Positively Yours (36 page)

‘Yes, I heard the good news. He must be a month old now?'

‘Yeah, he is. He's gorgeous, and I adore him more than anything in the world, but as you can see I'm wrecked. I thought my job as a teacher was hard work. But it's a walk in the park compared to changing nappies all day, and being awake feeding all night!'

‘I brought a small gift for Jake,' Erin said, as she handed Ciara a little package. ‘I know I shouldn't have arrived unexpectedly but I was passing your way.'

‘Oh, come in, but excuse the mess.'

Erin walked through into Ciara's new kitchen and living space. She didn't notice the stone floor she'd helped pick, or the kitchen units she'd advised on. She didn't detect the milk stains on the expensive new couch or the clutter of tea cups overflowing on the handmade island unit; all she saw was the perfect little baby boy lying asleep in a beautiful Moses basket. Erin saw he had Ciara's eyes, and her fair hair.

‘Oh, Ciara, he's gorgeous,' said Erin, melting at the sight of such a beautiful baby.

‘Thank you,' said Ciara. ‘I heard you were expecting, too, but I didn't know it was so soon!' She stared at Erin's enormous belly.

‘I'm expecting twins, that's why my belly is as big as a car. I'm actually not due for another eight weeks!'

‘Well, congratulations, and you don't look that big for twins. You carry it well. My tiny frame exploded like a hot air balloon on my last few weeks with Jake!' said Ciara, as she began opening Erin's gift. She unwrapped the dinosaur-print paper to reveal a soft blue blanket with Jake's name sewn into the corner of it. There was also a matching hat.

‘I love it. You're so kind and thoughtful. Honestly, there was no need.'

Erin knew it might seem odd to be buying her client a gift, but she felt she owed Ciara more than just an apology for leaving her house project mid-way.

‘Ciara, I should explain why I left your job. You see, I've always wanted children . . .' and with that, Erin was honest and told Ciara everything.

And later, when Jake woke from his nap, Erin was delighted to hold him tight, and when he needed changing she was only too happy to carry him into the nursery she had helped create. She had been there when the nursery had only been an old box room, and when Ciara had just found out she was pregnant, and now Jake had arrived, and the room had become his little home – it was the perfect end to any project.

‘
CAN YOU PLEASE
buy me a can of 7 Up and two
Cosmopolitan
magazines?' Erin Delany asked her husband. ‘Now, John, do not buy the magazines from the front of the stands, but reach to the back and buy them from there. People are always opening the flipping magazines to sneak an unpaid peak at the latest celebrity news, and that renders those magazines useless for me. I need a 100 per cent pure unopened fresh print smell, OK?'

‘OK, bossy boots, but when our children start sniffing glue at thirteen don't blame me or society, blame your own inhaling addiction. People will say the poor buggers never stood a chance, when they remember the afternoons you spent hanging around newsagents sniffing all the new magazines, or the nights I was forced to print crap off the internet just so you could smell the fresh wet ink on the page.'

‘I can't help my cravings. Honestly, I just need those magazines, and that 7 Up – it's so hot today. Anyway, what time will you be home? I was thinking we could finally assemble the cots and the cot changer, what do you think?'

‘I was hoping to meet Paul for one pint. Just one, after all he is the godfather-to-be, and maybe I can rope him into helping us assemble the cots.'

‘OK, but just so you know, I'm in my tracksuit again. I
can't get dressed up for your brother. I have decided I'm never wearing maternity jeans or trousers again. I'm just too big, swollen and unattractive to care at this stage, so it's full steam ahead with tracksuits and pyjamas for the next eight weeks.'

‘That's fine with me, as long as you know I plan to watch football for the next eight weeks solid, and sail as much as possible, all in preparation for when our lives get turned upside down and I never get to watch TV or go out on a boat again.'

Erin laughed, said goodbye and hung up the phone, while John walked into the local newsagent to buy
Cosmopolitan
for the third time that week.

Erin sat on the floor of Baby One's bedroom. After months of discussion they'd decided that each baby should have its own room. While it might have been easier, in some ways, to let the babies share one nursery, Erin and John hoped that if they had their own rooms they might sleep better.

‘I don't think any baby sleeps,' John had said the night before, as they'd watched a documentary on childbirth. ‘It's just an urban myth. The birth of your child signifies the end of sleep for you, or at least that's what all my mates say.'

‘Well, at least we will be getting all the bad years of sleepless nights over in one go,' said Erin, trying to remain optimistic.

She was getting sick of the look that parents gave her when they heard she had twins on the way. But even though she realized that her organized and tidy life would soon be gone, she still couldn't wait. She wanted finally to meet her babies, her children. To see what they looked liked, to hold them. She'd waited thirty-three years to become a mum, and now it was within touching distance. They had been told to be prepared for early labour, but even so, Erin had superstitiously delayed decorating the nurseries, or buying any clothes. But as she would be thirty-two weeks this weekend she'd decided
she could throw caution to the wind, and once John got home she wanted to crack open all the flat-packed boxes and begin setting up their babies' bedrooms.

Erin was trying to decide which room should get the ivory changing-table when she felt a burst of liquid run down her legs and into a large puddle on the floor of Baby Two's room. For a minute she just looked at the new beige carpet that was now spoiled, and couldn't work out what had happened. It'll take me ages to clean that, she thought, when suddenly, like a wake-up call, she realized what it meant. Her waters had broken! She stood in the room that lay undecorated and empty, apart from the large box which held the cot. Erin had printed out notes on what to do when your waters broke. She had sellotaped them to her bathroom mirror and inside the front door; there was even a printout in her car. Her pregnancy and birth guidebook lay right beside her bed, ready for easy access, but she stood perfectly still. She was in shock, and for the first time in a long time was clueless as to what to do. Finally, she stumbled to her bed and lay down. She grabbed the phone and tried to ring John. His phone rang out again and again. Just as she was about to ring an ambulance John rang her back.

‘Sorry, I'm in the pub. I just had a Coke instead of a pint. I decided I might need my wits about me for the cot installations so I'm alcohol-free! I'll be home soon.'

‘Forget the cots, you need to come home right now.'

‘What's wrong?' John asked, running out to his parked car.

‘I think I'm in labour,' she replied, her lips trembling.

‘Labour? But you're only thirty-two weeks. It's—'

‘It's too early?' Erin interrupted. ‘I know that. That's why I'm so scared. Please come home now.'

Erin hung up the phone and tried to remember all the things she needed to bring to hospital. Her bags and hospital chart
were ready and waiting by the door, but she needed to get her handbag, wallet and phone. Erin could feel her heart race. It's too early to have these babies, she thought. They will be too small, they won't be able to survive. She began to get frantic with worry. She picked up her pregnancy book and flicked through the tattered pages, trying to read about early labour, but she couldn't see anything because her eyes were filling up with tears. She was worried, nervous, excited and scared all at the same time.

Fifteen minutes later John burst through the bedroom door.

‘I just went through three red lights, and mounted a kerb in order to avoid another one. I'm pretty sure I forgot to tell Paul I had to leave the pub, too. He probably still thinks I'm in the bathroom.'

Erin smiled – even in the middle of all this worry and madness John could still make her smile.

‘Let's go,' she said as he helped her up. ‘I'm fine,' she added, knowing she could walk. She just felt a bit wobbly.

As they walked through the hallway Erin took one last look at the babies' bedrooms. The next time she saw them, God willing, she'd have some little people to put in there. Silently she said a prayer that it would all go OK, that they'd be born healthy and well. She wouldn't be able to face coming home if anything bad happened. As if reading her thoughts, John put his arms around her.

‘Trust me, they'll be fine, and the next time we see those bedrooms they'll be covered in Babygros, nappies, poo and nappy wipes!'

‘But the rooms aren't ready, the cots aren't made up. I have all these prints I want to put up, some new curtains to hang. And the car seats are still in the shed.'

‘I'll take care of it all,' said John, as they walked out the
front door of their house. ‘You just take care of yourself and our precious cargo. I'll worry about the cots, curtains and car seats later.'

John got Erin settled into the car and then packed up her bags. As he sped them through the streets of Dublin Erin held his hand tight, feeling as if she was on a rollercoaster ride. The ride was just about to start, and she couldn't wait to see the sights from the top, or experience the rush and excitement, but even so, just as the seat belts were being fastened and the carts checked, she suddenly felt nervous and unsure as to whether she wanted to go ahead.

‘Don't worry. It will be a thousand times better than we imagined,' John said, squeezing her hand, and with that Erin was ready. She knew she wanted the ride to start at once.

‘
BUT I DON'T
want a Caesarean,' Erin said to Dr Kennedy. ‘It's not my birth plan.'

‘I know, Erin, but we talked about this extensively, and you knew there was always a much higher likelihood that you'd need one because of the twins.'

‘I know, I know, but can we not try to deliver the babies normally first?'

Dr Kennedy sat down on the edge of the hospital bed. His kind eyes looked steadily at Erin.

‘I know you're nervous about this, but we have to go with a C-section. The first twin isn't head down, so that means we need to move quickly and get you into theatre.'

‘But I read that babies born by Caesarean have a greater risk of developing diabetes, and I also read that—'

‘Forget what you've read, you've been overdoing it,' John said, interrupting her. ‘Dr Kennedy has just told us what is best for the babies. I know you only want what is best for them, too, so let's just go with this, OK?'

He took her hand and squeezed it tight. Erin knew the doctor and nurses only wanted to do what was best for the babies, but she still felt very nervous about it.

‘It's not what I wanted or expected,' she said, feeling dismayed.

‘I know, but you can't plan everything, and Dr Kennedy is the best there is. He's only doing all he can for the babies, our babies.'

Dr Kennedy smiled.

‘OK, we're going to get you ready for theatre. An IV infusion will be started to provide you with fluids, a urinary catheter will be inserted into your bladder, and we will get the anaesthetist down to start you with an epidural. I'll see you again in a few minutes. But in the meanwhile, don't worry, it will all be OK.'

Erin tried to subdue her rising sense of panic as she was prepped for her transfer to theatre. John was very calm and held her hand as she was wheeled along the busy corridors. She watched the doctors and nurses rush to the labour wards, to help deliver countless new babies into the world. New life all around her, she silently prayed for her two babies. Just then she spotted a girl from her ante-natal class. Beth Prendergast was standing in the corridor outside the nursery talking to a midwife, and in her arms was a tiny but long-legged brand-new baby. From the small blue hat on the baby's head she guessed Beth had a new son. Erin felt a rush of emotion at seeing someone she'd sat beside every week now becoming a mum. Very soon it would be her turn.

Once in theatre John asked the nurses if he could bring in the camera, while Erin came to terms with the fact that her perfect birth plan, along with the classical CD she'd brought, was now gone to the wayside.

While Erin received the epidural John squeezed her hand.

‘I'm so proud of you,' he whispered.

‘I haven't done anything yet,' she said.

‘Yes, you have,' he replied. ‘You've carried and looked after our babies. You've experienced the back pains, the leg pains, the nausea, the tiredness, the heartburn, the crazy cravings! You've done so well. We've just got the last hurdle to go now,
and we'll be home and dry. In a few minutes the Delany family will double in size!'

Erin felt her spirits rise. John always knew the right thing to say.

‘OK, how are you doing?' Dr Kennedy asked Erin from behind the screen at the top of her abdomen.

Erin couldn't see what was being done to her stomach, and didn't want to. The whole thing felt surreal. In all these years that she'd dreamt of becoming a mum, she'd actually looked forward to the rush that childbirth must bring, the excitement, the wondering when it would happen, but now as she lay still on the operating table it felt wrong. The stomach behind the screen could have belonged to anyone, she couldn't see or feel it. Suddenly she remembered something she'd seen on the internet.

‘Dr Kennedy, I read something on the internet.'

John tried to silence her. ‘Leave the doctor alone, he's trying to deliver our babies,' he said.