“Rebecca’s doing great!” says Paula. She comes into the room and gently takes my coat out of my hands. “Four centimeters dilated already and she’s had no pain relief!”
“No pain relief?” Suze looks staggered. “Bex, I thought you were having an epidural!”
“Um…” I swallow hard.
“But she won’t put on a hospital gown for us,” adds Paula in reproof.
“Of course she won’t!” says Suze indignantly. “They’re revolting. Bex, didn’t you bring your bag? Don’t worry, I’ll go and buy you a T-shirt. And we need some music in here, and some candles maybe….” She looks around critically.
“Um…Suze…” My stomach is bunched with nerves. “Actually…”
“Knock, knock!” There’s a fresh voice at the door. “It’s Louisa here! Can we come in?”
Louisa? This can’t be happening. She’s the aromatherapist I hired for the birth. How the hell did she…
“Your mum’s been busy calling all the people on your list, just to make sure they knew!” Suze beams. “She’s so efficient! They’re all on their way.”
I can’t cope. Everything’s moving too quickly. Louisa has already got out some little vials of oils and is rubbing something orangey on the back of my neck. “There!” she says. “Does that feel good?”
“Lovely!” I manage.
“Becky!” Mum’s shrill voice is sounding from outside the room. “My darling!” She comes rushing in, clutching a bunch of flowers and a paper bag full of croissants. “Sit down! Take it easy! Where’s your epidural?”
“She’s managing without one!” says Suze. “Isn’t she amazing?”
“Without one?” Mum looks appalled.
“Becky’s using yoga and breathing techniques to cope with the pain,” says Paula proudly. “Aren’t you, Becky? She’s already four centimeters!”
“Love, don’t put yourself through it.” Mum grabs my arm, looking close to tears. “Accept the pain relief! Take the drugs.”
I feel like my tongue’s glued to the bottom of my mouth.
“Now, this is jasmine oil,” comes Louisa’s gentle voice in my ear. “I’ll rub it into your temples….”
“Becky?” Mum says anxiously. “Can you hear me?”
“Maybe she’s having a contraction!” exclaims Suze, grabbing my hand. “Bex, breathe….”
“You can do it, love!” Mum’s face is screwing up tighter and tighter, as though she’s in labor herself.
“Focus on the baby.” Paula’s eyes are gazing intently into mine. “Focus on that lovely baby of yours coming out into the world….”
“Look.” I finally find my voice. “I…the thing is, I’m not in labor….”
“Becky, you are.” Paula rests her hands on my shoulders.
“Bex, conserve your energy!” Suze shoves a straw into my mouth. “Have some Lucozade. Then you’ll feel better!” Helplessly I suck at the sickly drink, and then stop dead as I hear hurried footsteps approaching. I know those footsteps. The door swings open and this time it’s Luke, his face pale, his eyes dark and tense as he surveys the room.
“Thank God. Thank God I’m not too late….” He seems almost speechless as he comes toward me on the bed. “Becky, I love you so much…. I’m so proud of you….”
“Hi, Luke,” I say feebly.
Now what the fuck do I do?
The thing is, in a lot of ways this is the perfect birth.
It’s twenty minutes later and the room is full of people. Felicity the reflexologist has arrived and is manipulating my toes. Maria the homeopath is measuring out some pills for me to take. Louisa is arranging essential oil burners around the place.
I have Mum and Suze sitting on one side of me, with Luke on the other. I’ve got a flannel on my forehead and a water spray in my hand and I’m wearing a long baggy T-shirt which Suze and Mum basically manhandled me into. I’m relaxed, music is playing, I’m managing without an epidural….
There’s only one tiny hitch. And I still haven’t plucked up the courage to tell anyone.
“Becky, would you like some gas and air?” Paula is approaching me with a face mask attached to a tube. “Just to take the edge off the pain.”
“Er…” I hesitate. “Well, OK. Thanks!”
“Breathe it in just as you feel the contraction beginning,” Paula instructs, handing me the mouthpiece. “Don’t leave it too late!”