Forever Is Over (96 page)

Sex did not start my labour. Prostagl
andin did! I was ten days over
due with swollen ankles, feet, legs, arms, face and belly. I was so big,
Richie nearly rolled me into hospital. A few days earlier, the Doctors
and Midwives had said if the baby ha
d not arrived naturally by the
Monday, that I should come back in after the weekend and they would
“
get things started
”
. All that weekend, I was willing the baby to get
moving, but other than Braxton Hicks, nothing happened, so on the
Monday morning, Richie and I traipsed
in to Nottingham City Hospital
and a cheerful, young midwife inserte
d a pessary on Monday afternoon
that
she said would ripen my cervix and induce labour, although she
did warn it may take some time! She wasn
’
t wrong!
“
Proper
”
labour
started about thirty hours later!

In the ante-natal classes that I had a
ttended and Richie had usually
avoided, the Midwife often discussed birthing plans and encouraged us
to make one, but I didn
’
t know where to start, as how can you plan for something you don
’
t know how you are going to cope with. You could
plan that you are not going to have any drugs whatsoever and then
halfway through decide its all too much and you need an epidural. The
Midwives kept telling us that every preg
nancy and labour is different,
so it just seemed senseless to plan. All I can say is, however painful
I imagined childbirth to be, it was
twice that bad! During several
contractions, I actually thought that I was going to die from the pain
because it was so intense! No mother ever tells you that when you are
glowing! After I came out of hospital, I felt like knocking on every
mother
’
s door on our street and saying,

“
You bitches kept that to yourselves, didn
’
t you?
”

In labour, I survived until I was about five centimetres dilated on
gas and air. The contractions were coming more and more regularly, so
the second I had the vaguest hint of an oncoming contraction, I would
snatch the mask from Richie, breathe
in and out desperately through
it and then toss it on the floor once it passed off. Richie would then
scramble around on the floor, picking it up ready for the next one! Some
friends of mine have slagged off their partners during their labour, but
Richie did all I asked of him. Ultimately, the male is pretty helpless
in the whole event and if he can manage to be supportive without
you wanting to rip his head off, then that has to be deemed a success.
Richie pretty much struck the balance right between interfering and
sitting back on his arse and doing nothing. I
’
d say he was involved but
not pushy.

My main support through the labour was my midwife, Niamh, who
was originally from Dungannon in County Tyrone, Northern Ireland.
She said she had moved over to England in 1993, after two civilians
were killed in her area, after they had mistakenly been identified as
IRA members. Niamh said she had not known them personally, but
it signalled to her that it was time for a fresh start. Richie said the
following day that Niamh was obvious
ly on the Catholic side of the
religious divide. He understood it all better than me. For me, if you
believe in God, you should all just be respectful to each other, it seems
ridiculous that you would kill someone for sharing the same Christian
faith but choose to practice it, in a slightly different way. I said this to
Richie and he said the problems are deep rooted and he only had a basic
understanding of it himself. All I know is that Niamh was lovely and
there for me when I needed her, she was encouraging, knowledgeable
and superb at her job. In the times, I just felt like giving up, she would
say things like,

“
Well, I don
’
t think that baby of yours is going to let you give up!
Come on now, Jemma, you
’
re doing really well, you seem so in control,
it
’
s hard to believe you are having your first baby!
”

I think she must have blinked each time I threw the gas away!

The best thing about Niamh, was that she did not try to lead the
birth by bullying me into doing things I did not want to do, she was just there as a guide. A mentor. The fact that she was so relaxed definitely
did not lead to me being relaxed too, but I was probably calmer because
she was there.

Given the drama I have experienced in my life, I was expecting
my childbirth to be riddled with complexities for both myself and the
baby, but I had what Niamh described as a
“
wonderful, problem free
labour.
”

If only it had been pain free too! Once I got to five centimetres
dilated the gas and air started making me vomit. To help me through
Niamh suggested Pethidine, which she explained was a fast acting, analgesic drug. I was happy to try this, as I was not coping well with
the gas and I was frightened of having an epidural, so this seemed like
a sensible solution.
All in all, I think the Pethidine helped me cope with the contractions
until I got to the stage that I was ready to push. Someone, probably
Richie, told me relative to the size of the pelvis, humans have the
biggest heads of any mammals, so getting the baby
’
s head out, stung
like mad.
I reached a stage where I felt an almighty urge to push, Niamh
confirmed that I was fully dilated and I just felt overcome by this
increasing pressure. Richie always tells the story to friends that I was
literally howling with pain, noises were coming out of me the likes of
which he had never heard from me or anyone else, for that matter!

“
Just keep going, Jemma! You
’
re almost there!
”

Richie encouraged
from between my legs. All along, he had said he would stay at the top
end throughout, but curiosity had got the better of him and he had
dropped down to the business end. He was so fascinated, he could have
done with a miners lamp, as he was looking right up my insides,

“
I can see the baby
’
s head!
”

“
Ooooowwwww!
”
I screamed.

“
Keep going Jemma! Almost there! Keep pushing!
”

“
It
’
s alright for you!
”
I said in between grimacing pushes,
“
it feels
like you
’
re burning my labia with a blow torch!
”

For the last half hour, Niamh and Richie turned into my cheerleaders
and they both must have said,

“
Just one more push!
”
a dozen times each.

Eventually though, the final push arrived and Niamh passed the
baby on to my chest.

“
Congratulations Jemma and Richie! You have a beautiful baby
girl!
”

Melissa Kelly Billingham was born at 9.52pm on Monday 7
th
June
1999, weighing seven pounds, three ounces, which I think they said
was 3.3 kilograms. She was, and still is, the most stunningly beautiful
creature that God has ever created.

Jemma was already in bed when I came in. The lights were off
but my side of the bed was closest to the door, so I just clambered in,
snuggling in close to her. Jemma was facing away from me. I put my
hand inside her pyjama bottoms and felt her cold, sexy backside against
my palm.

“
Good night, Richie!
”
Jemma stated pleasantly. I took my hand out and reached over to kiss her.

“
Good night honey!
”

There was a silence that lasted maybe thirty seconds.

“
Take that thing off me!
”
she stated firmly like a policewoman
tackling a snake.

“
What thing?
”
I innocently protested.

“
Richie, you know very well what thing!
”

“
You used to love it!
”

“
I used to have a decent night
’
s sleep without one baby crying every
two hours and the other one sneaking between us at six o
’
clock in the
morning! I
’
m knackered, Richie!
”

“
So am I, Jemma, but I
’
m still attracted to you.
”

“
It
’
s different for girls, Richie!
”

“
Sounds to me like you
’
ve gone off me!
”

“
Richie, it sounds to me like I
’
m absolutely knackered. Now good night!
”

“
Good night!
”

I left it for a few seconds, sulking, before adding,
“
Have we had sex this year?
”

“
It
’
s been about three weeks, Richie.
”

“
We used to have sex about twenty times in three weeks.
”

“
Yes, and as a result of that we had two children and as a result of
them, I
’
m knackered. Now for the last time, good night!
”

As a mark of prot
est, I got back up out of bed.

“
Where are you off to now?
”
Jemma asked.
“
To watch TV. I
’
m not tired.
”
“
Why did you come to bed then?
”

“
You know why I came to bed.
”

“
Maybe at the weekend, babe, if I
’
m not so tired.
”

“
I heard that one last week, Jemma and the week before.
”

“
I can
’
t help being shattered. I don
’
t know what you expect.
”

“
The odd night of affection!
”

“
You get the odd night of affection!
”

“
Whatever,
Jemma!
”

I grabbed my dressing gown from behind the door and headed
downstairs, trying to choose between Playmates and the Playstation as
I went. The Playstation won this time, but I knew if another fruitless
weekend passed me by, the allure of the football management games
would soon diminish. I felt miserable. At t
hat point, I felt like I had a
wife and children that I adored but for the first time in our marriage,
I started to wonder if this was just a one way thing. Maybe Jemma no
longer felt the same way about me. It all felt wrong. I was married to
someone who treated me like her brother. Maybe if I spoke to someone
else about this, another bloke with kids, I could get a better perspective
on things. Maybe if everyone else with kids was the same, I
’
d feel better.
Maybe I should speak to Jim or
‘
Dogger
’
. Yes, that
’
s what I
’
d do, I
’
d
speak to one of those guys, but first of all I needed to get Accrington
Stanley back into the Premiership!