She got a little compact from her bag, then held the mirror between her legs, but couldn’t see over her bump.
“Feck.” Then she looked at her face. “Look at the cut of me, I’m all red and shiny.”
She combed her hair, refreshed her lipstick, and powdered her red cheeks. “Who knew labor was so unflattering?”
“Get out of bed and squat,” I said. In the Perfect Birth classes we’d been taught that squatting would speed up dilation. “Gravity is your friend,” I reminded her. “Use it.”
“Thank you, O Spinner of Shite.”
Time passed nightmarishly slowly. When the contractions were two and a half minutes apart, she said, “I thought the pain was unbearable before, but it’s much worse now. Get the bitch nurse, will you, Anna?”
Almost in tears, I hurried off down the corridor, relieved to be doing something useful. Racing toward me was a heavily pregnant woman; she was naked and drenched and wild-eyed. A bearded man was slapping along in her wake; he was also naked (and revolting. Orangey pubes). “Ramona, come back to the birthing pool,” he ordered.
“Fuck the birthing pool,” Ramona shrieked. “Fuck that fucking pool. No one told me it would hurt this bad. I’m having an epidural.”
“No drugs,” Orangey Pubes said. “We agreed no drugs! We want a beautiful natural experience.”
“You can have the beautiful natural experience, I’m having drugs.”
I found the same nurse as last time; she copped another feel of Jacqui’s cervix. “Still not dilated enough.”
“That’s bollocks. I am dilated enough. It’s just because you don’t want to get the anesthetist out of bed. You fancy him, don’t you. Go on, admit it.”
The nurse blushed and Jacqui yelled, “Ha-ha! Gotcha!”
But it did Jacqui no good. The epidural was still not forthcoming and the nurse joined Orangey Pubes in hot pursuit of Ramona, who was still refusing to return to the birthing pool. The sounds of the three of them slipping and scuffling outside in the corridor provided entertainment for a good while. At some stage I noticed it was ten in the morning, so I rang work and left a message with Teenie, telling her what was happening.
Then the midwife appeared and had a good long fiddle up Jacqui’s “canal.”
“God, there’s no dignity in this at all,” Jacqui complained.
“You should be ready to start pushing,” the midwife said.
“I’m pushing nothing until I get my epidural. Oh, holy Jaysus,” she screeched. “It’s happening all the time now. It’s one long fucking contraction.”
“Push,” the midwife urged.
Jacqui huffed and puffed frantically, when the curtains swished aside dramatically and who was standing there, only Narky Joey.
“What’s he doing here?” Jacqui yelled.
“I love you.”
“Close the curtains, asshole!”
“Yeah, sorry.” He pulled the curtains closed behind him. “I love you, Jacqui. I’m sorry, sorrier than I’ve ever been about anything.”
“I don’t care! Get out. I’m in agony and this is all your fucking fault.”
“Jacqui, push!”
“Jacqui, I love you.”
“Shut up, Joey, I’m TRYING to push. And it makes no difference if you love me because I’m never having sex again.”
Joey came nearer. “I love you.”
“Get away from me,” Jacqui screeched. “Get away from me with your man’s thing!”
The nurse reappeared. “What’s happening now?”
“Please, oh please, lovely nurse, can I have my epidural now?” Jacqui begged.
The nurse had a quick feel, then shook her head. “It’s too late.”
“What? How can that be? Last time it was too soon, this time it’s too late! You were never going to give it to me.”
“Give her the goddamned epidural,” Joey said.
“You shut up.” From Jacqui.
“Keep pushing,” the midwife said.
“Yeah, push, Jacqui,” Joey said. “Push, push.”
“Would someone tell him to shut up.”
“Jacqui.” I was staring between her legs, in high alarm. “Something’s happening!”
“What?”
“It’s the head,” the midwife said.
Oh yes, the head. Of course. For a minute I’d thought Jacqui’s insides were coming out.
More and more of the head appeared. Oh my God, it was a human being, an actual new human being! It happens every day, millions of times, but when you see it happening with your own two eyes, it’s nothing short of miraculous.
And then its face appeared.
“It’s a baby,” I yelped. “It’s a baby!”
“What were you expecting?” Jacqui gasped. “A Miu Miu handbag?”
Then the shoulders had appeared, and with a gentle tug, the baby slithered out. The midwife counted ten fingers, ten toes, then said, “Congratulations, Jacqui, you’ve got a beautiful baby girl.”
Narky Joey was in floods. It was hilarious.
The midwife swaddled the baby in a blanket, then handed her to Jacqui, who cooed, “Welcome to the world, Treakil Pom-pom Vuitton Staniforth.”
It was a beautiful moment.
“Can I see her?” Joey asked.
“Not yet. Give her to Anna,” Jacqui ordered. “Let Anna have a go of her.”
Into my arms was placed a tiny scrunched-faced mewing bundle, a new person. A new life. Her doll-size shrimp fingers stretched up at me, and in my heart, the last shard of bitterness toward Aidan melted and I recognized the feeling I hadn’t been able to name earlier. It was love.
I handed Treakil to Joey.
“I’ll leave you three to get to know each other,” I said.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Boston.”
103
When we touched down at Logan Airport I was the first off the plane. Dry-mouthed with anticipation, I followed the signs for arrivals. As fast as I was going, fast enough to make me breathless, the walk still seemed to take forever. I clip-clopped along the linoleum floors, breathing hard, sweat patches under my arms.
My grown-up ladies’ handbag bounced against my side. The only thing to mar my sophisticated image was Dogly, whose head was sticking out of my bag. His ears were swinging enthusiastically and he looked like he was checking out everything we passed. He seemed to approve. Dogly was going back to his Boston roots. I’d miss him but it was the right thing to do.