Positively Yours (22 page)

And so Grace now found herself back home in St Joseph's Road, having an afternoon nap. She was wrecked after two weeks of entertaining her in-laws, and was actually looking forward to a week of pampering from her mum. She hadn't been sleeping well, but got up so she could talk to her brother Colm. Her mum cooked a huge lasagne, and Grace demolished her potion, but she still felt so tired. She just hadn't felt right all day. As Colm began using Patsy's washing machine to clean
mountains of dirty clothes, Grace sprawled out on the couch watching TV. As she lay there she rubbed her hand over her belly; the baby had been quiet the last few hours. Usually the evening was when it kicked the most. But she presumed it was just asleep, and continued watching TV. Patsy had spent the whole afternoon talking about ‘the beautiful baby girl'. Grace was sick of trying to persuade her that there was no way a needle and thread could predict the sex of her child, and so had just rolled with the conversation and listened as Patsy agonized over which school would be best for her little granddaughter. Grace was glad when Colm decided he would stay the night, too, as it meant she could go to bed early and leave him to keep her mum company. It was obvious that her mum still missed her dad; they used to stay up late watching TV and chatting. She knew it must still be hard for Patsy, adjusting to life alone. After kissing her mum goodnight, Grace climbed up the stairs and crawled into her old bed, and before long the sound of their loud old washing machine tumbling coaxed her into a deep slumber.

At 3 a.m. Grace woke, frightened. Something felt wrong. She turned on her light and sat up. She didn't know what it was. As she strolled to the bathroom, she caught a look of herself in the mirror. Looking at the reflection of her swollen belly in the dim light of the bathroom, she suddenly knew what was wrong. She hadn't felt the baby move in hours. She stood still. She could hear the sound of the old grandfather clock tick, and the light murmur of her brother snoring. She could feel the cold bathroom tiles against her bare feet, but she couldn't sense any movement inside her. She went back into her bedroom and lay down on the bed, and she pressed her hands against her belly, expecting to feel some kind of response. But nothing happened. She grabbed the glass of water from beside her bed, and downed it in one. Sometimes cold water helped the baby
move. Again she waited, but nothing happened. She walked around the room, and even did some big yoga stretches, but with no result. And then she started to worry. She knew a baby could just stop moving at any day, any hour. Miscarriages could happen to anyone. Suddenly Grace thought back to the moment when her aunt had decided she was carrying a baby girl. Grace didn't want her little baby to be dead. She tried to remember what the baby book had said about movements: she knew she was supposed to feel a certain amount of kicks in a twenty-four hour period, but she couldn't remember how many. Ethan had read the books more intently than she had. She cursed her mother for not having the internet, as she could have gone online now and got the information at once. Grace sat for another twenty minutes in her bedroom before deciding she needed help. She crossed the landing and knocked on her mother's bedroom door.

Patsy was out cold when Grace walked into her room. She was lying with her hair curlers in, and a good lathering of face cream all over her face. Grace hated disturbing her from her slumber but she was beginning to panic.

‘Oh my God, what's wrong?' Patsy said as she shot up out of the bed and flung on her old pink dressing gown.

Grace told her.

‘Maybe I'm overreacting.'

‘Well, was the baby kicking much all day?' Patsy asked.

Suddenly Grace realized she couldn't think of one time when the baby had felt active all day. She had just been so tired herself, that after dropping Ethan to the airport she had been glad to relax. She hadn't thought about the baby and its movements.

‘You didn't feel any movements all day? Why didn't you say something earlier? Did you not notice? Were you not concerned?' said Patsy.

Grace felt like the worst mother in the world. She felt
helpless. Patsy looked at her daughter, who had gone white as a ghost with worry, and knew exactly what to do.

‘Let's go to the hospital.'

‘It's the middle of the night.'

‘Well, this can't wait until the morning. Now do you feel fit to drive?'

To be honest Grace didn't. She felt too anxious.

‘Well, don't worry. I'll get you there, pet.'

‘You can't drive,' said Grace.

‘No, but Colm can.'

And before Grace knew it, Patsy had Colm out of his bed and changing into his tracksuit.

‘I only came home to wash my clothes, I didn't sign up for delivering babies.'

‘She's not in labour,' shouted Patsy. ‘Just get into that car.'

Grace followed her mum and brother down the driveway. She shivered in the jumper she'd hurriedly pulled on.

‘Get out of that car,' shouted Patsy to her son.

‘What? You just told me to get in,' said Colm, confused with all the middle-of-the-night shouting.

‘Can you not see your poor sister isn't feeling well? Help her into your car. And then drive as fast as you can, we need to get to the maternity hospital asap.'

Colm was only too delighted to use this as an excuse to speed through the dark Dublin city streets. But as he drove and Patsy prayed out loud, Grace felt numb. She tried to think back to every little thing she had done that day. While she'd been washing her hair, had her baby stopped moving? While she'd read a stupid gossip magazine had her baby held its breath for too long? While she'd painted her nails had her baby died?

How will I tell Ethan, she thought? How will he cope? How will he feel when he hears I didn't notice there was no
movement, that I was too wrapped up in myself to worry about our baby? I should have gone to the doctor earlier.

‘The baby is probably fine. Don't you worry,' said Patsy, as she rubbed Grace's hand. But Grace could see that in Patsy's other hand she had her rosary beads clenched tight. She was worried, too.

How will Mum cope? thought Grace. Of them all Patsy seemed to be the most excited about the baby. Grace didn't want to break her heart.

Before she knew it, Grace was being seen by a young-looking doctor.

‘Now, can you tell me the last time you felt any movement?' he asked as he passed his hands over her belly.

‘Some time yesterday, I think,' admitted Grace.

‘OK,' he replied solemnly. ‘And have you had any bleeding or abdominal pain?'

‘No,' Grace said. ‘But I'm just so tired. I'm tired the whole time. I wasn't thinking straight, I forgot to count the movements.'

The doctor nodded, but she could see in his eyes that he probably wondered what kind of person she was not to notice when her child was in trouble.

‘OK, we need to do a scan on you. The nurse will bring you up to the fetal assessment unit department straight away.'

As Grace sat in a wheelchair, Patsy walked beside her.

‘Good luck,' said the doctor.

Grace felt sick. He must think the baby is dead, she thought.

She began to cry. The nurse stopped pushing the chair.

‘Are you OK?'

Grace couldn't see her through the tears flooding her eyes.

‘Mum,' Grace said as Patsy grabbed her hand. ‘Mum, what if the baby is dead?'

Patsy said nothing, but took hold of the wheelchair.

‘My grandchild will be fine,' she said, but Grace could hear her voice crack. ‘Now, let's hurry up and get this scan done.'

As Grace stared at the white ceiling she heard the nurse talk reassuringly as she poured the cold gel on her stomach, turned on the scanning machine and placed the camera on her stomach. Grace was too worried to listen to the nurse's words. She held her breath. Patsy said nothing. She suddenly looked so frail and old. Grace realized she shouldn't have brought her into the room. It wasn't fair that she would be shown the black and white images of her first grandchild, only to be told it was dead.

As the nurse silently pushed the camera from side to side and ran it up and down Grace's abdomen, Grace thought back to when she had first found out she was pregnant, and to all the times she had wished she wasn't. She thought of all the days she'd craved to be back in San Diego with nothing more to worry about than where to eat after a day's work. I've brought this on myself, she thought. I've caused this awful thing to happen. I was so sure I didn't want this child, but now I know better. I want my baby, she thought. All I want is my baby.

Apart from the sound of the machine the room was silent. Time seemed to stand still. Finally the nurse spoke.

‘OK, I think I can hear something. Let's turn the sound up.'

Grace bit her lip. Patsy squeezed her hand so tight that she thought her bones would break.

‘Yes, that's a heartbeat.'

A tear rolled down Grace's check. Patsy let out a cry.

‘Oh, thank God,' she cried. ‘Oh, Teddy, I knew you would help us. You answered my prayers.'

The nurse smiled.

‘Your baby is breathing. It's very still, though. It must just have been having a big sleep.'

As the nurse rolled the camera over and over Grace's stomach, Grace arched her neck to look at the screen. It was all a little fuzzy, but she could make out the head and an arm stretched out.

She and Patsy were so happy.

Five minutes later an older, grey-haired doctor entered the room. He introduced himself to Grace.

‘How do you feel now, Mrs Miller?'

‘I'm OK,' she replied, ‘but worried about my baby.'

‘You don't need to be. Your baby is moving and breathing fine. I know you must have gotten a fright. The baby might just have been tired or sleepy today. And sometimes they get themselves caught in a position and just can't move. But either way it is OK.'

‘Well, that's great,' said Grace, sitting up.

‘Yes it is, but we'd like you to keep a movement chart, and note down your baby's kicks every day. At the baby's active time you should be getting at least ten kicks in a two-hour period. And if you don't, then do not hesitate to come to us. Never take a chance and wait, or worry you might be wasting our time. Nine times out of ten the baby will move, and then we can send you home, but always come in to get checked out. Some women leave it too late, and then there is nothing we can do.'

The thought of finding out her baby had died and she hadn't noticed appalled Grace. She promised to be more vigilant from now on.

‘OK. Well, Nurse Lynch will bring you back down to the day ward to get a few other things checked out, and then you'll be free to go home. But take it easy tomorrow. Rest.'

And with that the doctor was gone.

The nurse took Grace and Patsy back down to the ward.

‘You can relax now. You'll be fine. But I'd just like to check your blood pressure, and take some blood tests. You're very pale.'

Grace rolled up her jumper sleeve, and while the nurse took out a needle Patsy chewed the ear off her.

‘Grace just won't relax, no wonder she's pale. Sure wasn't she doing a flipping bus tour of Dublin with her in-laws yesterday? And she was at the cinema the night before.'

The nurse smiled, she was used to protective mothers.

‘Your blood pressure is quite low, and I would hazard a guess that your iron levels are, too. That's probably why you've been feeling so tired.'

‘But I still should have noticed my baby's movements, or lack of them,' replied Grace.

‘Listen, when you feel wrecked, it's hard to remember what to do. We should have these blood tests back tomorrow, and we can advise you then on what to take to help you feel better. But until that happens just rest and try to sleep.'

Grace promised.

‘Don't you worry, nurse, I'll look after her,' said Patsy, holding Grace's hand.

The nurse smiled, winking at Grace.

As Grace and Patsy walked out of the large wooden doors of the maternity hospital and into the car that Colm had been banished to wait in, Grace couldn't help feeling dismayed. She could have lost her baby. She rubbed her hand over her belly. Inside was her precious little child, and she hadn't been paying attention to it. As she watched woman after woman enter the hospital she vowed to become more like them, more like a mother.

‘
I'M GOING TO
be sick,' yelled Colm Slattery.

Grace was laughing hysterically.

‘Christ, Gracie, cover your belly up, will you? It's like there's an alien inside you. About to scrape its way out,' said Aidan, agreeing that their sister's moving stomach was disturbing.

‘It's scary,' declared Colm.

Grace and her two brothers were sitting on the old family couch watching TV when Baby Miller started to make its presence known.

‘Do you feel invaded? Does it hurt when the baby moves like that? Are you scared?' Colm asked his big sister.

Grace protectively ran her hand over her ever-expanding belly.

‘No, is the answer to your three questions. I love it when it moves.'

Colm nodded. It had only been a week since Grace's trip to hospital, and more than anyone Colm had gotten a huge fright that night, seeing his sister so upset and worried that she might lose her child.

Grace had spent the week being pampered by her mum. In-between her novenas Patsy had found the time to stuff Grace to the gills with food, in particular iron-rich food. Grace's
blood count had been low, and so Patsy had decided the whole house should be full of red meat, spinach and eggs.

‘I swear to God, if we have to eat liver one more time this week I'll kill you,' Colm said, as they all headed into the kitchen for dinner.

‘Can I remind both of you that you don't actually have to eat here? It's not like you live in this house any more!'