Birth in Suburbia - Carol Falaki (well read books txt) 📗

the grass sipping his drink and watching her sleep. Tom strolled over to the men
at the barbecue.
Natalie and Jonathan sat together close to the pond enjoying their burgers and chattering.
Maggie fetched some cushions to support aching pregnant backs, and Chrissy brought out some tall glasses and a large jug of fruit juice rattling with ice. Debbie thought how relaxed Helen looked. She appeared to have recovered from her hospital visit. She was chatting to Liz who wanted to know everything about the labour ward.
“I only saw one room,” Helen replied, “and that was a bit glum, you know, shiny pastel-coloured paint, no window and things on trays.”
“What sort of things?”
“You know the sort of things, syringes, needles and a torch.”
“This jug is overflowing,” Chrissy said, aiming for a glass, but the fruit juice spilled out onto the table
“A bit like mine are sometimes,” Marie laughed, and beckoned them all to come closer; quietly she said: “There is something else I didn’t mention about breast-feeding.” They all leant a little closer.
“This really amazing thing happens,” Marie continued, “When David and I are making love. My body is able to separate its functions, but I don’t know how. When he kisses one breast the other leaks, and it’s never the one he is kissing. It’s really weird. We’ve even done a test, you know, trying the other one first. ”
“Do you mean it’s like your breasts know it’s him
and not the baby?” Helen asked.
“Well, my breasts are part of the whole me aren’t they? But it’s weird, because it’s not something you are conscious of, is it? There must be a hormonal response to what going on, but it’s somehow separated into a baby and a husband response. I’ve never told anyone else about this, so I don’t know if it happens to other women.” Liz said,
“Have you ever heard of it Mum?”
“I haven’t,” Maggie confessed.
“That is weird,” Liz said, and turning to Marie again asked,
“How does it feel, when you’re feeding? Is it sexual? I heard that sometimes it can be; is it?”
Marie smiled at Maggie. She didn’t know her as well as the others. Maggie said:
“Don’t mind me. I’m just interested, like everyone else appears to be.”
“No, it’s more sensual, not sexual,” Marie continued. “There’s a closeness with your baby that feels both relaxing and right, well, once you’ve got over those first few weeks and you are comfortable with it, then you feel more confident. When I’m breast-feeding and I lie down with Emily to feed her, I have a legitimate reason to stop and rest. I know this is our time together and I can allow myself not to feel guilty about resting. I love it now.”
“Oh, there is something else you ought to know about sex and breast-feeding” she added. “Remember to have a towel by the bed,” and
laughed at her captivated audience. “You all look like cats in an aviary,” she said, and they laughed together.
“When you do get back to making love,” Marie continued, “if you have an orgasm the milk starts squirting out all over the place.”
This produced a roar of laughter, followed by a few questioning glances from the men across the garden. Then Helen said, encouraged by the openness of the conversation and her own curiosity:
“Have any of you noticed that you can have multiple orgasms while you are pregnant, or is it just me?”
“It’s just you, Helen,” Marie replied with confidence. More laughter followed and Liz added dryly: “I wouldn’t know, would I?”
Debbie felt too shy to respond, but found fun in the conversation nonetheless.
“You’re not alone, Liz,” Chrissy added. “I’ve been celibate since, well, since I can’t remember.”
A deliberate cough erupted from the ground close by. Like a Wimbledon crowd they turned their heads. Liz laughed and Helen’s face coloured, they had forgotten Leo, sitting on the grass within earshot.
“Well ladies,” he said, “this has been very educational, but I’m beginning to feel like I’m eavesdropping. I might be too young and innocent to hear any more.” Chrissy laughed: “You’re in the right place here Leo; we are all young and innocent. Come and join us.”
Watching Leo get up and fetch a chair to sit
next to Liz, Debbie wondered if he and Tom were a couple.
“The conversation over there will be all football and politics,” he complained. He sat down.
“You ladies are much more entertaining.”
Natalie came over to test Chrissy about cake and ice-cream. Jonathan was lying on his stomach on the grass playing with a stick on the pond, his father wandered over to him and Debbie watched Michael sit down next to his son, their two heads together in secret, comfortable conversation.
Chrissy took Natalie into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Leo leaned back in his chair looking at each of them in turn, with curiosity; his mouth opened and closed and Liz said: “Go on, Leo, fire away, we’ll answer your question, if we can.”
“What does it feel like,” he asked, “to have a baby inside you?”
“It feels like they squashed a football stadium into a football, and my stomach is the football,” Liz said.
“It feels like someone connected my naval to an automatic air hose, one of those for topping up the air in tyres, and then it got stuck on slow, and I just keep filling up and up,” Debbie added.
Helen looked at Leo. She put her hand on her stomach. “I know the breath, which touches my lips as I breathe in, will also touch her. I know she’s a separate person, but she’s not an individual, not yet, because her existence depends on my existence. She is totally
dependent and she, or he, is a part of me for now. I am growing and protecting a living moving person.
“Are you having a girl?” Debbie asked her.
Helen shrugged and whispered: “I don’t know,” but averted her eyes, and this told Debbie a different story, tactfully Debbie continued.
“I think I know what you mean,” she said,
“I try so hard to imagine what my baby will look like, to see him, or her, to imagine a person, and sometimes when I sit quietly and close my eyes I think I can, but I don’t know.”
Helen added thoughtfully: “When do they have a soul, I wonder?” For a moment there was silence.
“Do they have thoughts like us?” Liz asked, and then answered herself. “Well, I suppose they can’t really, no language.”
“I think a baby is all instinct at first,” Helen said, “But they do respond, to music, voices, anything like that, don’t they?”
Maggie added: “In my experience babies appear to recognise their parent’s voice, I think they recognise familiar music and never startle at the bark of the family dog. They have heard the dog barking from within the uterus.”
“I know babies can cry a lot,” Marie added, “but I just love to see a baby smile, It gives me a feeling of hope for humanity whenever I see a very young baby smile, because that smile is one of the first things they
learn to do, smiling, being happy and responsive must be an essential part of them, of us.
“They must have a need for love and cuddles,” Leo said.
“Yes,” Marie agreed, “Lots of cuddles; I don’t think you can spoil a new baby with too many cuddles, they need them all. But I had to get to know Emily. The first time I saw her, I think I was too exhausted because I didn’t have that overwhelming feeling of love that you hear about, or expect. I felt guilty about that; now I know that it happens to a lot of women.” She looked over to where Emily lay and said: “Now it’s difficult to remember what life was like before she came.”
“When the baby moves,” Leo was curious, “how does it feel, does it hurt? Is it uncomfortable?”
“Yes, it is uncomfortable, sometimes, but it doesn’t hurt,” Debbie replied.
“Unless they keep kicking you in the same place, over and over,” Helen said. “It can start to feel a bit bruised then.”
“You know that movie ‘Alien’?” Chrissy had return from the kitchen and was determined to add her bit.
“Chrissy!” they chorused. But Liz agreed: “No, it does feel a bit like that sometimes, like you are about to go pop!”
“There are experiences associated with being a woman that I don’t envy,” Leo said. “The thought of giving birth, that’s one of them.”
Tom came over, with a plate of cooked
chicken. Chrissy went off to the kitchen and returned with salad and crusty French bread.
“Stay where you are, ladies,” Tom offered. “I’ll fetch some cutlery.”
Nigel made regular trips to their table carrying dishes of succulent lamb kebab and chicken hot off the barbecue. Chrissy fetched the salads.
They ate hungrily at first, the food smelling and tasting delicious in the garden air, and then, appetites sated, continued slowly to pick at the food while chatting.
The late afternoon was marginally cooler. The slight change in temperature was enough to make Debbie feel less hot and bothered and more comfortable. Every now and then she would watch Sean, who appeared to be relaxed and enjoying himself.
He had taken charge of the cooking and could be heard making requests and giving directions. She couldn’t help wondering about Michael, and found she was comparing them.
Michael was quiet, but that may be because he didn’t know any of them very well. He appeared comfortable and had been chatting to each of the men in turn. Helen was right. It seemed that he had already met Nigel. They were talking now. An occasional laugh arose out of their conversation and crossed the garden in transient waves, to be absorbed by the