Poor Oliver. He really must have thought that I'd gone mad, but he took all my whims and moods in stride. “Sweetie,” He whispered one night from beside me on the sofa at his mother's house, “Are you crying?”
I had been trying to hold my breath for several minutes, but upon hearing his voice, I burst out with a loud sob and bawled, “Yes!”
He immediately drew me into his arms, “What’s wrong?”
“That show!” I didn't want to admit what had actually set me off, so I kept it general.
“Huh?” He was sincerely confused, “Doctor Who is making you cry?” He paused, figuring out the true source, “Oh! It was the tissue commercial?”
“Yes!” I wailed and buried my face into his arm. I could feel him shaking gently as he held in a fit of laughter. “Shut up,” I mumbled and he shook harder.
I had the oddest cravings for food combinations as well during those nine months. I remember fixing breakfast for us one day. I was so proud of myself, it looked so delicious spread over the table, but when Oliver walked out he made such a face I baulked, “What?”
“What is this?”
“It's breakfast!”
He scratched his head and said nothing more, but still looked a bit put off as he sat down.
“Are you going to eat anything?” I asked, slightly offended.
Oliver paused, looking at me adoringly across the table, “I'd like to make some eggs. Would that be all right?”
“But I made breakfast!” I looked at the table and stopped immediately. It was only about eight o'clock in the morning and I'd prepared bean burritos with sour cream, sliced green apples, and large slices of birthday cake.
“Yeah,” Oliver agreed, seeing the expression on my face and realising I understood, “I think this is more-like for you than me.”
We both began to giggle.
It went beyond that, though. Those things are fairly normal. My pregnancy issues went further. Where most expectant mothers are exhausted and want to sleep more, there was me, who was suddenly ten times as energetic as I'd ever been. And that was saying loads considering my previous stamina.
“You need to sleep more,” Oliver wandered into the kitchen in the middle of the night and stood in the doorway in his pyjama pants, “Pregnancy has made you completely hyperactive. It‘s not good for you or the baby for you to be running around like a lunatic all the time.”
“I’m nesting.”
“It’s three in the bloody morning!” He objected, sounding as grumpy as his father, “We only have five rooms! The stove can wait until it’s light! Will you please come to bed?”
I did, but I had terrible insomnia. I was out of my mind cleaning most days and nights to ease it, reading during the day when the light was good. None of it helped me sleep any, but the cabin smelled absolutely wonderful.
Pregnancy had not only made me a connoisseur of bizarre food combinations and utterly hyperactive, but it had rendered me mildly retarded. I found myself losing track of time, redoing things I had already finished, bumping into things and hitting my head constantly. I couldn’t remember from one moment to the next what I was about to do just before I forgot. This made for a bad time at my job. I couldn’t concentrate. Halfway through my second trimester, I made mistakes that could have been avoided and I was reprimanded. The odd thing was that I didn’t care. My career wasn’t important to me anymore. Still, the attitude with which my supervisor approached me was annoying and I did not hold my tongue once I was home.
Oliver sat in his chair silently and listened to me as I vented. He was slow to speak, but when he did, what he said surprised me, “Well,” He leaned back and looked into my eyes, “Maybe you should think about staying home full time with the baby.”
I couldn't believe he was suggesting it. “And waste all that schooling?”
He scratched his chin, “Well, no. Not really. I’ve told Doctor Caldwell that we’d do well to have our own laboratory at the office. Do everything in house, so we don’t have to wait so long for results. He agrees, but we’d need someone to organize it. Mind, you could do that.”
“And how would I stay home with the baby if I did that?” I liked the idea of what he was saying, I just wasn't sure if we could manage it.
“Well, you wouldn’t have to be there all the time,” He explained. I could tell this was something he'd been thinking about for a while. Oliver often seemed as if he were incredibly spontaneous, and he could be, but more often than not when he made large moves they were pondered for a long period of time and ironed out in his mind so that there were no mistakes, “You set it up and help us hire a few people. If we needed you, you could bring the baby with you. It‘s a paediatric office, Love. The baby will fit right in.”
“How will we afford me not working?” I had to be sure before I agreed. I wasn't making a great salary, but it was half of his and together we were sure to do all right.
“We’ll deal with that,” He answered placidly, patting his knee to signal Duncan that he could join him on the chair, “I’m making more now and we’re beginning to catch up. I have my trust coming soon and that will put us ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Silvia,” His dark eyes bored right into my soul, “I’d rather have you home with our child than out making us rich. Some things money just isn’t worth.”
I put my notice in to the chagrin of my employers, who offered me a raise to stay. It was tempting, but a sharp kick from within my uterus told me it wasn’t a good idea. I declined and left the building with an intense feeling of relief. All my life I'd dreamed of being a scientist, but now the only thing that was important to me was my family. My husband and that little baby living inside of me were my main focus and I was thrilled I had the chance to dedicate my entire life to them. Working was a stress on my mind and on my body and I knew the baby and I were much better off just buzzing about the cabin and avoiding the cold winter that raged outside our doors. Plus my belly was getting so big I was having trouble getting in and out of my car. I wasn’t sure how long it would be before I couldn’t drive.
Not that I needed to. Oliver came home every night with a bag of goodies, kissed me on the mouth and then put his hands on and kissed my belly. “Hello, you muffin!” He’d say, “I heard you’ve been telling your mother you want oranges! Healthy choice! You’re going to be a clever one, you are!” and then he'd stand up and come back to me, “Come here,” He's take me into his arms, “I missed you all day.”
“I missed you, too. Are you hungry?”
It was a rhetorical question, of course. Oliver had been born starving and never ceased to be seeking a meal. And so we'd have dinner and then we'd sit together and chat and giggle or sometimes, just lie close and be quiet and enjoy the time we had alone.
He had been right, as he usually was, about Doctor Caldwell. The good doctor had enthusiastically taken Oliver on staff as an assistant doctor. He was grooming him to take over the practice when, three months later, as Oliver put it, “Being older than the first rays of light, he took his retirement and carked it on hols in Poland.” My husband was more than happy and willing to take a loan to purchase the practice from Missus Caldwell, which included a wide area around where we lived. He took out more money than he needed and by our eighth month, Oliver and I suddenly had some money to burn.
Well, what does one do when they have a baby on the way and money in the pocket? Pay off debts, I said! But Oliver responded, “Yes, Love, that, too!” and set about building the most beautiful nursery I had ever seen. He took everything out of the room we used for storage and put it up in the loft one Sunday. I watched him from my perch on the sofa without asking any questions until he began to pour hot water he had boiled into a bucket.
“What are you up to, Sweetheart?” I peered at him over my book.
“Alexander and Nigel should be here any time now,” He replied as he poured in dish soap into the water and swished it around with his arm. “Gor blimey! That’s hot!”
“That's nice, but I asked 'What are you up to', not ‘When will Alexander and Nigel arrive’,” I had to smile at him. He was so cute with his arm stuck in that red bucket.
He returned the grin, “I’m clearing out the office. Making a proper room for our baby, Love. Did you think I’d wait until spring?”
“Actually, I thought we would.”
The front door flew open with a bang before he could respond. Alexander and a bundle of blankets that was Nigel stumbled in and forced it closed against the wind. “It’s bloody insane, that wind!” Alex leaned against the door before he took off his hat and shook it at Duncan, who rushed straight over to play, “Silvia!” He looked up at me with a huge smile, “You’re round as all those apples you eat! You look absolutely beautiful! Give me a hug!”
“Give me that baby!” I waddled into the room and took Nigel from his father, “Hello, My Little Muffin!” Nigel peered up at me and smiled, sucking on his tiny fingers. “Oh, how I love you, Nigel Jacob Dickinson!” I peeled away the blankets and kissed his squishy face.
“I’m getting water all over the floor,” Alex apologized, tugging off a boot with Duncan attached to it, “Sorry, Sil. I know you’re keeping a clean house these days.”
“No worries,” I shooed the dog, “Where’s your wife, Alexander? Off having another botched series of collagen lip injections?”
“She’s working,” He shook his head, “You just can’t stop, can you?”
“Not when it’s so easy and so much bloody fun!”
“Well, that’s her real mouth. I’ve seen pictures when she was a child.”
“That’s a tragedy!”
“Ah, I still love you, Sil,” He unbuttoned his coat, “There’s nothing you could ever do to make me stop, either, so please quit trying.”
“Ah-ha-ha-ha!” I kissed Alexander on his frozen cheek “You’re the one who taught me how to be evil! I was so sweet before I met you!”
He paused for a second, “Well, yes. That may be true.”
“It is true,” Oliver confirmed it, “Remember that innocent little girl we once knew? Now she’s self-proclaimed evil! You corrupted her!”
Alexander gave me a smile, “Well, at least I taught you well.”
I sat with Nigel in the front room and played with him while the twins cleaned the walls in what was to be the nursery. “Do you know the Muffin Man? I do! I do!” The baby squealed in delight as I tickled him. “I know the Muffin Man! His name is Nigel and he’s the most handsome bloke in Wales! He is! Oh, yes, he is!”
After a while Alexander came out and put his coat and boots back on. He went off into the garden and came back with four buckets of paint and a large black bag strapped to his back.
“You’re painting in this?” I asked seriously. “It’s a bit cold, isn’t it?”
“I am and you’ll stay out of there if you know what’s good for you. The window will be cracked, Sil,” He walked past me with the coat still on, “Take care of my boy!”
“I am!” I called after him and returned to Nigel, who was my most favourite pastime. “We don’t need them, do we? No, we don’t! We have each other and jars of smashed bananas!”
I was not allowed in that nursery until the following evening after a furniture delivery truck came and left several large boxes, “Oliver!”
“A changing table and a wardrobe,” He wrapped me in his arms, too excited to let me find out for myself, “And a wee little cradle, all for the baby,” He was so proud of himself his chest puffed, “And a rocking chair that glides for my beautiful wee little mummy.”
“I love you so much!”
“I love you both so much! Come and see the new room, yeah?”
“I’d love it!”
He led me back by the hand through the doorway. My free one immediately flew up over my mouth. It was gorgeous. My husband and his twin brother were both artists in their own right, but they had outdone themselves. On the first wall as you entered was a mural of little boys and girls and fuzzy white lambs playing about on a rolling green pasture beneath a cloud scattered sky. Another wall was a rainbow with birds of all colours and sizes soaring all around it. Beneath the rainbow, they had added an eagle that was being chased by a dragon above a small cabin in a wood. I was relieved that the eagle was not yet clamped the dragon’s jaws. The third wall was painted with scenes from a child’s nursery rhymes. Lines from different stories were heading in all directions around the people and animals from the tales. And on the final wall, surrounding the door, were creatures from the sea, friendly looking dolphins and whales and colourful fishes, splashing after each other in a playful game of chase.
Tears were rolling down my cheeks.
“Do you like it, Love?” He asked quietly.
“It’s more than beautiful! It’s…there are not words, Oliver!” I looked up into his face, “This was all your idea, wasn’t it?”
“I couldn’t have done all this without Alexander. He’s really the one with the talent.” He looked around proudly. “But, yeah, the idea was mine.”
“I honestly do not think that I can be happier than I am right now,” I wiped away my tears before I put my arms around my husband and more spilled out, “I think if I was any happier than this I would just die!”
“Then don’t get any happier,” Oliver told me seriously. “Because we have a baby to be born and I need you to help me raise it. I can’t have you dying. I couldn’t stand it.”
“Marry me, Oliver?”
He looked down at my bulging belly, “You should have thought of that before you seduced me, Silvia! We’re a little late in the game for marrying! Everyone knows I got you pregnant!” He could always make me laugh. “But, yeah, OK, I’ll marry you. It’ll be scandalous, but I’ll do it.”
“Good.”
Oliver didn’t stop spoiling me with the nursery. Over the next few months, he did a few practical things as well, like purchase an ice box so we had a place to store milk and got me a washer-dryer so I didn’t need to take the baby to the laundry with me.
“I don’t want my child in that filthy place!” He ranted as he struggled to install it by himself. “Blast it! My thumb!”
He even had the good sense to have solar panels installed to store energy in a generator so we could work all our new possessions since we were too far from civilization to have electric lines run. My Oliver was certainly Johnny on the Spot. And then he did the best thing ever. He hooked us up with a satellite dish and got us new laptop computers and a brand new television. “You can use the computer to ring me when I’m at work,” He told me, “This little gizmo works just like a phone, so I’ll always be able to come right home to you if you need ever me.”