“I know. I do understand.”
I liked Lorna, not just because she broke the monotony of my days, but because she was genuinely kind. She clearly had a passion for her work, and that shone through. But as much as I wanted to believe her, as much as I hoped she was right, it was really hard to stay positive when our session had finished. I would go back to my quiet room, waiting for the clock to tick slowly around to the time when Lucas would come and save me from myself. I called Bonnie's phone over and over again from my little prison, but it was always switched off. Isabel had been in touch with her band mates and the friends that she had contact details for, but nobody had seen her, or at least, nobody would admit to having seen her. It was a constant worry in the back of my mind, and part of me was furious at her for just disappearing without a trace. The police had said they were “looking into it,” but it didn't seem to be making any difference.
And so the days crawled by. I doodled, read, stared out of the window and talked to my baby when I felt him moving. And slowly, just as Lorna had said I would, I began to get better. On my sixth session, I made it outside, standing in the rain, smiling like I'd just completed a triathlon, and feeling just as exhausted. On my next session I made it down to the small shop just outside the hospital. I bought myself a Crunchie and ate it on the bench outside, enjoying every single bite. And finally, four days after that, Lucas came in carrying two empty sports bags. He packed my things away, more haphazardly than I would have done, but I didn't care. I was going home. I bid goodbye to the nurses who had become friends to me during my stay, and I walked out of the hospital on my own two feet, determined I wouldn't be going back there for a very long time.
Chapter Fourteen
I pulled the tiny cotton baby-grows from the laundry basket, bringing each one to my nose, sniffing deeply before gently folding it. I placed each one in the drawer, knowing that the next time I would see it would be on my son. It had taken a long time for me to buy anything, let alone imagine it in use, but finally as I had made it to full term and the end of my pregnancy had come into view, I had accepted that I had made it this far without losing him, and something had changed inside me.
I'd been buying and washing and preparing like crazy in the last few days, and the house finally looked as though it were somewhere a baby might live. A little rocker sat in the corner of the bathroom, where I hoped the baby might sit or nap so I could shower, a row of sweet little animals on the bar which ran across it. I was filling up the drawer with clothes and hats and blankets, and I had even gone out and bought a car seat. It felt so good to see these things surrounding me.
I'd been signed off from the hospital four weeks previously, and though my leg was sometimes a little stiff in the mornings, it soon eased up and I was relieved to find I didn't seem to have any lasting damage from the break. I had bought Lorna flowers and chocolates, sad to say goodbye after she had given me so much support and encouragement during such a lonely period, and she had told me how proud she was of my determination to get moving again. I felt like I had a whole new lease of life, and I wanted to enjoy it.
Now as I bent over to put the last few bits in the drawer, I felt a sudden wave of blinding head-rush. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears, tiny white spots dancing in front of my eyes. I sank to my knees, breathing deeply, trying to shake it off. When it passed a few moments later a sharp pain stabbed just behind my ear. Another headache. I had been getting so many of them lately, but the midwife had assured me that my blood pressure was fine and it wasn't something to be concerned about. Seeing the bright blue cloudless sky out of the bedroom window, I decided I would make a cup of tea and sit in the fresh air until it passed.
It was peaceful in the back garden. I sat enjoying the silence, watching the bees darting around the honeysuckle bushes, weaving in and out of the flowerbed. It didn't take long for the headache to fade away. I had worried when I'd decided I wouldn't return to work after my accident, that I would be bored. That I would find the weeks until the baby arrived endless and lonely, as I had in the hospital. Instead though, there was a deep sense of peace and contentment to my days. I had been taking long walks along the river every morning. I had been gardening, pruning and planting, loving the closeness with nature.
There was just one thorn among my garden of roses and that was my little sister. She still, after almost five months, had not come back home. She was never far from my thoughts. Where was she? Why hadn't she at least called to find out if I was okay? If Isabel was right, Bonnie had freaked out because she thought I was going to die. Why hadn't she come back to comfort Isabel and Lucas? Why hadn't she come back to say her goodbyes, attend my funeral? Was she really such a coward? I knew why she was scared to face up to reality, but I couldn't stop myself resenting her selfish behaviour. I couldn't believe that she would abandon us all at such a tough time. She knew, more than most, how scared I was about this pregnancy. She knew Isabel would take on more than she should and would need her to step in. But still, she stayed away. I hoped when I saw her – if I saw her – again, that I would be able to find the strength to forgive her. To put aside my hurt and anger and accept her back into my life. But a small part of me wondered if I would have the strength to do it.
The sun was getting high now, and I decided to head back in and clean the bath. I needed to be doing something. I felt suddenly filled with energy, as if I could move mountains. As I stood up from the wooden bench, I heard a tiny pop. My eyes widened as I felt warm liquid trickle steadily down my legs, soaking my jeans. My waters had broken. I stood, awestruck and unmoving for a minute, digesting what this meant. My son was on his way. I was going to have my baby. And then, before I had even taken a step towards the house, a contraction rippled through my belly.
I had dreamed and imagined what this would feel like for so long. I'd read countless books, watched videos on YouTube, but this feeling, this powerful sensation was nothing like I had imagined it would be. I could feel every single muscle tightening in my abdomen. It took my breath away. A few seconds later, it was over, and I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing.
I rushed inside, stripping off my wet jeans and pants, throwing them into the washing machine. I realised my t-shirt was damp too, and pulled it off. I stood naked in the kitchen, wondering what I should do. Another contraction came then, and I smiled in relief and amazement. It was real. It was happening. When the contraction ended I had the sudden thought I should call someone. I should call Lucas. But I didn't want to. I had started this pregnancy alone. Just me and the baby, wondering, wishing and waiting to see if he would make it. It had been a special, extraordinary secret of my very own. The start of something deeply bonding, almost magically so, between the two of us. And now I realised I wanted it to end the same way. Me and my son. Just the two of us, our special, sacred birthing experience. I didn't feel fear. I didn't feel uncertainty. I felt absolutely powerful and I knew I could do this.