Ora's Gold

by Charlotte Young

  Jake is lying beside me in our little cave, propped up on his elbow, his face above mine. He puts his hand on Gumnut and right on cue I have a contraction.

  ‘Wow!’ he says as the skin across my belly tightens. The pain is like a full-on period cramp now, cutting into me. I move onto my side to try and get some relief. Jake can feel when it stops.

  ‘But I don’t get how you could just sit up there chatting, knowing that Gumnut is coming!’ He looks happy and a bit cross. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘There wasn’t the chance,’ I say, yawning. ‘Everything happened so fast today. I really, really need to sleep, Jake.’

  ‘But how can you be so chilled. Gumnut is coming!’

  ‘Jake,’ I say sleepily.

  ‘But does this mean you’ll have the baby on the boat?’

  ‘I don’t know, it might take hours. I think Dione was checking places out. Please can we get some sleep?’ It’s all I can think about. Who knows how long my early labour will go for but I’m beginning to doubt I’ll be leaving the boat pregnant.

  ‘Sure, sure,’ he says excitedly. ‘D’you want me to get you a glass of water? Any food? You’ll wake me up, won’t you? It better be sunny tomorrow. I’m glad I filled up the shower bags yesterday. I’ll pump up the pool in the morning. Maybe I should do it now?’

  ‘Jaaaake!’ I say, almost on the verge of tears.

  ‘Sure, okay. Right.’ He leans up and turns off our little overhead light. ‘I’m just going to talk to Dione.’

  *

  The pain wakes me sporadically throughout the night. When I get up to pee, Dione is on the bench-bed in the cabin. I’m surprised to see her, and realise she must have given up her spot on deck to Keith. I try to pee as quietly as I can, knowing he is lying on the other side of the hatch.

  On my way back to bed she asks how I’m going. I whisper that the contractions are coming regularly and everything feels a lot heavier, like Gumnut has moved further down. She asks me to describe the pain and then tells me to get as much sleep as I can, and to drink some water.

  ‘We’re not going to make it to land, are we?’ I need to offload the worry that’s been pulling at my mind.

  ‘I looked on the map and … for the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. If Keith hadn’t been here, maybe, but … Would you want to go into shore now, even if there was time?’

  I shake my head. There’s nowhere to go. Not if I want to keep Gumnut.

  Dione’s face is creased with concern. I’ve never seen her looking this uncertain. ‘I was hoping the contractions would die down,’ she says.

  A great chasm of fear opens for a brief moment, but I can’t go there now. I just need to lie down again. I give her a hug and go back to bed.

  Lying down again, I look out the tiny round window and put my hands on my belly.

  ‘I can’t wait to meet you,’ I say quietly to Gumnut. ‘I need you to know that you’re going to be born on this boat, so make sure you’re okay, okay?’ A tear pops out of my eye. What if something goes wrong? What if I can’t do it? What if he gets stuck? I can’t lose him now, not after everything we’ve been through.

  I close my eyes and get the clearest image of Dragon looking straight at me. I fall into her eyes. Huge, deeply dark, soft, love-filled eyes. My own eyes brim with tears as a startling insight dawns on me—Dragon belongs to Gumnut. She is here for him.

  I tingle all over and remember my dance when Dragon first appeared and how Jake was there as well. I have to wake him, this is all too much. I touch Jake’s shoulder and he rolls over towards me. His face is beautiful. I kiss his lips and his eyes open widely.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asks urgently, half sitting up.

  I smile. ‘I’m fine, Jake. Nothing’s really happening.’ I decide not to tell him about my fears, unsure if he'll get freaked out and lose it. ‘I just needed to be with you.’

  We are whispering and snuggling.

  ‘You remember my dragon?’ I ask him.

  ‘The picture?’

  ‘Yes, and also when we got together?’

  He nods and smiles, remembering.

  ‘Well, I thought the dragon was for me. But I’ve just realised who it’s really for.’

  ‘Gumnut?’

  ‘Yes!’ I hug him. ‘Every time Dragon has appeared, apart from the first time, it’s been for Gumnut.’

  Jake is as excited as I am, even though he says I’m a loon.

  ‘Maybe that first time was when Gumnut was getting ready to be conceived!’ he says, his eyes glistening in the darkness. ‘And then that picture you drew—’

  ‘You’re as much of a loon as me!’ A contraction seizes me, this one demanding more attention than the last, and I have to use some breath to work through it. Jake shuts up and puts his hand on my leg gently, watching me.

  He is with me, quietly supporting me.

  When the pain subsides I say, ‘I think he’s having his second coming now.’

  We giggle and cuddle some more, watching our little piece of sky turn from night to day. Jake is doing a good job of distracting me from my fears.

  I can do this, I think.

  *

  I change my mind soon enough. The contractions start to come closer together, and they steadily get more intense.

  I have to get up, which means the whole boat has to get up.

  Thankfully the sun rises bright and warm. I notice the waves catching movements of sunlight. The sky is a breathtaking blue. All is clear.

  Jake is busying himself with the solar shower bags. He lays them all out on the bow of the boat. I hope the water heats in time.

  Up on deck, I manage a ‘Good morning’ to Keith, but say no more. He has no idea my labour has started and is so busy looking at his phone—willing it to charge—that he doesn’t see what’s in front of him. His fidgeting annoys me so I retreat below, but there isn’t enough room. I need to walk. Jake and Dione come down at different times but I want to be alone. Dione does a quick blood pressure check and listens to Gumnut’s heartbeat and then goes back up on deck.

  I can hear Jake blowing up the inflatable pool. It’s taking ages.

  Every twenty minutes now a surge takes me. I walk up and down the cabin—four little steps or three big ones, and then I have to turn again.

  I think about asking Jake to get us to a beach. I put on my bikini but before I can get up the steps I have to stop and hang onto the table, breathing myself through a surge.

  I don’t know how long I spend like this. Hours. Backwards and forwards, up and down.

  I forget about the beach.

  It hurts. I feel sick. I am going to be sick. I reach for the wee bucket. Dione must have washed it out with seawater. I don’t care anyway. It feels like my guts are coming up.

  The pain in my womb is much worse than any of my fiercest period cramps. I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this. I wonder about gas. I like the idea of being knocked out. Why didn’t I talk to Dione about pain relief?

  Another surge. Rocking. Breathing. Vomiting.

  Dione opens the hatch and calls down gently, ‘Can I come down?’

  I don’t look up from the bucket but manage a nod. She sits beside me on the bench seat and rubs my back. Her hand feels good. She ties my hair back.

  ‘Keith has gone,’ she says but I don’t care.

  ‘It really hurts!’ I say to Dione with closed eyes, moving my head from side to side.

  ‘I know. Your body’s doing its thing. It’s meant to hurt.’

  ‘But I’m not meant to feel pain! This is why we have drugs,’ I say indignantly, my voice going up an octave.

  ‘When will the water be ready?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m so sorry Ora, there was a problem with the pool. It had a hole in it.’

  ‘No!’ I groan, shaking my head from side to side. My natural painkiller option has been taken from me.

  ‘Let’s stand you up,’ Dione says, taking both my hands.

  There is
n’t room for us both to walk up and down. I feel a strange popping sensation and water gushes down my legs, covering my feet. I am momentarily in awe and disbelief. The sac that has carried my baby all this time has broken open, and I am standing in its puddle.

  Over the next half hour I spend all my time getting on and off the portaloo. I kick off my bikini bottoms. They’re annoying me. I have this overriding urge to empty my bladder and bowel—especially at the height of a contraction. I stay up this end of the boat.

  Dione is with me. She keeps her distance but as soon as I need her she is beside me. She seems to know what I need. A sip of water. A cool face washer. A firm back massage.

  Another contraction. I need to hold onto something. The table. If I don’t grip the table, I’ll be swept away by the pain. I cannot hold this pain inside me. I scream, and my knees buckle.

  I want to move. I want to lie down. I don’t know what I want. I don’t want the next contraction to come.

  Dione guides me to my bed. I kneel on the mattress, facing the point of the bow. Dione puts the pillows in front of me and I burrow my head into them. I rock and breathe through the surges as they explode inside me. It’s better in here, in my little cave. I lie on my side to rest.

  Jake’s voice. He leans in and tells me I’m doing great. Right at that moment another wave roars through my body and I do not reply. I am kneeling again, head in the pillows, sounding out the pain.

  An enormous contraction rips me apart and I want to run. I can hear my voice, high and strange. Let me go. No! No! I want the water. I’m screaming.

  Suddenly, I hear Snake’s voice. ‘Turn and look at the pain,’ she instructs.

  I can’t!

  ‘Turn around, Ora. Step inside the pain. Look at it. It’s a wave. Go towards it.’

  ‘Dione!’ My voice is so high, I don’t recognise myself. ‘Make it stop. Give me something. I can’t do it.’

  Jake is on my other side. He rubs my back but I shake his hand off. I don’t want to be touched.

  Snake commands me again to look at the pain. I want to run. Dione is telling me to use a deep voice. She wants me to grunt, not shriek. I bury my head deeper into the pillows as she leans over me.

  ‘I can’t!’ I cry, collapsing onto my side and sobbing.

  ‘Turn and look at the pain,’ Snake calls.

  The next contraction is coming. I fling my head from side to side. No! No! But my body is moving of its own accord, getting up on all fours again, readying for the next barrage.

  I stop.

  I stop running and turn. The fear slips away. It is the ocean crashing over me, through me. I am inside the pain that is inside me. One word keeps going around in my head: ‘Open’. I am kneeling forward, my head in the pillows. My cervix is stretching: wider, wider. Opening. I feel the height of the wave subside and I slide down its back in relief.

  I lie on my side and drift in a haze.

  Up again, kneeling forward, forearms and knees. Another wave of pain, thundering through me. Between each wave I drift. I am so deeply inside. My eyes are closed. No-one can come in here. It’s blissful between the waves.

  Another wave, more kneeling. Inside the pain. I lie down, I sleep. Another wave, another sleep. Time stops.

  Every now and then I feel Dione press her monitor on my belly, listening to Gumnut’s heartbeat. I want her to leave me alone. Jake is here, but not here.

  I am shaking violently. I open my eyes. I am cold. I am freezing. My breath is short and I am filled with fear.

  ‘No!’ I say. ‘I can’t. I can’t do this. Get me out!’ Panic ripples through me over and over. The pain is too strong for me now. Too big. It is moving down into my bottom and legs.

  I grasp Dione’s hands.

  ‘Dione, make it stop! I can’t!’ I am screaming. Wild. Clutching. Jake is beside me.

  ‘Jake, make it stop!’

  They are talking to me. Talking at me. Telling me I am doing it. That I’m nearly there. I feel like I’m disappearing down a plughole. They’re not hearing me!

  ‘Is this normal?’ Jake asks. He sounds panicked.

  This is not fucking normal!

  Snake calls to me from deep inside. Her voice is quiet. I have to stop thrashing about so I can hear her. She says something about a point of reckoning. I’m at the threshold. I shut my eyes and I listen. I have opened, she says. I am open. My breath returns. I am okay. I can do this.

  I look at Jake and smile. He is with me. Love blazes out of his eyes. Stillness, trust, knowing. I smile again. My heart is full. We stay like this forever.

  ‘I need to poo,’ I say, scrambling backwards, out of bed and waddling to the loo.

  I don’t quite make it, but Dione makes it okay. The warm water feels nice.

  She puts towels on the bench. We sit, Dione one side, Jake the other.

  The pain returns. It’s different now.

  I move forwards into a squat. Jake and Dione are beside me on the floor, my arms around their shoulders. I am doing this.

  Dione breathes with me.

  I feel my baby’s head moving down inside me. He feels as big as a melon! I am cracking open. The urge to push is amazing—I could not stop this if I wanted to. I don’t want to. My body is driving, my mind sitting, watching, behind a veil.

  From somewhere deep, deep inside comes sound. I know it’s me, but it isn’t me. It is every mother who has gone before me. My throat is opening and so is the rest of me as my baby’s head moves down. He is crowning. A crown for him and a ring of fire for me as I stretch around his head. The stinging and heat is phenomenal. I use my breath as he slowly splits me apart.

  Pure relief! His head is out.

  Dione tells me to reach down. I feel a spongy head and look up in wonder. I motion Jake to reach forward too. He nearly wobbles over. Tears spring into his eyes as he feels our baby’s head.

  I need to bear down again. I can feel tiny shoulders urging themselves through, and in one swoop he is gliding out of me, into my waiting hands.

  I sit back against the bench and lift my baby close. My breaths come in short, excited gasps, full of wonder. He is soft, slippery. Dione places a little blanket over him carefully. Jake kisses me. We are both crying.

  Gumnut is looking around with all-seeing eyes. I can’t imagine what he’s seeing. Then he squeaks, and my heart swells. A little cry. Dione gives him a quick check over and confirms he’s a boy. Of course he’s a boy! I cuddle him into me and he starts looking for my nipple. He is so tiny and determined, and his little mouth is seeking me out.

  I can’t stop looking at him. Finally he finds what he wants and latches on. A sharp pain makes me yelp. It takes him a few more goes to attach himself. I feel like I’m all fingers and thumbs—I have no idea what I’m doing.

  Dione looks over to the hatch and her face darkens. Jake and I follow her gaze and see Keith. He has opened the hatch and his head and shoulders are inside the cabin with the rest of his body stretched out on the cockpit floor. He is pointing his phone at us.

  Filming us.

  Dione starts to shout as Jake moves towards him. Gumnut’s whole body jumps. I grip him tighter and say, ‘No!’ Everyone stops. My baby will not hear words of anger in his first minutes of life. All the power and strength from my birthing body whirls around the room and fills my words. I speak quietly, with complete authority.

  ‘Put the phone on the step and get out.’ Keith obediently places his phone on the cabin step and closes the hatch. Were those tears in his eyes?

  I look down at Gumnut, who is oblivious and searching for my nipple again. Jake and I return to our baby bubble. Dione gets up and steps over us, moving the phone out of sight. She then puts on some water to boil.

  After a while, I need to push again. Still holding my baby, Jake and Dione help me stand. The placenta glides out, a huge chunk of slippery meat. Dione catches it in a bowl and inspects it. All is as it should be. I look into her teary eyes.

  There is so much love in this cabin.
>
  *

  With warm, clean water, Dione wipes the blood off my legs and inspects the towels, checking my blood loss. I carefully sit back on the bench and she examines me between my legs.

  ‘You’ve got a tiny graze,’ she says, and I’m surprised that’s all there is. I feel so sore, but I’m jubilant. And madly in love with this little being.

  Jake cuts the cord.

  ‘My body is amazing,’ I say to no one in particular. I feel like I can do anything. ‘And you are amazing,’ I say to Gumnut. ‘We didn’t need the water after all.’

  Dione smiles, ‘You did great.’

  ‘This is all I hoped for.’ I look at Gumnut, completely in love.

  ‘Can I hold him?’ Jake asks. He is sitting beside me, looking intently at our baby wrapped in a soft blanket.

  I have to make myself pass him over.

  As I carefully wash and put on my pyjamas, Jake asks dreamily, ‘What are we going to call you, little fella?’

  ‘Gumnut!’ I say.

  I see Dione smiling to herself. She is busy in the kitchen, giving us space as well as keeping an eye on me.

  ‘That’s his nickname,’ says Jake, clearly besotted. ‘He’s got to have a proper name.’

  ‘I’m calling him Gumnut.’

  ‘What about Josh?’ he asks brightly.

  We’ve had lots of fun laughing and disagreeing about names, but Josh was one of the names we both liked.

  ‘We can call him Josh … Josh Holly!’ I say with inspiration. Jake knows better than to disagree. ‘But I’m going to stick to Gumnut for now.’

  ‘Right, you two,’ says Dione, bringing over tea and toast. ‘Time to eat. Then it’s off to bed with the three of you.’

  It’s dark outside already.

  I smile. The three of us.

  38

  Plan A

  I don’t sleep for long. I keep waking and looking in wonder at my baby, who is lying between us. His journey from womb to world has been a tiring one, and he’s sleeping soundly. But I have a constant need to check that he’s breathing. I can’t believe he’s here. His button nose fascinates me—it’s tiny! And his miniscule fingernails. When he does open his eyes, they are the deepest blue, ancient and newborn all at once.