Pushing Over 40

by S M Mala

  ‘Don’t tell me Adam,’ she said, holding her hand in front of his face. ‘I know with grief comes anger and I am already furious with them so don’t tell me anymore.’

  ‘At the end of the day that’s their opinion and it doesn’t count.’

  ‘I don’t want to see them for a long time.’

  ‘You can’t say that.’

  ‘I can,’ she defiantly replied feeling her cheeks get hot.

  Adam’s phone began to ring and he looked at it then flung it on the table.

  ‘Answer your phone,’ Maya said, sipping her wine and sitting back.

  ‘It’s Alice. Probably wants me for another threesome,’ he grimaced.

  ‘You should go out and have some fun. You’ve been with me for six days now through shit and hell. I’m probably bringing you down.’

  Maya stroked his face and felt the soft bristle underneath her fingers.

  ‘You know the only reason Alice was interested in me? Her girlfriend prefers cock and she thinks that’s the only way she’ll keep her interested.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about sex,’ Maya laughed out.

  ‘Are you going to tell her father he may probably be the father of baby Eva Beau?’

  ‘I was her mother, that’s all that matters. Everything else… it can wait.’

  Maya had created a routine for the weeks leading up to Christmas. She’d cry first thing in the morning then have a shower. Her day would be taken up with reading and writing on the website.

  Some days all she did was cry and stay in the flat, unable to speak or move, over taken by the depth of her grief. Her chest would feel like it was being tightened and on several occasions she cried so much her stomach hurt to the point she was sick.

  She’d assessed all the different levels of grief and knew her anger was pointed towards her brother and his wife, as well as herself.

  A few days later she sat with Adam on the side of the bed and touched the box. They’d gone to the crematorium to pick the ashes up but Maya couldn’t get out of the car, so struck she was with the grief of getting her daughter back again.

  Adam went in and returned with a bag which looked like something from a boutique. You’d never have known what was inside.

  Opening the box again she saw the paperwork and the small plastic purple urn and opened the top. There was the tiniest bag of ashes and she sighed as Adam put an arm around her.

  ‘Well they can’t arrest us for scattering that,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s a small amount.’

  ‘But we’re going to have to be discreet as you know it’s a royal park and they’ll probably end up giving us a kicking for it or send us to prison.’

  ‘I don’t mind. It’ll be worth it,’ smiled Adam.

  ‘When are you flying to Cork?’ Maya asked. ‘I know your mother will go spare if you don’t turn up.’

  ‘I’m not sure. You know Dee wants you to go to theirs for Christmas.’

  ‘I can’t think about that and I don’t want to spend time with them,’ she said and clutched the urn. ‘It’s not important. I’ll send the kids money. I’ve got some presents I bought before…’

  Her life was now divided before the baby died and after.

  ‘After we scatter the ashes we’re going to raise a toast to baby Eva Beau, okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ she gulped. ‘I can’t keep the ashes but I don’t want to lose her any more than I have to.’

  ‘Set her free Maya, just set her free.’

  ‘But I can’t,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s all I’ve got left.’

  The despair and pain seemed to be getting worse but she overcame it by looking at cartoons on television and drinking. Alcohol would stop the pain until the following morning.

  Shona had brought round a curry and some muffins she had made. Maya looked at them and laughed.

  ‘They look like zits,’ she said, trying not to offend her friend.

  ‘It’s the raspberries and white chocolate,’ Shona announced triumphantly. ‘They taste delicious.’

  ‘I’d prefer to have a drink,’ Maya replied and watched Shona open a bottle of wine and pour some out for them.

  ‘You look tired,’ she said, sitting down.

  ‘You’re in luck I think I’ve run out of tears.’

  ‘I’m a strong person I can take it.’

  ‘I killed my baby,’ Maya said and looked at her friend. ‘I played god and knew the baby was going to die and I killed my baby.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Shona said, grabbing her hand looking tearful. ‘You had no choice.’

  ‘She was so small. She looked like Eadie and I couldn’t even touch her, Shona. Adam touched her and I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t touch my baby,’ she yelped and started to cry. ‘I wish I’d held her for longer but when they took her away and we went back the next day they wouldn’t let me see her.’

  Shona was sobbing uncontrollably.

  ‘It’s so awful, it really is,’ said her friend.

  ‘Adam was wonderful.’

  ‘You should have called me.’

  ‘It would have been too much. You’ve miscarried before and it’s traumatic. With Adam it was different. He was organised, on top of it… some of the time. He was simply amazing and I’ll never be able to repay him.’

  ‘He could repay you by giving you back your money,’ said Shona sighing and wiping her eyes before blowing her nose loudly.

  ‘He can keep it. I’m so angry with Harry and his bitch wife. They told Adam I should be grateful for what I’ve got and … I got the impression they think this serves me right.’

  ‘They thought it was a sperm donation and with Adam’s fake confession-.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ve yet to hear Dee’s opinion on the whole thing about using her precious little brother.’

  Maya looked at Shona and could see she was trying to hold it together but was failing.

  ‘What are you doing for Christmas? Come round to ours,’ Shona gulped.

  ‘I’m not much company. Anything can trigger me off even laughing.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be on your own. It’s not good.’

  ‘I’m going to be with my family which is me and the memory of my baby, that’s all I want,’ Maya smiled, blinking back the tears.

  ‘It’ll be okay,’ Shona said quietly. ‘I know it won’t for a while so you have to cry and let it all out.’

  ‘Do you know I should have taken shares out in Kleenex?’

  Depression was something Maya had never dealt with before as she sat in her first session with the bereavement counsellor.

  For most of the time she cried and bitched about Harry and Dee but mainly she watched the clock to see when the session would end.

  ‘You are not only dealing with the loss of your baby but you are deeply traumatised.’ the woman eventually said with an eastern European accent, after she had sat in a room for nearly fifty minutes faced with someone who was being monosyllabic.

  ‘Really?’ Maya said, blowing her nose and placing the tissue on the large pile developing on the table.

  ‘Try and explain to your daughter how you feel?’

  ‘What daughter?’ Maya said, momentarily forgetting then realised her mistake. ‘My daughter?’

  She half laughed at her mistake but was met with a blank stare.

  ‘I think it’s best to write to her, maybe every day, to tell her how you feel, what went through your head. It’s good to talk to her. Also contact the hospital and tell them how they made you feel. They need to know what part they’ve played by leaving you like this.’

  ‘She can’t hear me,’ mumbled Maya feeling despair and slight annoyance.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘My baby’s dead. She can’t hear.’

  There was a heavy silence in the room.

  ‘I have six sessions booked for you, would you like to arrange the next one?’ the woman suddenly announced pulling out her diary.

  Maya didn’t want to do anything and knew this was a sign the counsello
r thought she was in a bad way.

  ‘Can I call to arrange it when I get home, I can’t think,’ she said, knowing it was the last thing in the world she wanted to focus on for the future.

  She couldn’t face another five sessions, it was too upsetting being in the room and spending all of it drying her eyes and wiping her snot.

  Outside into the mild December weather she walked steadily home, her eyes still slightly blurry by the strip florescent lighting in the office. There were drunken revellers around her as she slowly walked to the metro supermarket and bought her provisions for the season break.

  Two days until Christmas and all she wanted to do was sleep to forget what happened.

  ‘Maya,’ Harry said and she looked up at her brother holding carrier bags.

  ‘Leaving it to the last minute as usual,’ she said but couldn’t muster a smile as she had spent the past hour slating him to pieces.

  ‘How are you?’ he replied, looking at her, shaking his head. ‘We’ve been worried sick.’

  ‘I’m fine, not exactly happy and before you say ‘I told you so’ please shut the fuck up,’ she angrily hissed looking at the pavement. ‘I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘No,’ Harry said, putting the carrier bags down and grabbing her hand. ‘I would never say that to you.’

  ‘But you weren’t going to welcome the baby into your home when she was alive, now she’s dead does that make it all okay?’ she gulped and pulled her hand away. ‘Maybe she knew no one would love her other than me, maybe what happened was for the best, aye?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He started to well up. ‘I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.’

  ‘But it did Harry, it did.’

  ‘Why don’t you come round to ours and-.’

  ‘No… you didn’t hear me did you? I can’t be with people who made it perfectly clear how they felt about my unborn child. I’d rather be with people who were happy for me and cared.’

  ‘I do care. You’re my little sister.’

  ‘I’m forty two years old and the baby I wanted was going to die so I decided to kill her first. That’s who I am, Harry, that’s who I am!’

  Maya stormed off down the road and cried again. She thought she’d feel good at letting her brother know how she felt but she didn’t.

  It made her feel worse and guilt raged in her chest.

  As she approached her home she entered the silent flat and put on the lights. It was stark compared to the outside world but that’s how she liked it. The laptop was open so she touched it to activate the screen and looked at the website.

  She couldn’t think straight.

  Then she saw an email from Jane, the editor at ‘Pregnancy Talk’.

  ‘Dear Maya

  I am so sorry to hear about your loss.

  I too lost a baby at twenty two weeks and know how hard it is to overcome the shock and pain of losing something so wanted and cherished. If you need someone to talk to then please call me or email.

  Jane’

  Maya sighed and didn’t know if the email was genuine or whether they were interested how the creator of ‘Pushing over 40’ was coping with a loss.

  She then saw an email from Adam.

  ‘Hello old bint

  Season’s Greetings! I’m leaving on a jet plane tomorrow don’t know when I’ll be back again… but probably a few days later as I hate these family things.

  I hope you’re feeling okay and getting through it. I’m thinking of you… you have mentally scarred me for life anyway, since seeing you naked… ha ha ha!

  You’ll be okay. I’m here if you need me.

  Ax’

  Maya laughed and then sighed, missing him. It’d been over a week since she’d set eyes on Adam and knew he had to get on with his own life. She stopped for a moment and thought about what the counsellor had told her before sitting down and writing her letter of complaint.

  The Complaint

  Dear Sir/Madam

  Maya De Freitas 978677H

  It is with great anxiety I find myself writing this letter but after speaking to a few people I think you should be made aware of the treatment I received on Wednesday 4th July 2007.

  I came to the hospital at 12.50pm. From my records you will see that I was originally booked to arrive in on 5th July 2007 to deliver my ‘sleeping’ baby of 21/22 weeks. Unfortunately my labour started a day early.

  We were taken to delivery suite 8 and told that someone would come and see us. That was 1.15pm.

  At 2.10pm I rang for pain relief and the nurse came in and asked if I had seen a midwife which I had not. She arranged for me to get some diamorphine which lasted less than an hour. The nurse also informed me that there was an emergency so all the doctors etc. were in surgery so I had to wait for further drugs.

  3.05pm my waters broke and the same kind nurse came in and gave me sanitary towels etc. A midwife still hadn’t appeared. The contractions got worse and when the midwife eventually arrived around 3.45pm, Marion, she told me about the emergencies and said she couldn’t administer any further pain relief. She examined my sanitary towel and said there wasn’t much fluid even though I told her I had changed the sanitary towel just before she came in. Marion didn’t examine me.

  My friend and I felt less important because our baby was going to be born dead. You cannot imagine what that was like.

  4.30pm the doctor came in, apologised for the delay and put in the needle for the drip to administer pain relief. She was kind and asked, again, if the midwife had examined me which she still had not done.

  In extreme pain and buzzing for some assistance, Marion eventually returned about 5.20pm, apologised for the delay and gave me the drip. She also said she tried to contact the bereavement midwife but they had gone. The woman advised again she had to deal with some other emergencies and she would examine me later.

  My friend left the room to get some water from the ground floor shop about 5.40pm and in between that time I was in so much pain. Within ten minutes my baby was delivered.

  I was on my own, I couldn’t reach the buzzer (which wasn’t working properly) and I cried out for help but no one heard let alone came. I was hysterical and luckily my friend returned and flagged down the first person he could find. A lovely midwife called Karen immediately came to my assistance.

  Even though I was crying the uncaring Marion came and told Karen she was going to examine me next and bring some further pain relief in tablet form. Obviously both were too late.

  Luckily, Karen was helpful and kind at a very distressing time and was probably one of the only good things that happened in our time of shock and grief.

  I cannot tell you how upsetting the whole situation was. It was only on the previous Friday I was told that the baby had ‘Edwards Syndrome’. I was assured that we would be looked after and I would receive care including pain relief to make the delivery less upsetting. How wrong could the consultants have been?

  I understand the importance of treating living new born babies, we never got annoyed when being told about the emergencies, but it was still no excuse for the lack of care and attention we received. Being made to feel like we were a burden is inexcusable to the point of neglect.

  Going through labour and getting the right level of pain relief too late in the day shows a level of incompetence that I never thought I would have received from your staff.

  I expect your reply will be that on that day you had emergencies and that was why I didn’t have the care but with your experience of dealing with cases like mine, that’s a poor excuse when the only outcome to our scenario is pain and sadness.

  Re-look at your treatment of certain cases and try and find a drop of human kindness to look after your patients properly but most importantly please explain why after 5 hours of being in the hospital a midwife didn’t examine me to check how far along the labour was when pre term babies apparently come out quicker than full term?

  I await your immediate reply and will keep on writing until I get o
ne.

  Yours sincerely

  Maya De Freitas

  It didn’t take her long to put it all down before printing it out and emailing it to the right person. She knew they’d bluff her off but she didn’t care.

  Maya wanted them to know how she felt and they needed to understand where they had failed her… and her baby.

  Then she glanced around her flat at the wrapped presents for the kids on the floor. Maya didn’t know how she’d drop them off and when. The only Christmas card she kept was from Eadie and Jack. Eadie had drawn it and Jack had tried to scribble on the picture. It was red, white and green with pink glitter that kept falling off every time Maya picked up the card. Inside it read:

  ‘Merry Christmas we love you Auntie Mimi love Jack and Eadie.’

  There were about forty kisses of various sizes. Maya laughed and carefully put it back on the shelf.

  The television was her only company.

  They were showing a double bill of ‘Toy Story’ on BBC1 so she sat down with a large glass of wine and started to watch it.

  Then the most awful thing happened.

  There was a song Jessie the cow girl was singing about how a human had neglected her and the words felt poignant ‘when she needed me’.

  Maya sat there with the pillow in her mouth trying to stop the sobs coming out but she was a wreck. All she kept thinking about was her baby, her little baby and how she needed her more than anything else, right here, right now.

  The dull pain was there the following morning to match the dull pain in her head from drinking a bottle of red wine.

  Christmas Eve.

  Maya wished the season away so she could start the New Year afresh. Her year had been too upsetting.

  There was nothing for her to do other than look at the internet and tidy the flat. Her housework had fallen into disrepair and the little mundane things were helping her through the day.