Chapter 15. Harriet – Precious new souls
Blake was apologetic and contrite during the whole process.
It was difficult with Rose living so close to us, but she’d been told to not come to our property and not contact us in any way.
I’d done some reading on these orders, and while it offered hope in the sense that she had it in black and white that “Bear” wanted her to stay away, if she was truly delusional, it was essentially just a piece of paper.
I was taking my hourly stroll to the bedroom when I felt warm fluid leak down my leggings. Finally! This baby was way too big and only gave little movements a few times a day. “Yes,” I’d say to my belly. “You’ve outgrown your cocoon. Time to get out!” Hopefully the eviction process had begun.
“Blake,” I called out. “I think my water broke.” He rushed into the room, frantic and moving his body around like I was going to give birth any minute.
“Relax, it’ll probably be ages. Ring the midwife and tell her.”
He grabbed his phone and had a quick conversation with Cathy.
“She said to wait a few hours for contractions and ring her back at the end of the day if nothing has happened. You need to go sit. Don’t move,” he urged.
“Actually, moving is good,” I corrected him. If moving was going to push things along, I’d run a marathon.
By 4:30, I had contractions, though they weren’t regular or close together. Cathy had urged me to come in if I felt uncomfortable or wait it out until the contractions were strong and regular.
We finally headed in at 9:30, hoping to meet our baby before midnight. It was a good day to be born! Blake lived up to his promise to be the most supportive partner ever. He distracted me when I asked him to, was silent when I preferred that, and eagerly got me anything I asked him to.
“Okay Harriet, I just need you to take a breath, and push at the next contraction,” Cathy encouraged.
“I don’t want to. It hurts,” I gasped.
“Come on, babe. You can do it.” Blake was beside me, wiping my head with a flannel. I barely registered it, but felt irritated because he was doing it so lightly. Ugh, just push the thing into my head and give it a strong drag, I thought.
Baby Imogen Ruby Evans was born at 3:34 am, a healthy, red-faced, screaming, 8lb 3oz bundle of sweetness.
The hours after her birth were like a haze.
I had held her, fed her, and showered. A post-birth shower is like a gift from Heaven.
It was seriously the best shower I’d ever had, even though my legs were shaky and everything below my waist throbbed.
My poor vag. She would be angry for some time.
Seeing Blake with Immy made me melt inside. He was so in love. He’d cried when she was born, thanking me for giving him his little angel. Now, he was asleep on the pull-out sofa that all men seemed to whine about on social media, but he had no complaints.
We arrived home from hospital two days later.
Immy and I were declared healthy and ready to go home.
We were still figuring out the breastfeeding thing, but were improving each time.
It really didn’t come naturally to me, and I’d been warned that many women experience difficulty.
She latched well, but I was just so sore.
I kept trying to fix her position because I read that if they’re properly latched it should only cause minor pain initially, but man, I felt like my nipples were going to fall off and Immy seemed to be a very hungry baby.
My milk was still coming in, and she was still a prolific feeder.
I came home to a house full of flowers and gifts.
Some friends hadn’t come to the hospital to visit, knowing that I’d be exhausted.
Instead, they’d left flowers and gifts on the stoop.
Jacqui was a lifesaver. She had our spare key and brought everything in as it arrived, even putting the flowers in water for me.
She’d also left four meals in our freezer.
I was reading through all of the cards and opening the gifts.
People were so thoughtful. My boss Eliza had sent a hamper full of pink baby goods, with a card wishing all of us well.
Mick had sent meals from a meal service, packed in a box with dry ice.
He’d visited in the hospital and given us some adorable rompers, but the addition of the meals was a very kind thought.
I grabbed a gift wrapped in pink paper and a soft pink bow. A small card in an envelope was taped to the front.
Dear Baby Bear,
You’re a girl! So much pink on your stoop! Keep this bear always; she will be your comfort when you cry if your daddy isn’t there to hold you.
Love Momma Rose
I tore open the package. It was a pink bear. She’d made the bear a tool belt and stitched it to its belly. What the actual fuck? This woman was terrifying. Momma Rose? All the bear references? The tool belt?
“Blake, get over here. Your girlfriend has broken the order,” I hissed.
I was two and a bit days postpartum. My nipples were aching off my body and I had stitches in my vagina. I didn’t need this shit.
He read the card, visibly paling. “Fuck. I’ll deal with this Haz. I’ll deal with it right now.”
He left the room, presumably to call the police. They’d probably take her in for a day or so, but she wouldn’t face any real consequences. What would it take for them to push her into psych care? This was a slap on the wrist. That’ll teach her, I thought sarcastically.