39 Weeks (46 page)

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 w
ere I wouldn’t even notice much, unless she caught a foot in one of my ribs. Ow.
No m
ake that
a
d
ouble Ow.
But s
eemingly
I could avoid a
foot in the ribs by simply sitting up straight. Course I immediately sat up 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, s
o 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. B
ut 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 scare
d 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
he
y 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
.

But if your waters break
, whether or not you were having contractions, real or of the practise variety,
you should go to the hospital straight away, so the baby’s not distressed. So the baby’s not distressed? Never mind the baby
, I thought,
I’d be bloody distressed.
  

My head was swimming with medical terms and Latin names
that I’d never heard before but vaguely understood. I re-read several passages to try and familiarise myself with what was virtually a foreign language, luckily
‘
So You’re Having A Baby
’
had a much more down to earth approach than
‘
Now You’re Pregnant
’
and was written in plain English
that was much
easier to understand.

Both books said it was a good idea to have a ‘hospital bag’ ready, and a list of important phone numbers handy, especially the hospital number so you could warn them you were on the way. Yes I thought
,
now that is a good idea, so I wasted no time and sorted out a ‘hospital bag’
for myself there and then, and set about writing a list of important phone numbers, although I don’t know if it really qualified as a list as such.

Top of the ‘list’ was the hospital maternity ward number that I’d been given on one of my prenatals along with a load of other leaflets and such like, about what to take to hospital with me and how they wouldn’t provide nappy’s, or shower gel, or towels, or baby formula if I wasn’t feeding the baby myself, and when the visiting hours were, and who I could take with me for the birth, and so on and so on.
Seemed to me that t
he list of don’ts and
cant’s
far outweighed the do’s and can’s. Hardly
,
I couldn’t help thinking,
made you feel positive ab
out the whole experience did it?
   

Then second on the list was Mum. I hesitated over even putting Mum on the list at all, I mean she’d only start telling everyone, especially me, how they were doing it all wrong and not properly, by her standards anyway. But at the end of the day she was my Mum, and annoying or not a girl ne
eded her Mum at a time like this
.

And then I ran out of people to put on the list. There were several that I’d want to call after it was all over, you know to say I’d had the baby, but no-one I could envisage that I’d actually want there while it was all going on. Shelley maybe, Rob definitely, well maybe waiting in the waiting room till it was all over but he was
n’t
really
an option
anymore was he?
My d
ad? No
, after due consideration
probably best to just stick with
my
Mum.
 
 
 

I put the bag, with the list in the outer pocket, next to the front door and put the kettle on for a cuppa
while I pondered on the meaning of life the universe and everything, but more specifically on the impending motherhood status I was about to assume. I wondered if everyone felt like this, I mean on the one hand I was really looking forward to seeing Ella
and being able to hold her
, and I was
looking forward to not being pregnant any more, but on the other hand I was dreading the actual birth itself and having to stay in hospital.
 

I made the tea and wandered cup in hand into what was going to be Ella’s room. It was a bit of a mess really with stuff piled up everywhere, and I de
cided to sort it out and get it ready for Ella when she arrived. Course she wouldn’t know or care if it was tidy or not, but I wanted it for her anyway.

Shelley had donated a chest of drawers she no longer needed when she and Nick had moved in together, and I started by putting all the smallest baby clothes away in there. I carefully folded the next size up baby clothes and a few next size up after that Marsha had given me, and re-packed them in a bin bag
and tied it up. I stored the
bag in the bottom of a built in cupboard in the corner of the room. Then on the shelf above I stacked the mountain of baby toys that
I didn’t think Ella would
be interested in until she was at least two or three months old
, and there were some more suitable for six months to a year, so those went on the harder to reach top shelf.

The pushchair was in the middle of the room so I wheeled that out to the living room, folded it up, and stood it in the corner by the front door next to my hospital bag. It was only when I was about to put the baby car seat next to it
, another Marsha donation,
that it dawned on me I hadn’t
actually got anything to clip it to.

I abandoned the rest of the baby stuff sorting out, and got straight on the phone to the garage I always use for car emergency’s. Luckily Pete wasn’t too busy and said I could come down straight away.

Two hours later I was back
home again, t
he baby seat sitting proudly clipped in the back of my car
. The baby seat fitting had only taken an hour or so but I’d stopped off to buy a ‘Baby On Board’ sign thing and stuck that in the back window.

While I was out
I’d also bought a pack of four baby bottles and some baby milk formula, that I probably should have bought sooner, but reading up on all that baby stuff earlier had reminded me. I planned to feed Ella myself but what if I couldn’t, what if it hurt too much, or I wasn’t producing enough milk? Although judging by the amount my boobs were leaking nowadays I didn’t think that would be a problem. But even if I was able to feed Ella myself I wasn’t going to be doing it forever was I? I mean I was going to stop sometime
wasn’t I and then I’d need bottles and formula.

I made myself another cup of tea, and a sandwich to go with it, and carried them into Ella’s room. How quaint that sounded, Ella’s room. Whilst munching I unpacked my leaving present ornament and placed it on top of one side of the chest of drawers, then put my old care bear that had been through a cold machine wash since retrieving it from Mum’s loft on the other side.
The new teddy I’d bought for Ella on the day of my scan and subsequent visit to Mothercare, I put in the corner of the cot. He looked for all the world like he was just waiting for Ella, which I suppose in a way he was.

Course looking at that sad little teddy made me think of Rob, he’d been with me when I bought it, and now he wasn’t here to see it in its intended place of honour. I was on the verge of crying all over again, but managed with a will of iron to stop myself somehow. Or maybe, finally, I’d run out of tears.

I tidied away the last few bits and pieces and surveyed the room. I hadn’t made up the cot, I mean it was all put together ready for Ella to lay in, but I didn’t put the sheets and blanket on, I would do that when she was here. Course the room was still peach but there wasn’t much I could do about that, I definitely wasn’t up to decorating, that would have to wait. But all in all, now that all the collection of baby stuff was sorted out and put away, it looked pretty good. All I had to do now was wait for a baby
,
my baby
,
to arrive
and
complete the picture.
 

12
th
February – Week 37

Rob was coming back. Marsha told me this morning that Mac had finished
his stint
up in Edinburgh
. T
he snow and ice that far north had taken longer to clear
so travelling was
still
difficult
but
he
was coming
home on Friday. Naturally the first thing I wanted to know
when Marsha told me the good news
was, was Rob going to be with him. And he was.
T
he first thing I did
then
was cry. T
hen
the next thing I did was
panic.

In the two hours since
Marsha had
told me I’d been over that
first
potential
conversation
I could
be having
with him a hundred times already in my head. Should I fall into his arms t
elling him how much I loved him . .
but what if he’s still angry and doesn’t love me anymore? Should I be angry with him for not phon
ing me back for all those weeks . .
a bit of me thought that’s exactly what I should
do. Should I be all casual ‘H
i Rob, nice trip?’ as if nothing much had ever happened between us.
Or s
hould I wait and see if he comes upstairs to see me, let him do the running, let him apologise to me?
Would he apologise to me?
Would he even acknowledge that I existed? Maybe he’d just cut me dead.

I tried for the millionth time to phone him, but as ever his phone was
switched
off. I asked Marsha for
more
details. Where had he been all this time? Why hadn’t he phoned Mac or Marsha at least? Had he said anything about me? Her answer to all of it was ‘I don’t know’ but she said she’d quiz Mac when he phoned her later this evening.

I left Marsha’s at
around noon
while she was getting lunch ready for the children, she invited me to stay but I couldn’t face food after a bombshell like that
and went upstairs to cogitate
in peace
,
and plan my next move.

I couldn’t wait for Friday and dreaded it all at the same time. What I should
’ve
be
en
do
ing
wa
s wait
ing
until after Marsha had spoken to Mac tonight before letting myself think
too
much. I mean I couldn’t exactly work out a plan of action until I knew a bit more about how Rob was feeling. But not thinking about it
?
. . well that was never going to happen was it?
I was driving myself mad already, just after a couple of hours, God k
nows what I’d be like by Friday, a
total basket case probably. I mean now that I wasn’t working I didn’t even have that to take my mind of everything, I had nothing much to do all day every day except think.