***
I roll onto my side and drape an arm over Adam’s waist, kissing the patch of skin at his neck. ‘The woman across the creek has a baby,’ I say conversationally, determined to change the subject and coax back Adam’s good mood. ‘A new one, five, six months old maybe. Lucky we’re on this side of the creek, hey?’
‘Erica?’ Adam’s brow furrows.
‘No, not her. The younger one, the one in the middle house.’
Adam shakes his head. ‘No, that can’t be right.’
I laugh. ‘What, you think I’ve imagined it? I saw her! She was holding a new baby. It was crying, I could hear it from here.’
‘What did she look like?’
‘Long, red hair. Quite beautiful, actually.’
Adam taps a finger to his lips. ‘I don’t think I actually ever met Rob’s wife, but I’ve seen photos on Facebook and I’m fairly sure she had red hair. Hmm. Maybe she was babysitting or something.’
‘Ah. I didn’t know breastfeeding was part of babysitting services these days.’ I blush at what I’ve accidentally confessed. ‘Er, not that I was looking. I couldn’t help but see. She was standing right in the window.’
Adam looks strangely pensive.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s just I’d heard they … you, know. Couldn’t. But maybe I’ve got that wrong. What did Rob say her name was …? Oh, I have it. Delilah! Like the song.’
I stare at him blankly and he laughs. ‘‘Hey there, Delilah’. No?’
‘Must be before my time,’ I quip and Adam grins. He leans in and kisses me on the lips.
‘Dee, Rob calls her. He’s been a local since Dad bought this place. Decent guy. I had a few pints with him at the pub once or twice and he got quite pissed one night … I’m pretty sure I remember him saying he was keen for kids, but …’ He looks thoughtful, then breaks into a warm smile. ‘Well, that’s great news! Good for them.’
I think of the woman, the jaybird cries of the flailing infant. ‘Is it?’ I say with a snort.
Adam tugs me to his chest, his stubble grazing my cheek. ‘I said it’s good for them,’ he repeats. And we both laugh.
Chapter 4
Dee
December, 2016
Monday, 9:45pm
Recovery Unit, Brave Cove Hospital
‘That’s not how you do it, little one,’ the midwife, Lisa, is cooing while another midwife I’ve never seen before hovers at my bedside. ‘You need to open your mouth, darling.’
Lisa’s been here since 7:30 this morning, and until recently I’ve been glad to have her around, but right now I just want her to fuck off.
I’m exhausted, numb with shock and disbelief, and the tiny creature she’s trying to coax to suckle at my breast looks bizarre and alien to me. She’s too skinny and doesn’t look right. Her features are unfamiliar; nothing about her is anything close to what I expected.
Lisa’s persisting with the breastfeeding, even though nothing’s happening. The baby doesn’t even seem to realise I’m it’s mother. I’m feeling more than faintly irritated. I don’t give a shit about breastfeeding right now. I don’t give a shit about anything. I just want to sleep. The lights are too bright in here, and I’m so groggy I feel half dead. I want everyone to go away and leave me alone instead of expecting me to pass some fucking breastfeeding exam when I’ve been in labour all day and was just drugged to the eyeballs after my emergency C-section went wrong. It’s all I can do not to shout at them all; except of course I haven’t the energy for that.
When the epidural wore off during the operation, the pain was so excruciating I screamed. I begged the anaesthetist for some relief (I swear to God he was the only person in the hospital who actually listened to what I wanted) and he was very obliging. He’d been there when they first started cutting me open; I asked him whether it was happening yet, as I was feeling a faint pulling around my abdomen. He told me yes, it had begun, and I remember lying there looking up at Rob, both of us paralysed by the enormity of what was happening.
I can’t remember what drug I was given, but it knocked me out so much I could barely process anything. Once it – Ruby – was out, they allowed Rob to cut the cord before taking him away. I couldn’t believe it. Why had they taken Rob away? Where was the baby? It seemed appalling that after what I’d just endured, my husband got to see our baby before I did. When I’d done all the work, made all the sacrifices, and was still lying on an operating table with my abdomen sliced open.
‘Come on, sweetie, you can do it,’ Lisa’s coaxing me again, and I can’t take it anymore. Where is Rob? Does he know where I am? That the baby and I are okay? It seems ridiculous that family aren’t allowed to be in the recovery room.
I try to speak but I can only croak. The midwives are oblivious to me anyway; the focus is all on Ruby. Is this the way it will be, now? Am I to be invisible forever?
How long do I have to lie here and let them do this to me? I just want them to take it away – for everyone to just leave me alone and let me rest.
Finally, finally, they accept defeat and they tell me Ruby needs to go to the special care unit. I’m not sure why and I don’t have the strength to ask. I know in some deep part of my brain that I shouldn’t want her to go, I should be wanting to hold her, to bond with her. But I feel none of that. I only want to close my eyes and have everything disappear. When they take her, all I feel is relief.
In the furthest corners of my consciousness, I’m aware that this isn’t right. My baby shouldn’t be an ‘it’ – it should be a she, Ruby. The name we chose for her the moment she came out with flame red hair. And I should be wanting to hold her. But the pain is creeping back in, even though the drugs are clearly still in my system, as my head feels like it’s full of concrete and I can barely keep my eyes open.
***
10:30pm
The next thing I know, I’m in a hospital bed in a tiny space with half-drawn curtains all around me. I’m in agony, the whole lower half of my torso feels like it’s on fire, but I can’t seem to move; I can barely lift my pinkie finger. Has something gone wrong? I can’t even call for help. I can barely breathe, let alone speak.
Every part of me yearns for sleep, but the pain keeps me conscious. It’s dark in here; the only visible light is a soft orange glow coming from behind the curtain next to me, and the one in front. What time is it? I don’t remember being brought here, and I don’t know where Rob and Ruby are. Why have I been left here alone? I want to die. The pain is too much; I simply can’t bear it.
I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here when Rob appears. His eyes widen when he sees me. ‘Are you okay?’
I try to speak but the pain is too much and I can only whisper. He leans in and puts his ear near my mouth. ‘Please. Help.’
‘What is it? What do you need?’ Rob looks panicked.
‘Pain. I’m … in … pain.’
Rob nods and springs into action. He disappears for a minute then reappears with a nurse who tells me they’ll contact the pain team, but it might be a while as they’re in the operating theatre.