CHAPTER 5
The wheels under the white bed squeaked pathetically as Poppy lunged wild-eyed at the guardrail. The bed frame rattled three centimetres to the left, even though the brakes were on. A wave of pain was shuddering up her spine and she folded at the hips and moaned in agony.
Where was that fucking button to call someone?! Where was that fucking midwife?!
The pain was clouding her vision, blending colours and merging shapes. Blindly she grabbed at the cords connected to the bed. She knew that magic button was connected to one of those damn cords.
Finally, she found it and punched the green button. Where the fuck was he? Punch, punch, punch. She would kill him! Punch, punch, punch.
James had left forty minutes ago, announcing he had to do ‘various things’. His condescending aura of calm had tricked her, and now she was all alone with a seismic fucking tornado ripping through her and no-one to help. ARGHHHHHH!
She heard a knock and saw the silhouette of James’s shoulders in the doorway.
‘Where the hell have you been?!’ she cried.
James approached her carefully, glancing at the CTG machine. ‘You seem to be progressing well.’
‘Well?!’ Poppy screamed. ‘I am not well ! I need drugs! Shit has fucking escalated!’
‘Want to try the gas?’ James asked, unwinding a tube from a grey machine next to the bed.
Poppy snatched it. Another contraction was starting, coiling like steel around her organs and smothering her to death. She shoved the mouthpiece in and inhaled deeply. Through her haze of pain, she could sense James was amused. The fucker.
‘The trick is to inhale the gas before the contraction arrives so you’re already relaxed when the pain comes.’
Poppy grunted. Words. Too hard. She inhaled again, feeling the cool gas slide down her throat. Slowly the contraction receded.
‘Is it helping?’ He searched her eyes for an answer.
Poppy winced. She could feel another contraction stirring in her abdomen, about to engulf her.
As if reading her mind, James grabbed her hand and guided the mouthpiece back to her lips.
‘Quick, inhale now,’ he urged. ‘Before it really hits.’
Poppy did as she was told, breathing deeply again and again. The contractions came—still torturous and powerful, the pain only slightly blunted by the gas. She whimpered helplessly. The contractions were sucking the air from her lungs, they were strangling her arteries, they had filled every capillary with thorns. She couldn’t survive this. ‘Please,’ she begged, reaching for his arm. ‘Please make it stop.’
James checked his watch. ‘I’ll see if we can organise an epidural,’ he said. ‘I’ll go find an anaesthetist.’
‘No!’ Poppy yelped, gripping him harder, her fingernails digging into his forearm. She moaned as the contraction peaked, sending waves of pain reverberating up her spine. ‘Please don’t leave!’
James gently prised her fingers off his arm. ‘I’ll yell from the door.’
Poppy closed her eyes and dug her fists into her thighs as James strode to the door and stuck his head out. ‘Can we get the anaesthetist up here? Quickly, please?’
‘Oh my god,’ Poppy wailed.
James was by her side in an instant. ‘Gas?’
‘No—I need to go to the toilet.’
Through the blur of the pain she saw James almost smile again. HE WAS FUCKING INFURIATING!
‘What kind of trip to the toilet?’ he asked.
‘What the hell do you mean?!’ shrieked Poppy.
James’s lips curved into a wide smile. It was the first time she’d seen him do that. It cracked his whole face open so it shone like the sun. It was golden and warm and fuzzy and, oh god, she was too exhausted to be thinking like this! She cried out as another contraction coursed up her body and out to her extremities, warping her fingers and toes into claws. She needed sleep. She needed a tranquilliser. Even death would be okay right now. She wanted the bed to swallow her whole so she’d never wake again.
James put a hand on her shoulder. ‘If you’re thinking it’s more than a wee, then it might not be what you think. We might have a baby on the way.’
A nuclear warhead exploded in Poppy’s brain. A baby? A poo? A smile?! It was all too muuuuuuuch .
‘You do it,’ she begged. ‘Just pull it out of me. I don’t care if it’s a poo. Just pull it out.’ She paused and drew breath. ‘Sorry,’ she sobbed, her voice cracking. ‘I don’t mean that, I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry, that’s disgusting. Just pull the baby out. I just can’t do anything anymore.’ She heaved another sob. ‘I can’t do it, James. I can’t.’
‘Poppy, look at me,’ James commanded, putting both hands on her shoulders. His liquid eyes bored into hers. ‘You can do this. I promise you.’
Another contraction surged through her body, and Poppy threw herself into his arms, her fingernails digging through his scrubs. ‘ARGHHHHHH!’ she screamed. ‘HELP ME!’
‘Poppy, you need to trust me,’ James said slowly. ‘You need to lie on the bed and I’ll help you take off your pants. I’ve got a hospital gown we can put on straight over your t-shirt.’
Her vision was blurred. She couldn’t see. The pain was an anaconda and it was choking her to death. She let herself be lowered back onto the mattress and feebly tried to push down her tracksuit pants. Somehow there was another body in the room, a woman, and she deftly grabbed a handful of Poppy’s clothing—tracksuit and undies—and yanked them down. A hospital gown materialised over her and Poppy felt her legs being eased into steel stirrups.
‘We’re getting you ready to push,’ James explained. Through the fog in her eyes, Poppy could see the silhouette of his arm pointing at the woman. ‘This is Becky, one of my colleagues, and she’ll be here to help us through the next bit.’
Poppy’s brain was mush. Words floated in, untethered, and made no sense. Use the contractions. Breathe through the pain. Push when we tell you . She threw her head into her pillow and sobbed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed to be a single mother. She was a good girl, a loveable girl, someone who deserved a husband, someone to parent with. She didn’t want to be doing this alone. She was scared.
A warm hand landed on hers and squeezed. ‘I’m here, Poppy,’ James whispered, his head beside hers. ‘We’re doing this together. I promise everything will be okay.’