Babyville Page 0,95
be, and he's exactly what I always hoped you'd find. I'm just still in shock that it's him.” And we both laugh as a sharp pain stabs me in the stomach and I gasp.
“What?” Viv holds my arm in alarm. “Maeve? What is it?”
“I don't know. Nothing.” I breathe out, the pain gone. “Probably just indigestion. I knew I ate too much.”
“You're sure you're okay?”
“I'm fine.” I smile at her but I'm worried. Strange pains when you're pregnant are no laughing matter and I potter around the kitchen for a while, making coffee, moving slowly and carefully in case the pain comes back.
Viv looks at me with concern when I come back to the dining room and sit down, but I smile reassuringly and stand up to pour the coffee.
And then I wet myself.
“Shit!” I sit down hard, and immediately blush. And then I think I'm going to start to cry. How can this happen? I'm thirty-three years old, and this may well be the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me in my whole life.
“What is it? What's the matter?” All three of them are leaning over me and all I can think of is I want my mum.
Thank God she's here.
“Mum!” I wail at her, and she can tell from my face that I need to speak to her alone. The others leave and I look at her, mortified.
“I think I've just wet myself,” I whisper in shame, and she starts to laugh.
“Love, I think that's your waters breaking.” She smiles knowingly, forcing me to stand up so she can check.
“That's definitely your waters,” she says, grinning, gesturing to the chair. “Completely clear and odorless. My darling girl, your time has come.” And literally, as she says it, I feel something I haven't felt for nine months.
A period pain.
Mark pokes his head round the doorway. “Is everything okay?” Viv grins and I smile back. “Mark, it's time.” Although this doesn't feel real at all, it feels as if I'm saying these words and tonight I'll go upstairs and climb into bed next to Mark, and tomorrow will carry on as normal.
“Time for what?” Mark is being obtuse, and Viv laughs.
“The baby's on its way.”
And suddenly Mark goes into overdrive. “Oh God. Are you okay? Contractions, when are they coming. Shit, I can't remember, is it eight minutes or five minutes? Don't move, no actually, let's walk around and try some deep breathing,” and when he eventually stops to take a breath, I start to laugh.
“Mark, relax! I'm fine. These contractions are nothing, just like vague period pains, but we'd better phone the hospital because didn't Trish warn in the class of the danger of infection?”
“Yes, yes, phone the hospital. I'll phone them.”
“Mark.” Viv gently takes the phone from him. “I think I'd better phone.”
“Everything all right?” Dad walks back in, and Viv tells him. I'm surprised and delighted to see his ear-to-ear grin. “We're going to be grandparents!” he says, nudging Viv. “Who would have thought it?”
“What are they saying, what are they saying?” Mark's flapping like an old woman, and I'm tempted to tell him to shut the fuck up because it's starting to really irritate me, particularly when he's normally so calm, but I know I have to wait until transition to get away with screaming at him.
“Sssh,” Viv's trying to listen to the midwife. “Okay. Okay. So in about an hour? Fine. See you then.”
“Well? Well?”
“They said that you ought to come in because of the risk of infection, but not to worry too much, and if you wanted to turn up in about an hour, that would be fine.”
“So let me just make this very clear.” I'm lying on a hospital bed, attached to a fetal monitor unit that is showing contractions are coming every two minutes. I've had the ghastly internal (I swear, the midwife's fingers were thicker than a bloody salami) and it appears I'm two centimeters dilated and could have hours left to go.
“Go home if you want,” she says. “You probably won't be ready until the morning and the best thing you can do is get a decent night's sleep, and you'll sleep far better at home.”
“Could I stay here?” I say doubtfully, knowing that after a nine-month wait nothing short of the army could get me out of this hospital bed now that I'm actually here. “What about the risk of infection?”
“Hardly any if you're sensible,” she says. “It's up to you, but I'd suggest home.”
“I think I'll