by Carmen Reid
Between her legs everything felt oddly sensation-less and tightly strung together. How the hell was she going to pee? Let alone . . . she didn’t want to think about that. There were piles the size of houses rubbing painfully between her buttocks.
She could hear vigorous crying coming from the bedroom, so she raised herself carefully out of the bath, she dried off with a towel and slipped on the clean nightshirt hanging on the back of the door.
The bedroom had been transformed. New clean sheets and pillowcases were on the bed, Markie’s little cot had been brought through. The lighting was dim with just one sidelight and a few candles.
Zena was tying up plastic rubbish bags and Declan was scribbling in Bella’s maternity notebook, while Don sat on the bed holding the crying baby.
Bella went over and picked Markie up awkwardly, letting his head loll back. ‘Sh, sh sh,’ she soothed.
‘OK,’ said Declan. ‘Let’s help you get him latched on.’
She sat back against the mountain of pillows and opened her nightshirt. Markie immediately turned to her breast. Very matter-of-factly, Declan pinched up her nipple and pushed it into the baby’s little open mouth. He sucked vigorously.
‘Well, he’s off,’ said Declan. ‘No problem at all. Your only trouble might be making enough milk for that baby, do you know how much he weighed? Ten pounds and three ounces. For your build, that is enormous. No wonder we had a job getting him out.’
Bella watched her son’s little mouth chomp up and down on a breast bigger than his head.
‘It was absolute hell. I am never, ever doing that again,’ she said, at last feeling just a little bit like herself again.
Declan laughed. ‘I’ve heard that before. The second one is always easier.’
‘Yeah right,’ she said. ‘You just say that to keep yourself in a job.’
She looked at Don: he was exhausted with huge damp patches under the arms of his shirt. ‘I’m sorry hon, we can never ever have sex again, even in six months’ time, when the wounds have finally healed,’ she said.
‘Nonsense,’ said Declan. ‘Give her a month Don, then put on your best gear and she’ll be gagging for it. But lubricate,’ he added.
‘Enough!’ said Bella in horror. ‘I’m never having sex again. That is final.’
As she leaned over and kissed Don, the baby unlatched and scrabbled frantically to get his lips back round the nipple.
‘Oh no,’ said Bella, breaking off her kiss. She turned Markie round and let him have a go at the other side.
Don kept an arm round her. He had never felt so relieved in his life. Bella and his son were alive. They were safe and well in the bend of his arm, and he didn’t think he would ever feel so grateful for anything ever again. It had been terrifying. About twenty minutes before Markie was finally born, Don had heard Declan make the calls to check that an ambulance was available and to warn the hospital that an emergency C-section could be on its way.
Annie came in with tea but Don said, ‘Bugger tea, I’ve got champagne downstairs,’ and he set off to get it.
‘I’d really like the tea first,’ Bella quietly told Annie.
‘I’m sure, dear. And there’s a big jug of diluted apple juice here for you as well. Do you want some toast or something?’
Bella thought about the hideous piles and said ‘No, thanks. And, by the way, I want to say thank you, I’m sorry I was so awful to you.’
‘Bella, it’s fine. I got worried too that nothing was happening and I think you felt that. You did the right thing and it’s all worked out.’
Annie looked down at the little face buried deep in Bella’s breasts.
‘Look at that,’ she said with a smile. ‘Hopefully he’ll sleep for a long time tonight and give you both some rest.’
‘What time is it?’ Bella asked.
‘Three-thirty in the morning. Markie was born at 2.15 a.m. precisely. So you were in labour for about 21 hours. That’s a long time.’
‘Damn right,’ said Bella.
Several glasses of champagne later, it was time for everyone to go and leave the three of them alone together. The three of us: Bella kept trying the words out in her mind. They sounded strange.
Declan had left her a huge bottle of extra-strong painkillers after insisting she take two. Annie had disapproved and promised to come round in the morning with a breast milk friendly alternative.
Bella had taken the pills. Her whole genital area was starting to throb and painful contractions still racked her stomach. She longed for sleep.
Don came up to the room after he had seen everyone out of the door.
He looked at the picture before him of Bella and baby and felt his heart swell to encompass this. Bella was a mother and they had a new baby to care for.
The baby had fallen asleep in her arms. ‘The baby’ – he still seemed too new to have a name.
Bella put him down in his cradle at the side of the bed.
Don undressed and pulled on a T-shirt and some shorts. He climbed into bed beside Bella and held her close. ‘I am so proud of you,’ he said.
‘So am I,’ she answered with a smile. ‘That was hell on earth. I thought I was going to die.’
He didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around her even more tightly. Finally, he leaned over to switch off the light and realized how enormously tired he was.
Bella rolled over so she could lie looking at her tiny son in his little crib beside her. Her son: the word resonated in her mind.
In the gloom she could see that he wasn’t sleeping any more, his eyes were open and fixed on hers. She felt overwhelmed with love. Don was on one side of her and this wonderful new baby was on the other. Nothing had ever felt so perfect and so complete before.
She tried to sleep, but felt too overcome. She kept opening her eyes just to check on the tiny person lying brand new beside her.
And it seemed to Bella that every time she opened her eyes, those small dark ones were looking back at her, gazing in wonder at her and this whole new world.
Chapter Twenty-four
DON MADE ALL the phone calls and handled the hourly delivery of flowers while Bella lay in bed like a worn-out princess with Markie snuggled up beside her.
‘Tania’s coming round later,’ Don said, poking his head round the door, amazed to find Bella finally awake: ‘There’s no stopping her.’
‘Oh, it’s OK,’ Bella whispered, ‘When I said no visitors today, I meant apart from her.’
‘And Mum and your parents have sent the most amazing flowers. D’you feel up to calling them? They’re all waiting by the phone.’
‘Yeah, of course,’ Bella answered, feeling guilty that she would rather speak to Don’s mum than her own.
Don went over to look at the baby again. He was lying on his back fast asleep with his head turned to the side and his arms up beside his ears in a still life Highland fling.
He had a white cotton hat on with a knotted top but his face looked too old for such a babyish thing. He looked like an ancient Buddha, not sleeping, merely closing his eyes in meditation.
‘Has he been awake again?’
‘No,’ said Bella. ‘Not since seven. I think they do that for a day or two, sleep it off.’
‘How are you?’ He looked at her pale face and the deep dark circles round her eyes.
‘Not too bad. I’m exhausted, I can’t walk, I’m still getting contractions and my tits feel like lead balloons but these are keeping me happy—’ she nodded at the big bottle of hospital-strength painkillers Declan had left her.
‘Remember to hide them when Annie comes round or she’ll take them away.’
‘Over my dead body.’
‘Have you changed his nappy?’
‘God no!’ Bella looked appalled. ‘It’s been on for hours.’
‘OK . . . what do we need?’
They set up a towel on the bed. Don brought in a bowl of lukewarm water, cotton wool balls and a new nappy as instructed.
He
lifted Markie onto the towel and he and Bella fumbled with the hundred tiny popper buttons on his babygro and the velcro on his nappy straps. Markie was disgusted to be so rudely awoken. He balled up his tiny fists and began to howl so violently that his body shook and his face changed from red to purple.
Bella opened the tiny nappy: it looked bone dry, so she peered down more closely and was aware that her cheek was wet. She moved back in surprise as Markie’s teeny willy sprayed about in all directions. In an elegant arch he wet the duvet, his babygro and his own face. This made him cry even more frantically.
Bella and Don were in a horrified panic. He dabbed at the baby’s face with the edge of the towel and Bella picked the little bundle up and cuddled him to try and stop his piteous wailing.
‘OK,’ she tried to sound calm. ‘We’ll need a new vest and babygro.’
Don brought them in to Bella on the bed and they looked at each other with apprehension. Markie was still purple and crying fiercely.
Two grown-ups, one who had covered wars, the other who had fought in her fair share of boardroom battles, were just beginning to get an inkling of how truly helpless they were in the field of baby rearing.
Changing Markie for the first time ever was horrific. He battled with his legs and arms and roared at them in terror. His parents, terrified they were going to break him, touched him gently and gingerly but he acted as if he was being tortured. Finally, when it was all over, Bella lifted him up to her breasts and let him nuzzle. At last there was silence.
‘Oh my God,’ Don sighed, then he looked at Bella. After a moment of relieved silence, they collapsed into giggles which got more and more hysterical.
‘He peed in your face . . .’ roared Don in between belly laughs.
‘Your expression, when you came in with the vest . . .’ Bella was laughing so hard that Markie lost his grip and squawked until she’d latched him on again.
‘How does it feel?’ Don gestured to his son clamped tightly onto his wife’s breast, when they had finally calmed down.
‘I don’t really feel anything apart from his little jaws going chomp, chomp, chomp.’
‘How do you know he’s getting enough?’
‘Because Annie told me he’ll howl the house down when he’s hungry, not lie in his crib asleep – normal survival rules.’
‘I’m glad you’re so sussed,’ he told her.
‘Oh God, I’m so not, Don. I’m terrified! But we’ll just have to muddle through, learning the ropes on the job.’
‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?’
‘Believe me if your exit points felt like mine, you wouldn’t want anything either.’
He didn’t need to know more.
‘OK,’ she said when Markie had drunk his fill, ‘Let’s call the folks.’
Don sat up on the bed beside her as she punched in her parents’ number.
‘Hello Mum, it’s me,’ she said when her mother picked up.
‘Bella! How are you? We’re so proud of you.’ Well that was a first, Bella couldn’t help thinking.
‘Just spare me the details,’ her mother added. ‘Don said it went on for hours. I don’t want to know, I really don’t . . . but then you would insist on doing it at home. But you are OK now, aren’t you? And little . . . Mark?’ She said the baby’s name in that ‘Please tell me I’m wrong’ sort of voice.
‘Markie,’ Bella answered.
‘Oh yes, I’m sure he’s a little Markie now, but later . . . anyway, is he utterly lovely and perfect?’
‘He’s beautiful,’ she said and slipped her hand into Don’s. ‘You should come and see him, Mum.’ She held her breath for the reply.
‘Well . . . it will be hard for me, Bella’ – and here we go, Bella thought. ‘I’ve had nothing to do with babies since you were small because of what I’ve been through,’ her mother continued. ‘I know it’s going to trigger a lot of difficult feelings. I’ve bought a book about becoming a grandmother and I’m trying to prepare myself for the rush of emotions. All the pain and sadness of losing five little babies, it’s all going to come flooding back.’
As she listened, Bella thought how strange it was that her mother seemed so emotionally open and yet only ever managed to push her away. Whatever Bella did, her mother could only experience it in terms of how it affected her – even giving birth, for God’s sake.
When the call was finally over, Bella banged the receiver down, relieved that her mother had given herself an excuse not to visit for months now and furious with her for it at the same time.
After that, it was a pleasure to have Don’s lovely mum, Maddie, on the other end of the line saying all the right things.
‘Well done, Bella, Don is so proud of you, I’ve never heard anything like it. And so am I . . . Markie, what an adorable name, goes so well with McCartney . . . I’m coming down as soon as I can sort out some cover and only if you want me. Maybe you want a little time to yourselves first of all? . . . Now back to bed, make sure you rest as much as you can.’
She fell asleep again not long after. Her last image was the bank of purple, yellow, pink and white blossom forming in the bedroom. Don had run out of vases and was now using buckets, bowls, whatever he could lay his hands on. It reminded her of the night she’d told him she was pregnant.
Her last thought before falling into the doze was: Twenty-one hours! Ten pounds and three ounces! Bloody hell, it was little short of a miracle that they were both alive.
Tania arrived much later when the sun was starting to set on Markie’s first day. She rushed into the bedroom and woke Bella with a kiss.
‘Oh congratulations, you fantastically clever girl,’ she gushed, leaning into the crib and trying to get a good sniff of the sleeping bundle inside.
‘Look at him, he’s absolutely gorgeous.’
‘No he’s not,’ Bella said groggily. ‘He looks like a miniature Chinese Winston Churchill.’
‘Actually, now you mention it . . . Shut up, Bella. He’s adorable. I’ll have him if you don’t want him.’
‘If you think I went through all that just so I could be your surrogate mother . . .’ Bella was smiling now.
‘Was it really bad?’
‘Bad??! I’m sorry, I’m not joining in the postnatal mum conspiracy to keep childless women in the dark. It was appalling, it was awful, it was much, much more excruciating agony than I could ever have imagined. Went on for much longer than humanly bearable and is just barbaric in every way. Next time – Caesarean or at the very least, the full epidural works.’
Tania looked at her in horror.
‘Oh my God, you’re not pregnant are you?’ Bella asked.
‘No,’ said Tania. ‘But I might reconsider that plan now,’ then she burst out: ‘But he’s so gorgeous, I want one!!’
She rustled around in the glossy shopping bags she’d brought and pulled out a huge, plush teddy bear. They both burst into laughter.
‘Oh my God,’ said Bella, ‘it’s so big, he’ll be frightened of it.’
‘He’ll grow into it. It’s so cute. And look at these.’ She tipped out an array of jewel bright baby clothes.
‘Baby Kenzo,’ she said. ‘Aren’t they fantastic?’
‘Oh wow,’ said Bella. ‘You really shouldn’t have.’
‘Nonsense. I’m his fairy godmother. Now for you, fairy princess . . .’ She opened another bag and out slid a huge, fat bottle of lavishly expensive aromatherapy foam bath.
‘Thank you very much,’ said Bella. ‘As soon as the stitches have healed, I will indulge.’
Tania pulled a face: ‘How many?’
‘An unspeakable amount. I’ve told Don we can never have sex again.’
‘Oh God. That means you won’t need my final present.’
Bella laughed, curious now.
Tania brought out a shoebox. Inside were pale green strappy snakeskin shoes with vertiginously high heels.
‘Good grief,’ said Bella shocked at Tania’s extravagance.
Tania was surprised to find her friend choked with tears.
They put their arms round each other and Bella sobbed.
‘I’m sorry,’ Bella said as soon as she could. ‘It must be the hormones. Thank you very much.’
‘It’s a pleasure, honey,’ Tania smiled and got paper hankies out of her handbag. ‘I brought supper as well, Japanese . . . sushi, broth, all your favourite things. I’ll go down and heat them, then Don and I will come and eat by your bedside with you.’
When a steaming bowl of noodly broth was put in front of her with a large hunk of buttered bread, Bella realized she was ravenous. She was going to have to eat and worry about passing the consequences when it happened.
‘My mum says you have to have someone come and stay and look after you for a while,’ Tania said biting down on a piece of rice and sushi. ‘She says she’s going to come if you haven’t got anyone else!’
Bella laughed: ‘That’s very sweet. I think Maddie’s visiting soon, Don’s mum, so that will be good. But Don is off for two weeks, so we’ll be fine. I’m sure I’ll feel back to normal by then.’
She heard herself saying this but wondered if it was true. She was shocked at her condition and her injuries. Just two days ago, she could clean floors, walk round the block, make love: now she was barely able to shuffle to the bathroom. And she was in so much pain. Her breasts ached, her uterus was still contracting in sharp spasms, especially when the baby breastfed, and her stitches and piles . . . well, best take another painkiller and try and forget about it.
She felt as if the entire area between her legs had been stapled shut. It was bruised and swollen and an exploratory feel of the damage had not been reassuring. In between a dense weave of hair matted with congealed blood were hulking great stitches, which, thank God were supposed to dissolve rather than need tweezing out when the wounds had healed.
She had torn almost to her anus; only a large bulbous pile seemed to have stopped the path of the rip. And she hadn’t been prepared for the bleeding either. Annie had brought round maternity pads the size of mattresses earlier in the day and told her to bathe in water with lavender oil when it all got too uncomfortable.
