“Yes.” I nod. “Ideally.”
“And pain relief?”
“I’ve got a special Maori birthing stone,” I say confidently. “And I’ve done yoga. So I’ll probably be OK.”
“I see.” Noura looks as though she wants to add something else. “Right,” she says at last. “Well. There are birth plan forms in front of you and I’d like everyone to fill one in. We’ll take all the ideas as points of discussion.”
There’s a murmuring as everyone picks up their pencils and begins to chat to their partners.
“I’d also love to hear from Becky’s mother and Janice,” Noura adds, as Mum and Janice rejoin the group. “It’s a privilege to hear from older women who have been through birth and motherhood and can share their wisdom.”
“Of course, dear! We’ll tell you all about it.” Mum gets out a packet of mints. “Polo? Polo, anyone?”
I pick up my pencil, then put it down again. I must just quickly text Jess and find out what’s going on. I take out my phone, find her cell number, and type out a text.
OMG Jess!!! R U going out w Tom????
Then I delete it. Too excited. She’ll get all freaked out and never reply.
Hi Jess. How R U doing? Bex
That’s better. I press Send and turn my attention back to the birth plan. It’s a list of questions, with space to fill in answers.
1. What are your priorities in early labor?
I think hard for a moment, then write: “Look good.”
2. How will you cope with pain in the early stages (e.g., warm bath, rock on all fours)
I’m about to write “Go shopping,” when my mobile pings. It’s a text back from Jess!
Fine, thanks. Jess
That is so Jess. Two words, giving nothing away. I immediately text back.
Are you seeing Tom??
“Sheets in, everybody.” Noura’s clapping her hands. “If you could all stop writing…”
Already? God, this is like a school test. I hand my paper in last, pushing it into the middle so Noura won’t see it. But she’s leafing through all of them, nodding as she reads. Then she stops.
“Becky, under ‘priorities in early labor’ you’ve put ‘Look good.’” She raises her head. “Is that a joke?”
Why is everyone staring at me? Of course it’s not a joke.
“If you look good, you feel good! It’s natural pain-relief. We should all have makeovers or get our hair done….”
I’m getting frowns and titters from around the room, all except a girl in a fab pink top, who’s nodding in agreement.
“See you there!” she says. “I’d rather do that than rock on all fours.”
“Or go shopping,” I add. “It cures morning sickness, so—”
“Shopping cures morning sickness?” Noura interrupts me. “What are you talking about?”
“Whenever I felt sick in the first few weeks, I used to go to Harrods and buy a little something to take my mind off it,” I explain. “It really worked.”
“I used to order stuff online,” agrees the girl in pink.
“You could add it to your list of remedies, maybe,” I suggest helpfully. “After ginger tea.”
Noura opens her mouth, then closes it again. She turns to another girl, who has her hand up, just as my phone beeps with another text.
Kind of. J
Kind of? What does kind of mean? I quickly type.
Janice thinks U R getting married! Bex
I press Send. Ha. That’ll wind her up.
“OK. Let’s move on.” Noura is in the center of the room again. “From glancing through these answers, it’s clear that a lot of you are concerned by the thought of labor and how you’ll cope with it.” She looks around the group. “My first response is: don’t worry. You can cope. All of you.”
A nervous laugh goes around the room.
“Yes, contractions can be intense,” Noura continues. “But your bodies are designed to withstand them. And what you must remember is, it’s a positive pain. I’m sure you’ll both agree?” She looks over at Mum and Janice, who has got out her knitting and is clicking away.
“Positive?” Janice looks up, horrified. “Ooh no, dear. Mine was agony. Twenty-four hours in the cruel summer heat. I wouldn’t wish it on any of you poor girls.”
“They have better drugs these days,” chimes in Mum. “My advice is take everything they’ve got.”
“But there are natural, instinctive methods you can use,” Noura puts in quickly. “I’m sure you found that rocking and changing position helped with the contractions?”
Mum and Janice exchange doubtful glances.
“I wouldn’t have said so,” says Mum kindly.
“Or a warm bath?” Noura suggests, her smile tightening.
“A bath?” Mum laughs merrily. “Dear, when you’re gripped by agony and wanting to die, a bath doesn’t really help!”
I can tell Noura’s getting a bit frustrated, by the way she’s breathing more deeply and balling her hands into fists.
“But it was worth it in the end? The pain seemed a small price to pay, compared to the life-affirming joy?”
“Well…” Mum gives me a doubtful glance. “Of course, I was delighted to have my little Becky. But I did keep it at the one child. We both did, didn’t we, Janice?”
“Never again.” Janice shudders. “Not if you paid me a million pounds.”
As I glance around the room I can see that all the girls’ faces have frozen. Most of the men’s too.