The Antenatal Group

by Amy Bratley

  ‘Doesn’t she look like you?’ he said, and Lexi impulsively wanted to hug him. In truth, she thought Poppy looked a lot like the sperm donor. Reading the extended profiles and looking at pictures of possible donors, Lexi had expected to feel some kind of connection with one of them, but she hadn’t. Just as in life, she hadn’t found ‘The One’ on a website. So, she’d chosen someone who had similar colouring to her – blond hair, pale skin, blue-grey eyes – and who had a high IQ. Now Poppy was here, Lexi felt no connection with the donor at all. It was as though Poppy belonged entirely to her, but still, she could see the donor in Poppy’s features, which, she had to be honest, took her by surprise from time to time.

  ‘Yes,’ Lexi said. ‘I hope so.’

  ‘If I was a woman,’ said Gary suddenly. ‘I would have done the same thing as you. I’d like a baby of my own, but it’s a bit difficult when you haven’t got a womb.’

  Lexi was surprised. She hadn’t bothered to think about it from the single male’s point of view. Her heart softened to Gary once again.

  ‘There’s still time for you, isn’t there?’ said Lexi. ‘You could meet the girl of your dreams this week and have a family with her.’

  Gary pulled on his jacket and pushed his hands in the pockets.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Gary, his face falling. ‘You’re right.’

  Lexi suddenly remembered what he’d said on the night of Poppy’s birth, about having a crush on her. She felt embarrassed. As though she should set him straight. But she’d already done that, hadn’t she? He knew she had too many other things going on. Besides, Gary was kind of nice to have around. No other man she’d ever met had made her lasagne or apple crumble. Alan’s mushroom omelette was looking decidedly paltry in comparison. And no other man had dared take on Lorna on her behalf.

  ‘Maybe I could set you up with someone at work?’ she said, trying to be helpful but immediately regretting her words. Why would she want someone at work to have Gary?

  ‘Ah, no, I’m not interested,’ he said curtly.

  Then, visibly rallying, he said in a theatrical voice, ‘My heart is stone, Lexi. My heart is stone.’

  With a laugh, he picked up her bags for her while she put Poppy in the car seat and opened the front door, switching off the lights behind her.

  ‘So,’ Gary said, opening the car door for her, ‘where are we going?’

  ‘That’s a big question,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘It is,’ he said. ‘But you seem like a woman who knows the answers. A woman who knows where she’s going and what she wants from life.’

  He grinned at Lexi and her face broke into a wide smile. She couldn’t remember being given a better compliment.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Upstairs in the master bedroom, Katy sat at the bay window, looking out over the street and holding her knees. She was wearing her work clothes: a black wraparound dress, black tights and a cardigan appliquéd with a sequinned heart. She’d been up since dawn, when she’d woken from a nightmare damp with sweat. From downstairs, she could hear the sound of Rufus crying and Alan singing a lullaby – something about the sunshine – to him, and pacing up and down the kitchen in his clip-clop designer shoes. A smell of coffee and toast drifted up the stairs, Alan’s attempt to lure her down. Katy knew Rufus was crying for her – specifically, for her breast milk – but she didn’t want to move, wasn’t able to move, from her spot. Not that she was content where she was. Watching her neighbour opposite leaving for work, holding her briefcase in one hand, her mobile phone in the other, Katy felt a pang of jealousy. She wished she could get up and go to work, be the successful person she was before. Since Rufus had been born, Katy could think only about those three words she’d heard the doctor say in hushed tones: Failure to progress. And she felt the same condemnation applied to her now. She was failing to progress. She couldn’t breastfeed properly without it hurting so much she was reduced to tears, and without Rufus fussing. She couldn’t get him to stop crying or to fall asleep. She couldn’t change his nappy without him screaming until he was red in the face. She couldn’t hold him without thinking she was going to drop him. She couldn’t even get the fiddly sleepsuits buttoned up properly. Nor could she walk up and down the stairs without pain from her C-section scar reminding her that now she was an invalid – unable to drive, unable to exercise. In other words, she was what the doctor had said: a failure.

  ‘There you are,’ said Alan from the doorway, holding a quiet Rufus against his chest. ‘I think Rufus is hungry. Do you want me to try him with a bottle?’

  His tone was gentle, hesitant, and Katy knew he didn’t know how to handle her mood. But she couldn’t reassure him with a breezy apology. She didn’t know how to handle her mood. It was as if a giant bird had grabbed her by the shoulders with its claws and carried her away to a distant, dark land where she recognized nothing and nobody. Katy didn’t turn around but kept watching the people outside moving quickly in the morning rush.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘I think that would be a good idea. I’m not getting on too well with the breastfeeding, am I? I don’t think he likes me.’

  Alan moved across the room and sat down next to her at the bay window. He had one hand on Rufus’s back and neck to support him, but with the other, he found Katy’s hand and grasped it tight. She turned her head towards him, her eyes downcast.

  ‘Of course he likes you,’ he said passionately. ‘He loves and adores you. You’re his mother! There’s nobody more important to him than you. Surely you know that? When he was crying out in the night, he would only stop when you went to him. What does that tell you?’

  Katy thought about the night and the sense of dread she felt when the lamp went out. Though she was desperately tired, she was always aware that, very soon, she’d have to be awake again, trying to breastfeed without crying out in pain. Yes, Rufus was quiet when she picked him up, but that thought didn’t help Katy. Instead, it made her even more aware of her responsibility. She knew what Alan was doing, trying to rouse her by showing her that Rufus had expectations of her that she must meet. He was using managerial tactics. She nodded, to placate him, but felt peculiarly numb. Alan looked worried. He had never known her to be like this, but then she had never known herself to be like this. All she knew was that she couldn’t look after Rufus. She wasn’t up to the job. She was much better off at work, talking to clients and promoting the company.

  ‘Remember that your friends are coming over this morning?’ he said. ‘Erin, Mel, Lexi and Rebecca? Then the health visitor is coming again this afternoon.’

  Katy thought about the health visitor, a frumpy woman who thought she was being helpful by showing Katy a questionnaire about postnatal depression. ‘Do you find yourself crying all the time?’ was one of the questions. Who on earth, Katy had wondered, would tell the truth? It was a hell of a lot easier to lie and tick ‘No’, to let the issue be forgotten.

  ‘Why are you talking to me as if I’m a child?’ Katy said to Alan, feeling suddenly irritated. ‘You’re treating me like I’ve had a lobotomy since Rufus was born.’

  Alan was aghast. Katy never spoke to him like that. His jaw set.

  ‘I’m not,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m reminding you that you have appointments because, Katy, you seem so spaced out. Don’t you want to hold your son?’

  Katy heard desperation in his voice. She sighed and put her head in her hands.

  ‘You’re doing a fine job without me,’ she said. ‘Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be down to feed him. I’ll try one more time and, if it doesn’t work, then we’ll do the bottle.’

  When Alan left the room, Katy lay down on the bed and put her hands over her face. She heard Rufus begin crying again downstairs and Alan’s voice calling her name. He sounded cross. Closing her eyes tight, she refused to let herself cry. Gathering all the strength she had left in her body, she left the bedroom and walked down the stairs. In her mind, as she took Rufus in her arms and walked to the chair she used for feeding him, sh
e heard only one word repeating itself, like a heartbeat: failure, failure, failure.

  ‘Here goes,’ she said as happily as she could, as she tried to push her breast in the direction of Rufus’s mouth. Her voice sounded unreal to her own ears. He couldn’t latch on because her breasts were so solid and painful with milk. After ten minutes of trying, he was clammy and over-hungry. Tears were rolling down Katy’s cheeks, and Alan took control.

  ‘Let me take him,’ he said, taking Rufus. ‘I’m going to try him on a bottle. I’ve made one up for him.’

  Thank God.

  ‘Thank you,’ Katy said, as she wiped her eyes and moved out of the chair. She took a seat at the dining-room table and watched Rufus take the bottle immediately. She’d read that babies usually rejected the bottle after the breast – not so with her boy. He was obviously ravenous. Katy gulped.

  ‘Katy,’ said Alan, fixing her with a stare while he held the bottle to Rufus’s mouth. ‘Are you okay? Because, if you’re not, you can tell me.’

  Katy looked at Alan. He was the perfect husband. Charming, optimistic, supportive, now he was feeding Rufus like a natural. He was a better dad than she would ever be a good mother. How could she tell him the truth? How could she tell him she couldn’t sleep because when she closed her eyes she relived the horrible birth? How could she tell him that when she looked at Rufus and held him she didn’t feel any overwhelming love? How could she tell him that she thought Rufus may have been a big mistake? That when Alan left the house, even to go to the shops, she stood at the window waiting for him to return, terrified that she wouldn’t be able to look after Rufus on her own.

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ she forced herself to say. ‘I think I probably need to go back to work sooner rather than later. I’m sure Anita could do with the help.’

  Alan tried to conceal his shock.

  ‘But you’ve been so excited about your maternity leave,’ he said. ‘You’ve agreed to having three months off with Anita, and that’s how long you should take. You’re not thinking of going back before then, are you? He’s days old, sweetheart.’

  ‘I thought I could go into the office this afternoon,’ she said numbly. ‘I’ll make a few calls and then come home. How does that sound?’

  Katy knew that she sounded crazy and that Alan was furious, but she needed normality, she needed to feel back to her old self. In one part of her brain, she knew what she was saying was irrational, but, in another part, it made perfect sense. Alan was much better at looking after Rufus. She was much better at being at work. Yes, it was early days. But what did it matter?

  ‘It sounds like a terrible idea,’ he said steadily. ‘I know this is hard, Katy, especially the breastfeeding, but you’re going to be a brilliant mum. You already are. You carried Rufus around for nine months and looked after yourself better than anyone. Maybe seeing your friends will make you feel more relaxed.’

  He glanced at his wristwatch.

  ‘They’ll be here in ten minutes,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you put some music on and make some fresh coffee? I’ll change Rufus and put him down after this feed. It’s all going to be good, I promise you. These early days are bound to be strange, especially after your C-section. That’s a major op.’

  Katy nodded, lifted herself out of her chair and walked into the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water, turned it on and opened the fridge to find the fresh coffee. Seeing the formula scoop on the side and the packaging from the bottle Alan was using, she held her breath. She felt her entire body heat up and prickle with panic. Rushing through to the room where Alan was feeding Rufus, she snatched the bottle away from his lips. Rufus screamed at the top of his lungs. Alan’s mouth fell open.

  ‘You didn’t sterilize it!’ she cried. ‘You forgot to sterilize the bottle! He’ll get ill! He’ll die!’

  Alan stood up and laid Rufus down in his Moses basket, where he lay crying, arms flailing, wanting the rest of his feed. He took the bottle from Katy’s hands and rested it on the table then took Katy in his arms and held her tight.

  ‘I did sterilize it,’ he said, while she cried into his chest. ‘Of course I did. Oh, Katy, don’t worry. Of course I did.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she sobbed, clutching at his jumper, squeezing her eyes closed. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Erin was the happiest woman in the world. It had been only twelve days since Hope had been born, but she was a perfect baby. Cute as could be, she fed like a dream and slept in between her feeds like a dream. In fact, everything was so dream-like Erin had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Though she couldn’t walk too fast or lift very much, her scar was healing well, and she’d made the short journey to Katy’s house feeling as if she were presenting a rare, precious jewel to the world. It was difficult, when passing strangers, not to ask them to stop and look inside the pram so they could appreciate how precious and beautiful Hope really was. Passing blossoming trees and gardens bursting with daffodils, she hummed in pleasure as she felt the spring sunshine on her face. Standing still for a second to pause for a rest, she closed her eyes and tipped her chin up to the sun. It was warm. Blissfully warm. She opened her eyes. Was Hope too warm? This was the first time she’d taken her out for more than a walk round the garden, and she thought maybe she’d underestimated the strength of the sun and dressed her in too many clothes. Feeling the warmth of Hope’s skin by placing a fingertip underneath her top, she checked that she wasn’t clammy in her pale pink matinee jacket and hat.

  ‘I think you’re fine, aren’t you, Hope?’ she said, smiling at her, letting her red hair tickle Hope’s hands. ‘Shall we go and see Rufus?’

  Erin hadn’t spoken to Katy since the day she had visited her in hospital, but that morning Alan had phoned to make sure she was still coming over. He’d sounded tired. But that was normal for new dads. Poor, bemused things. All this was hard on them, too. On the one night that Hope hadn’t slept at all, Edward had stayed up an entire night, tuning the radio so it emitted a soothing white noise to help her fall asleep. Darling Edward. He had been a brick during the labour and, since Hope had been home, he had devoted himself to her one hundred per cent. The two of them couldn’t take their eyes off Hope and, though they knew she should be put in her basket occasionally, most of the time they carried her in their arms or let her sleep on their chests, just to be close. It was the most perfect bubble of love. Of course, Erin had thought about Josiah a lot, wondering how he would have reacted to his baby sister and whether the two of them shared any features, but though she had compared photographs of them just born, the sight of Josiah had rocked her and she didn’t want Hope to begin her days with shadows of grief falling over her, so Erin had done her best to think only of Hope.

  ‘Here we are,’ she said, opening Katy’s wrought-iron gate, which squeaked as she pushed it. ‘Let’s go and introduce you.’

  Dressed in a yellow-and-white spotted dress that fitted over her still-swollen tummy, Erin straightened up and put a smile on her face. Ringing the doorbell, she felt elated. Here she was, having tea with another new mother. This was the start of the next phase in her life, which she had been looking forward to for years. She felt none of the cynicism about staying at home with her baby that other women she knew felt, and who complained bitterly about the glittery lives they’d sacrificed to care for their babies. No, this wasn’t sacrifice, this was brilliant. Absolutely the best thing to happen.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, as the door was opened by a tear-streaked Katy dressed in black work clothes, paler than Erin had ever seen her.

  ‘Sorry, I’m, I’m—’ began Katy. ‘I’m—’

  Erin recognized a sadness in Katy and it struck a chord in her heart. She felt a compulsion to hug her and tell her that everything would be all right. Alan walked to the door behind Katy, carrying Rufus in his arms. He wore a smile on his face, but he looked strained. Erin’s feeling of joy faded and her mood sobered. She bit her lip, feeling sorry for them both.

  ‘Is this a bad time?’ she said s
oftly. ‘Or shall we come in?’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  ‘I think Lenny is shell-shocked,’ laughed Rebecca to the group sitting in Katy’s sleek, minimalist living room. ‘On the first night, Elvis wouldn’t stop crying and Lenny started pacing like a tiger around the flat complaining that the baby was going to ruin our lives. I was sitting there in bed, with Elvis in my arms crying and Lenny with his head in his hands, thinking, Shit! Help me, someone! What do I do now? I mean, everyone assumes that, just because you’re female, you’ll automatically know what to do, but I felt clueless. I still do. I worry I’m going to drop him or something and, every time I change him, he screams so loud I can’t get him to stop!’

  Lexi and Erin nodded to show that they understood. Erin had propped Hope up on a moleskin cushion and was dangling a silk scarf gently over her, occasionally brushing it against her cheek, then smiling encouragingly. Lexi was feeding Poppy, and Rebecca was hoping Elvis would stay asleep for a while. Mel, still pregnant, looked a little terrified.

  ‘Apparently, it helps if you tell the baby what you’re going to do,’ said Erin, not looking away from Hope. ‘Like, if you’re going to get him changed, you explain what you’re going to do. I don’t know whether there’s truth in that, but I guess it’s a logical approach.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve been doing that, too,’ said Rebecca. ‘But it feels bizarre talking into the empty room like that. All Elvis does is sleep and eat and cry and poo, and there’s me telling him about the record Lenny has put on, or what I’d love to eat – if I had the time or energy to cook anything, which I don’t. It’s a strange thing talking to someone who doesn’t talk back, but I’m trying to get used to it.’

  Conversation was stilted and the atmosphere tense, because Katy hadn’t said a word, nor was she even acknowledging their presence in her living room. She simply sat on the thick cream carpet with Rufus in front of her, quietly blinking in his designer bouncer chair, which was on the ‘vibrate’ setting to lull him to sleep. Rebecca scanned the walls, looking at various black-and-white pictures of Katy and Alan on holiday. They made a dynamic duo on skis in snow, on board a yacht in the ocean, in a Land Rover on an animal safari. Her beaming, gleaming self in the photographs couldn’t be more different to how she seemed now. No one said anything for a moment, concentrating on the babies instead. A bus rumbled past, and Rebecca wished she was on it.