Once we’d polished-off all the food, and drank gallons of tea and coffee, Davey and I excused ourselves, and went and got the gifts we’d sought out for all of them, ‘thank-you’s from Davey for coming to our wedding, and from me, for being such good and loyal friends of Davey; these were the people he’d lived and studied with, schoolfriends and proxy family, and they and their families had cared for him when he was alone and so far from home, something I will always be grateful for.
For Sai and Harry, Davey had found a pristine antiquarian copy of ‘Ivanhoe’, Harry’s favorite book when he was a boy, and a beautiful antique gilded-silver mirror and bangle from the vault for the baby; Sai wore a beautiful Jade pendant, an exquisite antique Japanese carving of two rats rolling an egg, and we doubted we could get her anything more beautiful than that. For Jack and Teruko’s baby, Davey had found a lovely little Victorian ruby and smoky amethyst gold pendant on a fine gold chain, and for Linda, I’d found a tiny little Art Deco Jaeger LeCoultre watch, a classic look for a classic beauty.
When they had to leave, I had a huge lump in my throat; even after such a short acquaintance they felt like family, and letting them go was a real wrench; even Davey was feeling it, if the quiver of his lip and his frequent swallowing was anything to go by; the sad, longing look on his face when they left was heartrending, but the dear man still comforted me.
“Don’t be too sad, baby; we’ll be seeing them all again soon; the babies are due in a few weeks, we’ll have a knees-up then, don’t you worry…”
The way he said it told me he was really telling himself, comforting himself, but his arms around me never relaxed, and his lips brushing my ear were still as loving and gentle as ever.
*
Life soon settled back into a normal routine; Davey and his studies/training took up an increasing amount of time, which dismayed me, but, to be honest, he had warned me all those months ago that this was going to happen; he was the most junior surgical trainee, so his professors and mentors loaded him down with as full a calendar as they could manage. This was his ‘make or break’ time. Either he buckled-down, or he just buckled, period. Davey kept his shoulder to the wheel and kept going; sixteen-hour days became the norm; he’d come home so tired he couldn’t even climb the stairs, and I’d just leave him on the couch, still fully-dressed, with a quilt over him and a couple of pillows, so tired, and so deeply asleep I could barely detect life-signs, let alone snoring.
Sophie and Uncle Richard were my mainstays during this time. Poor Davey wanted so much to be part of my pregnancy as more and more milestones were reached and passed, and I did occasionally resent the amount of time he put in at the hospital, but Sophie reminded me when I flagged that he’d told me this was coming, he’d given me fair warning, he’d even offered to give it all up to remain in Maine and go into family medicine, and I’d balked at that, instead I’d promised him I’d support him, and times like this were when he needed me most.
I understood and accepted what she said, because I knew Davey was his father’s son. He had to be all he could be, because if he didn’t, then in his mind he’d be nothing, and that would be the end of him. I would never let that happen; Davey was my world, I wanted him to be sure in his mind that he was doing the right thing, so I sometimes had to bite my tongue and instead of exploding over the life we were leading, I’d tell him I loved him and to keep reaching for the prize, even if I was shrieking with frustration and loneliness inside.
Those were the days I needed Mom most, and that was when Sophie made the most difference. I had Uncle Richard to be my dad, Jimmy to be the man who did my ‘honey-do’s’, Rosie to be my gal-pal, and Richard and Hugo to be my big brothers, even if they were moping around 90% of the time because Josie and Sara had gone back to Des Moines to clue-in their respective parents and wrap-up their affairs, but Aunt Sophie was my lifeline, my reality-check, and the island of calm sanity I so desperately needed.
To keep me occupied, I started helping Sophie in a new venture; after much nagging from me, and a few gentle nudges from Richard, she’d agreed to put her talent for organization and masses of connections to good use, and had begun organizing Country-House events, engagement parties, christenings, even village fairs and fete’s.
To her pleased surprise, she was a success; most social events in the county tended to be haphazard affairs, especially weddings, which were usually organized by the bride, her bestie, or her mom, and, unless the mom was the kind of formidable woman that Sophie could be, they were usually verging on shambolic. Sophie, with her bottomless address book, her vast pool of specialist dressmakers, caterers, florists, and decorators, and the names of the best cake-makers in the kingdom at her fingertips, became, almost overnight, the go-to for a properly organized, genteel, and memorable wedding, christening, 18th birthday, or engagement party. I was her backstop, Watson to her Holmes, with Rosie occasionally drafted in as tail-gunner, and Jimmy reprising his role as pack-horse, silent muscle, and token person to complain at.
All this helped to distract me from the fact Davey was away from my side for so long, so imagine my relief when, three days before my due date he came home at his usual ungodly hour, threw his clothes across the bed, and grabbed me.
“Guess what, sweetness?” he grinned, “A whole three weeks, I’ve actually got three weeks off, no early mornings, no late nights, cammere!”
I was so relieved, I was afraid I’d be in the delivery room and he’d be locked in the cardiovascular unit while I went through the delivery alone, but now he was here, and a whole freight-train of worries I hadn’t realized I was pulling behind me just uncoupled and disappeared.
Being nine months pregnant meant we had to tone-down our sexcapades somewhat; obviously, ‘Missionary’ was out of the question, so Davey could really only fuck me in the doggy position, and while I had no problems suckling him and letting him fill my mouth, my breasts were so distended and sore he was loath to touch them; where once all he had to do was rub my nipples while ramming into me to set me off like a Roman Candle, the pain in my breasts, and the ache in my back, meant our sex-life had cooled right down; the desire was there, don’t get me wrong; the sight of Davey naked always makes me horny and ready to rock ‘n’ roll, but biology and Mother Nature kept getting in the way.
What made it worse was the thought that once baby Charlie made his appearance, we’d have to wait six weeks after the delivery before we could make whoopee, and it made me almost want to cry in frustration; here I was, ready to pop any day now, and all I could think of was breaking beds with my blonde hot-boy; I was near to going out of my mind with need, and the thought of another six weeks of enforced abstinence meant I was a crabby, tetchy, bitchy mess, and poor Davey usually got the sharp-end of it. I think Uncle Richard had kind of warned him what was coming, because his look of almost saintly forbearance made me want to trip him up and just beat the shit out of him; humor me, would he? Give me half a chance and a clear shot and I’d have wiped that tolerant look off his phiz, you betcha!
I think he was almost relieved when, bang on time, I woke him at almost four in the morning to tell him my waters had broken, so could he kindly get dressed, grab the hospital bag, and get me the fuck to the hospital, because Charlie was on his way. I called Sophie while Davey went into ‘well-controlled Blind-Panic’ mode, and when he started having hysterics because he couldn’t find the car keys, I had to grab his face, squeeze his cheeks, hard, to shut him the fuck up, and point to the car-keys hanging on the front door, where they’d been kept all week, all ready to go when this happened.
I’d always thought of Davey as ‘Mr. Cool’, but now that ‘slightly-raised-eyebrow-in-the-face-of-oncoming death, Joe-Cool’ facade of his was in shreds as he gibbered and dithered. I got him in the car by simply twisting his arm up his back and frog-marching him to the car, then shoving him into the driver’s seat, hoisting my overnight bag into the back seat, and helping myself into the car, because I think he’d forgotten about me in his panic.
We drove to the hospital mostly on auto-pilot, Davey’s knuckles white on the wheel and his face pale and set, but he still remembered to drive carefully through the unlit country roads and lanes. Sophie and Uncle Richard were there at the hospital, and that’s when I finally lost it, but Sophie quickly marshalled the midwives and night-staff and got me in a gown, in a chair, and wheeled into the Mother-Baby unit, with Davey gowned-up and pushing me, and Sophie in attendance.
I was in labor for an agonizing nine hours; during that time, I alternated between panicking, wanting Davey to hold me, kiss me, come closer so I could throttle him, stab him, bash his face in for doing this to me, hating his guts and making graphic death-threats, telling him exactly what I thought of him, his family, England, the Queen, mother’s chicken soup, everything, really.
Poor Davey took it all with that stoic, tolerant look he’d developed to cope with my third-trimester anger, frustration, and resentment, and I found time to promise myself he was going to pay dearly; he had 32 teeth in his head, he could probably spare a few, because I was going to punch that saintly look off his face…
As you can probably tell, at that point I was past rational and deep in my world of pain; I’d refused an epidural, something about the thought of it worried me, so I was relying on gas and my hatred of Davey to pull me out of this incredible pain.
Once the baby crowned, though, it all went so quickly I was amazed; from agonizing contractions to suddenly almost nothing, it was incredible. I didn’t click at first, I was so hot, sweaty, tired, and just worn-down it took me a second to see the tears running down Davey’s face, but then my baby cried as they suctioned his airway, and my hair literally stood on end as my nipples gave an almighty throb at the sound of his little voice.