Page 4 of How We Loved

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want to know you’re okay. If you’re okay, then we, this, will be okay.”

“I’m okay.” His gaze met mine.

“Promise me.”

“Cross my heart, hope to...”

I shut off his words with a kiss, and things were getting pretty enjoyable wedged on the sofa until we heard a strange cry coming from the outside of our front door. “What is that?” I pulled away from his kiss to ask.

“Shit, it’s the cat! We’ve left him downstairs at Tristan and Mer’s.”

I stared at him wide-eyed. “How the hell are we supposed to have a baby? We can’t even look after a cat.”

Ben ran for the door and let a howling Kit in.

Yep.

The baby might be in trouble.

We can do this, though, I think.

Normal service will return anytime soon. And maybe I will keep writing this diary? I might need it just to remember things like, feed the cat.

4th September

(Have given up swearing for the benefit of my unborn child)

I’m a bit worried about breastfeeding, I can’t lie. It’s just weird, isn’t it? All the baby books, and Netmums—my real source of pregnancy information, say it will come naturally, but what if it doesn’t?

I don’t know how I am supposed to feed a small person using equipment my boyfriend describes as his ‘fun bags’ it’s all a bit wrong.

Fiancée, not boyfriend. I keep forgetting the engaged bit.

But then I am pregnant and I am liable to forget my own name so I’m not reading too much into it. I think we’ve had enough weddings for a while. We can wait.

Something truly awful that’s happened, and I can’t believe it’s taken me days to remember… Mum wants to come to stay… I know. It’s awful.

“Mum,” I said to her the afternoon after the wedding, before Ben started carting everything up to our new home. We’d driven back in a convoy from the wedding, God knows why. I’d wanted to go straight for an afternoon nap, but she’d ruined it by deciding to announce as we all clambered stiff from the cars, me desperate for a wee, to announce that she planned to stay. Of course, we’d then had to all squeeze into Tristan and Mer’s flat while we talked it out. “Dad needs you. He’ll be lonely, and the baby isn’t coming for ages.”

Ben smirked behind Mum’s back and sliced his fingers across his throat in the age-old mime of ‘kill this idea right now’. Very helpful.

“Lilah. Let me help you. For once.”

“Yes, you can.” I tried to stay calm, but we all know that’s not that easy when Mum’s involved. I could feel my blood pressure rising by the moment. “But when the baby is here, we’ve got weeks.”

“Lilah. Look at the size of your ankles... you can’t be walking around on those.”

I looked down at my feet. I think it was the dancing at the wedding, but she was right; they were huge, and I couldn’t deny it. And when I say dancing, what I mean the swaying as previously reported; the force of gravity working against me didn’t allow for much else.

“Mum,” I stated, still trying to stay calm. Not easy. “I’m back to uni in a few days.”

“Uni! Lilah, when are you going to stop this? You’ve got nothing to prove.”

See, the woman doesn’t know me at all. Even her saying that is enough for me to want to attend lectures until I’m literally in labour and the baby is crowning (this is a technical term I’ve read about in the baby book - I couldn’t face the pictures. I’ll be eternally glad I didn’t Google that one).

“Mum, you’ve got to get used to the idea that this is what I want to do. I’ve got my finals next year and then, who knows.”

“You’re having a baby. You’ll have to get a job.”