by Dale, Lindy
Shit. I haven’t packed a bag. The hospital said I should have a bag ready to go. Nicholas and I joked about what I should put in it and now a bottle of champers and a vibrator seem to be among the few things I can remember. There is not one sensible, useful thought in my head.
I. Am. So. Disorganised.
Damn it all to hell.
As a third pain takes hold of me, I grip my stomach and try to ride it out. The breathing we’ve been practising in the pregnancy classes makes it feel better so I concentrate on slow and steady, in an out, in and out until the pain begins to subside. Then I return to the bedroom. I have a shower and manage to shave my legs while gripping the tiles for dear life. I dress in loose yoga pants— because I totally want to whip out a few poses to keep myself busy— then alternate between laying on the bed with my knees up because it feels more comfortable and scrambling about in the walk-in-wardrobe like a woman in the throes of, well, I have no idea. At last, I find the carry-on bag Nicholas bought me for Christmas. I take a deep breath and begin to throw random things inside it likegranny knickers, maternity bras, sanitary napkins, a peasant dress to wear home from hospital, a disposable camera. I steal some of Nicholas’ expensive shampoo and his new toothbrush from the bathroom. He won’t care. Once the baby is here everything else will be superfluous.
Ooh, a hairbrush. I’ll need one of those.
Next, I wheel the suitcase to the baby’s room where I add nappies, a few little jumpsuits, a teddy and a bunny rug. I have no idea what for. Then I stop. I stare at the jumble of crap I’ve piled in the case. This is utterly ridiculous. There’s no way I’m ready to be a mother, I can’t get myself ready for a hospital visit. And where the hell is Nicholas? I’m having a fucking baby! I haven’t waxed my girl parts and I so wanted to have attractive girl parts when the medical team went poking about down there.
I hit on an idea. I’ll call Emily.
But why?
Maybe I should call Nicholas first and the hospital. Then, I’ll call Emily.
Or maybe I should time the contractions? Aren’t I supposed to do that?
Shit it all, why does my brain have to choose this moment to become non-functional.
At last, I decide to do all four in the order I thought of them so I zip the bag closed and head back to the kitchen to find my phone. I dial Nicholas. It goes to voicemail.
“Pick up Nicholas, please, please please,” I say. “The baby is coming. I need you.”
I wait five minutes but he doesn’t ring back.
So I call again. I try his office phone and it rings for thirty-seven rings before I give up. Clearly, he’s angrier at me than I thought. But now isn’t the time to be angry. He needs to be here, massaging my back and telling me how wonderful I am. There’s plenty of time for a hissy fit later.
Getting a little desperate, I send him a series of texts that make no sense, while I wait for Emily who is coming to drive me.
<*baby>
It takes five attempts and some shouty capitals before I finally get out the message I meant to send in the first place.
*****
It’s dinner by the time Emily and I reach the other side of the city where the hospital’s situated. I’m surprised at how well she navigates the traffic. I mean, she’s not that good a driver at the best of times and my gripping the seat and wailing doesn’t add anything good to the equation. She tries not to be tense with me, keeps telling me to stay calm and breathe, but it’s all so hectic I’m positive she’s channelling her frustration onto other drivers to stop herself from screeching at me. She’s given at least three people the finger when they’ve cut in front of her. And we won’t mention the moment she wound down her window and screeched, “Get out of my way, you morons. Can’t you see my best friend is having a baby!” to a bunch of very scary looking bikies.
“Are you sure Alex is okay with you doing this for me? I don’t mind getting a cab,” I mumble between breaths that are coming faster and faster.
‘Cause frankly, a cab ride would be a little less frantic than Emily’s driving.
“Alex is a Grade A arsehole, Sadie. And right at this minute, his head is so far up it, he wouldn’t have a clue where I am. So, yes, he’s fine with it. Mostly because he doesn’t know.” She swerves into the entrance of the hospital and slams the brakes on so hard I almost give birth in my seat.
Emily leaves me in the drop off zone at the front door and goes to look for a place to park the car. I wheel my bag to the reception and am immediately ushered into a room where they give me a swath of forms to complete. Thank God, I had the sense to bring my wallet with me. There’s no way I would have been able to remember all the numbers and codes I need. I can barely remember my name. Emily appears though the door in the foyer as the midwife, who introduces herself as Valerie, is putting me into a wheelchair. It’s mortifying been pushed along when I’m capable of walking but she assures me she likes to embarrass everyone in this fashion and that a wheelchair will be the least of my embarrassments over the next few hours. Then she gives me the loveliest smile. It’s like one my mother would have given me.
And I’m tearing up again.
“You okay, my love?” she asks.
Apart from the fact the baby is trying to rip me in two? I swipe a tear away and focus on breathing. “Sure. Just being a sook. I’m a bit scared. I wish my mum was here.”
“Would you like me to call her?”
“Do you have a direct line to heaven?”
Cue awkward pause.
“Sorry, Valerie,” I say. “That was out of line.”
“I’ve had lots worse said to me in the labour ward, don’t you worry. I know you didn’t mean it. Won’t be long and you’ll have a gorgeous baby in your arms.”
Valerie wheels me into the lift and we watch the doors close. “This is your birthing partner?” she asks, indicating Emily who’s standing beside us, my suitcase firmly in her grasp.
“This is my best friend, Emily. My fiancee, Nicholas, is on his way from work. At least, I hope he is.” I pull my phone from my pocket with the intention of texting him again. It could have happened he didn’t get the other twenty-five I sent.
“You can’t have that on in the hospital,” the midwife says. “Hospital policy. Mobiles mess with the machines. And, nobody needs a blow by blow on Facebook. So tacky.”
“Do people actually do that?”
“You’d be surprised.”
I look at her. I look at the screen of my phone. And being the good girl I am, I follow the rules and turn it off as another contraction rips through me. God, I hope Nicholas comes soon. I don’t think I can do this without him.
The next hour goes by in a blur. The nurse settles Emily and I in the delivery suite. Emily bustles about looking in cupboards and giving me a rundown on the amount of space in the bathroom. I think she’s nervous too, so I ask her to come sit by me and tell me more of her wedding plans. Assuming there’s still going to be a wedding.
“I wish we had tequila,” she remarks. “Are you sure you didn’t pack any in that pile of stuff I found in your case? I’m going to refold it by the way. God knows what you were thinking.”
“Nope. No tequila. But there might be a couple of shot glasses, I’m not sure.”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my marbles.
I think I have.
“So.” Emily changes the subject. “I might pop down and grab a bottle of water and a sandwich. I haven’t eaten a thing all day and if Nicholas doesn’t show is hot little patootie here soon, I’m gonna be in for the long haul, yeah?”
“I can organise something for you,” Valerie says. She’s hooking me up to a blood pressure machine and takin
g my temperature. I like that they’re being so cautious.
“Nah. It’s fine. I’ll be back in ten. Is that okay, honey bubble?”
“Sure. Don’t be too long.” I give her a limp smile. I need her here. I feel awfully alone all of a sudden. As cosy as this room is, it feels way too big, like there’s room for a small army if something goes wrong.
Valerie pats my arm. “I’ll be here for a while yet, Sadie. I have to check the position of the baby and see how dilated you are now, so it might be best if your friend goes for a walk anyway. Unless she’s good with internal exams?”
“Ugh, no thanks.” Emily waves her hand and makes for the door. “Do you want me to check on Hottie McTottie while I’m downstairs?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call him that. Valerie will think I only want him for his body.”
“When we all know it’s for his money.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that at all, Valerie. Nicholas is the most amazing man. I wouldn’t care if he was a pauper.”
In between my contractions and the exam, where Valerie confirms I’m five centimetres dilated— this baby is waiting for nobody, it seems— I tell the nurse about how Nicholas and I met. When you put it all together and leave out the ugly but crucial pieces, it almost sounds like the perfect romance.
“We had intentions of getting married on that same stretch of beach in a few weeks time,” I say. “But I guess we’ll be putting that off for the time being.”
“Not to worry, my love. There’s plenty of time for weddings. And if you get married later your figure will be back to normal, so you’ll have a greater choice of gowns.”
“Nicholas will be upset. I think he’s hoping my boobs will stay this way forever.”
The nurse chuckles again. “Most men do. It’s the nature of the beast.”
At that moment, the obstetrician arrives. He’s dressed like I’ve dragged him away from a game of tennis. We chat for a few minutes and he decides that given that my contractions are so close together, I should stay put in the delivery suite. He thinks it’s too late to try and delay the labour. I’m too far along. He listens to the baby’s heart beat. It’s strong and regular and the doctor smiles at me, but it doesn’t help. My baby is going to be born early. Premmies can have all sorts of complications. I am not ready for this.
Oh geez, now I’m freaking out.
Freaking.
Out.
Where the hell is Nicholas?
After the doctor is gone, Valerie tidies up and helps me change out of my yoga pants and into a loose fitting gown. It has no back and the entire world can see my bum, should they care to look.
“Now, can I get you anything else before I go to do my rounds? A heat pack, some ice chips?”
“I might take a walk around if that’s okay?”
“It’s your labour, Sadie, you do what’s best for you. I’ll be in to check on you again soon, but ring the bell if you need me and if you’re going for a walk don’t go too far away.”
“I won’t.”
I have no intention of going anywhere with my butt hanging out. I am waiting right here until Nicholas and my baby arrive. I’ll simply wear a track around the room.
*****
At exactly 12.01am the following morning, after hours of non-stop excruciating labour, our baby is delivered via forceps. He’s a darling bundle with dark hair like his father and the same olive skin. I think his deep blue eyes, that look at me so intently minutes after he’s born, will stay that colour. They’re his father’s eyes. Nicholas blue, that’s what they are.
Our baby heralds his entrance into the world with a wail so loud it leaves no doubt his lungs are in perfect working order and though he weighs a teeny two thousand, four hundred and two grams, the doctor assures me that’s a healthy weight considering he’s seven weeks early. His skin is a good colour and he’s already tried to suckle, so that means I can kangaroo him by carrying him around in a little pouch close to my skin for as much of the day as possible. In a few days, after the doctors are satisfied with his progress, we can go home. I can’t wait to show him his room and pick out a name. We still haven’t chosen a name.
I lie in bed in my private room in a sort of euphoric daze. I’m in love all over again but this time it’s a different kind of love. I can’t believe, despite the ferocity and swiftness of the delivery I did it without the assistance of drugs, that I pushed this little being into the world. I brush a finger across the crown of his head, careful not to wake him. I smell his new baby smell and I ponder at how I did this and how, after one or two hours I can already feel so much love for him. Then, after the night nurse has been in to check on us and taken the baby for a while, I drift into sleep. I hope Nicholas comes soon. I got his voicemail when I sneakily turned on my phone. He said he was on the way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Sadie, Sadie. Wake up.”
The gentle pressure of someone touching my shoulder rouses me. I rub the tiredness from my eyes and blink, trying to focus and recalibrate my brain into remembering where I am. My eyes feel gritty and my mouth is awfully dry. I mustn’t have been out of it for that long, just long enough for someone to have filled my head with sand.
Squinting, I look about the room. The blind is drawn and a nurse stands beside the bed, pointing a small torch toward the floor. Her face is calm, yet super serious, and it makes me worry. A baby is crying. That makes me worry more.
“What time is it?” I ask, shuffling up in the bed. My entire body is aching. I must have strained every muscle possible giving birth. Even my eyelashes are hurting.
“About three.” She confirms the time on the watch at her breast. I’ve never actually seen one of those watches in real life. I thought they were something from movies.
“Is it time to feed the baby?”
The nurse’s face is soft, caring, but she shakes her head. “Not yet. You need to come with me. There’s been an accident.”
I sit bolt upright. My body tenses with fear. “Not my baby?”
“Shhh. No. He’s fine. He’s in the nursery. The night girls are in love with him already, little monkey. You’ll have to fight them to get him back.”
But she said something was wrong. If it’s not the baby then what?
“I don’t understand.”
“There was an accident,” the nurse repeats.
It’s now I feel the blood drain from my face. Suddenly, my heart is thudding in my chest, it’s trying to leap out of my throat. I’m cold. So cold. I begin to shiver. I hear my voice, a mere squeak, asking if it’s Nicholas. He should have been here by now, his message said he was on the way but that was ages ago. It’s hard to know if I’m actually speaking my ears are ringing so.
“It’s Mr Lawson,” the nurse confirms. “We weren’t sure to begin with. He had no ID on him. The police went through the contacts on his phone and your name came up in the recent calls. Luckily, admissions was able to put two and two together.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t swallow. I am going to die. “Is he alive?”
“He’s in ICU.”
“How long’s he been there?”
“A few hours. He was unconscious when he came in and the doctors took him straight into surgery but he’s awake now. He’s asking for you.”
All this time Nicholas needed me and I was lying here eating sandwiches in the dark and drinking cups of tea. I was planning what I’d wear for the baby’s christening, for Christ sake. How did I not know? We’re meant to be soul mates. How could I not know Nicholas was hurt? I throw back the bed covers and swing my legs onto the floor. “Take me to him.”
“Sadie, slow down. You’ll be no good to Nicholas if you burst your stitches and can’t walk.”
She’s right, of course.
“Let’s get a dressing gown on and I’ll take you to see him.”
I swipe the nurse’s hand away and grab my dressing gown from the end of the bed. “Fuck the stitches. I need to see Nicholas now. I need to tell him I
didn’t mean it. I need to show him our baby. Nicholas is meant to help me choose a name.” I’m darting hysterically round the room, grabbing my hairbrush and ripping it through my hair. I’m searching for socks because in my panic to pack I forgot any type of footwear other than the sneakers I had on when I got here. “I want the baby. Get me the baby.”
“Sadie, calm down.”
“I can’t. I have to get to Nicholas now. Don’t you understand?”
By this time Emily has woken up and is stretching her cricked neck side to side. In the semidarkness she looks from the nurse to me. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Nicholas. He’s hurt.” I open the door to my room.
“Sadie! Come back. You don’t know where you’re going.”
I stop. Fucking shitty, shit, shit. Why does everyone else have to be my voice of reason?
“Well, hurry up then.”
The nurse brings a wheelchair and I flop into it for the second time in twenty four hours. This time I don’t care who sees me. I grip Emily’s hand as we head along the corridor and down in the elevator to Intensive Care. All I want is to be with Nicholas and tell him I love him.
*****
The Intensive Care Unit is deathly quiet, possibly because most of the people in it are near death but I’m trying not to think about that. Nicholas is alive and that’s all that matters.
Before I’m allowed to see him I have to have an inane conversation with a doctor. I don’t care about his injuries now, there’s plenty of time for talk later. All I want is to be with Nicholas. I have to be with Nicholas.
“Nicholas was hit by a car that lost control on the wet road,” the doctor tells us.
I tap my fingers against the arm of the wheelchair.
“We haven’t been able to piece the story together as yet but there’s been no rain for weeks. The first rains always make the road slippery. The driver, a girl in her first year of driving, is distraught. She’s down in emergency at the moment.”