39 Weeks

by Terri Douglas

  I thought when my belly button popped that I was as big as a person could get, but I was wrong. I was so huge now I couldn’t even see my feet let alone reach them. I had to turn slightly sideways at the sink to turn the taps on or off, and trying to turn over in bed at night was a major operation, even pulling my pant’s on in the morning was turning into a daily workout. A tiny bit of me was glad Rob wasn’t here to see me this massive, I mean if he hadn’t already run away seeing me like this he probably would have by now anyway, and no doubt he’d be screaming ‘what was I thinking?’ as he hot-footed it out the door.

  Just to add to my problems I had the worst-ever heartburn that no amount of indigestion tablets would quell, and it was even worse when I laid down, which meant I was sleeping, or not sleeping, half sitting up and propped up by several pillows every night. No wonder pregnant women look so washed out and tired all the time, it’s because they are.

  I was still texting Rob every day, but now it was only once a day, well some days it was twice, but some days were worse than others. I still hadn’t had any answer, and I was reluctantly coming to terms with it and accepting the fact that he wasn’t going to phone me back. I stopped off at Marsha’s most nights on my way in after work, but she hadn’t heard from Rob either. Even Mac hadn’t heard from him since that first day in Edinburgh. It was beginning to feel like he’d dropped off the edge of the world, and apart from missing him and wanting to sort things out, I was beginning to worry that something really had happened to him and maybe that’s why he hadn’t been in touch with anyone.

  I met Shelley in town on Saturday for a coffee, or tea in my case, but we had to sit outside as even the smell of coffee nowadays was enough to make me want to heave. She’d invited me over to her place a couple of times but, stupid I know, I couldn’t bear the thought of being there. I mean for one thing Nick would be there and I was all too aware that he was a good mate of Rob’s, but also I couldn’t help thinking that the last time I went was with Rob, we’d gone there together. We hadn’t even been going out with each other then, it was right back at the beginning when Nick and Shelley had guessed what was going on even before Rob and I had. I remember Shelley saying there were signs. If only there were a few signs now. But anyway the bottom line was I couldn’t bring myself to go back to Shelley’s.

  We sat at one of the two tables outside Costa in the high street, grateful and amazed that the sun was actually shinning while we people watched. After I’d droned on about Rob for half an hour I began to recognise that glazed look on Shelley’s face that everyone was getting nowadays when I talked about him, and I deduced that I must be boring them all to death with my eternal monologue of how much I missed him. I tried to stop talking about him, or even mentioning him, but it was a lost cause. He was all I could think about, so naturally he was going to be all I could talk about. Well him and Ella of course.

  When I’d managed to get control of my mouth and stop talking about Rob for once, Shelley told me she’d been for an interview, but she wasn’t very hopeful with things being the way they were and jobs being a bit thin on the ground nowadays. Evidently they’d had a hundred and seventy eight applications, so even just getting an interview wasn’t exactly nothing, and that’s what I told her.

  ‘I know you’re right,’ she said despondently. ‘But I still feel so useless, so . . second best, or even a hundred and seventy eighth best.’

  ‘Something will turn up, you’ll see.’

  ‘I hope so, otherwise I’m going to have to start signing up.’

  ‘You mean signing on?’

  ‘Yeah signing on, I knew it was something like that.’

  I felt for her, I really did, but I didn’t think not being able to find a job compared to being eight months pregnant and losing the love of your life was even half as upsetting. But of course I didn’t say that.

  Mum came round yesterday, and for once she wasn’t all ‘should have done this’ and ‘why haven’t you done that’, I even got let off the full version of ‘you don’t know how I suffer’ and only got the abbreviated edition. Even Mum could see I’d got enough on my plate, and despite her protests to the contrary I think she felt ever so slightly guilty at her part in Rob leaving. I mean if she hadn’t been pushing quite so hard to get me married off then we’d have never had to have that conversation, and there’d have been nothing for Rob to overhear.

  She didn’t stay long, which I was grateful for, as she’d arranged to meet her sister, my Aunty Mag who was widowed since Uncle John had died four years ago, and they were going to an eighties night at the community centre, some do in aid of Save The Children or something. She was still a bit put out at the thought of Dad going out with Stella Frankham, or ‘that woman’ as Mum referred to her as, but she wasn’t so much wounded as . . determined I think would best describe it. I got the feeling she was out to prove to him what a mistake he’d made, and was maybe even trying to make him a bit jealous, as tonight’s outing, so I gathered, was all about who she and Aunty Mag might meet there. This was a huge turning point for my Mum. She’d played the put upon, hard done by, mistreated wife, ever since hers and Dads divorce, in fact even before that. But now I saw a glimpse of how she must have been when Dad first met her. It was quite a revelation to me I can tell you. But like I said I was in my numb zone most of the time, and other peoples problems, even my mum or my best friends, seemed to me to be superficial and trite.

  At work I’d agreed to six months maternity leave, but Ted said that could be extended for a bit longer if I needed it to be, as long as I let them know. It was hard to gauge, I mean six months sounded like a long time but it would be another five or six weeks before Ella had even arrived so that left me with four or five months to get used to being a mum and arranging to leave Ella with someone else, and I had absolutely no idea how I would manage or if it would be long enough.

  My temporary replacement had been found, it was Jack, the Clark Kent version of the would-be Superman, or so he’d like to think. He’d already taken and passed a few of his exams and was looking forward to the chance to prove himself doing my job while I was away. I was glad Jack had been given this chance, but I can’t say I wasn’t worried about it as well, I mean he might turn out to be better at it than I was, and then they wouldn’t want me back at all, in six months or ever come to that. I tried not to think about it too much.

  At three o’clock I was summoned by Martin to the main larger office, and I knew what was coming. It was my official leaving presentation. Fisher’s being what it was and your atypical hotbed of gossip, I already knew, well had surmised, that I’d be given vouchers. I mean it wasn’t that hard to work out, it’s what they always did when someone left, the only thing that varied was where the vouchers would be for. I guessed mine would most probably be for Mothercare.

  ‘Ahem.’ Grahame fake coughed to get everyone’s attention. They were all ranged round in a small circle sitting on the edge of desks or just standing, while I, given my delicate state had been guided towards a chair, set there for the purpose, at one side of the circle next to Doreen.

  I looked round at all the smiling faces, well some looked bored like I usually was at these things, but mostly they were all smiling. Everyone was there, all my finance office colleagues of course, but even the guys from the drawing office and the people from sales, even Jackie from reception was there, and even both the Steadman brothers. Wow I had no idea I merited this sort of send off.

  ‘Ahem.’ Grahame fake coughed again but a bit louder this time. Good old Grahame as ineffectual as ever. I was sort of going to miss his bumbling awkwardness. After a minute or two everyone quietened down so Grahame could get past his opening ahems. ‘Well we all know why we’re here don’t we,’ he said, and one of the drawing office guys said ‘Yes cos you told us we had to be’

  ‘Yes thank you Ronnie. We’re here to say goodbye to Judy.’ Grahame said and Martin whispered something in his ear. Graham nodded and continued ‘Yes, well that is to say it’s a
temporary goodbye to Judy, because if you haven’t guessed yet our Judy is having a baby.’ This was Grahame’s idea of a joke, and everyone laughed politely. ‘She’s been here for seven years and we’ve all watched her rising through the ranks . .’

  Oh my God he was full of crap, rising through the ranks! What ranks? Yeah maybe I wouldn’t miss him that much.

  He waffled on for about ten minutes that felt more like ten hours, about how wonderful I was, and how wonderful having a baby was, and how they were all going to miss me, and I should be sure and come back to visit after the baby had been born, and yawningly on and on until everyone’s smile looked more plastic than real. But I suppose he meant well.

  Then Doreen and Jack nipped into Grahame’s office and came back with a huge bunch of flowers, a wrapped present, and a couple of cards one much larger than the other.

  The flowers were all pink, in reference to the fact I was having a girl baby I assumed, and were standing, if that’s the right word, in that plastic wrap that holds water, and that you’re sure will leak if you don’t be real careful about how you hold them or where you put them down. But they were beautiful.

  The larger card was predictably signed by everyone, and even had a sheet of paper inserted with more signatures on because they’d run out of room on the actual card itself. After a brief glance it looked like everyone had something quipy to say, and whoever had organised it, Doreen I’m guessing, had been round the factory as well. There were so many good wishes, and good luck’s, I could feel myself welling up.

  The other card was the Mothercare vouchers I’d been expecting and was for two hundred and fifty pounds. I was gob-smacked. I mean even given that Doreen had been round the factory, two hundred and fifty pounds was . . well gob-smacking.

  I moved on to the present, by now I was more than welling up, I’d welled up and over, and Doreen passed me a handful of tissues to mop myself up while everyone else smiled indulgently and waited for me to get my emotions under control. The present was an ornament, but not just any old ornament that you’d probably hide away unless the giver was visiting, this was porcelain or some such and depicted a fairy, of the Victorian persuasion, standing over a crib complete with small angelic baby inside. I loved it on sight. Then Doreen leaned over and turned it upside down where a small winding device was hidden. She wound it up and turned it right side up again. It was a music box. Well not a box but you know what I mean, and the fairy and the crib revolved while the music played. I loved it even more and knew it would have pride of place in Ella’s room.

  Course I started crying again, I mean who wouldn’t. But now I was expected to say something. More tissues were produced, and I somehow mumbled my thanks to everyone. I so wasn’t expecting this, or that I’d get so emotional about it all. Could have been all the hormones I suppose, but I knew it wasn’t. It was leaving my hard earned, studied long hours for job, and all the friends I’d made over the last seven years.

  Everyone offered their congratulations and best wishes before wandering back to their desks, and Doreen helped me carry the flowers back to my office. Then Norman came in and shook my hand. Oh my God he shook my hand. ‘Make sure you come back’ he said. ‘We need you’ he said. Oh . my . god!

  After he’d gone Doreen asked if I wanted a cup of tea, and I so did. So she disappeared, and Martin was busy rattling on to Grahame next door about something or other, probably X Factor knowing him, which left me on my own for a few minutes.

  I thought back to the day I’d first started at Fishers and how I was a bit overawed by the fact that here I was doing real accounts in a real office, and how it wasn’t quite what I’d been expecting because everything was so scruffy and disorganised. I smiled to myself remembering that I’d planned on only staying six months at the most, and back then had visions of working in some plush, glass everywhere, building, with me in a designer suit and looking all Legally Blonde or some such rubbish, you know still really attractive and cute but officey all at the same time. That was before reality kicked in and I stopped day-dreaming. I guess I’d done a lot of my adult growing up here, and now I was leaving, only temporarily I know but still leaving, and things were never going to be quite the same were they?

  Doreen came back with my tea, and one for herself, and we chewed the fat as they say for a while, mostly talking about old times and some of the people who’d been and gone during our time. Then she got a bit choked up, and that sort of started me off again. But she pulled herself together and told me I’d better get going, which was true. Never thought that would happen, that I’d have to be nudged into going home.

  She helped me load up my car, not just with my flowers and the fairy ornament, but over the last seven years I’d collected all sorts of bits and pieces of stuff, you know a tea mug or two, several stupid little jokey ornament things, an overgrown half dead begonia pot plant, a bright pink pencil pot, last year’s page-a-day ‘Women’s Wisdom’ calendar, that sort of thing, and it was only fair that I got it all out of the way before Jack moved into my office on Monday. On Monday. This would be the first month-end I was going to miss for seven years, how weird. But hey this whole day had been weird.

  39

  7th February – Week 36 +2 Days

  The first Monday when I didn’t go into work I felt odd and out of place. I’d sort of persuaded myself all weekend how great it would be not having to get up early in the morning, and being able to do . . well whatever I wanted all day. ‘Brilliant’ I said to myself. But it wasn’t brilliant at all.

  I still got up early even though I didn’t have to, and then mooched about the flat for the whole day and spent most of the time thinking about what they’d be doing at work. It was so stupid, I mean if I’d just had a day off, or even a week, I wouldn’t have given a seconds thought as to what they were or weren’t doing at work while I was away. But as it was and knowing I wasn’t going back for at least the next six months and that everything was still carrying on without me, I felt left out. No make that shut out. Like I said stupid or what?

  The other thing about that first Monday, and for a few days after that as well, was that the day was so long. When I’d been at work the days seemed to speed by so quickly that it was the weekend again before I knew it, and at month end it often felt like there just weren’t enough hours in the day. But now the day just dragged on and on and I had nothing special to do except think. And I did. I thought about work, I thought about Ella, I thought about giving birth, although I tried not to think about that too much, and I thought about Rob and wondered what he was doing, or where he was, and if he’d met someone else already. All in all it was not good.

  James had been round a couple of times and tried to cheer me up, and he sort of succeeded, but as soon as he’d gone again I went back to being fed up and feeling alone, I mean I was alone of course but I was really feeling it since I’d given up work and had all this time on my hands.

  I’d been for another pre-natal and everything was progressing nicely, so Mary Poppins had said primly, and she kept saying the baby had ‘dropped’, which I couldn’t figure out at all at first. I thought no it hasn’t it’s still there inside me exactly where it’s always been you moron. But then she said it was getting ready to engage which uninitiated as I was in the world of producing babies, sounded quite bizarre to me. I nodded knowledgeably as if I had even the slightest clue what she was going on about, and looked it up as soon as I got back home in my baby bibles that had been gathering dust at the bottom of my wardrobe for the last couple of months.

  Turned out the baby had to be head downwards to engage with my cervix in readiness for labour, and Ella was apparently doing just that, getting ready to be born. Just reading about it sounded painful but the bibles both said it wasn’t, that it might be slightly uncomfortable but chances were I wouldn’t even notice much, unless she caught a foot in one of my ribs. Ow. No make that a double Ow. But seemingly I could avoid a foot in the ribs by simply sitting up straight. Course I immediately sat u
p as straight as I could, although that did make my back ache a bit after a while.

  I decided it was high time I faced the impending doom of giving birth, I mean I could hardly avoid it could I? It’s not like I had the option of changing my mind and getting my money back so to speak, so I’d better read up on it. I’d studiously avoided the last chapters of my pregnancy bibles up to now, being the coward that I was and burying my head in the sand. But now it was only weeks away I thought it was probably better to know what I was in for and then at least I’d know more specifically what I needed to be scared of, instead of being scared of everything.

  I skip read at first, then chastised myself for being such a chicken, and re-read it properly. Both books gave fairly detailed descriptions of the mechanics of the whole thing, so at least I understood that a bit more, but glossed over the how bloody painful it was all going to be. I mean I wasn’t a complete fool, even I knew it was going to hurt like hell, that’s why I was so scared. Well dah! But the bibles we’re insistent, yes it did hurt a bit but hey not for long and only when I was having a contraction and they lasted no more than a few minutes each. Yeah right I thought, then why do so many women go on about it so much, and why are they all screaming their heads off when you see someone giving birth on the telly? Um . . ooh . . let me think, that’ll be because it bloody hurts.

  Anyway at least now I was sort of prepared. I knew I shouldn’t go to the hospital too early, the earlier the better it seemed to me, but no apparently you should wait until the very last moment. But what if you don’t know it’s the very last moment, what if you wait and wait and you wait too long, and then before you know it you’ve had the baby at home? And just to confuse me more than I already was, the contractions might not even be contractions at all, they might be Braxton Hicks. Evidently this was a sort of practise run for labour and could feel just like the real thing, and I was supposed to have been having these Braxton thingy’s for the last couple of weeks or so. Don’t ask me why they were called Braxton whatsits instead of just saying a practise run as I have no idea, the books didn’t explain that. Course then I worried because I hadn’t had a Braxton Hicks, not even a little bit as far as I knew, not so much as a Brax.