First Chapter discussion

SWAYING
Contemporary Women's fiction - suitable for adults.
http://mybook.to/swaying

The sperm charge about, zigzagging and bumping into one another. The picture is magnified, each cell the size of a baked bean but with a thin tail attached, flicking erratically. I switch off the television, my jaw tight. Designer Baby! As if choosing the gender is designing them. It’s not as if you are determining their appearance - blonde hair, blue eyes, no garish birth marks, straight white teeth, small ears that don’t protrude like a trophy cup. Not one of the women mentioned looks, intelligence or personality - they were just hoping for a he or a she.
I pace into the kitchen, my hands supporting my bulging belly. Why is the stupid biased debate bothering me anyway? Making people who have a preference out to be selfish and ungrateful! Should they be ashamed of their hopes? The whole thing was ridiculous. But why do I feel uncomfortable? Is the reason I didn’t want to find out the sex of my baby because I can’t face up to my own disappointment? Of course not. I’m not like those people on the TV programme.
I walk back to the lounge, suddenly annoyed at myself for being so impulsive in switching it off. I turn it back on and sit myself down, completely engrossed. Am I having a girl?
‘Ready?’ Ian says, startling me.
I search for the remote, then give up and struggle off the sofa to the telly, pressing the middle button, turning the screen black. I hope he didn’t hear any of the discussion. He looks confused. I grab my handbag and follow him out to the car, grateful that he didn’t ask any questions.
‘A walk, you said?’ He flicks his hair off his face, probably annoyed at its length in this heat.
‘A firm stride. I’ve tried eating pineapple and hot curry.’
‘But you’re not overdue?’
‘I know, but the midwife suggested it to help the baby along the way.’
Ian starts the engine and manoeuvres out from the parked cars in our street. He smirks. ‘So what other ways are there to induce the baby?’
I playfully smack his thigh. ‘We tried that last night. It didn’t work.’
He laughs, then turns the radio up.
We arrive at the chine and start the three-mile ramble. Maybe this was a bad idea – what if something happens and we’re in the middle of nowhere? We walk on, taking in the beautiful Isle of Wight scenery. My mind strays back to the debate.
‘Look, a seat,’ I say, pointing at a bench-shaped rock camouflaged with moss and overgrown fern.
‘It’s a wishing seat,’ Ian says lifting up some foliage to reveal the hidden engraving.
‘My turn first.’ I sit myself down and squeeze my eyes shut, ignoring the damp feeling on my bottom. What’s my wish? It hits me straight away of course. Breakfast television said it all. I want a daughter.
‘Say cheese, Char.’
I open my eyes, guilt pinning me down into the seat. I force a smile as he takes my photo. I can’t tell him how I feel. I know it’s wrong. Surely all that matters is this baby is healthy. But I want a girl. Why have I never realised this before? Maybe I have and I’m only just admitting it?
‘Come on, angel. We’d better make a dash for it before it rains.’
I hadn’t noticed the dark clouds. I struggle off the rock still repeating my wish over and over in my head. What’s wrong with me?
The sky is oppressive. I feel sticky and my swollen ankles throb. I look at my legs - they are the same thickness from the knees down. Ian says I look wonderful. I don’t feel it. I feel rotten. Well, I didn’t, until this morning. I’m wearing my dad’s shorts since I can’t fit into any of my own and a huge white maternity T-shirt. Ian’s shorts are all surfing boardies and would swamp me; at least Dad’s only go to just above my knees. I smile at my husband as he pulls me up the cliff path. ‘So do you think it will be a girl or a boy?’ I ask. Why am I saying this? I don’t want him to catch on to my true feelings.
‘Probably a girl - I can imagine a miniature you. You’ll have your own little dolly to dress up.’
Relief spreads through me, I hope he’s right. I twist a strand of my strawberry blonde hair around my fingers; I’m making it damp with the sweat from my hands so I flick it behind my back. It’s so long and thick since I became pregnant. I need to stop damaging it with my anxious twisting.
‘Maybe we should have found out at the twenty week scan?’ I so wish I had now.
‘I thought you wanted a surprise?’
‘Yes I do; I’m just being impatient.’
‘Not long to wait now. Only a couple of weeks until we meet our prince or princess.’
Please let it be a princess. Princess. Princess. Princess.

The next two weeks pass slowly. I’ve finished work, and I miss my colleagues already. I’m a dental nurse for a small practice, with just one dentist and a receptionist. A new girl, Chloe, started as a trainee nurse a few months ago. When I go back we are going to job share – that’s the plan, anyway. Chloe is only twenty, seven years younger than me, and has flawless skin. She’s very competent. I’m momentarily worried that everything will change so much in the time I’m off, I won’t be needed. I’ve worked for Bridge Road Dental Surgery for just over nine years and know the job inside out. Most of the time I know what instruments and materials the dentist, Marie, wants and needs before even she does, which is why I think we make a great team. I hope that Chloe gets on well with Marie, but not too well. I do want a job to come back to...
Ian saunters into the bedroom, having just brushed his teeth. Lying in bed, I glance at the clock; eight a.m. No more early starts for me for a while – until the baby’s here.
‘So it’s Verity-May if it’s a girl. What if it’s a boy?’ he asks.
‘I’m not sure. What do you like?’
Ian runs his hands through his sun bleached, shoulder-length hair, deep in thought. ‘I don’t know either. Thomas?’
There are so many girl names that we both like, but we really fell in love with Verity-May. Boy names we are stuck on. Is that an omen? Do we know deep down that we won’t need them?
‘Yes, maybe Thomas, or Joseph?’
‘I don’t like Joseph, I wouldn’t like it being shortened to Joe,’ he says, zipping up his work overalls.
‘Okay, how about Luke?’ I suggest.
‘Yes, that’s not bad.’
Maybe we won’t have to think of a boy’s name anyway.
‘I’ll call you if the baby’s on its way.’
He kisses me goodbye then jogs down the stairs to leave for work at the garage. Ian loves his job as a mechanic; tinkering with cars is his passion - that and surfing.
‘Have fun,’ I call out. I feel a small twinge just as I hear the front door close. It’s probably nothing.
Right, I must get organised. Ouch, I ignore the nudge and grab myself some breakfast. Cornflakes, that’ll do. Forcing down a couple of spoons, retching in between, I give up and scoop it away in the bin. A pain shoots through me, I stop and exhale. It won’t happen today - only a small number of women give birth on their due date. It’ll be another few days, maybe a week. I slowly climb the stairs to the bathroom to get a towel ready for the leisure centre.
There’s a knock at the door, then Rose lets herself in. ‘Hi Char, how you feeling?’
‘Fat,’ I reply as I add the towel to my bag.
‘So are we still on for swimming?’
‘Yes, I’m all set.’ Bending down to pick up the swimming bag I feel another niggle, stronger than the others I’ve had. A firm tightening sensation. I screw my eyes up and stay motionless. Teeth clenched.
‘You okay?’ Rose asks, coming over to me and resting her hand on my back.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’ I straighten up, taking a deep breath.
‘Could be one of those Braxton Hicks thingies we read about the other night.’
‘Hang on, Rose, there’s another.’ I bend over, with my hands on my knees for half a minute. ‘Right, I’m fine now.’
Rose looks concerned. I glide my arm over my sweaty forehead; it slides with ease. Pain assaults me and I can’t stop myself from crying out. After the agony subsides it’s not long before I’m in that position again.
Rose looks up from her watch, ‘That’s every three minutes now, Char. That’s really quick. Are these your first pains?’
‘I have had some strange prodding aches for a few hours, on and off. They didn’t hurt much, so I didn’t think it was worth mentioning it to Ian.’
‘Forget swimming. We’re going to the hospital. Where’s the bag you packed?’
‘On the landing!’ The twinges are really starting to become painful. Not out of control, but it’s happening. Now!
During the car journey I rummage around in my handbag for my mobile. I phone Ian. After four rings, I start to panic. Why isn’t he answering?
‘Hi angel.’
‘I think the baby’s coming.’
‘What? You were fine an hour ago!’ He sounds shocked.
‘Well, I’m not fine now. Meet me at St Mary’s. Rose is driving. Must go, I want to phone Mum too.’
I find her on my contacts list and hit dial.
‘Mum, it’s happening. I’m on the way to the hospital.’
‘Is Ian with you? Are you okay?’
‘I’ve phoned him.’ My voice shakes. ‘He’s going to meet me there - Rose is with me. She’s driving.’
‘What’s up?’ she asks.
‘I’m scared.’
‘It will be fine, darling. I’ve done it three times. If I can do it, anyone can. Do you want me to come too?’
‘Thanks, but Ian’s on his way. I’ll call you when I’ve had her... or him.’
‘Good luck, darling.’
When I hang up, I have tears in my eyes. Maybe I should have asked her to come too? I’m terrified. What if something goes wrong? ‘I can’t do this, Rose. It’s too painful.’
‘I don’t know what to say; this is a bit different from horses. Oh, you’ll be all right, Char. Nearly there.’
She doesn’t sound confident. And kids are definitely not her thing, that’s for sure. She owns a riding stable and is used to horses giving birth to foals. That’s as far as her experience will ever go. She drops me at the maternity entrance and goes to park the car.
I wait anxiously. Hurry up Rose, I don’t like being on my own in this state.
She comes back struggling with my bag over her shoulder. About time - this is so painful!
‘Jesus! Char, what have you packed?’
‘All essentials, Ro... Aaargh.’
With great effort, we make our way to the reception desk. I’m in agony. I have to stop every minute, I can’t walk when I’m having a contraction. A midwife introduces herself but I don’t take any of it in.
‘You need to be in the labour room. I can tell by the way you’re walking.’ Why is she smiling? ‘Have you got your notes?’
I look at Rose. ‘I think they’re in the bag. In the middle bit. No, the side bit.’
Rose unzips the side pocket. ‘They’re here,’ she hands them over with a relieved expression.
The labour ward has light pink walls - maybe that’s a sign? It’s practical looking but not very inviting. I do feel a bit calmer, now that I’m in the delivery room.
‘Change in to your nightie and lie on the bed,’ the midwife says.
Rose sorts out the TENS machine I bought, and sticks the pads to my lower and upper back. It’s supposed to take my mind off the labour pain but I can only faintly feel the electric shocks it produces. Maybe I should turn it up. I fiddle with the dial. A strong tremor runs through my back so I quickly turn it down again.
‘Will you stay with me, Rose? Everything’s happening so fast. I don’t think Ian’s going to make it in time.’
‘Of course I will, Char.’
Rose and I have been best friends since primary school. Besides Ian and my mum, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have with me.
I gasp in shock as the worst contraction yet claws from deep inside. ‘I need an epidural!’
‘No time,’ the midwife says. ‘Your baby is coming now. Gas and air - you can have that.’
What? No drugs? They can’t do that, can they? I place the plastic tube in my mouth and greedily breathe it in as fast as I can. Wow, I like this.
‘Aaargh!’ A sharp tightening pain surges through my tummy.
‘Keep on with the gas.’
I do as I’m told. ‘Where’s Ian? I need him now!’
(cont...)

Great stuff - Been there, done that. Twice!

Great stuff. Well written. But is it a boy or a girl????? Need to know, need to know.

Thanks Rebecca & Rida. Here is the rest of the first chapter:

‘He’ll be here,’ Rose reassures me. ‘He’s on his way. Shall I go and fetch us a cup of tea or something? You can have tea, can’t you?’
‘Tea? I don’t want tea? I need to push!’ I shout.
‘Already?’ Rose looks over to the midwife.
‘Push at your next contraction, Charlotte. You can do this.’
I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
Another abdominal spasm rips through my body. Agony. I bite down on the tube and push.
‘That was great. Now do that again at the next contraction. Push right into your bottom.’
Here it goes again; the next surge pulsates through me. Oh my God! I’m horrified at the strange feeling I have.
‘I need the toilet,’ I say, my eyes darting to Rose.
‘The baby’s head is pushing down on your bowel,’ the midwife explains. ‘If you go it doesn’t matter, lots of ladies have accidents.’
I don’t want to poo, not in front of Rose. Or Ian. Where is he?
‘Where the hell is Ian?’ I say when the pain has subsided. He can’t miss it, he just can’t!
‘You’re doing really well, Charlotte,’ the midwife says.
Her face blurs. I feel light-headed with the gas but it definitely helps, unlike the stupid TENS machine, which doesn’t seem to be doing much except irritate me! ‘Aaargh!’ The noise coming out of my throat is a strange guttural sound. Animal, rather than human. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I’d be embarrassed.
Ian charges through the door. Thank God he’s here.
‘Ian.’ Tears roll down my face. ‘It’s too difficult, I can’t do it anymore.’
‘Yes you can, angel,’ he says. Why does his usually tanned skin now look ashen? ‘Aaargh!’
‘Oh, Char, are you okay?’ he says.
‘NO I’M NOT OKAY!’
I feel a huge warm gush. Have I wet myself?
‘You’re doing really well, Charlotte,’ the midwife says to me again. ‘There goes your waters.’
A good forty minutes later, and still no baby. After each agonising contraction, I wonder if my baby will ever come. When I’m not in pain, I’m worn out, resting. It’s so strange that you can go from being in crippling pain to being fine the next moment. The only problem is the next contraction is coming. I bite down on the tube in readiness and start sucking at the gas. That strange sound escapes my throat. Where does this noise come from?
‘Why isn’t the baby coming out?’ Rose asks the midwife. ‘You said it was about to happen over an hour ago.’ Rose, always the one with the sensible questions.
Ian’s hair is stuck to his face - he looks as though he might pass out.
I’m also dripping with sweat, but then again, I am doing the biggest workout of my life. If someone said to me that they’d make it all disappear and I can try again at a later date, I honestly think I would say yes. If I were climbing a mountain I’d give up, turn round and walk back down. But this I can’t stop - I have to endure the pain, and it’s just too much. Biting down, that noise rings around the room again. I’m past caring now. I try staring at one spot on the wall. A grubby mark on the pink paint, it fuzzes and blurs. I feel an alteration of consciousness. I’m so tired.
‘I think your baby’s stuck, Charlotte. Nothing to panic about, try pushing on one more contraction, then we’ll need help.’
‘Help?’ Rose asks.
‘Yes,’ the midwife replies. ‘Forceps.’
Ian’s expression makes me anxious, hitting me hard like a slap, forcing my abstract world to come into focus. I know my goal. I have to push.
I strain with every ounce of energy I have. I don’t want forceps. You have to come out, baby, you have to!
‘That’s it, well done,’ the midwife says. I feel a stinging pain and I clamp down, pushing with all the force I can muster. I feel as though I am tearing in half. It stings so much.
‘The head is out. Feel it if you like, baby has lots of hair.’ I do this and smile. My daughter has hair. I’m exhausted, but it’s nearly over.
‘Now, on the next contraction push out the shoulders.’ A couple of minutes later, I feel the next one beginning to rumble. A slippery sensation travels through my belly. I hear slurping noises; everyone is holding their breath, including me. My stomach feels empty. Then nothing, I don’t hear anything. Why isn’t she crying? Not long after that thought, I hear the piercing but pleasing sound of my baby wailing. Relief rolls through me.
‘It’s a boy,’ Ian says.
My breath catches, then my son is passed to me. He’s a strange shade of purple and has white and red goo on him. He has fair hair and I can’t believe he’s mine. But I feel empty, not just in my stomach physically, but mentally. I wanted a girl. Is there something wrong with me?
‘I’ve got a son,’ Ian says, full of enthusiasm. He got what he wanted then. I look down at the baby in my arms – my baby. The baby I’ve longed for and carried for nine months within me. I do love him, don’t I? I must do, even if he’s not what I wanted. But I’m so exhausted, I don’t feel anything. This is so new to me. How would I know?
‘Would you like to cut the cord?’ the midwife asks Ian. I can’t really see what’s happening. Other than tired, I don’t know how I feel. Exhausted. Vulnerable. Joyous maybe. You are supposed to be joyous when you have a baby, so I must be then. Sweaty - I definitely feel unclean.
‘Congratulations,’ Rose says.
I am given an injection for the afterbirth to follow on quickly, which it does.
‘So is it Luke?’ Ian asks.
‘Luke is a lovely name,’ Rose agrees. So Luke it is.
I feed my son. It feels weird. I wince as he suckles. Taking deep breaths, I try to relax. After a few minutes I become used to the new sensation, as he latches on more comfortably. Looking down at his tiny features, I feel love. I do love him, he’s beautiful.
The midwife cleans Luke up, puts a nappy on him and swaddles him up in a blanket. He’s put in a perspex cot next to me while she stitches the tear he caused. I quickly grab the gas as the local anaesthetic is injected, but after that it’s pretty much painless, just pulling sensations.
‘All done. Good as new,’ she says.
I think I might cry. Is it tears of joy? I’m tired and confused. Disappointed, maybe. But I can’t be, he’s perfect, he’s mine, and it’s not his fault that he’s a boy.
‘Do you feel up to having a shower?’ the midwife asks.
Rose leaves, mumbling something about stubborn boys being too cosy. I feel numb.
When I return, feeling much cleaner, my parents arrive, full of congratulations, hand-shaking and back-patting.
Mum looks over at me, my eyes start to water as I force a tired smile. I hope she can’t read me.
‘These are because you had to have quite a few stitches.’ A new nurse hands me some painkillers and antibiotics.
I take the little plastic pot with my pills in, and swallow them with a glass of water. I’m so sore and my tummy feels like an empty sack. It’s strange not to have my baby inside me anymore – sad, even.
‘Are you okay, love?’ Mum asks.
I nod, unsure.
‘You’re tired, we should go and let you sleep.’
Ian and my parents leave together after covering me with kisses, all elated and jolly, then I am left alone with Luke.
I roll over in my hospital bed, close my eyes and silently cry.

'SWAYING' is currently on a good reads giveaway. Amazon Link - http://mybook.to/swaying

I certainly felt as if I was there in the room with this lady - been there twice and loved every moment!! A good first chapter that really gets into the nitty-gritty of birth. :)

Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.