I was right about not being able to sleep last night; I just lay staring up at the ceiling, tossing and turning. The mood around the house this morning is much the same, or at least my mood is. Gabriel’s walking round the kitchen holding a slice of half-eaten toast and a glass of orange juice, doing everything he possibly can to make conversation, but I just look down into a bowl of cereal doing everything I can to ignore him.
My heart and arms are aching to hold my babies. Last night was bad enough, but then to be told by Danielle in a text that she’d rather we didn’t visit until after lunch was like a kick in the teeth. I felt like screaming, but instead I inhaled deeply and texted her back saying okay. There had been no mention of my feelings, no picture, nothing at all. All she’d said was that Adrianna was feeling a little worse for wear, and after the doctor had been round to check on the girls she was going to try to put her head down for a couple of hours.
I think Gabriel well and truly got the message when I didn’t join him in the conservatory for our usual elevenses. Instead, I was upstairs, with all the newborn babygros laid out on our bed, deciding which outfits to bring them home in. After pondering for a while, I decided on pale pink matching sleepsuits with small embroidered rabbits down the left-hand side. After packing them in my bag, I walked back into the nursery for their hats and quilted coats to keep them warm for when we left the hospital and brought them down to the car.
It’s 12:30 p.m. when I finally close the passenger side door of our Mercedes, and Gabriel turns the key and starts the engine. The excitement’s back, buzzing round in my stomach. I’m willing the roads to be clear, with no bikes and no learner drivers; they can come out again later, just not now. For a change, it seems that luck is on my side. It’s 1 o’clock as the red and white barrier rises, letting us into Derby General. The tension between us has eased slightly, with Gabriel making the odd comment between songs on the radio and me coming back with a muffled reply. Slipping down a gear, he bypasses the visitors’ car park and drives on towards the main entrance, where he pulls up in the bay marked for ambulances.
I turn to face him.
“Gabriel, what are you doing? You can’t park here.”
He places his hand on my knee.
“I know that.” He smiles. “But I think you’ve waited long enough.”
He reaches down between the seats and presses the release button on my seatbelt.
“Natasha, just go. I’ll park and catch up with you as soon as I can.”
Dodging between visitors and medical staff, I hurry along the corridors and up two flights of stairs, turn left past the delivery suite and stop outside ward sixteen. I press a buzzer at the side of the door and am let in by a midwife, who points to the third door along. I’m expecting a ward with four or more beds, but she tells me that because Adrianna had a C-section she’s got her own room. She says no more and scurries off to meet a blonde-haired lady being pushed into the ward in a cumbersome wheelchair. I see the blue blanket she’s hugging to her chest, and then the tiniest feet poking out. My eyes move from the baby to the lady’s face; she’s pale yet her cheeks are flushed pink. The man standing behind, pushing her along, appears to be her partner; he is struggling to keep the wheels straight, as he’s blubbering into a handkerchief. I gather the midwife has seen as well, and that’s why she’s turned away from me and rushed over to assist them. I can’t help smiling when I hear that special cry of a newborn.
I glance towards the door where my baby girls are waiting to meet their mum and dad. There’s still no sign of Gabriel and I should wait for him, but something inside is telling me I can’t.
My heart is racing as I push open the door. Adrianna’s sitting up in bed, her head and shoulders propped against a large v-shaped pillow. She doesn’t smile or even look up. I take a step closer and look down at my baby lying in her arms; she is so tiny and looks lovely with her wispy platinum hair and bright-pink scalp. I take a further step and lean forward slightly to get my first look at her face. I can’t see her properly, as her tiny face is squashed against Adrianna’s chest, her lips latched onto my sister’s nipple; she’s breastfeeding my baby. I can feel my eyes widen and my mouth falls open.
I stand in silence, as words just aren’t coming. The moment’s almost surreal as Danielle gets up from an easy chair by the window and lays the small pink blanket she’s holding into my arms. I pinch the soft embroidered hem between my fingers and lift it, revealing a heart-shaped face and the most beautiful blue eyes staring up at me. I smile and gently stroke her cheek; I know she can’t focus properly yet and I’m probably no more than a blur, but the moment between us is still special.
“Baby number one.” Danielle mutters.
I mull over a few of my favourite names and smile knowing instantly. “Hello, Harper,” I whisper, lowering my face until my nose brushes against hers.
I breathe in that wonderful scent that comes with a newborn and can hardly believe this is happening to me. I’m standing on the winning side of cancer, looking back. Those months were hard, and there were times when I could quite easily have thrown in the towel and given up, but Gabriel and my family were telling me to fight and they gave me all their strength and support. I had to dig deep into my own physical and mental reserves, and by doing so I came through the darkest of days, and my life, my future, were still there waiting in the wings. I almost have to pinch myself, standing here holding my baby. None of this seems real; it’s like I’m going to wake up and realise it was no more than a beautiful dream.
Danielle lifts Harper out of my arms and takes her over to Adrianna, where she places her down on the bed at her side. Then she brings over my other little girl. Although I was shocked when I saw Adrianna breastfeeding, I know that if it wasn’t for her I would never have been a mum, and would never have felt that completely overwhelming love of holding my own flesh and blood in my arms.
Initially, Gabriel and I couldn’t agree on names, but in the end I came up with Harper and Maddison and surprisingly he liked both. He was determined to name one of our girls, so last Sunday after dinner he went through the alphabet, calling names out randomly, and eventually, after a few that I said were a definite no, he called out Iris-Mae. I glanced up and smiled, and he smiled back, probably thankful that I didn’t shake my head. So there we had it, our twins’ names.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, holding onto Iris-Mae, who’s sleeping peacefully. Harper’s wriggling beneath her blanket, and clasps her small hand around Adrianna’s little finger, letting out the odd gurgle as she’s fed. Danielle sinks down by my side.
“So, Mummy, what do you think?”
“They’re amazing, both of them.”
I look towards Adrianna, who has hardly even acknowledged me. She’s clearly tired, but it’s just so out of character. There’s a light tap at the door, and Gabriel peers round.
“Is it okay for me to come in?”
“No, not now!” Adrianna calls out abruptly, moving Harper away and pushing her breast beneath her nightie.
I watch the door close and see Danielle roll her eyes.
“Back in a sec.”
Picking up her handbag, she walks out of the room to join Gabriel in the corridor. I’ve got to say something; I just can’t keep it to myself any longer.
“I didn’t realise you intended to breastfeed; I thought we’d agreed on formula.”
“We did, but I didn’t come here yesterday expecting to give birth so I arrived with very little. Hospitals don’t supply formula milk; they did for Logan, but their policy has changed because they’re doing everything they can to encourage mums to breastfeed.”
“But couldn’t Danielle have nipped out, picked some up from the supermarket?”
“I wouldn’t let her leave me.”
Adrianna leans back against her pillow, rubbing her breasts.
“I tried expressing.” She points towards a plastic breast pump on the small wooden cupboard next to her. “But it just wasn’t happening and it hurt. The girls were screaming and nothing was working, so putting them on my breast was all I could think of. Suddenly, they were content and I’ve been feeding them every three hours since.”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing, because I do, it’s just what happens when I take them home? What if they won’t suck from a bottle? What then?”
Adrianna smiles. “Stop worrying. You’ll probably find that when you get them home everything will just fall into place.”
I can feel myself bubbling with excitement. “So when are you all being discharged?”
I can’t wait to see my babies in their pretty pink sleepsuits and coats; I know it sounds daft, but I think when I’ve dressed them in the clothes I’ve brought, they’ll feel so much more like my own.
“Just say the word, and I’ll get Gabriel to pop down to the car and grab the car seats.”
Adrianna pushes herself back against the pillow, sitting up straighter.
“Didn’t the nurses tell you on the way in?”
“Tell me what?”
“They’re not discharging us today; they said they’d like to monitor the girls for another twenty-four hours.”
“Well in that case, how about I stay with you overnight and Gabriel can take Danielle home?”
Adrianna shakes her head. “No, I want her here with me.”
“But it’s only a couple of weeks until her baby’s due; don’t you think she’ll be feeling tired?” I look towards the high-backed chair next to the window. “You’re not telling me she can get comfortable sitting in that?”
But she won’t hear of it and is determined that Danielle will stay. I ask her several times if Gabriel can come in to see the twins, and although she doesn’t say no, the look on her face tells me she isn’t comfortable with the idea. She seems tired, so I decide not to push it further; after all, the morning’s only a few hours away. Adrianna has looked at her watch several times and I’m beginning to think I’ve outstayed my welcome, so I say my goodbyes and check that she’s comfortable. She asks for a drink, so I pass her a bottle of cola that Danielle has left on the floor beside the bed. I place Harper and Iris-Mae in their hospital cots, as they have both been fed and fallen asleep. I had hoped to take at least one of the twins out to Gabriel, but looking at them sleeping so contentedly that won’t be happening.
When we are back outside, Gabriel thrusts the car into first gear, slamming his hands on the steering wheel.
He’s shaking his head. “She couldn’t even let me in for five goddamn minutes! Did you take a picture on your phone?”
I fall quiet, and my silence answers his question. He huffs and puffs most of the way home, cursing at red traffic lights and all the slow drivers who get in his way. There are still a few things I could do with picking up before we bring the twins home tomorrow, so I suggest that we stop off at Babies and Bumps.
“I’ve seen enough pregnant women and babies for one day.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I may not have said it, but I was looking forward to today just as much as you were. A couple of minutes, anything would have done, but not to see them at all...”
I reach past the gear stick and squeeze his thigh with my fingers.
“Gabriel, you’ve only got to wait until tomorrow, then they’re home with us for life.”
He grunts, and I screw up my nose.
“What was that?” I ask.
“That was me being slightly pissed off.”
For a second he takes his eyes off the road and glares at me.
“Hypocrite comes to mind.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well look at you, the way you reacted last night.”
“Are you really being fair? I missed their birth, Gabriel, and I’m their mum; it’s a bit different.”
“So that’s it, is it? Because I’m not their real dad?”
“I didn’t say or mean that.”
He places his hand on the gear stick and I rest mine on top, but instantly he pulls away.
“I think it’s best I drop you at Babies and Bumps, and when you’ve got what you need you can catch the bus or ring for a taxi to take you home. I think I’ll call in on Aunt June for an hour; I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks.”
“I’ll come with you if you like; we could always pop to Babies and Bumps later.”
“No, I need some time alone, and the way I’m feeling at the moment I think it’s probably best I sleep in the spare room tonight.”
Danielle phoned early, before I’d showered or dressed, to tell me the doctors were doing their rounds at 10 o’clock, and if everything was okay they would be discharged not long after. Even Gabriel’s silence and sullen face couldn’t quash my excitement. I was in a bit of a tizzy, checking everything over and over again, but then it wasn’t every day I would be bringing my babies home. I sank to my knees on the nursery floor, staring up at the two Moses baskets, which I knew in the next few hours would burst into life.
Gabriel was still a bit off over breakfast, and lagged behind me as I trotted along the hospital corridors. When we walked into ward sixteen Adrianna was already dressed and sitting on the end of the bed, holding Harper in her arms. She said she was about to feed her, but luckily I had come prepared and had a bottle of formula in my bag.
Gabriel seemed rather sheepish; I don’t think he could get his head round how unfriendly Adrianna had been with him yesterday. I’m sure Danielle sensed the tense atmosphere, and picking Iris-Mae out of her cot, she beckoned for Gabriel to sit in the armchair. He slipped out of his lightweight jacket and allowed Danielle to nudge his arms one way and then the other, trying to help him get into a half-decent position to cradle a baby. When he first took her from Danielle he was all fingers and thumbs, but seeing the way he gazed down into her small impish-like face and the smile that took to his lips, I found myself having to swallow hard and blink to ward away my tears of happiness.
Danielle is standing over Gabriel, her hand placed on Iris-Mae’s shoulder, I think more for reassurance than anything else. I remember picking the girls up for the first time, but within moments it felt so natural.
Harper starts stretching her arms and legs, turning a bright shade of red and making little O-shapes with her mouth. Adrianna says it’s a sign that she’s hungry. Taking Harper from Adrianna, I position myself on the bed and wiggle the soft rubber teat across her lips, waiting for her to accept it, but she turns her face away. For half an hour I try, her soft cries growing into high-pitched sobs.
“How can I take them home?” I look to Adrianna, raising my brows. “What do I do when they’re hungry? Every three hours you fed them, wasn’t it?”
She nods and tries to help feed the teat into Harper’s mouth. A further five minutes pass and her cries are getting louder, and Iris-Mae is beginning to stir now as well. I feel sick inside having to admit to myself that I’m a failure. I glance down at Harper, rocking her slowly, anything to calm her, but I soon reach the conclusion that it’s my sister she wants, not me. Exasperated, I pass her back to Adrianna and sit twiddling my hair round and round between my fingers. My eyes begin to sting and this time I can’t blink back my tears.
Adrianna’s having no joy with the bottle either, and now both of my babies are screaming. She swivels round on the bed to face me.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Looks like there’s only one thing you can do, you’ll have to feed them yourself.”
Adrianna balances the bottle on the bed covers and asks Gabriel if he’d mind waiting outside. Danielle takes Iris-Mae, and he says he’ll pop to the shop and then get the car seats. I move to the chair that Gabriel was sitting in, but when I see Adrianna pull her t-shirt aside and hear Harper suckling on her breast, it’s just all too much. It feels like I’m visiting somebody else, not here with my own babies. I should be so happy, but as I look at Danielle with Iris-Mae in her arms and the way Adrianna smiles down at Harper, I don’t think I could feel more detached from either of my girls.
I tell them that I’m going to join Gabriel. I step into the corridor and lean my head back against the closed door. I can hear them chatting away inside, and within seconds of me leaving there’s a noticeable change in Danielle’s voice. She’s not exactly shouting, but I can hear the tension between them. Unfortunately, I can’t make out what’s being said and I am so tempted to put my ear to the door, but a couple of nurses are wandering around and a young woman who looks like a receptionist walks past me and sits down behind a wooden desk.
The hospital is pretty big, and I could be walking around this place for ages trying to find Gabriel, so I think better of it, pick up my phone and ring him instead. He said he didn’t know how long Adrianna would take to feed them both, so he’d had a walk around the shops, but there wasn’t much to see so he’d found a café and was having a drink and a hot sausage roll. I asked him to order me a strong coffee and said I’d be with him in five.
I’m staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows people watching. The chairs are hard and the coffee isn’t particularly hot, but I couldn’t stay in that room with them a minute longer.
“What now, Gabriel?”
He wipes crumbs from his mouth. “We’ll get there; there’s not just one type of teat.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Yeah, like you’d know that.”
“Don’t be too surprised; the number of times you’ve dragged me round Babies and Bumps I’m an expert on most things relating to babies.”
“Yeah, but it’s all the what-ifs. What if we try every teat in the shop and they still won’t feed? It’s not like they were born 10-pound bouncing babies. They barely weigh 5 pounds.”
I reach across the table and grab his hand.
“Don’t you get it? If we don’t get this right, they’ll lose weight and may have to be fed intravenously.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “So what are you saying?”
I cross my arms, digging my nails into my skin.
“I don’t know. If only Adrianna had listened when I told her we wanted them to be bottle fed.”
He doesn’t come back with any plausible ideas, so I sit looking down at my phone and Google breast-to-bottle feeding. I skim through forums of new mums but don’t find them much help. I receive a text from Adrianna, wanting to know where we are. They’ve been discharged and are sitting twiddling their thumbs waiting for Gabriel to bring up the car seats.
I wait in the café while he goes to the car. I just can’t settle with everything running through my mind. I rest my head on my hands and have one of those moments when you just stare into space. What the hell am I supposed to do when I get them home? When we get back up to the room, I open my bag to get their outfits and coats, but quickly zip it back up when I realise they are already dressed in white coats and knitted hats.
Suddenly, Adrianna flings her arms around me and we stand there hugging.
“Me and Danielle have been talking,” she says, “and I can see you’re not happy, so what say we move in with you for the next couple of weeks, or just until Danielle gives birth? It’ll give me time to wean them off the breast and onto the bottle. It’ll be less stressful on all parties, and we’ll be there to help.”
I gaze past her, my chin resting on her shoulder. Gabriel’s smiling, nodding his head, seemingly quite pleased with her suggestion. I turn my head to see Danielle’s reaction, but she’s looking out of the window, rhythmically strumming her fingers on the sill.
It’s like moving house, getting everybody ready to leave. Gabriel’s doing his best to strap the girls into their car seats while I’m being loaded up with bags. There’s a knock at the door and someone arrives with a wheelchair for Adrianna, who, still sore from her C-section, doesn’t feel up to the walk. With one car seat positioned on her lap, Gabriel volunteers to push her, and the bags I was holding are fed along the handles with the exception of a couple of light carriers, which Danielle takes. I pick up Iris-Mae’s car seat and the six of us say goodbye to Derby General.