Page 10 of How We Loved

October

3rd October

I’ve been signed off uni completely, and Juanita is panicking–as she’s a pro with years of experience, her panic is a tad worrying. She’s supposed to be supportive and calm, not setting my blood pressure on high every time I see her and she gets her measuring tape out. This blasted baby (sorry, my precious, if you ever read this, but you are being a bloody pickle) won’t turn. I’ve been sleeping on my left - nothing. Laying with my pelvis raised higher than my head - nothing. Applying a cold compress to my stomach near the baby’s head - nothing. Tomorrow, Juanita is going to try and manipulate it into moving. Apparently, they don’t like to do this unless absolutely necessary because it can really annoy the baby.

I’m not being funny, but if the baby is experiencing the same hormones as me right now, I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s pretty annoyed anyway.

Ben and I have had words. “You’re just being ridiculous,” he told me earlier over a strained cheese sandwich lunch.

I stared at him in disbelief. “Sorry, what now?”

“This whole thing, the NHS, the home birth. You’re just being difficult. It’s like you don’t want me to help you. Is this some sort of punishment for me not being here in the early days?”

“What? Why would I be punishing you for something that was fifty percent my fault?” Thirty percent, I added in my head, but I didn’t say it out loud. Clearly, I need to dial back my attitude a bit. “I just want, for once in my life, to do something well, do something right.”

Ben’s shoulders dropped, and he came to his knees in front of me. “My love, everything you do is right, I just don’t want you taking a gamble with our baby all because you’re still trying to prove something to your mum and dad, to yourself, maybe?” He waited for me to say something. Actually, he was probably waiting for me to rip his head off and shove it up his arse. Who knows what can happen with me at the moment?

“I’m not,” was all I managed because I had tears building up. “Ben, I’m not proving anything. Just for once in my life, let’s do it my way, our baby is going to be perfect, and Juanita is going to birth him or her perfectly, the NHS are going to deliver it for us.”

He opened his mouth, letting it flap open for a moment, those cornflower blues just staring at me. “Okay. Okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t want to argue with you, Lilah. This is supposed to be the best time of our lives.”

“Before it’s ruined forever by a child we can’t leave alone for sixteen years.” I said, but then was hit by this awful moment of panic. “Oh my God. What if I accidentally leave it in Asda?”

Ben chuckled and shifted along the sofa to pull me into his chest. “You won’t.”

“I might! It could definitely happen.”

“Not on my watch.”

“But what if you’re not here?”

“Then we don’t have to worry. You never go food shopping anyway.” He grinned at me, and the storming vortex of sheer and absolute panic inside of me receded. I snuggled into his side, well I got as close as I could without the baby kicking me in the ribs… It took a moment for me to realise what this meant.

“The baby!” I screeched, making Ben rub his ear. “It’s moved.”

Ben moved away to create some space and placed his hands on the baby. “It feels the same to me.”

“No, wait.” I rubbed a little circle where I’d just felt the kick - and can I just say for the sake of posterity that the kick of a baby at this point in pregnancy is not a cute little bubble or popping sensation.

No.

It’s like being kicked in the vag by a Shire horse. Sure enough though, the baby pressed its foot back where I’d rubbed, an almost foot-shape morphed through my skin. Ben’s eyes widened with bright surprise.

“Hello, baby.” He rubbed a little circle and also got a small nudge in return. “I love you, little one,” he whispered, and my eyes filled with tears, again, tracking down my face.

Curse you hormones.

5th October

I’m bored.

Totally and utterly bored. How am I supposed to do another month of this? I’m going to die a long and slow death of boredom. Ben and I tried to have sex last night. Missionary was a no-go; the bump was just so present; I think both of us got turned off. That and the fact it’s so sodding big, Ben was almost on the other side of the room.

We ended up with a bit of spooning instead, but even that was uncomfortable.

Ben has booked a scan. He’s obsessed with them. At two hundred quid a pop for a private scan, this baby is eating into our holiday budget.

I’m thinking of shoving a pin in a map and seeing where it lands and then packing a suitcase and going there. That would surely be a better way to spend the money. Anyway, this particular scan is because he wants to see for sure that the baby has moved. He can’t just take my word that being kicked in the ribs is giving me an exact location of the baby’s position.