips, it seemed, was a big Leinster fan and the two men talked of strategy and players’ form. Eventually I interrupted them and said I’d like to have my scan.

  I lay down on the bed and Dr Philips squirted gel on to my tummy and took out the scanner. The screen was pretty blurry, but we could make out the shape of a baby and the doctor began to point to his/her hands and feet. A huge lump formed in my throat as I stared at my baby wriggling about on the screen. It felt like a miracle. Having given up all hope, I still found it hard to believe I was pregnant and that I was going to have a baby. I beamed up at James, who was hovering in the background peering at the screen. But just as I caught my husband’s eye, Dr Philips interrupted: ‘So, Donal Brady’s out for good, is he?’ he asked.

  ‘Afraid so,’ said James. ‘That shoulder injury has been with him a long time. He should really have had the surgery years ago, but he kept playing.’

  ‘You’ll miss him, I’d say. He was a great player.’

  ‘And a great captain.’

  ‘I’ll never forget that try he scored against Toulouse – it came out of nowhere. He had a great ability to score from nothing, didn’t he?’

  James nodded as I gripped the sides of the bed. I wanted to shout at them to stop talking about bloody rugby and focus on the scan. I had waited a long time to see this and I wanted the undivided attention of my obstetrician. I did not want to look at the back of his head while he discussed Donal’s talents on the rugby pitch with James. I glared at James, who carried on, oblivious: ‘It was an incredible try. He surpassed himself that day.’

  ‘How do you rate his replacement, O’Hare? He seems a solid enough player,’ Dr Philips went on.

  Before James could start analysing Peter O’Hare’s style of play I butted in: ‘So,’ I said loudly, ‘what are we looking at here?’

  Reluctantly Dr Philips returned his focus to the baby and moved the scanner about, pointing out its heart and a leg… and then he got distracted again. ‘I remember O’Hare playing in schools rugby. He stood out even then,’ he said, looking at James as the scanner drifted off to the side of my stomach, where I could see nothing. He might have thought he was good at multi-tasking but he wasn’t. Men can’t do two things at once. Women can. We can drive and talk on the phone, we can talk while listening to the conversation behind us, we can put our makeup on while getting dressed, and we can iron while feeding a child its dinner. ‘So, everything looks OK, then?’ I asked.

  ‘He was born to play rugby,’ agreed James.

  ‘Naturally talented,’ said Dr Philips.

  I tapped Dr Philips on the arm. ‘What? Oh, yes, Emma, everything looks absolutely fine. The baby’s growing well and all its organs are developing as they should. Nothing to worry about at all.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I grunted, as he handed me some tissue to wipe the gel off my stomach.

  Once we got to the car, I rounded on James. ‘For goodness’ sake, what was that in there?’

  ‘What?’ he said, looking at my red face.

  ‘All that rugby chat. I was trying to get the man to focus on the scan and you kept crashing on about Donal and Peter.’

  ‘I was being polite. He asked me questions and I answered. I didn’t initiate the conversation and I can’t help it if the man’s a rugby fan.’

  ‘There’s a time and place to have rugby chat, and the middle of my scan is not one
of them. I was glaring at you to make you stop talking, but you completely ignored me.’

  ‘I was wondering what that was. I thought you looked a bit odd.’

  ‘I wanted you to shut up and stop distracting him. I was trying to get him to explain to me what I was looking at on the screen and to check that the baby was OK, which was pretty hard to do when he had his back to me and the screen for the entire time.’

  ‘What was I supposed to do? Ignore his questions? You can’t be rude.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t have to be so long-winded and you could have asked him some questions about the baby. That was what we were there for. It was supposed to be a check-up, not a rugby conference.’

  ‘Why are you getting so wound up? Everything’s fine, the baby’s healthy. Is this your hormones talking?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I had a flick through that book you bought – What To Expect – and in the chapter on fathers it said that women can be irrational during pregnancy due to hormonal changes but that it’s important to be patient and remember that it’s not a permanent condition.’

  I stared at James. I’d had no idea he’d read it. ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘I picked it up the other day when Yuri went for a nap.’

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted James reading up on pregnancy. He was very factual and always read the small print. I was more of an overall-picture person myself. I didn’t want him tormenting me with details that I had overlooked. It was like the car: I drove it until the petrol light went red and started flashing and screaming, ‘Fill me up or I’ll conk out.’ James couldn’t understand this: to him it was the behaviour of an alien. When the petrol gauge even considered heading towards the red, he’d drive straight to a garage and have the tank filled. How any sane person would risk their car breaking down because they hadn’t bothered to fill it was inconceivable to him. Most of the time I didn’t notice the red light until it started flashing. Petrol was not a priority in my life and I found filling up the tank a bore, so I just left it until it reached crisis point and then I’d drive five miles out of my way to the only garage I knew that employed someone to fill the tank for you.