by Brogan, Kim
“That’s good right?”
Peter chuckled as he uncorked a bottle of Pinot Noir. “The interest alone will be just over a million pounds and the attorney’s fees another half million.”
“Oh my God! I didn’t realize the stakes were that high.”
Peter nodded. “Campbell’s father had put everything they had into the deal.”
“Cam was telling the truth when he said if this lawsuit was lost he’d be a doctor with a big house he couldn’t afford.”
They both smiled at me. Gemma took a drink and then cocked her head at me. “Campbell still has his Grandmother’s inheritance. That’s probably worth over several million by now.”
I was floored; Campbell had never mentioned receiving anything from his grandmother. “Really, that much?” I pretended that I knew about it, just not the amount.
“Well, it was 1.4 million pounds when he received it five years ago.”
“I see.”
We sat down and ate and I admit, for the first time, I was able to see why Campbell had fallen in love with Gemma. Now that things were settled between her and me, she actually spoke to me without venom dripping from every word. We weren’t buddies, but I did find her funny, entertaining and quite intelligent. Peter was bright, but not as bright as Gemma or Cam. He was also very kind and generous, making us both laugh at his own expense. I couldn’t help but like him and notice that he had a gentle, but firm reign over his wife. I wondered if they thought the same about Campbell and me.
The next morning I went to Addenbrookes to set up an account with NHS. Because Campbell worked for the National Health Service, he refused to pay for private care, once telling me that NHS care was adequate. I had my doubts from what I had seen, but there was no doubt that the prenatal and obstetric care was excellent. It took several hours to set up my medical records and appointments. I was assigned a midwife who was to come out and see me the next afternoon. In addition, I had been assigned to Professor Douglas in obstetrics. My appointment with him was for the day after next in light of my advanced pregnancy. I wasn’t too worried about the baby since I had just had a check-up a week ago and everything was fine.
When I arrived home the house was quiet so I took the opportunity to make a cup of tea and sit down to watch a movie. The Braxton-Hicks contractions had increased over the last few weeks, so nothing I did made me comfortable. Nonetheless, I was so tired I fell asleep on my favorite couch waking around six when I heard the front door close. It was Gemma, her tan trench coat and Burberry’s umbrella dripping.
“It’s pissing down outside.” She looked over at me and knitted her sculptured eyebrow. “Maggie, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just have really bad heartburn and the Braxton Hicks contractions are giving me hell. I’ve been peeing every five minutes. At least I don’t feel so congested, I can breathe now.”
She hung the coat in the ante-room, “I told Peter to bring home Chinese so he should be here soon.”
“Thanks, I just didn’t have enough energy to make dinner.”
“Are you all settled at the Rosie?”
I nodded. “I have all my appointments lined up.
“Well, take it easy and I’ll make you a plate.”
We both heard the backdoor downstairs open and close. Within seconds Peter called up to us, “Anyone home? I bear Kung Po Chicken and Fortune Cookies.”
“I’ll be right down Peter.” Gemma hurried down to the kitchen and within ten minutes, she brought me a plate of food and a glass of milk for my heartburn.
“Thank you Gemma, I really appreciate this.”
“Not a problem. What are we watching?”
The use of the royal ‘we’ amused me, “We’re watching Dr. Who.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed.
“But, I’m not really watching, you can change it to anything you want.” I handed her the remote and she took it with a smile, changing the station to the news. I ate the food and took my plate down to rinse. Pouring myself a glass of water, I said goodnight, and went to bed.
*********************
In the morning I managed to get my shower and do some laundry and grocery shopping. I couldn’t stay out too long due to my back hurting like hell and the overwhelming need to pee. When the midwife rang the doorbell at precisely four p.m., I waddled down the stairs and let her in. She introduced herself as Cora Finley, a midwife assigned by NHS to monitor my pregnancy and make the necessary hospital arrangements. She was quite tall, rather thin and not very pleasant. I felt like she was a drill sergeant, asking me questions as if I was a criminal.
After asking me about my pregnancy, she then wanted to know about my hospital arrangements. “Do you have private insurance?”
“I don’t think so; my husband is on leave from Addenbrookes and trusts the doctors there.”
She pinched her lips. “But, it says here that you’re the Countess of Falkirk. Your husband doesn’t have private healthcare?”
I was a little annoyed by her tone which had gone from surprise to accusing. “My husband trusts the NHS to deliver our child.” I narrowed my eyes and asked sternly, “Is there a problem with that?”
She backed off. “No, it’s just unheard of. I see you did manage to be assigned to Professor Douglas. Your appointment is tomorrow?”
I grimaced at the contraction and had to take a deep breath, “Yes.”
“You’re having Braxton-Hicks contractions. They’re practice contractions for the real thing,” she explained as if I was an idiot.
“I know what they are and they’re getting to be a nuisance.”
“Yes, they can mimic the real thing.” She started to put on gloves. “Lie down on your couch, I need to examine you.”
“Here?” It seemed an inappropriate place to do a pelvic.
“Yes, we’ll just do a quick one since you’ll have your appointment tomorrow with the Professor.”
I took off my panties and lay down on the sofa. She felt my belly first and I noted that her face became tense. Pushing on my belly, I could feel her moving the baby around a little.
“Your son is in position, his head is in the birth position and fixed. Now raise your knees and spread your legs, dropping your left one over the side.”
I did what she asked and this had the effect of me being splayed. The midwife sat down at the other end of the sofa and studied me. Then she slipped her hand inside and I could feel her touching something at the top of the birth canal.
She stood up, took off the glove and pulled out her cell phone, dialing like a demon, “Professor Douglas, obstetrics.” There was a long pause.
I tried to sit up, but the pain in my back and abdomen was too much. Taking a deep breath, I tried to think about Campbell coming home and putting up the crib. Just as I managed to fantasize about my husband undressing, the midwife scared me to death.
“Professor? I’m bringing in Lady Falkirk, she’s 60 percent effaced and dilated to 7 centimeters…Yes… about twenty minutes. Goodbye.”
“What? I don’t have a crib! I just ordered the diapers today! This baby has two more weeks! Put him back. You can stop it can’t you?”
The look I received was one that you give to a schizophrenic who starts mumbling and screaming at the toilet. “Lady Falkirk, you are in labor and there’s no stopping this child from coming into this world. Now, where are your things?”
“Things? Things? I don’t have things. What things am I supposed to have?”
“Overnight clothes, slippers, a robe, a nursing gown, clothes for the baby, receiving blankets, reading material…those things.”
“I just got here! I haven’t even unpacked my bags.”
“Too late now. Lord Falkirk will just have to bring you a bag later.”
“Oh my God! Campbell! I have to call my husband, he’s in Munich!”
She looked worried, “Lord Falkirk is in Germany?”
I nodded.
“Don’t you have family or friends here?”
> “I…” I broke down crying. Fiona and Henry were in London and it would take them two hours to get up to Cambridge. “In London, my friends are in London.”
“Lady Falkirk, we have to go. You need to—“
“Ahhhh.” I had a contraction.
“—get into the delivery room.”
The door opened and Gemma walked in. She looked at the midwife and me crying and asked, “Maggie, what’s wrong?”
“I’m in labor and I don’t have things!”
“Things?”
I burst out with more tears, “Things!”
The midwife was clearly annoyed with me, her voice was flat and stern, “She hasn’t prepared a bag for the hospital.”
Gemma walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Well, that’s because she just arrived from the States a few weeks ago and has been jet lagged.” Gemma knelt down and looked me straight in the eye, her face calm. “Don’t worry Mags, I’ll pack you a bag and bring it to you. Has anyone told Campbell?”
I shook my head.
“Okay, that’s first on our list. Are you taking her to the hospital?” She asked the midwife.
“Yes, I’ve arranged for the paramedics to pick her up. They should be here soon.”
I had a contraction and more tears spilled out. “Gemma, can’t they stop my labor until Campbell gets here?”
She gave me a sweet smile, plainly understanding that I wasn’t thinking clearly, “Mags, the baby needs to be born. It could be unhealthy if they tried to stop it now. Okay, you go with the paramedics and I’ll contact Campbell and Fiona. I’ll join you in a few minutes at the Rosie, right?”
I nodded, bending over trying to find a comfortable position. There was a knock on the door and two paramedics entered. I was helped down to the ambulance and whisked away. Despite her kindness the night before, I was worried that Gemma wouldn’t follow through. But, by the time I got to the hospital and assigned a delivery room, Campbell had already called and left two messages. The last one simply said, “I’m chartering a plane now should be at Stansted in a couple of hours, Cambridge an hour after that.”
I started crying, it would be three hours minimum before he would be with me. The phone rang in my room.
“Hello?”
“Mags, we’re on our way right now. We should be there in a couple of hours, hang in there. Gemma said she was on her way to you…I’m so sorry you’re forced to deal with her,” Fiona sympathized.
I had a contraction, screaming into the receiver. When it passed, I managed to tell her, “She’s been nice to me. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without her right now.”
I heard Fiona’s muffled voice as she spoke with her hand over the receiver, “Henry, go faster, she’s hallucinating.”
“No, Fiona, really. She’s been rather kind to me over the last few days.”
There was a pause, I screamed again from the pain and Fiona finally said, “For God’s sake, can’t they give you anything? You sound like you’re actually complimenting Gemma.”
“Just get here.” I hung up.
The walls of the room were closing in on me. The sickly dusty rose wallpaper in cheerful bows and flowers made me want to gag. There was nothing cheerful about the pain I was in and I felt so terribly alone. Just when I thought it was really bad, Gemma entered the room holding up my duffle bag,
“Maggie, I packed you some underwear, clean clothes to wear home, Campbell’s short robe—since apparently you don’t have one at the house, and slippers. I also packed a few books, some notecards, and toiletries. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
I went through a contraction, screaming and writhing, cussing, and crying. I watched as the expression on Gemma’s face went from neutral to absolute abject horror.
“My God, Mags, is that screaming really necessary?”
I looked at her with so much rancor she actually stepped back away from me. I had a contraction and screamed again. “Look, when you have to go through this then you can ask me that.”
“I’m making sure I have drugs.”
“Well, if I’d gotten here sooner—” More screaming, contractions, contorted face.
The midwife looked at me with one eyebrow raised. “You’re going through transition soon. I don’t think you have more than a few minutes to go.”
I shook my head, my breathing increasing dramatically. “No! You can’t do that! You have to keep this baby from coming until Campbell gets here!”
The midwife laughed with her hand up my birth canal. “Sorry luvvie, but this baby is impatient. I can feel the head.”
“No! No!” I got up on my elbows, my eyebrows raised.
Gemma held down my shoulder. “Steady on, Mags! Cam isn’t going to make it in time, so just get a grip on it and push that baby out of there. I’d like to get home while there’s some time to sleep tonight. I have a lot planned tomorrow.”
I sighed. “Jesus, Gemma, just go home. I’ll do this on my own.” Another contraction followed by primal screaming, and lots of wincing from Gemma.
“You know I can’t leave you. As pathetic as you are, I’m starting to warm to you. And, since I do care about Campbell, he would be very disappointed if I abandoned you. So exorcise this child and let’s get some sleep.”
I grabbed Gemma’s hand and on the next contraction squeezed so hard that we were both screaming out in pain. As it passed, she yanked her hand out of mine.
“Bloody hell! You can grip something else on the next one.”
The midwife looked at me. “Lady Falkirk, do you have a camera ready? You’re baby’s head is visible.”
I shook my head, upset with myself that I didn’t have things ready for this event. I’d gotten pregnant in Los Angeles and then had to stay to obtain my visa along with nursing my Aunt Debbie who had cancer. She recovered and I moved to England in my eighth month. I had spent trying to learn my Countess duties that I didn’t have time to get down to Cambridge to buy baby things. Now it was too late. To tell the truth, I had imagined that lurking in some immense attic was all of Campbell’s baby things. But his mother quickly told me that most of his baby things were given to his sister when she had her children…with the exception of some interesting clothes that looked as if Campbell had been dressed as a girl when he was an infant. Why he wore dresses until he was one, I still don’t know.
“Hold on,” Gemma turned to her purse, “I have a video on my mobile.” She grabbed the phone and played with the keys, “There we go, perfect. Alright Mags, you can push, scream, do whatever you want, I’m filming.”
“Oh, crap!” I felt the next contraction and thought I was tearing apart. Even I could hear my own screaming and it was loud.
“Blimey!” Gemma yelled, “Mags, I see a rather bald head. I’m somewhat surprised, Campbell has a full head of hair, the bairn must take after your side.” She paused and smiled at me.
“Not long now, Lady Falkirk, I think the next one should give us the head, so when it hits I want you to bear down as hard as possible.”
I nodded. The contraction started and I pushed while everyone screamed for me to push harder. I heard Gemma yelp. The contraction started to pass and I looked up at her. The little red dot on her phone said the camera was on, but she wasn’t looking through the viewfinder. Her eyes were as big as saucers.
“That head is huge, how did she manage to get it through the hole?” Gemma asked the midwife, but the midwife ignored her.
I screamed and Gemma began filming again.
“This is it, one more push and your baby is out!” The midwife chirped.
I was so tired that the pain was no longer an issue. I just wanted the kid out and I wanted it out now. I pushed and the next thing I knew, she was placing this cottage cheese squiggly thing on my abdomen and cooing at it. I looked down and two deep blue eyes opened, then squinted and a huge howl came out of the tiny cavity that was the mouth.
“Would you like to cut the cord?” The midwife asked Gemma.
&n
bsp; “Will it hurt her? Because if it will, I’ll do it.” Gemma grinned at me to let me know she was joking.
The midwife laughed and shook her head. Gemma took the scissors and I heard a snipping. Another midwife took my baby from my belly and started wiping, weighing and running it through its paces. I still had contractions which helped me expel the placenta.
I wanted to be jovial and excited, but I found myself to be relieved and tired. Oh, I was happy, especially when they told me that my son was healthy, but I wanted to sleep. The midwife refused to let me sleep, telling me that my son wanted to nurse. It hit me that I was no longer the master of my own destiny. There was a 6 lb.12 oz. tyrant who made demands on me that I couldn’t ignore. I sat up a little and undid the gown, pulling my breast into a position where he could suck on it. He latched on like a trooper—just like his Dad—and started sucking. It was a strange feeling at first, even stranger to look down and see this little face nuzzled into my breast and realizing I had created him.
I was so tired; I fell deep asleep as he sucked. I woke up when someone took him from my arms. I looked up and saw my husband kissing his son and then bending down to kiss me.
“Mags, well done. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. He’s absolutely beautiful.”
“God, I’m glad you’re here,” I sighed and closed my eyes. “You watch him. I have to sleep.”
He grinned, “You’ve earned it, darling. Good night.” Campbell headed for the door with his son nestled in his arms. He stopped and turned. “And Darling, I’m going to want several more of these.”
“Yeah, well here’s a clue…never ask a woman right after childbirth to have more kids. You’d fare better if you wait a few days.” I smiled at him. He nodded back, and then he kissed our son on the forehead.
I watched as the two men in my life walked out the door and then it hit me—I was living the dream.
THE END