All of me (19 page)

‘Doing what?’ I query, amazed that he is
even contemplating the idea.

‘Anything you want, Marketing… maybe being
as charming as you are,’ he grins at me teasing, ‘only part time though,’ he
warns, ‘I need for the baby to come first.’

I mull this over not replying for a while,
‘let us see how we go, we don’t know how demanding he is going to be, some
babies feed on demand. I don’t fancy flopping my breast out at your workplace.’

He frowns, ‘or anywhere else for that
matter, they are for my eyes only,’ and the jealous boy is back, I roll my eyes
at him but inside I am quite happy at this possessive side.

********

The following week Matt returns to work and
calls regularly to check in on how I am doing. I am nesting and familiarizing
myself with the house, we have been baby shopping and the equipment is due to
arrive.  The nursery has been painted in cream the woodwork in white, shiny
gloss.  The floor is wooden with a brightly multicolored rug due to be
delivered. I have decided to leave the walls plain for the moment choosing to
add picture frames of brightly colored animals.  I intend to add to them, at a
later date, when I hope to place framed photos of Matt and me with George.

I wander into the office to answer the shrilling
telephone but the answer phone clicks in, I hear a clear professional voice,

Mr Ritchie, Lewis Martin here from Martin
Associates, I have the parental order request form for your son here in draft
if you wish to drop by and sign it or I can fax it through to you if
preferable.  If you can contact me and inform me of how you wish to proceed I
would appreciate it. Thank you.

My heart stops, a parental order what is
that?  Is he attempting to get custody of George?  My insides squirm, he
doesn’t want me, he wants my baby.

I am pacing up and down before I move to
the computer and google
parental order
,

Having parental responsibility gives a father the
right to contribute to decision making regarding his child’s future. This
includes having a say in how they are brought up, being able to give consent
regarding medical treatment, and on their religious upbringing and what school
they go to. Fathers with parental responsibility also have greater powers in
whether the child is taken out of the country. The key rights and
responsibilities include:

• providing a home for the child
  
• having contact with and living
  with the child
  
• protecting and maintaining the
  child
  
• disciplining the child
  
• choosing and providing for the
  child’s education
  
• determining the religion of the
  child
  
• agreeing to the child’s medical
  treatment
  
• naming the child and agreeing to
  any change of the child’s name
  
• accompanying the child outside the
  UK and agreeing to the child’s emigration, should the issue arise
  
• being responsible for the child’s
  property
  
• appointing a guardian for the
  child, if necessary
  
• allowing confidential information
  about the child to be disclosed
  

He doesn’t trust me, my insides drop with
disappointment, if he loved me he would know that I would never prevent him
from knowing his son and having a relationship with him.  Even if we wasn’t in
a relationship, I would always ensure he was happy with all the arrangements
with George why would he doubt that?  What have I done to propose otherwise?  I
go over and over my actions, even when I am being unreasonable nothing I have
said would suggest that I remove our son from him. The gate buzzer sounds and I
move to let the delivery men inside my heart heavy.

By the time Matt arrives home George’s room
is looking wonderful, the cot has been erected along with the wardrobe, dresser
and changing station.  There are bags of accessories which I am gradually
opening placing the clothes into piles to wash before they rub against my
babies sensitive skin.

‘Hi,’ Matt calls from the door, ‘wow this
is fantastic,’ he is grinning and despite my mood I smile over to him.  ‘Makes
it all a bit more real,’ he murmurs, ‘how are you feeling?’

‘Fine thanks,’ I call quietly.

‘You sure?’ he frowns, ‘what’s up?’

‘I am fine,’ I assure him, but he doesn’t
look convinced.

‘Mum’s appointment is tomorrow, are you still
ok to take her?  Can you get behind the wheel?’ he teases.

‘Yes that’s fine, what time?’ I enquire
soberly.

‘Two forty?’ he frowns.

‘Ok, just leave her postcode for the sat
nav,’ I stand and retrieve the pile of baby clothes and move to the door to
leave.

‘Hey,’ he calls tipping my chin, ‘what has
happened between now and this morning?’

I shrug, ‘nothing,’ and he kisses me gently
before letting me go.

I vaguely hear a mumble about, ‘bloody
woman and their hormones,’ as I walk down towards the utility room.

Marie Ritchie and I wander through the
doors of the Oncology Department, she looks well considering and is a very warm
person.

‘How is it going with my son?’ she
enquires.

I shrug, ‘early days.’

‘What has he done?’ she frowns.

‘Can I ask you something?’ I test.

‘Of course, as long as you wish to hear the
answer,’ she mumbles.

‘Why did Matt’s dad not wish to know him?’

‘Because he was married,’ she shrugs, ‘not
something I am proud of, but I was young, naive and for the first time in my
life, I felt loved.’ She admits.

‘Would you have allowed it though, if he desired
to be involved, even if you weren’t together?’ I probe.

‘No,’ she utters, ‘a clean break was for
the best.’

My mind deciphers this information, ‘for
who?’

‘Sorry?’ she appears confused.

‘The best for who, you?’ I ask.

Her face turns stern and she looks angry,
‘well yes I guess, why?’

‘Because I am attempting to understand why
Matt is so eager to have the courts involved in naming parental responsibility
for George.’

She stares blankly at me, ‘Matt is taking
you to court?’

I ignore her question fury rising within
me. ‘Did it not cross your mind that he required a father figure in his life?’
I query, ‘I mean, I realize he took to his granddad as a father figure, but
should not all children know their heritage despite it being uncomfortable for
you?’

‘Don’t speak to me like that, Emily,’ Marie
angers and I quieten.  That is why Matt is ensuring he has contact with George,
because he missed out as a child and is petrified that I will forbid him access. 
I can empathize with this information, Lucy and I definitely have, ‘daddy
issues,’ despite having a father figure here and there in our various foster
homes.

That does not alter the fact that he has no
trust in me, or us, in our relationship, that is a separate matter entirely, but
I realize where these insecurities have stemmed from. 

Marie is called in for her scan and I remain
in the waiting room mulling over the events of the past twenty four hours.  As
soon as I begin to believe in a future, something seems to appear and throw a
spanner in the works.  It is as if the universe does not wish me happiness. I
have tears in my eyes, which I wipe away hastily before Marie exits the
consultants room.

‘All ok?’ I attempt to cheer.

‘I will have to return for the results next
week,’ she murmurs quietly.

‘Well, I can bring you, assuming I fit
behind the wheel next week,’ I tease, as we make our way to the car park.

The journey back to Marie’s is quiet, I
give up endeavoring to bring the conversation around after a couple of failed attempts.

‘Thank you for accompanying me, Emily,’
Marie mutters, as I park, ‘I am going to have a lay down now, forgive me if I
don’t invite you in.’

‘No problem, see you soon.’ I call, as she
kisses my cheek.

I have pissed her off big time. I drive
back, via Lucy’s, who should be arriving home from work about this time.  I
park behind Lucy’s Mazda and climb out, as I do I feel a whooshing from
underneath me as liquid pours down my legs, ‘fuck!’ I call.  I have either wet
myself, or my waters have just popped.

I knock on the door and Lucy opens it her
jacket still on, ‘hey you, what a lovely surprise….are you ok?’  My mouth is an
O.

‘My waters,’ I glance down at the small
puddle.

‘Oh shit!’ she calls dragging me inside, ‘I
think that signifies we need to go directly to the hospital,’ she moves to the
kitchen and I follow, walking similar to a duck.

She picks up the phone and dials the
hospital.  I visit the toilet and remove my underwear and stocking tops luckily
I have on a dress today which seems pretty untouched by the liquid, Lucy
appears and hands me some underwear whilst she is talking to the hospital.

‘How many weeks?’ she asks.

‘Errr, thirty six?’ I inform her, will he
be ok at thirty six weeks?

‘Ok, they think we should go in, do you need
me to call Matt?’

‘No, he is in London today.’ I murmur.

‘Still, he needs to be informed,’ she
frowns, ‘fuck Emily, you have upset him again haven’t you?’

‘No, he has upset me actually,’ I murmur,
‘I think he wants to take George off of me, a solicitor called…..’ she cuts me
off.

‘Stop Emily, you are always eager to think
the worst, come on let’s go.’

We make our way to the hospital, via the
house to collect my hospital bag and records, where Lucy leaves a voicemail on
Matt’s mobile, and one on Tom’s informing him of where she is.

‘I told you he is in meetings all day,’ I
sigh, disappointment searing through me.

‘Well, I am here come on,’ she takes
control and I suddenly realize we have unconsciously swapped roles, her now
being the sensible one.

‘Shit,’ I call, ‘oh my, the pains have
started,’ I grab her hand, petrified, ‘I can’t do this Luce.’

‘Yes, you can and please don’t freak out!  Bear
in mind I have to watch you, then do it myself very soon,’ she pleads her eyes
round with frights.

By the time we reach the hospital I have
contractions every three minutes, ‘are you freaking kidding me, I thought the
first baby took days.’ I am panting as the nurse is booking me in.

‘So, you are only thirty six weeks,’ she
checks calmly.

‘Yes! Is that ok?’

‘Well, it isn’t ideal, but there is no
stopping him now, some people pop them out quickly, some don’t,’ she grins,
‘makes my life a whole lot easier this way.’

‘Gee, well I am sure grateful this is
making your life, less stressful…aw!’ I grimace as my whole body shakes with
pain.

********

Forty minutes later, George Matthew is born
weighing seven pounds three, I gaze down into his tiny face and my insides warm.
 I feel a huge protectiveness towards my son, ‘hi George,’ I whisper as tears
roll down my face.  He is gorgeous, with his dark spikey hair and squinty eyes
blinking from the brightness of the lights.

 ‘We just need to check him over, it was a just
as well he was early,’ the midwife retrieves my baby from me and hands him to
the obstetrician, who places him into an incubator to give him the once over, ‘he
would have been potentially an eight pounder, and you are so tiny.’ She comments.

‘Is he ok?’ I ask anxiously.

‘He appears a little jaundiced, so we will
keep him in the incubator for a while being slightly early, but he seems fine,
on first glance,’ she reassures me.

Lucy is crying with emotion, I am in denial
that it has really happened as it was so hurried, ‘are you ok?’ she calls and I
nod, ‘where’s Matt, he will be so mad he missed it?’

‘Relax, he cannot
be mad at you Emily, you have no control over this situation.  I have never
heard of a first baby arriving so suddenly.’

‘He will be mad,’ I sigh, ‘he is always mad.’

The doctor arrives and applies some
stitches, I decide there and then I would rather have another baby than
stitches. My dignity has flown out of the window, my legs are in stirrups and a
person sitting in between them darning.

‘Where is Matt?’ I ask Lucy anxiously, an
hour later as I am wheeled into a room. The baby has been placed into an
incubator in the neonatal unit to stabilize his temperature.

Lucy face is white as she retrieves her
phone once again calling through to Tom.  She informs him of the baby’s arrival
and asks him to attempt to track Matt down.

I am seated in the neonatal intensive care
unit, where they have George, my hand is holding his and I am talking to him gently
when Matt arrives.  He is flustered and stressed, the nurse directs him back outside
and demonstrates the routine for entering, before he reappears minus his
outdoor jacket.