An Unexpected Bonus. Caroline Anderson
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and started listening to the baby. You’ll be fine—and, anyway, you wouldn’t be alone. For the first ten days I’ll come whenever you want, and once a day in any case, then the health visitor takes over so you won’t be abandoned.’
She looked round. ‘Right. A couple of you are second- or third-timers along for a refresher and the rest of you are having your first so I think we’ll have input and comments from the old hands after the talk. I want to go through labour and delivery with you, just to make sure you all know or remember what all the stages are and what’s happening at any point.’
They settled down and listened, and after Jo had done her demonstration with the elastic band and the plastic pelvis she invited questions and comments.
This was always a tricky one. Inevitably there would be at least one mother who would revel in going over the more traumatic and memorable moments of her labour, regardless of the dread she was inspiring in the first-time mums, so Jo was on the alert ready to cut off anyone who launched into a counter-productive monologue.
In fact, they were fine, and after a few minutes she got them all to lie down and relax.
‘Think of every part of your body in turn. As you think of it, tense it hard, then hold it, then let it flop. Think about how you make it go floppy, and after a while you’ll be able to home in on tight areas of your body and relax them. Right, start with your feet. Point your toes hard, but make sure you don’t get cramp. Good. Hold—and relax. Totally floppy. Good. Now pull your feet up so your toes are pointing at your head. Tense—hold—and flop. Well done.’
She watched them, looking for the ones who found it difficult and the ones who had probably done yoga or had been to her classes before.
One new girl, thin and dressed in what Jo could only describe as ‘hippy’ clothes, was wonderfully relaxed. Her name was Mel, and Jo flicked through her notes and noticed her address—the travellers’ site in the forest outside Yoxburgh, up on the heath by the edge of the trees.
It was a lovely spot, but Jo had a sneaky feeling, despite what she’d said, that Mel was going to go for a home delivery. The idea of delivering a baby in a converted coach or, worse still, a ‘bender’—a shelter made of tree branches—filled Jo with horror.
What if anything went wrong? It was Mel’s first—there was no reason why anything should go wrong, but what if it did? The baby was bound to be born at night—the more difficult the location the more likely it seemed to be, and there was no power out there, no light, no running water. How would she deliver her safely under those conditions? Jo vowed to have a word to make sure Mel understood the risks. Mel had a few weeks left to go so she’d use them to try and talk sense into her.
Jo led them through the relaxation, then the breathing, and finally she got them to grip each other’s forearms with both hands and twist firmly in opposite directions to pull the skin. Called ‘Chinese burns’, they were a thing schoolchildren did to each other to see who was bravest—harmless but painful, Jo found they were a useful tool to help women practise breathing through the ‘contractions’ and remaining relaxed. When they’d all had a rest for a moment and she’d done the question-and-answer session and they’d put the mats away, she sent them all off.
Still thinking about Mel, she packed up all her stuff, cleared away the cups and made sure the mats had all been stacked properly in the cupboard. They used the maternity day-room for their classes, and she didn’t want to leave the place untidy.
One of the staff midwives stuck her head round the door and grinned. ‘Got time for a cuppa?’
‘I’d love one. Did you see my traveller?’
‘Yes—is she going to be a problem?’
Jo laughed. ‘I hope not, but I suspect so. I think she’s just unconventional, not stupid, but I’ve got a suspicion I won’t be able to persuade her to go to the Audley. I just have a feeling.’
‘Birth in a bender, eh? That’ll be a first, won’t it?’
‘Don’t.’ Jo sipped her tea and sighed with relief. ‘Perhaps I’ll get Ed Latimer to talk to her—see what he’s made of.’
‘I don’t know, but if you can get the recipe, I’d like one the same, please!’
Jo laughed, but inside her stomach the butterflies were working themselves up to a frenzy. The remark had reminded her about Ed, and about the rehearsal. It was panto time in three hours, and she’d have no professional guise to hide behind, no protocol—just herself, and Laura.
That was it! She’d be Laura’s mother. It would make her seem middle-aged and boring—with any luck!
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