by Peter Martin
‘I’m so sorry for wasting your time. I thought I wanted to do this, but now I’m not so sure. This baby inside me deserves to live. And who am I to take its life away? I just want to go home.’
‘Of course – as soon as the anaesthetic has worn off. And please don’t feel bad. We’re not here to judge you. Whatever your reasons for changing your mind, it doesn’t matter. In a few months’ time you’ll have a lovely baby, and you won’t even remember this.’
‘I hope so. Can I phone for a taxi?’
‘Yes. You can wait here until it arrives.’
‘OK. Thanks again.’
Angie stayed put for fifteen minutes and then got a call to say the taxi was outside. When she got in the car, she recognised the same driver as before.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions and knew the way home without asking her.
She slipped into the house and sat down in disbelief. For whatever reason, something inside her had decided she was having the baby now – but her fear of the birth, the pain and the chance of illness or disability remained.
She cried, wondering how she could possibly get through these long months. Picking up her mobile, she pressed for her dad’s number. He answered straight away.
‘Angie, are you all right? How did it go?’
She hesitated for a few seconds. ‘Dad … I couldn’t go through with it. I’m sorry I failed, but … well, to have my baby’s death on my conscience would be unbearable.’
‘I guessed you wouldn’t. In some ways, I’m glad. I’d love a little grandchild. Let’s just hope it doesn’t affect you the same way it affected your mum. And that you have a healthy baby.’
‘I know, Dad. But we’ll have to take what we’re given.’
‘Maybe you should tell John the truth about your mum now. He probably has a right to know, and you know what they say: forewarned is forearmed.’
‘No, never. It’s our family’s business, not his and if he finds out, there’s no telling what he might do. He’d hold it against me, for sure.’
‘Up to you, love. I suppose what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And if the worst happens, just plead innocence.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Let’s hope your sickness will pass and you can get through the next few months.’
‘I’m scared, Dad. But all I can do is to take each day as it comes.’
‘Come over any time, Angie. I don’t see many folks these days and if it helps to talk, I’ll be happy.’
‘I will. Thanks, Dad.’
pg. 83
PART TWO
SIX MONTHS LATER
pg. 84
Chapter 17
ohn had been on tenterhooks for weeks during August. Four times Angie had thought she was in labour, only to be sent home on each occasion, so when J she nudged him, in the early hours of Monday 29th August, he showed no sense of urgency. He was shattered and had to rub his eyes and yawn before turning to her.
‘John, I’m getting the pains again. It’s got to be labour this time,’ she said, grabbing him by the arm.
‘You sure?’
‘Of course. Please, take me to the hospital, now.’
‘All right. Can you get dressed?’
‘I’ll try my best. I’ll shout if I need you.’
‘I’ll ring to say we’re on our way.’
He disappeared.
When he returned, ready to go, Angie’s face was screwed up in pain. She kept moaning as he helped her downstairs and into the car. He prayed this wasn’t another false alarm. She’d got him down with her incessant whining over the past few months, especially over the Down’s syndrome result, even though all their subsequent scans had shown no cause for concern. Now he really wanted the whole thing to be over.
The roads were quiet, the sun already warm. They arrived at Dexford hospital in under ten minutes.
They were taken to a side room, where Angie undressed. John took her hand. As the doctor examined her, her waters broke, which John hoped was the beginning of the end. His heart beat faster; excitement or terror, he couldn’t tell which.
Angie panicked, and tried to get up. The midwives held her steady as she tried to squirm away from everyone. John was helpless as the doctors and nurses struggled to keep her calm.
‘She’s petrified of giving birth. Is there anything can you do?’
‘Help me!’ Angie cried. ‘Please make this awful pain stop! I can’t stand it!’
The midwife stroked her hair. ‘It’s very early days, Angela. I’ll get you some painkillers for now; just try to relax, take in deep breaths.’
‘I’m trying to … oh God, no!’ she screamed.
John held her hand. ‘Try to keep calm, darling. There’s a long way to go yet. The doctors know what they’re doing.’
‘Fuck off.’
John apologised to the midwife.
pg. 85
‘Don’t worry, Mr Greaves. It’s nothing we haven’t heard before! She’ll be a while yet – only a couple of centimetres dilated. I just have to go and attend to one of my other ladies. I’ll be back soon.’
After she had left, Angie’s contractions began to ease. ‘I’m so scared, John.
What if something goes wrong? What if they can’t get the baby out?’
‘They do this all the time. It’s their job.’
‘I know, but—OWW!!’ She crushed his fingers between hers.
<><><>
They’d been at the hospital for hours. The new midwife who had just come on shift examined the traces and looked worried. ‘Angela, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but your baby isn’t making any progress, and that can be very dangerous for both of you,’ she said. ‘We’re going to have to think about a C-section.’
Angie looked horrified. ‘What – cut me open?’
‘It’s the safest way at this stage. If baby doesn’t come out soon, there could be permanent brain damage. He or she is getting quite distressed.’
‘I don’t want an operation.’
John wasn’t sure she was taking this in properly. ‘Angie, do you understand what they’re saying? If they don’t do something soon, our baby could be harmed and you could die. All right?’
She nodded, wiping away tears with the heel of her hand.
‘OK, let’s do it. I’ll read the form before she signs.’
A nurse fetched the form and handed it to John. He read, barely taking it in. ‘That’s fine. Sign it, Angie.’
Shaking and gritting her teeth, she signed with a scribble.
They were put in surgical gowns and taken to theatre. John saw her petrified face as the anaesthetist injected her spine, but he felt powerless to help.
He wasn’t sure either of them would want any more children after this.
He sat at the head of the bed, clutching her hand, willing himself not to look past the green sheet that shielded her belly. ‘It’ll soon be over, Angie. They said it would only take a few minutes.’
‘It feels funny. I can feel my insides moving about.’
He smiled. ‘That must be really odd.’
After a little time, she felt a sudden release, and the doctor lifted a red bundle above the sheet before handing it over to a couple of nurses in the corner of the room.
There was an agonising wait … and then a tiny whimpering cry.
One of the nurses came over. ‘You have a beautiful healthy son, Mr and Mrs Greaves. Congratulations.’
She handed over the baby, now wrapped in a hospital towel.
pg. 86
John looked down at him. Matted black hair, chubby little face. He cooed, even opened his eyes which were sea blue.
There was a lump in John’s throat. ‘He’s amazing,’ he said, overcome.
Tears trickled down his face. ‘Angie, don’t you dare pull my leg about the crying, OK?’
She smiled up at him. ‘Dads are allowed to cry.’
<><><>
Angie was exhausted. Her eyelids fluttered, but wer
e so heavy they kept shutting again. At last they opened. Her sight was fuzzy and she couldn’t make anyone out. She just recognised John’s smiling face, and held out her hand. It felt good to touch his warm skin.
He smiled at her. ‘Hallo, Mummy.’
‘John … I’m so tired … I can hardly move.’
‘That’s only natural, after all you’ve been through in the last couple of days. Want to hold him?’
‘Later, when I’m better. I feel like my insides are going to come tumbling out if I move. Oh God, John. I thought it would never end. The pain was unbelievable, I thought I was going to die. Can’t ever go through that again …’
She lay back, eyes full of tears.
‘Come on, Angie, don’t get upset. Forget all that and think about the future.
We’ll have the best time ever with our son, he’ll bring us so much happiness.
He’s healthy, has nothing wrong with him at all. See? All that worry about Down’s syndrome was for nothing. At last our little family is complete.’
‘You think so? I hope to God you’re right.’ She saw the puzzled look on his face, but couldn’t bear the thought of explaining further.
‘The midwives said you might be in hospital for a couple of days. Everyone will want to visit.’
She closed her eyes. ‘Oh God, no. Can’t face them yet. That idea scares me to death.’
‘Well, you won’t be the centre of attraction – our son will. And no one will stay long. I’ll say you’re shattered because you’ve been through a lot. They’ll be sympathetic.’
‘Yeah, sure they will.’
‘We can’t say don’t come. Not when it’s their first grandchild. And you’re just tired.’
‘I don’t care – tell them to wait until tomorrow.’
He sighed. ‘OK, if you insist.’
‘Now, I need to rest. Please go away.’
‘Already? Don’t you want me to stay and help with the baby?’
‘No. I want you to go. Have you any idea how much having a baby takes out of you?’
pg. 87
‘I suppose not. All right, if you insist. Until tonight, then.’
‘No, not tonight. Tomorrow. I need a good night’s sleep.’
‘OK, one more peep at my son and then I’ll go.’ He reached over into the clear plastic cot to pick up his son.
‘John, don’t. You’ll wake him. And I’m too shattered to look after him at the moment. Please just let him sleep.’
She realised he must be hurt by her comments. Well, tough. She wished he’d had to give birth, see how he felt.
‘Until tomorrow, then.’ He kissed her on the cheek, and left.
She breathed in deeply, glad he’d gone, wanting peace and quiet. Hospitals weren’t pleasant, but she dreaded leaving this one because then she’d have to care for the child herself. The first two weeks should be fine with John at home. But what then?
She heard the baby crying. Dear God, what should she do? She looked away, hoping he would stop, but he didn’t. She pressed her buzzer for the midwife; she couldn’t bear to touch that child.
pg. 88
Chapter 18
hen John got home, he wasn’t sure how he felt: ecstatic over his newborn son, or worried over his wife’s lack of interest in the baby and her W attitude towards him. Was it just the trauma of the birth, or something else?
He phoned his parents and told them the news.
His mum squealed with delight. ‘That’s wonderful! How are they both?’
‘The baby’s well, as good as gold, but Angie’s been through the mill. She was out of it earlier. Not bonding with the baby either – although to be fair, I think she’s still getting over the anaesthetic. She’s grumpy, too, and taking it out on me. Good job I’m thick-skinned.’
‘She doesn’t mean it, love. It’s a very emotional experience. I remember after I’d had you, I couldn’t stop crying. But after a few days it passed.’
‘It gets to me a bit, though. Throughout the whole nine months she seemed out of sorts – apart from the sickness, I mean. I had to twist her arm to get her to buy anything for the baby. I even decorated his room on my own. She just never seemed interested in any of it. Hope it’ll be different now the birth’s over.’
‘Try not to be so hard on her. She’s suffered over the last few months and it’s bound to take its toll. Are you visiting her later?’
‘No – she told me to wait until tomorrow, because she’s shattered and wants a good night’s sleep. She didn’t say a lot afterwards, just lay there dozing.’
‘I feel for her. It’s not easy. Will she mind if we come? We won’t impose, but we’d like to see him, even if it’s only for a few minutes.’
‘Of course. We can go together in the afternoon. Visiting is from two till four, so I’ll come for you at one-thirty, OK?’
‘That would be lovely. Thanks, John.’
‘Just don’t take it personally if she’s not up to talking,’
‘We won’t be offended.’
‘Until tomorrow then.’
He didn’t relish the prospect of ringing Angie’s dad, but he felt sorry for the guy, being on his own. John had always got the impression Alan resented him for taking his little girl away, but luckily he didn’t see much of him. He rarely called on them and Angie usually visited him on her own.
‘Is that Alan?’
‘Yeah, all right John. How’s things?’
‘Good, thanks. Just wanted to let you know Angie’s had the baby.’
‘Oh, great.’
John told him the story and expressed his fears about Angie.
‘It figures. She always did take a long time to adjust to things. As long as they’re both safe and well, that’s all that matters for now.’
pg. 89
‘I’m taking Mum and Dad to the hospital tomorrow afternoon. You’re welcome to come too, if you’re game.’
‘That’s kind, but I’ll pass on that one. Angie hates crowds. I’ll pop in on my own when it’s quiet. Give her my best wishes, tell her I’ll be in touch.’
And with that he rang off.
John wondered if this brush-off was intentional.
He made a few more calls, then went out to buy fish and chips. It was quiet without Angie; he missed her. He knew he’d have his work cut out with her when she came home, but he was determined to keep them together. For tonight, well aware that things would soon change, he’d be glad of the peace.
<><><>
Angie woke early the next morning. Her night had been restless, with dreams of her mother’s death. She’d trashed the kitchen in a fit of temper. They’d had a blazing row, her mum and dad hit each other over and over again, before her dad grabbed hold of her, took her to their bedroom and shut the door behind her.
Angie heard a thud as her mum dropped onto the roof ledge and then onto the grass. Her mum ran towards her car. She got in and drove off. Her dad followed in his own car, taking Angie with him, crying her eyes out. How she wanted to forget.
Now, sitting up carefully in bed, mindful of the stitches holding her abdomen together, she shuddered with fear. She peered into the cot; the baby was fast asleep. She felt nothing but a sudden urge to go to the top of the building and throw herself off the roof. But her shame wouldn’t even allow her that release.
So instead she went to the toilet, feeling agonising pain in her stomach as she walked. She didn't understand what possessed people to have babies. But something must.
She washed her hands and returned to bed. As soon as she lay back, the baby cried. Angie sighed, picked up her phone and began to surf the net.
‘Mrs Greaves, aren’t you going see to him?’ the nurse asked.
Angie lay stock-still, not wanting to touch the child. But what could she say?
‘Sorry, I’m not feeling well. Could you, please?’
The nurse said nothing and did the necessary without complaint.
Angie couldn’t force herself to face the baby yet.
>
After a light breakfast, she found a magazine to read. Bored out of her mind, she’d be glad to get out of here, except for the fact that once at home, she’d soon have to look after the baby by herself while John went to work.
Around mid-morning, she glanced up from her reading to see someone standing at the end of the bed.
Her eyes widened with pleasure. ‘Dad!’
‘Hallo, love. How are you?’
pg. 90
‘Sit down, Dad.’
He sat at the side of her bed, smiling.
‘So, Angie, I’ll ask again – how are you?’
‘Better than I was. The birth was horrendous, the pain unbearable – did John tell you I had a C-section? I never dreamt having a baby would take so much out of you. Why do women put themselves through such a frightful experience?’
‘Well, I couldn’t comment, since I’ll never go through it. At least you came through unscathed. But I’ve heard whispers that you might be finding it hard to adjust and care for your baby.’
‘That’s a joke.’
‘Not in my book, it isn’t. I warned you of the risks. But you insisted on having the child.’
‘I know. But I thought I’d be all right … Dad, I can’t even look at my son, let alone hold him. What’s wrong with me?’
‘Probably nothing. It’s very early days. And I’m sure the nurses will be keeping an eye on you. Meanwhile, I have a keen interest in the lad, even if you don’t. In fact, I intend picking him up if you have no objections.’
‘Be my guest.’
He took the baby out of the cot, then sat down with him in his arms. Angie caught a glimpse of him, saw his blue-grey eyes open, looking around.
‘Well, the lad’s a belter. I reckon he looks like me, with his dark hair, and his eyes are the same shape as mine. Don’t you think so?’
‘Maybe, but he’s only a day old and they often change.’
‘True. You did. Blonde hair first, which came off and then it was brown.