Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes (37 page)

After she had pushed against an
imaginary barrier four or five times, Helen was grateful to feel
the sensation returning. She felt too disengaged, like someone else
was giving birth to her babies. Now she could feel it, and the
sensation was entirely different to the contractions. Now there was
a purpose.

“Sir, if you want to see the first
head, you can come and look now.”

Marcio looked up, startled, at the
midwife. Did he want to see? He wasn’t sure. He looked at Helen and
she smiled. “It’s up to you, darling, I’ll understand if you aren’t
sure.”

Marcio hesitated, then took the step.
He was glad he had. It wasn’t gory or strange at all, just amazing.
To see the baby,
his baby,
coming into the world, was
indescribable.

Helen gave an enormous yell of effort
and the first baby slid free. There was a pause, and the entire
room went still. Then the baby too gave a yell, and everyone
breathed again.

“It’s a boy. You have a son.” The
midwife addressed both parents. She efficiently cleaned the baby,
before handing him to Marcio. He gave the tiny bundle a cuddle,
then laid him on Helen’s chest. They had been told the babies would
be taken immediately to special care, because they were small and
early, but that Helen would be allowed to have skin-to-skin contact
first.

As a nurse took the baby and wrapped
him in a blanket, Helen’s face contorted and she began to push
again. It took three more pushes and the second head was visible.
Again the pause, again the yell.

“This one is a girl. One of each, well
done.” The midwife sounded genuinely pleased for them, as she
passed the girl to Marcio, who again gave the child a hug and laid
her on her mother’s chest. When she, too, had been whisked away,
Marcio laid his cheek against Helen’s and stroked the damp hair off
her brow.

“You did it. All by yourself,” he
murmured. “I love you so much. All of you.”

The midwife came over. “Well done, you
two,” she said again, obviously happy that they had had a fairly
uncomplicated delivery. “The little ones are fine and healthy,
special care will just weigh and measure them, check for jaundice,
that kind of thing.”

She turned to Helen. “You need a few
stitches I’m afraid, nothing serious. We’ve turned your epidural up
again so it won’t hurt a bit.” Facing Marcio she said, “If Dad
would like to come with me, you can sit with the little ones while
Helen is being looked after. Do they have names yet?”

“James Eduard and Jasmine Aina,” Helen
said quietly. Marcio smiled. Helen had decided on her top boy and
girl names even before he met her. She had offered to let him
suggest alternatives, but he thought they were fine names. If
they’d had two girls or two boys, the choice for the second would
have been his: Helen had used those for middle names instead.

“Beautiful,” the midwife smiled. “Well,
Dad, come along and meet James and Jasmine. When the checks are all
done, I’ll take you to the ward and you can wait for Helen
there.”

“Mum should be here soon, if she isn’t
already,” Helen whispered, starting to feel groggy as the epidural
increased in intensity.

“Don’t worry, she texted half an hour
ago to say she was in the taxi from the station. I’ll go down to
reception and find her.”

As she lay quietly by herself, after
the frenetic final hour, when the room had seemed full of
paediatricians, consultants, midwives and nurses, Helen thought
about Marcio and their babies. The midwife had known Marcio wasn’t
the real father, but she had called him Dad throughout. For some
reason that brought a lump to her throat. As the salty tears ran
into her mouth, coming from a mixture of relief and exhaustion, she
hoped she would always be this content.

Chapter
Eleven

“Darling!” Her mother stood up, with one
of the tiny babies cradled in her arms, as Helen’s bed was wheeled
into the cubicle. “Congratulations! How are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” Helen replied, aware of a
hollow rumbling in her tummy.

“I have food, don’t worry. One thing I
do remember from giving birth is being starving and not being
offered so much as a bite of toast. Can she eat?” She addressed the
latter to the midwife who had stayed behind after moving the
bed.

Checking the paperwork to see how long
it had been since she had last had the epidural increased, the
midwife consulted her watch.

“She should really wait a bit.”

Helen squawked in protest.

“But a banana or some toast would be
fine,” she concluded, smiling. “I can have some toast brought in,
if you like, and some tea or coffee?”

“Tea please. For all of us?” Helen
asked. She knew Marcio and her mother must be gasping too.

“I’ll see what I can do.” With that she
left, tugging the curtain shut behind her.

“What time is it?” Helen asked,
starting to feel more alert after what felt like days of living in
a tight tunnel.

“7 o’clock.”

“Is that day or night?”

Maggie laughed, as Marcio pulled up a
chair with one hand, while still cradling his bundle tenderly in
the other. “Night time, dear. You’ve been here about 14 hours.”

“Gosh, it feels less than that,
really.”

“Speak for yourself,” Marcio
mumbled.

Looking up, Helen realised he was pale,
with dark circles developing under his blue eyes. She was about to
retort that it was she who had done all the work. Then she
remembered that he’d spent the last day hovering around her
protectively, while she lay on the bed, or dozed. He’d brought her
tea and water and biscuits and made sure she was comfortable. She
wondered if he’d taken care of himself at all. She was glad her
mother was here to share the load.

“Could I see my babies, please?” her
voice sounded plaintive. Maggie and Marcio both started up, as they
realised Helen wasn’t actually holding either of her children. The
babies were asleep, and so tiny, it was easy to forget they were
there.

Maggie came over immediately and gently
pulled back the swaddle of blankets before laying Jasmine on
Helen’s chest. Someone had thoughtfully provided her with a pink
hat – all of the clothes they had brought with them were neutral
colours, yellow and purple, as they hadn’t known what they were
having.

“Do they look alike?” Helen knew they
weren’t identical, as the scans had shown separate placentas.

“I have no idea.” Marcio laughed. “They
are of course adorable, but they are also scrunched and red and a
bit flaky.”

Helen gave him a lock of mock outrage.
“How can you say that about your children?”

It warmed Marcio inside whenever she
said
your
children. Of course he loved them as much as if he
had fathered them. He had felt them kick, seen them born. Since
meeting Daniel, however, their real father had become a solid
person, no longer just an idea, and that made it harder to escape
him. He felt like a usurper; part of him wondered if the babies
would be better off with their own father to care for them.

The tiny bundle on Helen’s chest
started to mew fitfully, followed by a similar sound from the
bundle in Marcio’s arms. Helen realised the babies were probably
both hungry. Rachel had talked through the options for feeding
twins, but Helen’s head was fluffy and muddled, and she started to
panic.

“Hush, hush, little ones. Mummy’s not
sure what to do.”

The midwife bustled back in. “This is
your first time, isn’t it? Let me help you.” With calm efficiency,
she got Helen propped up in bed, and wedged her in with pillows.
“For the first feed, well do one at a time, until they get the hang
of it. Dad,” she looked up, “Could you wander for a little bit
with…?”

“James, I’ve got James,”

“Of course, I see the hats now. Okay,
well if you could take James for a little walk, so he doesn’t
disturb Jasmine, we’ll get this little lady having a snack, then he
can have his turn. If you wander to the end of the corridor and
back, that should be fine.”

Helen looked down at the tiny scrunched
up red face of her daughter and marvelled at the miracle of life.
She
made
this tiny being. Not just one, but two tiny beings.
They grew inside her, and now here Jasmine was, taking her first
drink. The sensation was odd and slightly uncomfortable. Helen knew
it would be even painful at times for the first week or so, and she
was glad that she still had some of the epidural in her system to
numb the pain. It was worth it though, to have the tiny warm body
resting so tranquilly on hers.

Soon both babies were fed, and she lay
peacefully with them both nestled asleep on her chest. She too
nodded off, and Marcio and Maggie exchanged glances. They crept
from the room, asking the midwife to contact them should Helen wake
before they returned. Then they both went up to the canteen for
some dinner. Marcio hadn’t wanted to leave Helen, but Maggie
insisted.

“You will need all your energy over the
next couple of weeks. The birth might have been uneventful, but she
will still be exhausted, and the babies will feed round the clock
until they put on some weight. Have they said when you’ll go
home?”

“They want to monitor the babies for at
least 48 hours, because they’re so tiny.” They had weighed in at
just over 5lb each, which was amazing for twins at 37 weeks, but
was still small.

“I’ll take you back to the flat with me
later; it’s a bit chaotic so you’ll have to have our bed. We only
moved in last week and we haven’t brought the other bed over
yet.”

“It’ll be fine. I can make myself
useful getting the place straight before Helen and the twins come
home. Will you be coming back to the hospital tonight? Does Helen
need anything?”

“No, I won’t be coming back. I wanted
to stay overnight, but there are no facilities available and we
can’t afford the private room.” His voice betrayed how much he
wished he could pay for Helen to have her own room.

“She’ll be fine. She’s in good hands;
the midwives will care for the babies while she gets some sleep.
They don’t feed much in the first 24 hours. You’ll be much more
help after you get some sleep yourself, which you will be having in
your own bed. I am quite capable of sleeping on the floor or the
couch; it won’t be the first time.”

“Mum knows best,” Marcio smiled.

It was strange back at the apartment
without Helen. Even though they’d only been there for a week, it
was so perfect;
their
space. Marcio looked at the moses
baskets set up by the bed. He couldn’t wait to bring the babies
home, but equally he was scared about how they would cope. He knew
from talking with Benita how much work twins were, particularly if
they didn’t sleep. Still, there was no point worrying about it now.
He and Helen would deal with whatever happened, and know that each
difficult time would pass and they would just grow stronger
together.

He showed Maggie to the spare room,
which would be decorated as a nursery once they had some money and
energy. They had hoped to get it done before the babies came, but
the early arrival had scuppered that idea.

Looking round the room, Maggie thought
secretly that that might be her gift to her daughter. It wouldn’t
take much, over the next couple of days while she was still in
hospital, to freshen the room up and decorate it with some baby
things. She didn’t say anything to Marcio, she thought it would be
a nice surprise for them both.

By mutual agreement they went straight
to bed, neither having the energy for conversation. Maggie took
some of the sofa cushions into the spare room and made them up into
a serviceable bed. She was so tired she could probably have slept
in the bath if the apartment had had one.

Marcio remembered Helen’s instruction
for him to send an email out to her baby group with the news. “Best
do it now,” he muttered to himself, “bound to forget
otherwise.”

He flipped open the laptop that was
never far from his side, and sent a quick note declaring the
arrival of James and Jasmine Morley at 6.33pm and 6.51pm
respectively, weighing 5lb 3oz and 5lb 1oz.

His task done, he closed the laptop and
sank back gratefully into his bed. Something nagged at him,
stopping him from falling asleep immediately. His exhausted brain
couldn’t figure it out, and eventually he slipped into a fitful
slumber.

In the morning Marcio realised what had
bothered him the night before. It was writing James and Jasmine
Morley
. It seemed strange that they weren’t James and
Jasmine Thomson. He knew in the twenty-first century even married
women didn’t always take their husband’s name, but the children
generally still took their father’s. At least Helen hadn’t given
the children Daniel’s surname. Marcio wondered if he would feel
more secure if they had his.

Did that mean he was ready to marry
Helen? The thought terrified him. Not because he couldn’t imagine
spending the rest of his life with her, but because he was still
clearing debts from his last
special day
. What if Helen also
changed her mind as the organ was playing? He couldn’t live through
that rejection again.

After Marcio and Maggie left, Helen
tried to get some sleep, aware that it might be the last time she
slept without the babies beside her for a long time. Instead she
lay awake listening to the sounds of the ward. Someone was snoring
in the cubicle next to her, a terrible rasping, resonating sound
that she was shocked could come from a woman.

Itching to give them a shove, like she
would if it were Marcio, Helen lay fuming in the dark.

How can she be sleeping that deeply?
Surely she must still be drugged. They should have a separate ward
for people who snore. I really can’t imagine sleeping that deeply
while my children might need me.