Days Like These

It doesn’t seem five minutes ago that I, we, found out I was pregnant with you. To say it was a surprise would be an understatement. Your dad and I went for a drink in the pub to talk about it, but I cried. He sat there, awkwardly, not knowing what to do, looking around as if waiting for someone to come and rescue him. He didn’t touch my arm or anything and that made it worse. But we were happy, we really were, it was just tricky.

And then I was lying on that uncomfortable hospital bed with the midwife from hell having a go at me because I wanted to push but she wouldn’t let me because she said I wasn’t ready. Your father slumped in a standard wooden framed hospital chair with the pale blue wipeable material, in case someone’s sick on it, moaning about how he thought he had a cold coming and was so, so ill. Cue fake sniffles and coughs, running the palm of his hand upwards, over his mouth and squishing up his nose so it looked like it did when you put your nose on the window as a kid.

Hours before, I’d been sat in the pub with Sasha, my best friend and your favourite godmother (though you don’t know it yet), having a quiet drink, catching up on the latest news and eating great food, cooked by Hugo the chef who’d been at The Crown since day one.

Around nine the twinges had started, like the ones I got when I ate too many salt and vinegar crisps, so Sasha and I made a not too hasty exit back to my place. Sasha and I hugged as we always did when it was time to say goodbye; or like we did the day before she married wonderful, reliable Gregory. I’d written her a letter telling her how much she meant to me and how grateful I was for her friendship. She’d hugged me harder and told me to stop being silly and we cried, holding hands. 

“Let me know as soon as anything happens, alright?”

“Of course, I will”

I closed the front door and nudged your dad, who was fast asleep on the sofa, a thin line of dribble running down the side of his cheek, his head sloped slightly to the right side. His eyes reddened, like he’d been crying but I knew it was because he’d either crashed from a long day at work or sunk a bottle of vodka on the way home. Or maybe both. I think we need to go.

Midwife-From-Hell seemed to be getting angrier with me and I more scared and less in control than ever. If I’m honest, I was terrified, but not of you, I promise. Then she left, to be replaced by an angel. She held my hand and stroked the back of it gently, looking kindly into my eyes, telling me everything was going to be alright and if I needed to push then that would be just fine. All the while she’d look between my eyes and what was going on down below, reassuring and encouraging me.

You were born at twenty to three in the morning, the relief audible as I let out a cry of happiness, joy and most of all the relief it was all over. Your father did his usual awkward smile whilst looking lovingly into your eyes, and sniffing. Look at her, she’s beautiful, isn’t she? We made her!

For those first few days, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Your big, dark marble-shaped eyes following the light, listening to my voice as I sang lullabies to you and fed you your bottle. Gently sucking on the teat, gazing up at me, trying to focus. You mesmerised me. You still do. You’re so beautiful, I never imagined it possible to love someone as much as I love you. It was always going to be a bottle, because I wanted your dad to be able to feed you, too. He was pretty good, you know, in the beginning but it was almost like he got bored. Well, not bored, distracted. I don’t think he’s ever been bored with you, he’s just had other priorities.

But that’s alright because today someone said you looked like me. It’s true. You’ve got my grandmother’s nose, short and chubby. The sort you can give a little boop to and it squishes in ever so slightly. You are my absolute world, Gracie. Everything about you is perfect. I could watch you all day, even when you’re sleeping. Watching your little chest rise up and down, your milk-induced smiles as you sleep, wondering what you could be dreaming about as your little fingers twitch under the blanket Auntie Georgina gave you, covering your tiny body. We walked into the town and along the river, down where the boats moor in the summer. Ducks were splashing about in the water and it made you jump when one quacked right next to your pram. I was thinking that when you’re a little bit older, we’ll come down here and feed them like I did with Lucy, your cousin. Oh my goodness, you’re going to love her. She’s going to be your best friend. I think she is already, to be honest. My sister, Georgina and Lucy, who’s nearly four, came to see you the other day but you probably don’t remember. Well, you won’t because you slept through the whole business. I let her hold you and she was oh so gentle. She sat on the sofa, her small, white pudgy arms waving, fingers wiggling excitedly in front of her reaching up as if to take you from me. With a cushion leant up against the side of the sofa, I gently placed you onto her lap and she kissed the top of your head and began to sing to you, barely audible, softly stroking your face.

“Little Gracie I love you, we can be friends forever and ever aaand I will look after you, for-e-e-ver” her own specially made up tune.

I know I’m going to love you forever, as is your dad, but like I said, he’s got other things to think about right now.

As we walked home, the sun was shining on your face and for a moment I was worried it would be too much for you. But I remembered my mum telling me that it was good for babies to get plenty of fresh air, but I put the pram canopy down anyway, just in case. I left the cover off though, your little legs still a little bit bunched up from where you’d been tucked up inside for so many months. Something else mum said, that it was good for babies to be able to stretch their legs. It’s funny when you do that, you know. When you’re having a stretch and your legs push out like an unfurling fern. They’re like little chicken legs. And your face screws up, like you’re going to cry but you don’t.

We bumped into Mrs Parry from next door. She’s been following our baby journey from the beginning. She doesn’t have any children so it’s like I’ve become her honorary daughter and by default, you her honorary granddaughter. I even swore her to secrecy and told her that if you were a girl you would be called Gracie. I hadn’t decided about a boy’s name. Probably Isaac or Daniel. She said, in that case, she hoped I had a baby girl.

Before you were born your dad and I went out and bought everything we needed for your nursery. Only the best for my baby. Your dad was so proud building your cot and little chest of drawers to keep all your new outfits in. He didn’t see the point in decorating the room, though, and because I was too fat and too tired to do it myself, it’s still pale blue, which I quite like. I think.

When we got home, there was no sign of your dad; your drunken, ever-loving, hard-working yet useless dad, even though his car was sat on the drive. Upstairs he was fast asleep on his back, on top of the bed. Early start tomorrow.

Even though it’s been a couple of weeks now, I think, I’m still feeling the effects of giving birth. I ache when we walk just a little bit too far and down there is sore. Nobody told me about the bleeding, either. I’m annoyed about that as it’s enough to cope with once a month, let alone for another few weeks.

I closed the door on your dad as you don’t need to see that at such a young age. You never know, things might have changed in a few months. He does love you though, you know.

In your nursery, there’s a bed in the corner for me too. Your dad and I, well your dad, decided that I would be the one to get up with you in the night if you woke as he had to be up early for work. It would be nice if he’d do it sometimes, just to give me a break. Not that I want a break from you, of course, but I hope if you were able to you’d understand what I mean.

I put you on the big bed for a moment while I adjusted your blankets. Make sure the blankets are tucked right in and their feet are at the bottom of the bed so they can’t slip down.

Then I gently picked you up, my hand under your head, your warm body encased in my grasp as I placed you into your cot, all the while gazing in wonder at your amazing perfection. And even though I had a total hold of you, there was still that fear that you’d slip out of my hands. Sometimes I can see it happening right in front of me and I feel sick. But I know it’s not real. I have to trust myself and know I won’t ever let that happen. I watched you for a whole hour as you slept, on your back, arms raised up to the side of your head, lips suckling in your slumber. From the bed I can still see you, I made sure that I could. I don’t want a minute when I can’t see you, when I don’t know where you are. How did I ever produce such perfection? I could literally cry you’re so amazing. We’re going to have such incredible adventures together, my darling.

But Gracie, I must sleep now. I’m so very tired.