Birth in Suburbia by Carol Falaki (children's books read aloud txt) 📖

another drink?” he offered.
“No thanks,” she looked at her watch. “It’s time I left. Chrissy is collecting Natalie at 5.30PM.” She tried to settle Jonathan by putting a cushion at the end of the sofa for his head, but he stirred and woke. She struggled to her feet, Michael moved forward to offer her a hand but she declined,
“I’m fine thanks,” she said, “I’m used to this now, and not long to go, thank goodness.”
At the door they put their shoes on. “Thank you for listening, I’m sorry to have burdened you,” she apologised. Once again she found her eyes drawn to the photograph on the wall… and she understood. He followed her gaze.
“My wife.”
Debbie nodded.
“Thank you for your advice too,” he said, and smiled at her again with his blue deep eyes. There was an understanding between them. She felt comfortable with this. He bent and kissed her cheek. Debbie smiled and opened the door. Michael stood with his arm around a sleepy Jonathan’s shoulder. She turned to say goodbye and they waved and closed the door. The rain had stopped.


Chapter Twelve


Active Birth?


Debbie felt lighter during the drive home, but when she turned the car into the drive her anxiety returned. Despite this, she smiled at Natalie as they made a dash for the front door. The rain had started up again, although less persistent than earlier. She caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror. Her mascara had been washed from her eyelashes onto her upper cheeks. Her hair hung in tails. There was a message on the answer machine from Helen. Debbie sat Natalie in front of the TV with a drink and a biscuit and returned Helen’s call.
“I’m going in on Thursday, for induction,” Helen said.
“What did they say?”
“Well my cervix is not ripe, apparently it ripens before it can start to open - sounds fruity to me - but really it should go softer and shorter and change position. Mine is long, firm and posterior. Anterior is better.”
“Who told you that?”
“I asked the midwife, after I had an internal. It was uncomfortable. I suppose it wasn’t that bad. I just pretended it was a smear, closed my eyes and counted to ten. Then afterwards they give you a score and mine was three. I don’t think it was a good score because she said only three.”
“Perhaps they were scoring you for how well behaved you were for the internal,” Debbie joked.
“Should have been a ten out of ten for that,” Helen said. “But what it means is before they can break my waters to start me off I need to have my cervix ripened. That’s done with a pessary, which they put inside you. The worst thing is it can take two or three days for it to ripen, and if it doesn’t work they resort to a caesarean section.”
“So you might not have your baby on Thursday?”
“No, but it’s possible, because the pessary works quickly for some women. There’s a chance that my cervix will ripen anyway between now and then.”
“You could try some curry.”
“I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime. How are you Debbie?”
“I’m okay, thanks. Come round for coffee tomorrow if you’re up to it, and bring Liz if she’s free,” Debbie said. She had already decided not to mention her visit to Michael’s house, not yet. Helen might read something into it, knowing the insecurities she was experiencing with Sean.
When Chrissy arrived Debbie offered her tea,
“No thanks, I’d better dash, nothing prepared for dinner.”
“Mummy, we’ve been to Jonathan’s house,” Natalie said.
Debbie fetched Natalie’s coat but placed it on the chair when Chrissy said:
“I’ll have that cup of tea, if you insist.”
“I do,” Debbie laughed.
“Tell me everything,” Chrissy commanded.
“Okay,” Debbie told her everything she needed to know, but not everything. She described Michael’s house, what she had seen of it, painting a big picture with small details, like the shoes in the hall and the salad on the draining board. She told Chrissy about Billy the bully and then she remembered the summer show.
“Saturday afternoon. You must go, Chrissy,” she whispered, out of Natalie’s earshot, Michael is going to be there, to watch Jonathan.”
“I am going, but I’m working. I’m planning to make it there in time for Natalie’s song. What do you think of him, Debbie? Is he a nice guy, or what? You’re a good judge of character, do you think it’s worth me dreaming or shall I forget it?”
Debbie took a breath in, watching Chrissy, she framed her words carefully.
“I think he is a nice guy; deep. I would trust him, although there’s sadness and he’s not going to come
without baggage, but I think you could do a lot worse, Chrissy. Go for it, that’s my advice.”
At the door Debbie said,
“Keep me posted,” adding, “By the way, I forgot to tell you, Helen is going to be induced on Thursday, unless anything happens before then, so its fingers crossed all round.”
After she waved Chrissy and Natalie off, Debbie felt lonely. She had no idea what time to expect Sean home, but returned to the kitchen to prepare a meal.
Three days felt like 30 for Helen, each day brought anticipation with twinges and aches in all the right places. On Tuesday evening she had a few contractions when she was preparing for bed. She fell asleep and when she awoke they were gone. Her tummy was soft, and her baby a Karate expert, she told Liz over coffee on Wednesday afternoon.
Liz spent a lot of her time lately kneeling on all fours, or sitting on her birth ball with her thighs low in an attempt to keep her baby in an anterior position, she told Helen.
“It’s quite comfortable and I don’t know if it will work or not, but the concept is logical, someone at antenatal class told me about it,” she explained. “And what have I got to lose? The aim is to bring the weight of your baby’s back forward, keep it there and give the baby a better chance of settling into the best position
for when you go into labour. I’ve been doing this since I was 34 weeks. I try not to sit in an armchair with my feet up because reclining like that might encourage my baby to lie posterior.”
“I’m not sure what position my baby is in,” Helen said, “although her head has engaged at last.”
“Her head?”
“Please don’t say anything to Nigel, to anyone. I’ve known that it’s a girl since I had a scan, weeks ago. It’s been awful keeping it secret. Nigel has no idea. I haven’t told a soul, although I think Debbie guessed, at the barbecue, but she knew about our decision to wait until the day and hasn’t pressed me about it.”
“What will you call her?” Liz asked
“Chloe.”
Liz smiled. “That’s lovely. It’s so hard to pick a name. I still can’t decide. I think I’ll wait until I see what name suits him, or her.”
“You know, my bag’s been packed for five weeks. I’ve no idea what’s in it any more, and I’m too tired to have look and check.” Helen complained. “And going out to the shops is torture. If anyone else asks me ‘are you still here?’ I’ll hit them over the head with… anything. I can’t wait for it to be all over and done with. Thank God tomorrow’s Thursday.”
“I’ll go bananas if I go overdue. I’ve had enough already. I’ll come into the hospital and see you.”
“Ring the ward before you come; I’m really hoping to not be in there for very long.”
Debbie was looking forward to the active birth session, which started at seven. Sean promised to be home for six. She prepared a light meal and waited, hopeful they would talk about the baby, at least.
He was late.
“I was hoping to have a shower, but no time,” he said He made a sandwich from the meat on his plate. Complaining,
“Why can’t they do these things a bit later? I mean seven, doesn’t give you a chance to get home.”
Debbie stacked the dishes. Sean finished his coffee.
“I hope it’s worth the effort,” he said “and I hope there’s some other men there.”
To make it worse, Debbie dropped a glass when they were about to leave. It shattered into a hundred pieces covering the breadth of the kitchen floor. Sean fetched the vacuum cleaner while Debbie collected the few larger pieces. It was all cleared in a matter of minutes but was followed by a strained and silent journey to the hospital. By the time they found the room where the session was held the midwife had already started. The room was full and extra chairs had to be found for them.
Debbie was glad to see there were a lot of other men in the room. A quick glance sideways and she could see the relief on Sean’s face.
The chairs were set in a circle. A large blue ball was in the centre of the room and there was a doll
and what appeared to be a real skeletal pelvis resting on a chair next to a woman, who, Debbie guessed, was the midwife. Then they spotted Liz with Leo and Debbie waved.
Another sideways glance told Debbie Sean had relaxed. Together they listened to the midwife’s description of the initiation of labour, watched while she demonstrated with the doll and pelvis, which she assured them all was not part of a real person; how the baby’s head, leading the way, was flexed and rotated through the pelvis by the power of the contractions. Debbie found the explanations of the process of labour, and the potential effects of fear and the birth environment on labour, interesting, and this helped to build on the information she