by Sharon Owens
‘Why don’t you sell the ballroom?’
‘Why do you ask so many questions?’
‘Well, why don’t you? I don’t know why you hang around here, when you don’t have to. That’s all.’
‘At the moment, I haven’t the energy to cut my own toenails, Kate. I don’t suppose you’d oblige me?’
‘Don’t even think about it, Shirley. Get your fantastic husband to do it. Mr Oh-So-Wonderful.’
‘Ouch! That sounds like jealousy to me. Is there a wee problem in Paradise?’
‘There is not.’
‘Are you sure? You can tell me if there is.’
‘Absolutely nothing wrong at all.’
But there was. Kate was still feeling anxious. And she had no idea why. But she’d rather die in agony than admit it to Shirley. Kate said cheerio to her sister, and went home to have a long soak in her luxury corner bath with gold-plated taps.
Shirley was munching her way through a six-pack of salt and vinegar crisps late one Friday night, when she felt the first sudden small contraction. A small nip that made her gasp. Just a few seconds long, she noted. Ha! Easy! She was delighted that it didn’t seem to hurt very much at all. It was just like a boring old period cramp, but slightly more urgent. Good on those lucky crystals, harnessing the hidden power of the mind to resist pain. And they’d only cost her two pounds in a health-food shop! She felt suddenly at one with her ancient female ancestors – mysterious and strong as their warrior-husbands. Giving birth (without pain relief) on a bed of wet granite! Pain and hardship were bread and butter to the Celts. That was why the Irish were the toughest people on the planet. All the weakness had been bred out of them, down through the centuries.
She confidently finished the crisps, licked her salty fingers, had a quick shower, changed into the new pyjamas and then told Declan to fetch her hospital bag from the bedroom.
‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘The baby’s not due for another week.’
‘I’m fairly sure I felt a contraction. We’ll wait and see is there another one. Will we?’ She sat down beside him.
‘Yes. And if there is one, we’ll go straight to the hospital. Okay? There’s plenty of petrol in the car.’ He brought the bag of night-clothes and toiletries from the bedroom and began to switch off the lights in the flat and to blow out Shirley’s scented candles and incense sticks. Shirley shifted her weight on the sofa and then sat up straight.
‘Oh. Oh! There’s another one. Stronger than the last one. Should we be timing this? I can’t remember.’
‘Are you sure it was a contraction, Shirley? Could it be all the crisps you’ve eaten, giving you cramps? There was only fifteen minutes between those pains.’
‘I can’t explain it to you, Declan. But I just know the baby’s coming. I feel really weird, and kind of motherly.’
‘Okay. Come on, then. We’ll go to the hospital. It can’t do any harm. I’ll just call Mr Kelly and tell him we’re on our way.’ Mr Kelly was Marion’s consultant and he’d been more than happy to see Shirley too, throughout her pregnancy. (Shirley knew now that you didn’t call consultants doctor.) For once in her life, she didn’t mind that rich people could afford to have consultant surgeons on standby like this. Not that she’d need him, of course. She was determined to give birth naturally, all by herself. If it was good enough for other women, for thousands of years, it was good enough for Shirley Winters. She was glad it was dark when she went out into the yard in her pyjamas and dressing gown, though. What would the Celts think of her? A pink flannel dressing gown wasn’t the same as a hand-woven cloak, pinned with a golden brooch the size of a bin lid.
‘Are you sure you won’t get dressed, Shirley?’ Declan wanted to know. ‘What if it’s a false alarm? You’ll feel daft coming home again.’
‘No, these PJs are very comfortable,’ said Shirley. ‘And they’re nice and new. And besides, after the baby is born, I’ll be all ready for bed.’
When they were in the car, Shirley had another pain. This time, it took her breath away, such was the intensity of it. She began to worry, but she didn’t tell her husband how concerned she was. She was the brave one after all, the no-nonsense Earth Mother. Kate was the one who caused a scene if they ran out of HP sauce or coconut hair conditioner. The Moon Goddess had brought Declan to her, and she would see their first child born safely too. She closed her eyes and began to chant some soothing words. Declan was suddenly nervous as he backed the car out of the yard. He hadn’t started his medical training yet but he knew it wasn’t routine to go into labour so quickly. He prayed that the baby wasn’t in distress. He was barely able to remember how to drive the car. It took four turns of the key in the ignition before the engine could be coaxed into life. Then he forgot to check his rear-view mirror and knocked over three empty bins. They rolled down the drive and made a noise like thunder when they crashed into the gateposts. His nerves were in shreds as he ran down to move them out of the way. Shirley was moaning softly when he got back. She wouldn’t admit to being in pain, but her face was deathly white under the street lights. Declan kept jamming the gears and jumping on the brakes at the traffic lights. Every light seemed to be red. ‘Come on,’ he urged them. ‘Come on! Go green! Please, God, let there not be a broken-down lorry in the way, tonight of all nights.’
When they arrived in the maternity unit car park, half an hour later, Shirley was in tears. The chants hadn’t worked and she’d dropped her lucky crystals in the car. And she couldn’t pick them up because she couldn’t bend over, or even see past her bump to the car floor. Declan was sick with worry. He was afraid to look at his watch. The contractions were becoming longer and much more powerful. In fact, each pain had barely faded away before the next one began to gather strength. Shirley was holding her breath for the entire length of each contraction, contrary to the advice of the pre-natal classes.
‘You’ve got to breathe,’ he told her.
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘It hurts more when I breathe.’
‘Little tiny breaths. Please, Shirley. You’ll get dizzy otherwise. Too little oxygen is as bad as too much. Pant like a dog. Come on. Aha, aha, aha!’
‘I can’t.’
‘Shirley! Please. Breathe.’
‘All right! Aha! OH! It hurts!’ They abandoned the car at the door and went inside. The foyer was very warm and dimly lit and smelt of furniture wax and floor polish. There was no one else waiting at the reception desk.
A nurse wrote down their details. Shirley wanted to lie down under a warm blanket and go to sleep. Preferably for a week. Declan wanted a fleet of expert medical staff to appear at the desk and whisk Shirley away to safety. He was hopping with impatience. The nurse was maddeningly calm.
‘First baby, is it?’ she said, politely.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, you’re going to be here all night – if your contractions have only started. Can take a long time with first babies.’
‘Please,’ begged Declan, ‘the contractions are very close together. And she’s not breathing enough. I’d like her to be seen now.’
‘We’re very busy tonight. All the suites are occupied. I’ll see what I can do. Please take a seat.’
‘Look, I don’t want to sound like a snobby git, but my wife is a private patient of Mr Kelly’s, and he said he would see us as soon as we arrived.’
‘Mr Kelly isn’t on duty tonight, I’m afraid, Mr Greenwood.’
‘He’s on his way in. We’ve already called him. He’s a family friend.’
‘I see. Well, follow me. I’ll see if I can fit you in somewhere, but this is probably unnecessary.’ Snobby git is right, the nurse thought. But she didn’t dare to offend a friend of the consultant. The three of them walked slowly down a long, shiny corridor. They could hear someone shouting, ‘Push!’ and something metal crashing to the ground. Declan closed his eyes with sheer terror. Just then, Shirley doubled over with a pain so huge she thought someone had stabbed her in the back with an axe. She felt her back, in fea
r. Then, she turned round, very slowly. She was sure she’d see a seven-foot-tall Viking standing there in full battle regalia and a sheepskin hat. Her knees seemed to forget how to hold her up. She knelt down on the floor and stubbornly held her breath until both Declan and the nurse were begging her to breathe gently and calm down. Her face was rigid with shock.
‘It’s unbelievable,’ she gasped. ‘It just gets worse and worse and worse, and then it eases off, and then it comes back again without waiting for a rest. Why isn’t there a… rest? I thought there’d be a rest between… pains…’
‘Are you sure this began only a short while ago?’ The nurse was now as worried as Declan but she didn’t show it. She showed Shirley into a cubicle and carried out a swift internal examination. ‘You’re about four centimetres,’ she said quickly.
‘Four what?’ cried Shirley, still squirming with embarrassment. Did that nurse just have her hand inside her body or was she hallucinating? Mr Kelly hadn’t done that. With the scanner showing him everything, he hadn’t needed to.
‘Dilated. Your cervix is about four centimetres open.’
‘Right! How many does it have to be open?’
‘Ten.’
‘Oh, my God! No way! How long will that take?’
‘It’s okay, pet. Look, I’ll get you sorted with some painkillers, and gas and air? Just a moment, I’ll have to break your waters.’
Shirley gasped as the nurse expertly tweaked and snipped; and soon, the baby’s watery home was pierced by the outside world. Warm fluid flowed over the table in a rush. Her lovely pyjamas were ruined. And the pink dressing gown, too. For a horrible moment Shirley thought she’d wet herself; she’d never again feel this embarrassed in her whole life. She covered her face with her arm and a little sob escaped from her lips. Declan was distraught. Shirley wasn’t even talking to him any more. Or looking at him. She was all alone in her trauma. There was nothing he could do for her. Nothing at all. Kate was right. He was a mere schoolboy, just pretending to be a grown-up. The nurse had Shirley dried and covered up and was helping her to her feet. Together they walked to the waiting suite, only recently vacated. Shirley was weeping quietly. All her Celtic power seemed to have deserted her. She thought of her shiny pebbles on the floor of the car. Maybe she should go back outside and fetch them, but the nurse was massaging her back and there didn’t seem to be enough time.
I am strong and in control, she chanted internally. I am strong and in control. I am strong and – oh, shit, where are the drugs?
‘I think I’d like some drugs,’ she told the nurse. ‘If that’s okay?’
‘Not to worry, love,’ the nurse said gently. ‘It won’t be long now, and then you’ll forget all about it. I promise you. Come on. Here we go.’ Shirley laid her head on the nurse’s shoulder and surrendered herself to the older woman’s experience. They proceeded along the corridor together. Declan was amazed. The two women had bonded completely and he was left holding the canvas bag of baby clothes. What he had previously thought of as the nurse’s cold indifference was actually sheer professionalism of the highest order. The mothers-to-be did not want to see the staff in a panic. That was their job. Declan was worried that Shirley was going to panic. He was worried that he was going to panic. He hurried after them and offered to hop up on the table himself and have a swift vasectomy, now that the nurse had her scissors out. But Shirley didn’t even have the energy to laugh. And the nurse was too busy looking at her watch. In agony, Shirley climbed up onto the delivery bed and was covered with the blanket she had been dreaming of. Declan held her hand and said, ‘I love you so much,’ over and over again. She didn’t answer him. She just wanted this night to be over.
Just then, Mr Kelly popped his head into the room.
‘Well, Declan. Shirley. How are you? How’re things?’
‘Coming along well, now.’ The nurse was brisk. ‘Quite a pace, actually.’ Her face communicated a lot of things to the consultant that she didn’t want to say out loud. Patient not coping very well…
‘Let’s get this lady some gas and air and a nice little injection, shall we?’ he said, taking off his coat. ‘Can you get us some tea, nurse? Sugar, anyone? That’s the ticket! Any chance of a biscuit or two?’
Shirley lay on the operating table three hours later, fully dilated and ready to push. She was wearing a green paper gown and her bare legs were covered in goosebumps. Soaked in sweat, exhausted by labour pains that hadn’t eased off for one minute, and feeling dizzy with too much oxygen, she was at her wits’ end. She’d had an epidural, but it hadn’t helped. In fact, she now regretted having it at all, as the sensation of the needle sliding into her spinal column had been most unpleasant. She wasn’t sure if it was the needle piercing her bones or Declan’s shoes grinding into the linoleum, but she was sure she had heard a chalky, squeaking noise. And then, when she had endured the labour as bravely as she could, and the midwife was telling her how to push out the baby, she discovered it was all for nothing. A tiny white hand had popped out from between her legs, its perfect fingers opening and closing gently, and the consultant had shouted, ‘Nurse! Hand presentation! Transverse position. Prep patient for emergency section!’
And suddenly the room was full of people and someone was shaving off her pubic hair and Shirley was so tired she didn’t care what they were going to do to her any more. Declan was practically shoved out of the room and told to wait somewhere close by. There was no time to put him in a green surgical gown and mask, but there wasn’t even time to explain that to him. He was left, bewildered, in the corridor, as Shirley was wheeled away from him at great speed by a team of nurses and doctors. Someone pulled a cap over Shirley’s hair and someone else was preparing her arms for tubes. He staggered to a payphone and called his parents, who said they’d come right in. He sat with his head in his hands as the minutes ticked agonizingly by.
Shirley was barely conscious as they put a pen in her hand so that she could scribble her name on a consent form.
‘This form is just to absolve the hospital…’
‘Please,’ she whispered into Mr Kelly’s smiling face, ‘just get it over with.’ And she thought, Please, God, I’m sorry I wasn’t married before we made this baby. I’m sorry I said I loved sex, at the good dining table, and scandalized my poor mother. Help me now, and I’ll be a good parent. I promise.
Then she felt the nip of the injection in the back of her hand and she was slipping away into peaceful oblivion, and Mr Kelly had become God, and Shirley adored him. Before Marion and Eddy were even in their car, Mavourna Moon was lifted out of her mother, and laid in a clean cloth on the weighing scales. ‘Nine pounds and as healthy as a trout!’ declared the silver-haired consultant. Declan was able to give them the good news as they rushed into the maternity building twenty minutes later. Marion and Eddy hugged Declan and then each other. Meanwhile, all the drama in the theatre was winding down.
‘Very good,’ said Mr Kelly calmly. ‘Well done, everyone. Now! Let’s get the placenta out of the way and we can stitch this young lady up!’ He calmly carried out his work, with a happy smile on his tanned and handsome face. All the female staff in the hospital were totally in love with him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame them one bit!
Declan was presented with his new daughter in one of the recovery rooms and he was amazed when he saw her perfect heart-shaped face. He cradled her gently, and touched her fat little cheeks with his thumb. A huge rush of love flowed through his veins and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He kissed her forehead softly. She was a lovely golden colour, but the nurse explained that was due to a touch of jaundice. Very normal in new babies. Her little wrists were fat and cracked. They’d have to rub lotion into the cracks, she told them. Marion and Eddy took turns nursing their first grandchild. Nobody thought to call Shirley’s parents. Or Kate. It was as if the Greenwoods wanted to enjoy this little miracle in complete peace for a short while, before the other half of the family turned up and began to fuss and fret.
‘How is Shirley?’ Declan asked the midwife.
‘Your wife is going to be fine,’ said the nurse. ‘The baby turned at the last minute. It happens sometimes. No harm done.’ Although you’re lucky Mr Kelly was here, she thought. We might have had to deliver her the hard way, otherwise, with forceps. ‘Tell me when Shirley wakes up,’ she said, as Shirley was wheeled into the room and made comfortable. Then she went away, and Declan and his parents were left alone to admire the new baby.
When Shirley woke up thirty minutes later, she felt glorious. There was no pain anywhere. Not even a little bit. She felt like she was floating in warm water. Floating underwater in a warm lagoon. All sounds were muffled. It was a lovely happy feeling. She was afraid to open her eyes in case she was dead. If she was dead, she thought, it wasn’t so bad. Then, she heard Declan say, ‘She’s beautiful, Mum. Isn’t she just beautiful?’ And Shirley knew that she was still in the land of the living. Dear Declan. He was so sweet. Unfortunately, Declan wasn’t talking about his wife. Shirley’s face and neck had broken out in a horrible rash of stress-induced acne and her hair was plastered to her face with stale sweat. She opened her bloodshot eyes.
‘Thank you. I feel great,’ she croaked through dry lips.
‘Shirley! You’re awake.’ Declan came over and kissed her, and tried not to breathe in the aroma of several hours of profuse perspiration.
‘I feel great. Oh, wow! I’m floating. Is this a post-birth euphoria?’ Shirley asked, delighted that something had worked out right for her.
‘You’re on morphine, my darling,’ Declan explained.
‘What?’
‘In your hand. In the back of your hand. There’s morphine going in, on a drip.’
‘Isn’t morphine heroin?’ Shirley was alarmed at the thought of becoming an addict. ‘Quick, stop it! Get the nurse to stop it!’
‘No, it’s morphine, sweetheart, you’ll be fine on that for a few days.’
‘Are you sure? Will it make me look awful?’
‘Of course it won’t. Relax, sweetheart,’ Declan said. Thank God there were no mirrors in the room. Shirley would scream if she saw how wretched she did look. But when she had gained some weight, she would be back to her usual (gorgeous) self.
