Mothers' Day

by Fiona McArthur

  ‘Don’t trust him,’ Jacinta continued. ‘My mother trusted him. He let my mother and me down, and he’ll let you and Harley down. He wasn’t there playing with me when I was five, like Harley.’ She looked Noni in the eye. ‘We’ll be gone soon.’

  Noni ached for the woman-child in front of her and ached for herself for what might have been. ‘He didn’t know you existed. How could he have come if he didn’t know?’

  ‘He walked away. Didn’t try at all. My mother should have forced him to acknowledge me. Then she died and left me, too.’ Jacinta’s voice cracked and she moved hurriedly away.

  Noni turned to follow her – pregnancy and grief didn’t go together well – but just then Harley saw her and called out.

  ‘Did you see that, Mummy? Did you see how far I hit it? Iain – I mean, Mr McCloud – has been showing me how to stand and the way to hold my bat.’

  Noni sent one more glance after the distant figure of Jacinta and faced the two males coming towards her. The girl wouldn’t thank her if she drew attention to her tears. ‘Terrific shot, Harley.’

  ‘Mr McCloud said he’d come and help coach the team if you wanted him to.’

  Iain looked sheepish as he made his way towards her. And so he should! She may not have been first choice for coach, but at least she had stepped forward when no one else had. It shouldn’t hurt that he thought he’d do a better job.

  ‘That wasn’t very diplomatic, Harley.’ Iain gave her a searching look.

  ‘What’s dip-lo-mat-ic?’ The boy looked from one adult to the other.

  ‘What you’re not. Now, skip inside while I talk nicely to your mother and tell her she really is a good coach.’

  Harley, still confused, did as asked.

  Iain tilted his head. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t a good coach.’

  She sighed, suddenly exhausted. ‘Drop it. I’m tired and I’ve got classes tonight. Tell them at cricket I couldn’t make it and you came in my place. Controlling twelve five- and six-year-old boys is much harder than managing one. You’d be doing me a favour.’

  It was only half a lie. He’d be a better coach than she was. She left him standing, staring after her, and trailed up the stairs more depressed than she could remember.

  ‘Hello, everybody. Welcome to week three.’ Noni looked at the circle of people smiling at her, their faces eager for snippets and suggestions she could add to their toolboxes for labour.

  Three weeks into the sessions and the backdrop of light coming in the windows had changed as the days slowly grew shorter. The rapport between the participants had also grown. Noni hoped they’d all stay friends for many years to come. That was the beauty of antenatal classes in the country; the babies would be born and go to the same preschools and schools, the same sporting clubs, and the parents would meet time and again, with a history that came right back to Noni at the front of the class. She loved her job. So much so that it was sad when families moved away. Like Jacinta and Iain – when they left she’d never see them again.

  She forced that thought away. ‘Is it my imagination or are all the women in this room getting bigger?’

  Everybody laughed and the girls patted their stomachs, even Jacinta.

  ‘Tonight, the topic is “Power and Progress in Labour”.’ Most of the women quieted, but Noni pretended not to notice. She handed out some tip-sheets and then pointed to a poster of stylised female faces taped to the board. ‘As you can see, this lady’s smiley face is happy because she’s started labour. You can tell by the contractions – the small, evenly spaced hills drawn underneath her. She’s in early labour. She looks excited and giggly.

  ‘The contractions are probably ten to twenty minutes apart. This is a really good time to stay home and keep busy. Lean on the kitchen sink when you have to.’ She put her hands on her hips and rocked from side to side, before continuing. ‘And potter around doing small tasks to keep yourself relaxed and mobile. Pop anything last minute into your bag for the hospital. Like the phone charger.’ The men smiled.

  She pointed to the diagram again. ‘Now, this next lady is looking a little less amused and her contraction hills are closer together and a lot steeper – tightening more strongly and coming about three to five minutes apart. If you look at her face, she’s really concentrating and her mouth is a straight line. She needs to be in the shower, with her man rubbing her back. Or she could try sitting on an exercise ball, concentrating on a spot on the wall. She doesn’t want to talk about the shopping list or when the council rates are due.’

  She rolled a big blue ball out from the side of the room, sat on it and began using it to roll gently from side to side as if she had a contraction.

  A few of the women giggled. The men smirked. This was why she wore her scrubs and T-shirt to classes. Who knew what position she might end up in. She stood and pushed the ball to Jacinta to try.

  Iain’s eyebrows crinkled in disbelief. ‘It doesn’t look safe to me. What if she falls off?’

  Noni wondered if he had any ideas for natural pain relief. Most things worried him and she began to suspect that he’d be the harder work in labour than Jacinta.

  ‘She’ll be fine, Iain. You can have a go in a minute and you’ll see how secure it is.’

  Jacinta straddled the ball and it glued itself to the floor as the base of the non-slip ball flattened. She sat, looking a little surprised at how comfortable she felt. Noni helped her to stand again.

  Noni answered the unspoken question. ‘It’s called a birthing ball, so it’s slightly sturdier than an exercise ball and you can use it in the shower, too. It’s non-slip and encourages terrific positioning of your pelvis. Plus, it gives your legs a rest from standing up.’ The ball rolled over to Iain.

  He looked at it with distaste. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Wimp,’ Noni said under her breath. He couldn’t have heard her. After the ball had gone around the group and everyone else had tried it, she went back to her poster and tapped the board.

  ‘Our third lady is looking decidedly unamused.’ The room had stilled, their attention all hers. ‘This lady’s contractions are close together, very steep and sometimes they even double up. Coming two to three minutes apart. That’s from the start of one contraction to the start of the next. She’s not getting much rest between them. She’s in strong labour and almost ready to snap at her partner if he says or does the wrong thing.’

  The men laughed quietly. The women didn’t. Noni smiled reassuringly.

  ‘This is all normal. One of the objects of antenatal classes is to learn different techniques to help you stay relaxed and loose, to allow these contractions to do their job as efficiently as possible. To be aware of the changes and help you recognise where you are in your labour.’

  She pointed to a poster with women walking, sitting, lying over a beanbag and even squatting.

  ‘A lot of the time, medicated pain relief can actually make your labour slower and still not give you the type of relief you want, so try the alternatives first. Get off that bed and move. Relief will come when you have your baby in your arms and moving will help you find that moment more quickly.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jacinta

  Iain stiffened beside her and Jacinta sank lower in her seat. She just knew he was going to say something embarrassing again. Seriously, couldn’t he just shut up? She felt like putting her fingers in her ears. She so didn’t want to talk about labour.

  Iain’s mouth opened and she sighed before he’d even started. Here we go.

  ‘That’s too airy-fairy for me.’

  Whose labour is this going to be? Jacinta thought suddenly, and judging by Noni’s face she agreed with her.

  Iain said, ‘If a woman’s in pain, and you give her something to help her, isn’t something like morphine going to make her more relaxed and speed her labour – not slow her down?’

  This must be why he’d told her, ‘Don’t worry about labour, you won’t feel a thing. They can take the pa
in away.’ She’d let him say it because she wasn’t talking to him about it. But now, apparently, he’d had enough of this ‘natural, medication-free birth’ stuff. It wasn’t the pain she worried about, half the women you passed on the street had done it so she knew she could in theory, it was the thought of dying that terrified her.

  The night she would never forget but tried constantly to wipe from her mind flashed in frames, and she heard the sounds in sequences as her mother’s life had trickled away while they’d waited for the ambulance.

  Iain went on like water torture. ‘Spinal anaesthesia isn’t new. I thought lots of women, especially first-time mothers, had epidurals. When everything is numb from the waist down they have no pain, can talk normally, even brush their hair while the labour progresses. I really can’t see anything wrong with such a civilised progression.’

  Jacinta wondered distantly why Noni didn’t answer. Then she saw Noni’s face. If Jacinta wasn’t so terrified, she’d laugh. As it was, she was having a hard time breathing.

  Noni’s words washed over her as the images came faster. Her mother’s pale face. Her weak voice telling Jacinta not to swear as they waited for the ambulance. The blood!

  ‘Sometimes, an epidural anaesthetic can help, yes,’ Noni spoke slowly. ‘Sometimes, it’s absolutely essential for a woman to have adequate pain relief in that form. But medication for pain relief isn’t the only way to manage labour. You forget, women are designed to have babies, were born to do it, and at least eight out of ten women statistically are capable of having an active, normal labour.’

  But every now and then one of them dies! Jacinta kept her eyes on her shaking fingers, squeezing them together in her lap until they hurt as she relived that night.

  She barely heard Noni say, ‘If somebody doesn’t force an epidural down our throat or bomb us right out on a narcotic drug. You have to remember that while the option for pain relief is there, so are the risks that are associated with any intervention.’

  Noni’s voice tethered Jacinta like the string of a kite as the distant wind of the past tried to blow against her. If she kept hearing her she wouldn’t be totally lost in the memories.

  ‘You have to be careful that the reason you’re having pain relief is because you need it, which is the perfect reason to have relief, not just because your partner or doctor would feel more comfortable if you’d stop groaning. That’s why immersing in the bath during active labour helps so much. You’re in your own space and nobody can get to you.’

  From a long way away Jacinta heard Noni say, ‘Gee, can you tell this is a favourite lecture of mine?’

  A few people laughed, the sound at odds with the fear and grief and horror of the memories in Jacinta’s mind.

  ‘We’ll discuss this again, and there’s also a night when Dr Soams comes in and explains the pros and cons of medicated pain relief, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy, Iain.’

  Jacinta felt her father sit back in his chair beside her. It was over. Thank God.

  She heard Noni say, ‘We might just stop here and have the break now.’ But the string snapped and it was too late for her. She couldn’t escape the pictures in her mind.

  In the distance, she could hear her classmates’ conversations as they broke out and people shifted chairs and filed out of the room to make a cup of tea. Iain asked her a question, but she couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t make his words clear in her head. It was too full of the past. She didn’t want to speak to him.

  Noni approached. Jacinta could smell the lemony scent she always wore. She heard her voice distantly say, ‘Can I have a go, please, Iain? Perhaps, you’d leave us for a couple of minutes while I talk to Jacinta?’

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Noni’s hand wave him away.

  When he’d gone, Noni slid off the seat and crouched down in front of her. ‘There’s something wrong here, isn’t there, Jacinta? Something big you haven’t told us.’

  Noni waited. Didn’t push. Thank God. Jacinta swallowed the tears in her throat. Tried to find the words. After a few more moments, she risked looking up through the blur in her eyes. Then she said it. Said the thing she’d been thinking since she found out she was pregnant. The reason it didn’t matter if she lived in a squat or with a millionaire dad on her doorstep: ‘I know I’m going to die when I have my baby. I don’t want to die. I’m scared.’

  Noni’s face softened and her eyes made Jacinta’s tears well back up in her throat. The last thing she needed was sympathy. Noni should know that.

  ‘Oh, sweetie. You’re not going to die. It hurts and labour takes what seems like a long time while you’re having a baby. But then you have your beautiful little cherub and you know it’s all worth it.’ She squeezed Jacinta’s hand again. ‘I can see this is big. I think you should go home with your dad now, and I’ll come and see you when I finish here. Okay?’

  She wanted Noni to come back with them right this minute to stop Iain asking questions, but she couldn’t ask that. ‘Will you ride straight home?’

  ‘As long as I don’t drop my bike, I will.’

  Noni always made her feel better. Jacinta felt her lips twitch. She saw her father hovering at the door. Noni gestured him in. ‘I think you should take Jacinta home now, Iain.’

  He looked at Noni and then at her and that must have been enough because he offered her his hand. ‘Come on, Jaz. Let’s go see Win.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Win

  Win heard Iain’s car whoosh into the car park way before she expected them. They were early. She hoped nothing bad had happened.

  She took one look at Jacinta’s pale face and red eyes and knew something was very wrong.

  ‘Jacinta?’ She kept her voice low and gentle, as if talking to a frightened foal. ‘Can I get you something?’

  The girl looked tragically at Win, shook her head, then turned towards the stairs. Win frowned. Harley was tucked up in bed and maybe Jacinta just needed her bed, too.

  ‘Why don’t you have a nice shower, honey, and I’ll bring you up a hot chocolate when you come out?’

  The girl paused, turned back, and the desolation in her eyes made Win take a step towards her, intending to hug her. Then Iain came in, Jacinta stiffened, and the moment was lost.

  Jacinta said, ‘Thanks, Win. That would be good,’ in a flat little voice that made Win frown, but she was gone before she could frame another question.

  She glanced at Iain and he raised his shoulders as if he too were another lost soul. So, something had happened. But nobody was offering explanations.

  They both watched Jacinta disappear up the stairs. Win gestured Iain through to the kitchen. ‘I’ll make the hot chocolate and there’s fresh tea on the table for you. You can tell me what happened.’

  Iain sighed, the depth of it bottomless, despairing and just a little frustrated. He ran his hands through his hair and, following her through to the kitchen, put his hands on the bench as if he needed to hold on to something. ‘There’s something she’s not telling us. Noni and I were having a slightly heated discussion on natural forms of pain relief versus epidural when labour starts …’

  Despite her concern about Jacinta, Win smiled. Noni’s reaction to an ‘epidural in early labour’ would have been more than interesting. Those sparks would have been flying again.

  ‘Noni noticed Jacinta had withdrawn,’ Iain said. ‘As in, wouldn’t talk – couldn’t talk – so of course she suggested we leave early. Jacinta still hasn’t said anything. I brought her back here hoping she’d open up on the drive, but nothing.’ He tapped the bench with insistent frustration. ‘I wish I knew how to help her, Win.’

  Poor man. And a little hopeless, too, Win thought dryly. He’d only just met the girl a few weeks ago. What did he expect? That she’d blurt out all her secrets just because he could claim paternity?

  ‘You’re doing fine.’ She added milk to the saucepan on the stove to heat, then indicated the pot of tea on the table and began to lay him a cup and saucer. ‘Yo
ur intentions are good and she’ll work it out. I have great faith in that girl.’ He didn’t look reassured so she added, ‘And you have us as backup.’

  ‘Bringing her here might be the only thing I seem to have done right,’ he agreed, but looked despondently back through the door towards the empty stairs. ‘Nowhere else have I made progress.’ He ran his hand through his hair again. ‘Thank goodness we didn’t stay in the apartment. I know she would have left, probably gone back to the drug dealers.’

  He looked shocked he’d said that out loud and Win brushed that aside. ‘Noni mentioned that. She told me that Jacinta confessed she hated needles or she might have tried heroin. So be glad she’s needle-phobic and has a strong will.’

  ‘She what?’ His voice rose a little until he pulled himself back under control. She watched the struggle as he grappled with an even worse scenario. ‘Heroin? And Noni didn’t tell me?’

  She watched his face harden and Win sighed out loud this time. Seriously. Men. ‘No. She didn’t run and tell you because Jacinta asked her not to. So, she told me.’ She spoke to him in a similar tone she used for Harley. ‘And I’m telling you. That way she hasn’t broken her word to Jacinta. I’m surprised you missed the distinction.’ Win gave him the look – until finally he nodded.

  He held up his hands in surrender. ‘I never said I was good at relationships. Never thought I’d have the workings of a fem ale teenage mind on my list of needed skills.’ He shrugged with a little despair. ‘Obviously. With a failed marriage and divorce behind me, the experience wasn’t available to learn from. But I now have an unknown daughter who hates me.’ He grimaced.

  ‘You’re being dramatic. Jacinta doesn’t hate you.’ She patted his shoulder then turned back to lift the milk off the stove and pour it into the mug she’d prepared with drinking chocolate. ‘You’ll learn how to communicate with her.’ Win smiled at him. ‘At least you understand Harley.’

  Iain’s expression lightened and he gave Win a mocking bow, as if acknowledging her positive spin. ‘That’s true. I do have a fair idea how a five-year-old male’s mind works and know to keep that demographic busy. If only the rest of the people in my life were as easily understood.’