Can I Let You Go?

by Cathy Glass

  Despite the early hour – it was 6.30 a.m. – Paula, Lucy and Adrian were awake and delighted when I told them, and asked me to pass on their congratulations to Faye. One of the nurses who’d helped with the delivery returned to see if Faye would like to start breastfeeding and said she’d help her put the baby to the breast and latch on. I’d previously explained to Faye that breast milk was best for her baby and that a nurse would show her what to do. But Faye said she was very tired, understandably, and just wanted to sleep. The nurse, like all the maternity staff, was lovely and said she’d come back later after Faye had rested. The doctor returned to examine Faye and I took the opportunity to pop out to the bathroom.

  Faye then fell into a deep sleep with Edward asleep in the hospital crib beside her. Wilma and I continued sitting on either side of the bed, sometimes talking quietly but mainly gazing at Edward. The nurse who’d offered to help Faye start breastfeeding called back twice during the morning, but, seeing both mother and baby sound asleep, said she wouldn’t disturb them and that a nurse from the next shift would help Faye later. I thanked her, and before she left she took Faye’s blood pressure, pulse and temperature and noted them on her chart. Faye didn’t wake, and Wilma said she’d always been a heavy sleeper, which I’d noticed too. Wilma said that once Faye woke she’d tell her she was going home for the afternoon, and then she and Stan would come back this evening. I said I needed to go home for a few hours too, so I’d give her a lift and also drop her back to the hospital this evening if she wanted. She was grateful and thanked me.

  When Faye’s lunch arrived a little after midday she woke, and once she was settled with her food within reach on the bed table Wilma asked her if she minded if we went home for a few hours, and then we’d come back in the evening. She said she didn’t mind and that she was hungry, so, saying goodbye and congratulating her again, we left her happily tucking into pie and mash, which did smell appetizing.

  Wilma was quiet as we walked to the car. I think she was emotionally and physically drained. I know I was. I helped her into the passenger seat and stowed her walking frame in the boot. She remained quiet as I drove, but then neither of us had had any sleep, and she was a lot older than me. But as I drew up outside the flats she turned to me and asked, ‘Do you really believe Faye could look after the baby with help?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ I said.

  Wilma nodded thoughtfully. ‘I think Stan and I need to talk. If we had a bungalow or ground-floor flat that had room for us all, then perhaps …’ Her sentence was left unfinished, although I knew what she was thinking: that now she’d seen the baby, everything had changed, and a future that had once seemed impossible needed to be explored to help Faye keep her baby.

  Chapter Twenty

  Second Thoughts

  It seemed like a lifetime since I’d left the house with Faye in the first stage of labour, and as I let myself in I was still elated, although exhausted. I knew I needed a few hours of sleep to see me through the rest of the day. I made a hot drink and then, sitting on the sofa, telephoned Mum to tell her the good news. She was delighted of course and said to give Faye her congratulations and she’d send a card and hoped she’d have a chance to see the baby, although I wasn’t sure when that would be. I then telephoned Becky, but she already knew – the hospital had phoned her.

  ‘Faye did very well,’ Becky said. ‘We were half expecting her to need a caesarean.’ Which I hadn’t known. ‘I’ve arranged for her to spend two nights in hospital so the nurses can help her establish feeding. Then we’ll transfer her to the mother-and-baby unit. I’ll call in to see her this afternoon.’

  Lastly I telephoned Edith, but it went through to her voicemail so I left a message, then I lay on the sofa and closed my eyes. It was nearly four o’clock when I woke as Paula let herself in the front door. We had a chat and I made a quick dinner for us to have later. Usually, a first-time mother stays in hospital one night after giving birth if it’s a normal delivery, but Becky had arranged an extra night to help Faye, which seemed sensible. I didn’t read any more into it than that, but it meant that my children could visit tomorrow evening, which I thought was appropriate, as Stan hadn’t seen his great-grandson yet and he was going tonight. I ate my dinner early, said a quick hello to Lucy and Adrian as they came in and then goodbye to all three of them as I left to collect Wilma and Stan. It was dark and cold outside and it took a few moments for the heater to warm up the car.

  I parked under a street lamp outside the flats and then phoned Wilma and Stan to say I’d arrived as we’d arranged. They were ready with their coats on, but even so, with their mobility problems it took them ten minutes to come down. I helped them into the car, stowing Wilma’s walking frame in the boot and Stan’s stick beside him. I thought they both looked tired and a little strained, although Wilma said she’d managed to doze in the chair that afternoon. Stan admitted he hadn’t slept the night before, worrying about Faye in labour. I didn’t know what discussion they’d had, if any, in respect of offering Faye long-term support so that she could try to keep Edward, and it wasn’t for me to ask. Any commitment they felt able to make would need to be practical and sustainable: a decision of the head and not just the heart, for it was a huge undertaking. Stan had a supermarket carrier bag tucked on his lap, which he said contained snacks for Faye: grapes, crisps, a box of chocolates and bottles of fizzy energy drinks. ‘To build up her strength,’ he said.

  When we arrived at the hospital Faye had been moved from the delivery suite to the maternity ward, as was normal practice. A nurse showed us to her bed. The curtains were partially closed, as were some of the others on the ward. Wilma went in first, followed by Stan and then me. Faye was awake, propped up on her pillow with Snuggles, and Edward was in the crib beside her bed, fast asleep. She was so pleased to see her grandparents, especially her grandpa, and, sitting up in bed, she spread her arms wide for a big hug. Wilma and I hugged her too, and then I spent some moments arranging chairs for Stan and Wilma on either side of the bed. There was just enough room. I saw Stan stealing glances at Edward, whose crib was on his side of the bed. Once Wilma and Stan were settled I said I’d leave them to have some time with Faye and Edward and then I’d come back a bit later.

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Wilma said, but I thought it was right, so I left Faye tucking into one of the packets of crisps Stan had brought and went to find a coffee.

  When I returned half an hour or so later Faye was offering around the box of chocolates. I thanked her as I chose one and then perched on the edge of the bed. Edward was still sound asleep. Swaddled in a hospital blanket with his tiny white hat over his forehead, only his little face was visible. He was already losing that scrunched-up look, but as with many newborns I couldn’t see a family likeness.

  ‘Have you had a hold yet?’ I asked Stan.

  ‘No. He’s been asleep.’

  ‘How’s the feeding going?’ I asked Faye. I was hoping that Edward would be due for a feed soon so we could all have a hold.

  Faye shrugged. ‘The nurse will tell you.’

  ‘One of the nurses fed him,’ Wilma said, clearly having had a conversation about this already with Faye. ‘Faye hasn’t been out of bed yet.’

  ‘Oh. Why not?’ I asked. Faye had delivered twelve hours previously. A new mother would usually be up and tending to her baby by now after a normal delivery.

  ‘I got up to go to the toilet,’ Faye said, choosing another chocolate. ‘It hurt, so I’m staying in bed.’

  ‘You’re bound to be sore for a while,’ I said. ‘That’s normal. Have the nurses given you some tablets for the pain?’

  She nodded as she ate.

  ‘I wonder if the doctor should examine her,’ I said to Wilma. ‘To make sure everything is all right.’

  ‘She has,’ Wilma said. ‘A nurse told us they’d called the doctor and everything is as it should be.’

  ‘Here, you can have a coffee cream,’ Faye said, pushing the box of chocolates towards me. ‘None of
us likes coffee creams.’

  Stan and Wilma gave a small laugh.

  ‘I do,’ I said, and helped myself to one of the coffee cream chocolates. ‘Thank you. Did Becky come and see you this afternoon?’ I asked Faye. ‘She said she was going to.’

  ‘Yes,’ Faye said, and then spent some moments choosing another chocolate from the box.

  We continued chatting, mainly about the hospital routine, as Faye enjoyed the chocolates her grandpa had brought for her. She had never been an inpatient in hospital before and was fascinated by all the comings and goings, especially the trolley that arrived with the meals. Her only complaint was that there wasn’t a television, so she was missing her favourite programmes. I consoled her by reminding her that she would only be in hospital for two nights and I was sure there would be a television at the mother-and-baby unit. Edward stirred, wrinkled his nose and sighed but didn’t wake. Wilma, Stan and I were watching him, fascinated, but Faye was more interested in showing Snuggles the box of chocolates. I appreciated it must be very strange for her to suddenly be a mother and that it would take time for her to fully understand what that meant. It would probably take her longer than the average mother to adjust and bond with her baby, but the specialist mother-and-baby unit would help her.

  At eight o’clock Wilma said that she and Stan were very tired and told Faye they would go home soon. She said they’d visit her again the following afternoon. Turning to me, she said, ‘We’ll book a cab. Our neighbour wants to come as well. Perhaps you could visit Faye in the evening. We couldn’t manage the journey twice in one day.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘I’d be pleased to.’

  ‘I’m very thirsty,’ Faye said. ‘Aren’t I, Snuggles?’

  ‘Hardly surprising with the number of chocolates you’ve eaten,’ Stan said affectionately. Unscrewing the top of one of the fizzy drinks he’d brought, he passed it to her.

  I refilled her glass from the jug of water on her beside cabinet and put that within her reach too. Then we all began to say goodbye. I glanced hopefully at Edward in the crib and thought he must be due for a feed soon, but he stayed firmly asleep. I seemed to remember being advised by a maternity nurse to wake Adrian and Paula to feed them when they were newborns, but I didn’t want to interfere. The nurses would be advising Faye. I said goodbye first and then waited at the end of the bed while Stan and Wilma kissed Faye and then manoeuvred themselves out of the cubicle. We walked slowly to the elevator to take us to the ground floor.

  The night was inky black and a frost had settled while we’d been inside. Salt and gravel had been scattered on the pathways and in the car park, and our feet crunched over the hard surface. Once inside the car I switched on the heater to defrost the windscreen before pulling away. Stan and Wilma were both quiet; exhausted and possibly deep in thought. Wilma stifled a few yawns during the journey and then apologized, while Stan actually dozed off for a while. As I pulled up outside their block of flats I asked them if they’d like me to give them and their neighbour a lift to the hospital the following afternoon, rather than use a cab, but Stan thanked me and said they’d be all right and I’d done enough already. I saw them safely to the entrance and then returned to my car and drove home. I wondered what arrangements would be made to move Faye from the hospital to the mother-and-baby home the day after tomorrow. I needed to know before too long, as I had to pack Faye’s belongings and get them to her, presumably at the unit, wherever that was. I didn’t have an address yet. I thought that if Becky hadn’t telephoned me by the following afternoon then I’d phone her to find out.

  Once home I told Paula, Lucy and Adrian that Faye was well and suggested that they came with me to visit the following evening. Adrian said that unfortunately he couldn’t as he was working until eight, but the girls were free to come. I had an early night and, having had no sleep the night before, I slept like a log and was woken by the alarm. When I opened the curtains it was onto another cold, crisp day. Everything was covered with a deep hoar frost and the pavements, roads and rooftops glistened. With my dressing gown on, I headed downstairs to make a coffee and feed Sammy before I woke the children.

  It was strange not having Faye at home. Her routine had become part of my routine, so there were now gaps and I had too much time to do what I usually did: make my coffee, shower and dress, and then have breakfast. I thought of Faye in hospital, probably tucking into her breakfast between feeding and changing Edward. I hoped they had the cereal she liked. Adrian, Lucy and Paula found Faye’s absence strange too, and said they wondered how she was getting on. Sammy clearly missed Faye and wandered from room to room looking for her. Eventually he went upstairs and curled into a ball on her bed – something he’d never done before. I’m sure animals are a lot more intelligent than we give them credit for and can sense things in a way we can’t comprehend. Sadly, there was no way I could explain to him that Faye was safe and well and in hospital, having had a wonderful baby boy.

  Once the children had left and I’d cleared up the breakfast things, I decided to do Faye’s packing. Although I didn’t know the arrangements for moving her to the mother-and-baby home, I did know for certain she would be moving the next day, so it made sense to be ready. I began by bringing her laundry up to date, and then I took down her large suitcase from on top of the wardrobe and started packing it with her clothes. It’s always sad when a child or younger person we’ve been fostering leaves us, but this wasn’t as sad as many children we’d had to say goodbye to, as Faye had a beautiful baby, which is a joyous occasion. And she was leaving us so she could learn to parent her baby and hopefully keep him. It was therefore a positive outcome, and although we’d miss her I was anticipating seeing her regularly at the mother-and-baby unit, and hopefully she’d keep in touch after she’d left.

  Faye had far more clothes now than when she’d arrived, and it wasn’t long before the suitcase was full. I closed it, put it to one side and broke for lunch. In the afternoon I continued packing, using the holdalls I kept as spares for the children I fostered. With all her clothes packed, I put her personal items into her shoulder bag and then checked the room for any stray items. Leaving all the cases there ready for the following day, I came out and closed the door. It was now 3.30 p.m. and I decided that while I had the time I should start wrapping Christmas presents. It would be 16 December tomorrow, as our advent calendars showed, and I didn’t know when I’d have another opportunity. I always bought a few extra presents just in case a child arrived close to Christmas, or even on Christmas Eve, so I put those to one side. I began by wrapping Edward’s presents and carefully placing them in his ‘My First Christmas’ sack. I was in my element. I was working in my bedroom so that when I had to break off I could leave all the paraphernalia of wrapping – the paper, sticky tape, scissors, ribbon, bows and gift cards – on the floor without it being in anyone’s way. An hour later, when I’d finished wrapping Edward’s presents and had begun on Faye’s, the landline rang. I reached over and picked up the handset from my bedside cabinet. I was pleased to hear Becky’s voice.

  ‘I was about to phone you,’ I said chirpily. ‘I’ve packed Faye’s bags ready.’

  There was silence – uncharacteristic for Becky, who was always upbeat and communicative. ‘I’m afraid there’s a problem, Cathy,’ she said sombrely.

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Wilma telephoned me. When they arrived at the hospital this afternoon the staff nurse took them aside to speak to them. Faye hasn’t been feeding or changing her baby. In fact, she hasn’t done anything since he was born. The nursing assistants have been doing it all. The staff nurse asked Wilma if she could talk to Faye. She thought it might help, but it didn’t. Stan and their good friend and neighbour were there too, and they all tried talking to her. But Faye refused to engage and buried her head under the sheets.’

  ‘But why?’ I asked, horrified.

  ‘I’m not completely sure. Wilma says it’s because Faye’s having second thoughts about looking after
Edward.’

  ‘No, I’m sure it’s not that. It can’t be. Faye’s probably overwhelmed by all the changes. It’s a huge upheaval, having a baby, physically and emotionally. She’s in an unfamiliar place with a very different routine and surrounded by people she doesn’t know.’

  ‘I appreciate that, Cathy. But when I visited her yesterday it crossed my mind that she should be interacting more with her baby. I put it down to her being tired from the birth and the shock of all the changes. I’ve now spoken to the staff nurse. I can’t send Faye to the mother-and-baby unit unless she’s looking after her baby. They’ll help her, but they won’t do it all for her, and at present she won’t have anything to do with Edward.’

  My mouth was dry and my heart began thumping loudly in my chest. ‘Let me talk to her,’ I said. ‘I’m sure Faye just needs some encouragement and time to adjust.’

  ‘Yes, please. And explain she can’t stay in hospital indefinitely. She’s well enough to leave and the doctor is ready to discharge her.’ Becky paused. ‘But, Cathy, if Faye isn’t going to look after her baby I’ll have to speak to children’s services to arrange an emergency foster placement for him. I know this isn’t what we were hoping for, but I have to be practical. And if the baby comes into care, Faye will have to return to live with her grandparents.’

  ‘Where are her grandparents now?’ I asked.

  ‘Home.’

  ‘I’ll go to the hospital and talk to Faye straight away. I’m sure I can make her see sense.’

  ‘Phone me when you’ve spoken to her, please. My office number will go through to my mobile if it’s out of hours.’

  As I replaced the handset I felt sick with fear. What had gone wrong? Faye, what are you thinking of? Of course you want to keep your baby. That’s what we’ve been working towards all these months. And you can do it. I know you can. You’re just lacking the confidence at present. You need to see how precious he is. What you are going to lose? I stood and stepped over the wrapping paper and presents, the joy of Christmas now a long way off. I hurried downstairs and, taking my mobile from my handbag, quickly typed a text message to Adrian, Lucy and Paula: Have 2 go 2 the hospital 2 c Faye. She’s feeling low. I’ll explain later. Please make dinner. Love Mum xx. I pressed send, quickly checked that the back door was locked and then, stuffing my feet into my shoes, grabbed my coat and bag and flew out the front door.