Just Between Friends

As Susie’s lengthy explanation of the nutritional merits of eating human placenta came to a close, we all turned to look at the couple to Maggie’s right, a pretty blonde woman with elfin features and her equally blond, small husband. They were holding hands and looked very young, probably mid-twenties. I could imagine the petite, blonde, blue-eyed little baby they were cooking up in that perfectly neat bump. They introduced themselves as Helen and Ian Edwards.

Ian spoke first; he had a timid voice and piercing blue eyes. He reminded me of a gerbil. ‘Hi everyone, we’re having our first baby. Well I guess that’s pretty obvious, this is a group for first-time parents!’ he said, before laughing nervously. ‘We are thirty-five weeks. Don’t know the sex and College Square Hospital for us, too.’ He turned to Helen: ‘Anything you want to add, babe?’

‘No, that’s it,’ Helen replied self-consciously, before shrugging and smiling at no one in particular and then fixing her eyes on the floor. I smiled back at her; she seemed sweet and strait-laced. But maybe I was being too quick to judge. She might have a naughty streak.

‘That’s fine, dears,’ Maggie said, trying to mask her disappointment that there wasn’t another juicy set-up or alternative birth plan to discuss. ‘Welcome to The Baby Group.’

Next was the woman who had given me a friendly smile earlier. She looked well put-together, with red lipstick, a neat flick to her eyeliner, fresh highlights in her tousled shoulder-length hair and a black Gucci handbag. She gave the impression of someone who had a successful career and a decent amount of savings in the bank. Of everyone, she was probably the closest in age to me (around her mid to late thirties), which made me instinctively gravitate towards her.

‘Hi all, I’m Lucy Raven, baby boy, due May 31st. Looking forward to starting maternity leave in a few weeks. Still got a ton of nursery prep to do at home though. My partner, Oscar, is also working today. He’ll join one of the other classes. That’s me, I guess.’ She folded her arms and sat back in her seat, signalling she’d said her bit and wasn’t opening the floor for questions. She seemed to have her shit together – it was a little intimidating.

Maggie nodded; she seemed impressed too. I noted Lucy wasn’t wearing any rings on her wedding finger.

Seeing Lucy here on her own made me feel better about Jason’s absence, but I wondered how she really felt about it. She certainly came across as perfectly happy and confident, so I decided to take a leaf from her book and sat up a little taller.

The last couple to be introduced were sat on my right: a tall black guy with a chiselled face called Will, who could easily have been a model, and his partner, a white woman called Carol, who was not unattractive but not nearly as head-turningly gorgeous. Were Will single, I’d have been tempted to trade Jason in for him; he had ‘swipe right’ written all over him. There seemed something mismatched about them. Will did most of the talking and while he spoke, Carol delved into a little blue bag hanging from her chair and retrieved her phone, which she cradled in her palm as if she might need to ‘phone a friend’ at any moment.

‘The baby is due on the 22nd of May and it will be a hospital birth for us, too,’ Will informed us in a matter-of-fact way. He had a deep, thespian voice.

‘My husband, Christian, will join one of the other sessions,’ he continued. He paused for a moment, gauging correctly that we had all naturally assumed Carol was his other half. Carol gave us a small shy smile, while Will seemed to enjoy the attention from his captive audience. His timing was brilliant; I wondered if he was an actor, as well as a model. ‘Carol is our surrogate,’ he continued. ‘She’s had a baby before, but fancied a refresh, so we enrolled in this class. You’ll get to meet Christian soon.’ He turned to her and they exchanged a warm look. ‘Christian and I are both planning to be there for the birth, and then we will be the legal parents – the two dads. Carol will be moving back to the Ukraine.’ He looked at Maggie with a neutral face, as if waiting for her to ask a question.

Maggie simply smiled and said, ‘How wonderful!’

Will had delivered his lines beautifully and he had made me stop and think. I had been so consumed by my own pregnancy journey, I hadn’t really appreciated how difficult it might have been for other couples to conceive. You kind of assume that for everyone else it’s easy. Having some more unusual family set-ups in the group was going to make it more interesting.

‘Right then,’ Maggie announced, when the introductions were complete. ‘What a great group! You’re all wonderful humans, in my eyes.’ She really was an eccentric character. ‘First up, we’re going to discuss birth choices. But, before we go on, I have to tell you that nothing is off limits here. In fact, let’s just get something out of the way before we get in too deep, shall we?’ She paused and I unscrewed the lid of my water bottle, feeling self-conscious about what ‘getting in too deep’ might entail. Then she flung up her arms as if she were a cabaret singer ready to make an encore and cried out: ‘VAGINA!’ at the top of her lungs.

This was an inopportune moment for me. At the exact same time that Maggie made this dramatic announcement, I took a swig of water from my bottle. Instead of swallowing, the whole mouthful came flying projectile out of my mouth. A tsunami of warm filtered water sprayed not only down my top but also all down my jeans and on to the area of floor directly in front of me. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lin caught a light mist too.

‘Oh my God. Sorry!’ I yelped, trying hard to stifle hysterical giggles – my default reaction when in shock or when something embarrassing has happened to me.

Maggie looked at me in horror. ‘Are you okay, Aisha?’ she asked.

A brief silence was followed by a nervous titter, this time from Will. I wanted the ground to open up and suck me under. This was excruciating. Plus I was really quite wet.

Once I’d composed myself a bit, I nodded. ‘Yes, I’m fine, sorry about that.’ I dabbed at my face and top with one of the deli napkins from under my seat. At least the close proximity of the bag had come in handy.

‘Good dear, try to keep calm, we don’t want any early labours do we? There we go – I’ve said it,’ Maggie continued, ‘the V word. You’d better get used to it, ladies and gents. Now, after three, let’s shout it together loud and proud! One, two, three—’ She paused to looked around the room, especially at me, her eyes wide with excitement, as we simultaneously tried to avoid her gaze and stifle our sniggers. ‘VAGINA!’

There was nothing loud or proud about our pathetic, quiet chorus. I prayed to God there wasn’t a service going on in the chapel next door, then quickly realized the irony of that thought. I looked around the room to see whether anyone else was finding this hilarious. Will caught my eye and put his hand over his face, his shoulders shaking. ‘This is bizarre,’ he mumbled, between guffaws. Carol seemed a bit annoyed or perhaps confused.

Helen and Ian were looking at each other with pink cheeks. Lin and Susie seemed nonplussed, and Lucy seemed to be trying not to laugh too. I thought how hilarious Tara would find this. Shouting ‘vagina’ with a group of strangers was nothing short of ridiculous and I wished I had someone to cringe about it with.

Maggie ignored Will’s comment. I managed to pull myself together.

‘There we go – well done. That woke us all up. And didn’t it feel great?’ No one replied. ‘One thing you should know about me is that I love vaginas,’ she continued, clearly revelling in our puce faces. ‘I love talking about them and I absolutely love marvelling at the magical and wondrous things they can do. No fannying around here. And I love nipples too. Basically, I’m vagina and nipple mad.’

Will suddenly exploded with laughter again. ‘Sorry!’ he murmured. ‘But this is… unexpected.’ Carol gave him a quizzical sideways look, and I couldn’t quite determine whether she agreed with him or if his announcements were embarrassing her.

Maggie glared, unimpressed. ‘Well, William, dear, with babies you need to expect the unexpected. You’ll see.’

That told him. Will rolled his eyes. I liked Will; he was showing more spark now.

Right now my vagina wasn’t feeling particularly magical or wondrous. I was also painfully aware of what my poor unsuspecting vag was going to go through in not-very-many weeks’ time: scrutiny by various members of hospital staff, some painful war-wounds delivering my gigantic baby… It all felt pretty terrifying.

‘Lovely,’ Maggie continued, undeterred and looking happy again. ‘Now that we’ve broken the ice, let’s get to the nitty-gritty. Hands up who’s made a birth plan already?’

Helen, Lucy and Susie raised their hands. I instantly felt insecure again, for not having done mine.

‘I have it here,’ Helen said, putting the rest of us to shame. She had taken a folded-up piece of paper from a pocket at the back of her pristine notepad and was waving it excitedly, as though it held the meaning of the Da Vinci code.

‘That’s great, ladies. You don’t have to tell us what’s in it – I’m always happy to have a natter one-on-one if you’d like to, it’s a very personal choice. But I would say that writing a simple and informed birth plan – or a “vaginal instruction plan”, a V.I.P. as I call it – is a useful exercise to help ensure your wishes are known by your partner and birth team, and, of course, your beloved vagina.’ She paused for dramatic effect, and presumably to check our cheeks had remained a shade not far off beetroot. I was starting to think Maggie wasn’t the kind of person I would want in close proximity if I was actually in labour. I imagined her doing something embarrassing like shouting about my ‘magical vagina’ instead of finding someone to give me an epidural in my moment of need.

‘So, for those who have not yet created their V.I.P., let’s look at the options,’ she continued, before adding to the three who had raised their hands: ‘You might want to change your plans at the last minute – so you should find this relevant and useful too.’

I reached into my bag again, this time for my notepad and pen. Like most of my notepads, it was filled with half-finished sketches and doodles. I turned to a blank page and scribbled down ‘Write Birth Plan’, underlining it twice. Then I doodled ‘V.I.P.’ next to it, noticing my hand was shaking slightly. I felt thoroughly out of my depth.

Chapter Three

Lucy

I hoped I hadn’t made too much of an effort with my appearance, wearing a new black maternity dress bought especially for this occasion, new 40-denier tights and my trusty Golden Goose trainers. I’d applied more make-up than I’d worn in previous weeks, including a neat cat-eye flick to my eyeliner and a slick of a new scarlet Urban Decay lipstick. There was nothing like red lippy to put a spring in my step, even if those steps were more of a waddle, and my stomach was full of fluttering butterflies, as well as a baby. I’d given myself an eight out of ten, and hoped that my smart appearance would help me to give a good impression. The day had come to go forth and see if I could make a friend, or two.

Once the introductions and discussions about birth plans were done, we broke for lunch.

I watched with pleasure and relief as everyone made appreciative noises as they tucked in to my salad. It was the only dish that was completely polished off and I couldn’t help feeling a little smug. I played down the fact it had taken me nearly all of yesterday to create and actually felt a bit silly for having put in so much effort, when clearly most of them had bought their offerings from a shop that morning. When Helen and Susie asked me about the ingredients, I told them it was a family recipe. Helen and Ian had brought a pasta salad with tuna, cherry tomatoes and sweetcorn. The tuna had started to turn brown, since it had been left out all morning. I felt sorry for them as it was barely touched, but there was no way I was going to risk eating it.

Aisha wasn’t much of a cook either, judging by the shop-bought ciabattas. She seemed to be a little embarrassed because she set them down on a pretty plate, blurted out that she hadn’t read the part of the letter about bringing a sharing dish until this morning, and then made an excuse to get some fresh air. She needn’t have worried though, because they were delicious and all gone within a matter of minutes. Will and Carol had supplied deli-counter offerings from the big Sainsbury’s, so my biggest rivals for ‘dish of the day’ were Susie and Lin, whose decision to bring dessert would have been a good one, only their box of ‘vegan superfood brownies’ tasted more like bird food than the glorious stodgy ‘proper’ brownies from Gail’s bakery down the road. What a wasted opportunity – with a room full of pregnant ladies, chocolate brownies would have been a much better idea.

I checked my phone while everyone else continued chatting and saw that Oscar had WhatsApped.

O: How did the salad go down?

Me: Really well, thank goodness.

O: Excellent. How is it then?

Me: Fine. Although the teacher is obsessed with vaginas.

O: A woman after my own heart.

Me: Haha.

O: Well I suppose it’s a legit thing for a midwife to be obsessed with.

Me: True

O: I’m thinking about your vagina now.

Me:

Are you on the plane? Are you drunk already?

O: Yes and slightly. I wish you could join the mile-high club with me. I miss you.

Me: You’ve only just gone! But you’ll be back soon enough. Class is about to start again – me and my vagina had better go.

O: Call you when I land.

Me: OK, safe flight.

O: Still thinking about your vagina.

Oscar had left for New York early that morning.

‘I’ll miss you, but I’ll cope,’ I’d said as he stopped for a moment and asked whether I was really feeling okay about him going off and not coming to The Baby Group, especially when my due date was getting so close. He had reassured me that his phone would stay on all night and he’d drop everything and come home immediately, if anything started to happen.

As he’d walked away from me down the hallway to retrieve his shoes, I’d watched his slightly gangly walk, and marvelled at how I’d ended up with a man so kind and considerate, albeit lanky.

Then he came back into the kitchen, shoes on, and gave me a peck. ‘See you in a few days – I’ll go straight to the office probably, I’m on the red eye. Proper kiss?’ He lifted my head to his lips. He was a good kisser. But I couldn’t press my body into his like I used to do when kissing him. I ran my fingers over the front of his trousers and he ran his over my bump.

‘I really wish I didn’t have to rush off this morning,’ he whispered.

And then we kissed again. When our lips pulled away, he was still holding my head in his hands. He fixed me with a look; a look of lust mixed with wonderment.

‘You’re having a baby!’ he cooed.

I smiled and shrugged. It was wonderful to see him genuinely engage with this pregnancy – a scenario I once feared would never happen. I pulled my chin from his fingers, conscious that time was ticking and I needed to get ready.

He hesitated. ‘Good luck today. WhatsApp me when you get out, tell me how it goes, and if there’s anyone you’re considering being friends with. I’ll be able to reply from the plane.’

After the break, Maggie tried to make us believe that the delivery of a baby through a surgical incision in the abdomen and uterus was a barbaric torture involving a long recovery process and thus should be avoided at all costs. I closed my ears and kept quiet for most of it, having already decided on an elective C-section. It was surprising how judgemental people could be about childbirth, when surely the aim was just to have a healthy baby, however it might be born. Half of me wished Oscar was here now; he would have struggled to keep silent and would likely have challenged Maggie on that. I wondered if there were any other secret caesarean sisters in the room. Carol’s expression had failed to give anything away all day, although my guess would be her as the most likely candidate.

During the afternoon break, I nipped to the bathroom, took the red lippy out of my prized handbag and topped up my lips with three strokes in the mirror. Perhaps Gucci had been a bit too fancy for today.

‘You’re so glamorous,’ said a quiet voice at the sink next to me. Lost in thought, I had barely noticed Aisha come out of the cubicle. She turned on the tap beneath her and we smiled awkwardly at each other in the mirror.

‘Well I suppose I won’t be wearing it much once the baby arrives,’ I replied. ‘May as well make the most of it.’

‘Yes, the red lippy will have to go – your baby won’t appreciate it when you’re smothering him in kisses, believe me!’ came Maggie’s booming voice from behind a locked cubicle door. ‘Unless you both want to look like clowns, that is.’

Aisha and I looked at each other and smiled broadly. ‘Does she literally hear everything?’ I whispered, as Aisha silently giggled.

‘Noted, Maggie!’ I yelled back. ‘No more rouge for me.’ I slung the lipstick back into my bag for dramatic effect.

Aisha had put her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter.

Maybe I might make some friends here, after all.

Chapter Four

Aisha

As I was leaving the group, Dad texted to tell me he had transferred £500 into my account to buy us a cot. I had panic-texted him during the meeting, when almost everyone else mentioned they had prepared cribs for their babies, just in case they arrived early. Obviously, Jason and I didn’t yet own one. I was just trying to work out how to tell Jason about the payment, because I knew Dad’s hand-outs were a source of tension for him, when he phoned.

‘I feel like such an amateur,’ I told him as we chatted while I walked home. ‘The others seem so organized, whereas my only plan so far has been to survive the birth. As it turns out, not-dying isn’t a birth plan.’ I sighed loudly, for dramatic effect. ‘It’s made me realize that I – we – still have a lot to work out.’

‘Oh honey, we’ll get there,’ Jason replied. ‘People have babies every minute of every day and I bet loads of them are a hell of a lot less prepared than us. You attended a Baby Group for starters. Surely that counts for something? Isn’t the whole point of going to a Baby Group, to learn and plan?’

‘That and make some new friends. I’m not sure I’m going to succeed in that either,’ I said.

‘I can’t believe they were all psychos or boring, were they? Tell me about them.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Well, there was “Perfect” Helen and “Earth Mother” Susie who both had their birth plans all laid out. One of them is going to have her placenta made into tablets. I’m not even entirely sure where to find my placenta,’ I stroked my bump, ‘let alone how to make its funeral arrangements. I mean, is that bad?’

He chuckled in response. ‘Sounds quite mad to me.’

‘Then there was this “Deliciously Ella” one, who had prepared a salad that looked like it had walked off the set of its own cookery show. And she was wearing red lipstick. Jason, I don’t think I’ve worn any lipstick for the last three months, let alone a red one. I’ve never felt less cool. She turned up with a Gucci handbag too. She looked like an Instagram post.’

‘Aisha, it’s a Baby Group, not an influencers’ convention. I don’t think anyone cares what anyone else is wearing,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t give a toss. Excuse the salad pun.’

‘But I care,’ I sighed. ‘Anyway, how was your day?’

‘Philip offered to pay me double overtime when I mentioned I’d missed the meeting. I’ll get at least two hundred quid,’ he declared, sounding genuinely chuffed. ‘I’ll tell you more over dinner later.’

‘Every cloud.’ I sighed again. I didn’t dare tell him about the money from Dad, which we were going to badly need because Jason’s £200 wouldn’t cover kitting out the nursery, not judging by the baby list Maggie had said she was going to email us all this evening. ‘I’m just popping home for a quick change of clothes and a rest. I’ll see you in an hour.’

When I reached Honest Burger, Jason was standing outside holding a bunch of yellow tulips. He looked so sweetly apprehensive.

‘Tulips for my love,’ he said, bowing down dramatically. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you today; it doesn’t sound like you had the easiest time.’

‘I suppose I can forgive you,’ I said, taking the flowers from him and lifting my head to give him a kiss.

He knew yellow tulips were my favourite. They had been hard to come by in Hong Kong (whereas red roses had been ten a penny) and they had reminded me of home. Now I bought a bunch almost anywhere I found them. I loved them so much that when illustrating my last children’s book – yet another incarnation of a story about learning how to share – I put yellow tulips in almost every scene. When my new editor questioned it, I had my answer at the ready (I hadn’t been in this game for eight years and learnt nothing): ‘It adds another dimension. Once the adult reading the book becomes aware of them, the child can begin to search for them on every spread. I’ve done so many bunnies, cats and bears. Yellow tulips symbolise cheerfulness and sunshine to me. Please?’

I got to keep the tulips.

When we sat down, Jason slid an arm around me, enveloping me into a tight hug. ‘You’re going to be an amazing mum, you know,’ he said earnestly, turning my face so my gaze met his.

My eyes filled with tears. ‘I hope so.’ I took a deep breath.

‘I was thinking, with my overtime money, we could shop for a cot.’ He fixed me with a look of pure love. ‘Perhaps we could go and find one tomorrow, a really great one.’

I smiled. There was a time when a bonus would have meant going straight to the pub, and blowing it all on margaritas and later a Thai meal at our favourite local restaurant, and now here he was getting excited about buying a cot. Even though I would give almost anything for a margarita right now, it felt good, after his initial wobble when I got pregnant, to see Jason enthusiastic about the baby. It meant he was finally getting his head around becoming a daddy and it made my heart swell with happiness. This was quite a moment, because it was the first time it had been his suggestion to go shopping for nursery items. The last time I mentioned getting a cot, he had suggested we use the time to go on a date instead. He had looked exasperated when I had explained that the baby was likely to be in a cot for up to two years so it was important to do the research. But really, it wasn’t even about the cot – it was about us coming together to plan. Jason seemed to think having a baby was a fleeting moment in time.

‘A cot – can I just check I heard you correctly?’ I asked sardonically.

‘You did,’ he said proudly, moving a stray piece of hair that had flopped across my face. ‘I know it probably sounds ridiculous, but it’s like I’m finally really excited about all this. I was genuinely gutted not to be able to come with you today. I felt like I’d let you down.’ He paused. ‘But more than that, I felt as though I’d let our baby down. It felt horrible – and I don’t want either of you to feel like that again. I promise I’m going to be a good dad, Aish, I’m going to give our baby everything he or she needs – nothing will be too much.’ He looked down at my swollen belly and whispered behind his hand. ‘You hear that, little bean and your little placenta, wherever it may be?’ He glanced at me comically. I beamed. Jason had always been able to make me laugh. ‘I’m going to give you everything you need. Including a gold-plated cot, if that’s what you want. Well, maybe not gold-plated, but a super-cosy one. I love your mummy very much, you know.’