Chapter 71

“I'm going to be seeing this an awful lot in the time to come, aren't I?” James' voice was still thick with sleep.
“Oh, about every four hours for the next... four to six months, at least,” I estimated from where I sat in the high-backed armchair having Linnea at my breast again.
“You must've been up with her at least once during the night, too?” He asked as he sat up and swung his legs out of bed. “Sorry for sleeping through it.”
“Oh for gods sake. There's no point in me waking you up every time I'm going to breastfeed. Like you said, you're going to see it an awful lot.” I shook my head a little at James, who was now pulling on his jeans and t-shirt. “Want to take her?” I offered.
“Sure,” James said, smiling tenderly when he eyed his daughter who was lying in my lap on a pillow, having finished eating. He leaned down to take her, then froze in his tracks, obviously not sure about how to lift her up.
“First of all, take that and drape it over a shoulder,” I said, holding up a burp cloth. James swung it over a shoulder, then stared at me intently, awaiting his next order. “Slip your hands under her shoulders, and hook your thumbs under her arms. Yeah, just like that. When you lift her up, remember to support her head with your fingertips.” James shot me a worried look, needing moral support. “Go on, you can do it.” Gingerly, as if she was made of eggshells he lifted her up from my lap.
“Now what?!” He asked, holding her with his arms straight. She kicked her legs as she dangled from her father's big, slightly trembling hands. Trying my best not to laugh at James I took pity on him in stead and continued guiding him.
“Just... Hold her against you, against your chest and shoulder. That's it, good. Now, let her head just rest against your shoulder, and hold her by supporting her with an arm under her bum. See? That's it! Now you're holding her,” I smiled. James relaxed a little as he realised he felt had a solid grip on her.
“Seriously, have you never held a baby before?” I asked, unable to stop myself from smirking.
“Yes I have, but none of them were.. mine. And none of them were this.. new. I just.. panicked,” he mumbled, and a blush flashed across his face. “God, she weighs... nothing.” He ran his free hand over the back of her head, then up and down her back, caressing her gently while he leaned his cheek against her forehead. In gratitude Linnea let out a loud burp worthy of a sailor.
“Oi! Who taught you that sort of behaviour, missy? You certainly didn't learn it from me! You must've picked it up from your mother!” James grumbled, sounding thoroughly affronted with his daughter. I broke out into a hearty laugh, happy to see James returning to a little of his old self.
“Well, at least I taught her how to do it properly,” I sniffed proudly. James walked slowly back and forth across the floor, holding Linnea close and rocking her gently. I watched them in silence for a while, another wave of emotions hitting me at the sight of them. The silence was broken by an ominous, low rumbling within the depths of Linneas nappy. “Uh-oh. Sounds like daddy is in for a nappy-change as well this morning!” James froze in his tracks, his eyes widening with horror.
“...What?” He squeaked weakly.
“Yep. Whoever holds the baby when she makes that sound, has to do the diaper change.”
“I was never informed of this rule,” he scowled suspiciously.
“I made it up just now. But that doesn't make it any less valid!” I nodded gravely, then got up from my chair and lead the way into the bathroom. Gently, still nervous that he'd break her in some way, he supported Linnea's head and bum as he lowered her down onto the changing mat. Then he considered her, looking at her as if she was a complex engineering riddle he had to solve. Taking pity on him once again I nudged him out of the way. “Want to just watch me do it, first?”
“... Yes, please,” he mumbled, a little ashamed.
“All right. But the next one is definitely yours,” I smirked. Checking that I had a fresh diaper and baby wipes at the ready I popped open the buttons on her onesie and pulled out of the way, then undid the diaper. James looked a mixture of grossed out and worried at the sight of the contents of the nappy. “Don't worry, its supposed to look like that, her digestive system is just starting up.” With a trained hand I quickly wiped her clean with a few baby wipes, stuffed them into the dirty nappy and rolled it up, tossing it in the bin. This was a part I was already good at, having changed probably thousands of nappies as part of my job at the neonatal ward, and those babies were so much smaller than her. Linnea kicked her legs madly, making odd cooing sounds. “Aw, does that feel nice, huh? Being liberated from the confines of the nappy? Airing your bum out?” I giggled, watching as her legs went like drumsticks. “This is all very cute and everything, but it'll just end with you peeing on me.” I unfolded the new nappy and handed it to James. “I did the icky bit. Your turn.” With a sceptical, helpless expression he accepted the nappy and we swapped places. “Hold her legs by the ankles with one hand, and lift her legs up enough to lift her bum up, then slide the nappy under her.” James shot me another worried look. “Her legs wont fall off, love, I promise!” He did as he was told, breathing a sigh of relief when he had the nappy in place. Clumsily he folded it over and fastened it around her waist, and she protested a little at having the nappy back on. James kept his calm and pulled the onesie back down, then closed the snap fasteners. “You have officially finished your first nappy change! And your daughter is still alive!” I cheered. James looked a little hurt. “I'm sorry for making fun of you, but you're being... adorably ridiculous. She isn't as frail as you think she is!” In my job I had seen hundreds of parents react in the same way James was now; so overwhelmed over how small and frail she seemed, and so petrified of doing anything wrong that he hardly dared touch her. Everything about this was new to him, he wasn't used to handling a newborn and had a steep learning-curve ahead of him. Even I, who was used to handling newborns as a part of my job, handled my daughter a lot more cautiously and with a lighter touch than was necessary. “Before you pick her up, put these on,” I said, handing James a tiny pair of jogging bottoms with feet. His shoulders sagged a little as he realised he yet another nerve-wracking challenge to go through. Linnea didn't make it easy on him as she was still kicking her tiny little pink legs, but after a few failed attempts he managed to get one leg in each pant-leg and pulled it up. When he was finished he straightened up and looked at me with a manic sort of pride in his face. I patted his back and smiled encouragingly at him, enjoying seeing him so proud and excited. He slipped his hands under her back and neck again, lifting her gently up off the changing table and held her close to his chest, kissing the top of her head. I trailed after him as we walked back into our room. “The doctor is going to have a look at her later. If everything is fine we might get to go home today!” I smiled as I sat down on the bed.
“Go home? Today already? What do you mean “if everything is fine?” James' face instantly turned worried.
“Oh relax, James. All newborns go through it. It's this set of neurological exams, they just want to check that the baby has all its reflexes and things. And they probably want to weigh her, listen to her heart and breathing... They do this with all babies. But Linnea was born a little early, too.”
“Do you really think they'll let us go home already today?”
“I don't know... They might not want to because she was a bit premature, but... I was the one who asked if we could,” I admitted. At this James stopped in his tracks. Up until now he'd been slowly pacing the floor, rocking Linnea who was slowly nodding off to sleep. Watching him it was as if he had never done anything else in his entire life but rock his daughter to sleep.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I... You know how I hate hospitals.” I smirked at what by now had become a running joke between us. “I just get restless here, I want to go home with our baby, sleep in my own bed... I feel good and healthy, the breastfeeding is going good, Linnea is healthy and happy, so... I can't think of a reason why they should keep us here.” Later that day we got called in to see the doctor. Looking at James I was half expecting him to leap out of his chair at any minute and wrestle his baby daughter out from the doctor's grasp. It was apparent that James thought the he was manhandling her in an extremely rough way when indeed all he was doing was check her mental status, motor functions and reflexes. Having completed his examination the doctor admitted that although she was born a little early and was a small one, he saw no reason for us to remain in the hospital as long as I agreed to bring her to a check up in a week or so. I nodded compliantly, eager to accept any terms the doctor set that enabled me to go home. Half an hour later we had finished packing and I placed Linnea in her car seat for the first time, strapping her in and placing a blanket over her. James shouldered our bags while I carried the car seat through the hospital and down into the underground parking house. Secretly I was a little grateful for the private parking, it gave us less of a chance of being seen by anyone, especially any photographers or press. There was a moment of mutual embarrassment and feeling of ineptitude when we stared at the car seat, then at the base of the car seat in the back of the panda.
“Any idea?” I asked, looking sideways at James.
“None. This was one of the reasons it took me ages to get back to the hospital in the first place – I had to figure out how install that thing properly!” He said defensively, pointing at the base.
“Did you bring the instructions?”
“Mno, but I think there's some on the.. thing...” he mumbled, diving into the back of the car to examine the base, on the hunt for some clarifying illustrations, which he eventually found. “Absolutely everything feels unfamiliar and like a huge challenge nowadays,” James observed, having finally managed to place the car seat correctly.
“I know, sweetie. It feels like that for me, too,” I admitted, taking a step closer and slipping my arms inside his jacket, wrapping them around his waist. “I guess our lives is going to be filled with a lot of firsts from now on. And it'll probably be a long time until we feel like we have any idea what we're doing, but... I'm sure we'll manage to get the car-seat into the car in under 20 minutes eventually,” I said with a comforting smile, and James chortled. “Kiss?” I requested sweetly. James was more than happy to oblige. Tenderly he cupped my face in his hands, pulled me close and took my lips in a lingering, loving kiss. It felt comforting and calming. It reminded me that even though we didn't quite recognise our lives right now and everything felt upside down, we still had this. We still had each other, our closeness and companionship and love for each other, and that hadn't changed.

“I'm never doing that again!” James announced as he climbed out of the car, having pulled up in our own driveway.
“Doing what?” I frowned, climbing out of the backseat where I had kept an eye on Linnea, who had snoozed through her entire first car-ride.
“Driving a car while my daughter is in it! It's too fucking scary!” He complained, sounding a little hysterical. He looked pale and incredibly wound up, like he had just survived a bombing raid.
“Oh, so you're going to carry her everywhere for the rest of your life? That'll be interesting,” I snorted. “The Fiat is pretty small, maybe you should just buy a tank? She'd be safe in that?”
“Don't mock me, woman,” James grumbled, but the corners of his mouth twitched anyway. “But yeah, we might need a bigger car.” Entering my own house, carrying the car-seat, I breathed a sigh of relief. Bringing Linnea home was equal parts exciting and terrifying, just as everything concerning her seemed to be. Setting the seat down on the table I sat down in the sofa and gently unbuckled her, then took off the purple hat she was wearing. Unable to leave her be I lifted her out from her seat and cradled her in my arms, resting back against the sofa. She squirmed and stretched a little at being disturbed, then fell asleep again.
“You know where we are, baby? We're home! Yeah, this is our house. Welcome home, pumpkin,” I cooed in a whisper, running my hand over her hair. Before long Linnea woke up, letting me know she was hungry. “James? Could you go get the nursing pillow in her room?” James was in the kitchen, busying himself making tea by the sounds of it.
“The what?”
“The... The weird-looking pillow-thing! Its in the chair!” When James returned I accepted the pillow and placed it in my lap, letting the now screaming baby rest against it while I undid my nursing bra.
“What's wrong?” James asked over the racket, looking desperately unhappy at the sound of her wailing. It was the first time he had heard her scream properly.
“She's just hungry,” I waved, and a few seconds later Linnea proved me right by going quiet the instant she was offered a breast. “See? Yeah, you're a bit silly, aren't you? Getting that hysterical is completely unnecessary. Besides, you're scaring your father,” I added with a teasing smirk.
“All that just because she was hungry?” He asked in quiet amazement, sitting down next to me on the sofa.
“Yeah... Apparently, their sense of hunger is very intense, I read that somewhere. And, this is the only way she can communicate what she wants right now.”
“So that is what that pillow is for. I thought it was a .. neck.. thing...” James mumbled, almost sounding embarrassed. “I thought I was a bit prepared for this, I read all the books and things, but... I feel like I don't know anything,” he sighed unhappily.
“I don't think any amount of reading in books will get you prepared for something like this,” I said with a shrug. James wrapped his arm around my shoulders, gently so he wouldn't disturb Linnea.
“I'm incredibly impressed with you, though, Emily. You're being... very good at all of this. And I'm glad at least one of us is.” He kissed the top of my head.
“James, I work with tiny babies so I'm used to handling them. And I helped out a bit when my nieces and nephews were born, I picked up a thing or two. The breastfeeding part was new to me, but that is just.. instinct, I guess. Even so, this all still feels very.. new and odd to me, probably just as much as it does to you. But I like it,” I smiled.
“I like it too,” James said, returning the smile. When Linnea had finished eating I handed her over to James again, who was slightly less panicked when taking his daughter into his arms this time. I announced that I was going to take a bath, then gave them each a kiss on the forehead and headed for the bathroom. I unpacked a little and had a long bath, feeling the positive effects it had on my body which still felt the after-effects of birth. While I dried myself off and got dressed I kept listening for any sound that could signal that Linnea was awake, but all was quiet. Returning to the living-room I found James lying on the sofa, a pillow under his head, Linnea resting on his chest, draped in a blanket. They were both fast asleep, and looking at them I was torn between emotional tears and laughter. Both of them were sleeping with their mouths half-open in exactly the same way, making them look very much like father and daughter. I quickly snapped a photo of them with my phone, then took a few of them with the proper camera. Deciding it was best to leave them be I sat down in a chair with my phone, going through my messages. Most of them were from my family, apparently the rumour of Linnea's birth had spread to the extended family, aunts and uncles and cousins who had sent me greetings and well-wishings. Among the messages I found one from Hammond. 'Congratulations on the baby girl from both of us! In risk of sounding like a woman – can I see a picture? Hope you're all okay. Hugs, Hamster.' I thought about it for a moment, then I composed an e-mail and attached two photos, one that James had taken of me and Linnea along with the one I had just taken of James and her on the sofa. 'Hi, Hamster. We're all doing just fine, just got home in fact! Sending you a few photos. No question of paternity necessary when you look at that last one, huh? :P Keep them to yourself for a bit, yeah? No one else has seen her yet. I just.. thought I owed you as much, seeing as you were there for most of her birth. Hugs, Emily.'

The first few weeks of Linnea's life we hardly left the house, apart from going on little walks to try and get some fresh air, pushing a sleeping Linnea along in a pram. We had a steady stream of visitors, friends and family who were all dying to greet her and congratulate us, and James proudly showed off his daughter. James handled the shopping and ran a few errands, but he kept mostly at home. He wrote some articles now and then, but that was the only work he did – he had cleared his schedule as much as he could, and wouldn't go back to work until Top Gear started filming again. And even then he'd managed to avoid most of the long travels it normally involved. No matter how many times James had tried to reassure me that he truly wanted to have this baby, and that I hadn't forced him to agree to it, there had always been this tiny, niggling suspicion at the back of my mind, a tiny voice of doubt that I had never quite managed to shut up. My worst fear was that he would some day realise he'd made some awful mistake. His reaction right after Linnea was born did nothing to appease those fears, and I had worried that James would distance himself from her in some way. But as the days and weeks after Linnea's birth passed, it quickly dawned on me that all the fears I had carried with me had been a complete waste of time and energy. Linnea quickly grew just as attached to James as she did to me, maybe even more so. He had fallen into his role as a father with ease, and he was completely immersed and infatuated with her, soon being ust as adept as me when it came to changing nappies and taking care of her. He held her whenever he could and was always close, probably spending hundreds and hundreds of hours with her asleep on his chest, her little fingers intertwined into his long hair. She relied on me for food, but most times she would only fall asleep in my arms if James wasn't present. If he was anywhere nearby she wouldn't settle until she was in his arms or lying against his chest. As she grew and started to smile and imitate faces, James became even more enraptured with her, teaching her how to stick out her tongue and being the first one to get her to giggle. It was as if they had their own little world together, a special understanding and bond between then that I couldn't quite be a part of, and that I sometimes felt envious of. Linnea slept well most nights, but even so the breastfeeding felt constant, and the fact that I was never getting more than four hours of continual sleep was taking its toll on me. One night, absolutely nothing seemed to work to calm her down. Feeding, nappy change, rocking her, putting her down, everything just seemed to make her more frustrated. Feeling like a miserable failure I paced her nursery, holding a wailing Linnea. Eventually James shuffled in with a t-shirt on and his hair on end.
“Want me to take over?” He offered kindly.
“Yes, please...” I begged, handing the screaming infant over to her daddy. Typically, she quieted down almost immediately.
“Hey, hey, hey, what's all this kerfuffle about, huh?” James talked to his daughter in that soft, tender voice that was reserved especially for her. “Are you trying to drive your mother up the wall, hm? Because I think you're succeeding, you little bugger.” Looking over his shoulder he smiled at me. “Go on, go to bed. We'll try to keep it down. Won't we?” He admonished mildly, talking to Linnea again. I smiled gratefully and shuffled to our bedroom, falling asleep before my head hit the pillow. I woke up with a start not twenty minutes later, cursing myself for not sleeping now that I had the chance. Rolling over in bed I stared at the dark ceiling, listening to the silence in the house. Then I realised the house wasn't completely quiet. In the distance I heard a faint sound of a piano playing. Intrigued I crawled out of bed and headed in the direction of the library. The door was closed, and opening it gently I peered inside. James was sitting by his piano playing something I didn't recognise, but it was calm and melodic. Linnea was sitting in her baby rocking chair perched on top of the grand piano, studying her father while pulling at one of her socks that she'd managed to get a hold of. James noticed the door opening in the corner of his eye.
“I'm sorry, were we playing music too loud?” He asked, still playing.
“No, no, I just... woke up,” I said, entering the room and approaching the piano.
“Someone just isn't tired,” James explained, nodding discreetly in the direction of Linnea as if she wasn't supposed to know we were talking about her. “She's a bit of a night owl, I suspect. Like her mum, maybe? Anyway, this seems to keep her calm.”
“Yeah, your piano playing always had a sedating effect on me, too,” I smirked, wrapping my arms around his neck from behind.
“Ha. ha. Unfunny woman.”
“Sorry,” I apologised and kissed his cheek. “Music could always calm me down when I felt bad, maybe she's the same way. Anyway, I'll leave you to it, I'm going back to bed, I just wanted to check on you.” I gave him another kiss on the cheek and left the room, closing the door behind me.

Notes:

This is going to be the last chapter for this part of the fic. I AM going to continue it, but going to do a bit of a time-leap into the future :)

Chapter 70

 I slept soundly, my body and mind tired and battered. Even so I woke at the slightest little wince from the bundle lying against me. When I opened my eyes it was light out, and it was nearly 8am. Looking over at James he was sleeping heavily, breathing slowly with his mouth slightly open. “Good morning, pumpkin...” I whispered, my voice barely audible so I wouldn't wake James, I wanted to let him sleep. “We must've been pretty knackered, both you and me, huh? We've slept for ages! Maybe you're hungry, huh?” She wasn't crying, not yet, but she was complaining in small little, squeaky winces. Feeling stiff and sore I climbed clumsily out of bed, carried my duvet over to a high-backed armchair in a corner, then went to pick up my baby girl. Sitting down in the chair I draped the duvet over my bare legs so I wouldn't get could, and placed the baby over it in my lap, using the duvet as a nursing pillow as well. She fumbled with the proffered nipple for a little, but took a deep, heavy breath of content when she finally caught it properly. There was more milk this time, and she did a better job of getting to it. As I stared down at the baby at my breast I was struck with amazement again. As strange as this sensation felt, it also felt completely natural, it was just the way it was supposed to be. I had tried to picture myself doing this more times than I could count, and I had never been able to. No matter how hard I had tried, I had never been able to imagine what it would be like to hold a baby that was mine. It reminded me of when I had taken care of baby Emily, but with so much more feelings evolved, emotions so strong and huge I barely dared to feel them. Looking at her I felt a sense of... ownership, there was no other word for it, she was mine. But I also felt an overwhelming pride and pure, unconditional love. But all that pride and love brought with it responsibility, and all the trepidation and worry that came with that. This little human would depend upon me and James for absolutely everything, food, clothes, comfort and support, guidance and help. The way we brought her up would shape her as a person, we would be partly responsible for who she grew up to be. The thought terrified me. But as soon as I looked down at the child in my arms, the fear just faded away. She had stopped suckling, and now just lay there in my arms, her hands intertwined, looking up at me. We sat like that for a while, considering each other.

“Okay, munchkin... Maybe we should try ourselves at nappy-changing, huh?” There was a fully equipped changing table in the bathroom. Gingerly, as if she was made of thin glass, I laid her on the changing mat and opened the buttons on her onesie, pulling it up a little. I was amazed at how tiny she was, her little legs and tiny feet, and still I couldn't believe she had fit inside me. She protested a little as the old nappy disappeared, probably feeling cold, but quickly quieted down again when the new one was on and she was wrapped in a blanket again. Returning to the room James was still asleep. I crawled back into bed, holding her close to me. Unblinkingly, falling madly in love with her, I stared at her as she began blinking slowly, quickly falling asleep next to me. I allowed myself to close my eyes too, thinking I better get some sleep while I still could.

A few hours later I was gently roused by James. He was sitting on my side of the bed, fully clothed.

“Hm? Hi...” I croaked.

“Don't tell me you two have slept all this time?” He asked.

“No no, we were up for an hour around 8, nappy change, feeding...” I said, rubbing my face tiredly.

“Aw, I'm sorry, I slept through everything,” he said with a sad shrug.

“Don't be,” I said, rubbing his arm heavily.

“Listen, I'm going to pop home quickly, okay? I have nothing with me, my suitcase is still in France. I need to pick up some clothes, get the car, put in the baby seat, all of that,” James explained.

“Okay, yeah, sounds like a good plan...” I said, still tired and foggy from sleep.

“Colin is on his way, he'll will be here soon to pick me up and drive me back home. Is there anything you want me to bring from home? Something you forgot?”

“Mm no, not that I can think of right now... I'll text you if I think of something.”

“You two will be all right on your own for a while, yeah?”

“Of course we will,” I reassured him with a little smile. James looked over at the baby for a moment, then he gave me a quick kiss.

“See you in a few hours then. Go back to sleep.” I heard James walk across the floor and exit the room quietly. Going back to sleep was tempting, but I guessed the baby would be hungry before long, and there was no point in it. Lying on my side I gazed at the bundle, smiling a little to myself at how peaceful she looked. James was acting strange, he had been ever since she was born. He tried to hide it, and he probably even thought he was being successful, but he was far from it. My guess was that he had asked Colin to drive him back to the house not only so he could sort out some practicalities, but so he could get some fresh air and get some time to himself, get some time to think. As prepared as James thought he had been for this coming baby, actually seeing her had shocked him to core. Precisely what it was that had gotten to him I didn't know, but something was going on. Maybe it was just that he was a dad now, that she was actually here. He had known we were having a child, he had seen it on the ultrasound, he'd felt her kicks and punches, but now I suspected he'd maybe never quite managed to get his head around it after all. She had lived inside me, maybe that had made it easier for me to understand it and prepare for it. I lay motionless for a long time, staring absent-mindedly at my sleeping baby as I let my thoughts meander freely. The baby began waking up, stretching her little arms and legs, making strange faces and odd little squeaks. I giggled as I watched, fascinated by this strange little creature coming to life next to me. Before long she started crying, and I pulled her close and onto my arm, letting her eat for as long as she wanted to. There was a gentle knock on my door and in came Beatrice, my obstetrician.

“Hello...” she said quietly, walking quietly across the floor not to disturb the baby who busy eating.

“Bea! Hello!” I said, a little louder. “I would greet you properly, but I'm a big caught up here,” I explained.

“Oh I know, don't worry about it,” she said. We spoke in hushed whispers. Beatrice sat down on the other side of the bed, studying the child. “I heard through the grapevine that she was born last night. I just couldn't resist coming up here and say hello, hope that's all right...”

“Yes, yes, of course it is,” I smiled. I had really liked Beatrice, she had been a great support for me during my pregnancy, I trusted her and that she knew what she was doing. Eventually the baby let go of my breast, evidently full.

“Can I..?” Bea asked timidly, and I nodded as I closed my hospital gown. Bea pulled the baby over the mattress on the blanket she was lying on, then wrapped it around her before lifting her up and into her arms. Awkwardly I sat up in bed and pulled the duvet over me. Bea had held hundreds of babies, and she cooed and crooned to her as she paced the room holding the baby against her shoulder, rubbing her back in an effort to get a burp out. I crawled out of bed and found a cloth that I draped over Bea's shoulder.

“In case she.. threw up,” I explained, then crawled back under the duvet.

“Oh, pff, I can handle a little spit-up,” she scoffed. “So, this little miss decided to come out early, huh?”

“Yeah, due date as May 14^th.. She was born April 22^nd.”

“Three weeks and one day early, then. That's why you're so little, huh? Oh, and the fact that your mother is a pygmy,” Bea giggled at the baby. “Born last night, wasn't she?”

“Yeah, 2:47am I think it was.”

“And you were in labour for how long?”

“Oh, it started about... 6.30pm I guess.”

“Eight hours... You got off lightly,” she teased. “

“Tell that to my vagina,” I grumbled. “It'll never be the same again.”

“You will be amazed at how stretchy and flexible that stuff is, you'll be good to go again in a couple of months,” Bea waved carelessly. “Speaking of, where's your other half?” Bea asked, sitting down in the high-backed armchair.

“He's taken off,” I said sarcastically. Her mouth fell a little open and her eyes widened with shock. “No no, not for real,” I hurried to add. “He's just gone home for a bit, picking up some clothes and his car. When he came here last night he came straight from France, he was there working.”

“Ooooh, right,” Beatrice said, seeming relieved.

“That being said, I suspect he really needed to get out of here for a bit and air out his brain, he's pretty spooked.”

“Oh, he'll come around. He is far from the first fresh daddy to have a panic-attack,” she waved carelessly.

“Yeah, I know,” I agreed, not really worried either. “If he isn't back in the next six hours, I might be a bit concerned though...”

“Have you come up with a name yet?” Beatrice asked after a long pause in which she had gazed smilingly at the sleeping baby in her arms.

“Er... no.”

“Well, have you at least talked about any possibilities?” She asked, sounding a little resigned.

“Well... Actually, we started talking about it before she was born, but then we realised it was just stupid to argue about it before we even knew if it was a boy or a girl because that meant we'd have to have two arguments in stead of just the one. So we decided to just.. not discuss it until we at least knew if we should argue about boys' names or girls' names.”

“Ever the practical people, you two,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. While Beatrice was there she was sure to get me some lunch, forcing me to eat, reminding me that it was equally important to drink and eat enough now that I was breastfeeding.

After Beatrice had left I remembered my promise to Richard and picked up my phone to quickly sent him a text, telling him all the things he had wanted to know and thanking him again for having been there for me until James had arrived. Then I realised that my father and siblings would probably be interested in hearing the news as well, so I quickly typed in another text and sent it. Putting the phone down I pulled the wrapped up bundle close to me again and we had a little nap together. I must have fallen into a deep sleep, because I didn't hear the baby stir and complain, she was screaming her lungs out before I woke up properly. Feeling guilty for not having awoken earlier I scrambled out of bed, hating the sound of my child screaming this way, wanting to do to everything and anything I could to make it stop, and as soon as possible. Not because it annoyed me, but because the sound of my child in despair was enough to tear my heart apart. Even though my reasonable side knew that she was probably 'just' hungry. My heart thumped in my chest long after the baby had settled down. Was I going to become this stressed out ever time she screamed a little? I let her eat as much as she wanted too, then carried her into the bathroom to change her nappy for the second time in my entire life. How long would it take before I lost count? Tomorrow? A few days? Finished in the bathroom I wrapped her up again and returned to the high-backed armchair, sitting down. She was awake for a while, squeaking and yawning and making odd little faces before eventually falling asleep. I don't know how long I sat there, staring at her, but I only managed to tear my eyes away from her when the door opened. James came backwards through it, carrying a baby car seat in one hand and an overnight bag in the other. I breathed a sigh of relief, first now realising that I had actually been truly worried that he was having a proper panic attack and wouldn't come back.

“Hello, you two,” he said a little breathlessly, setting the car seat down on the floor. “Sorry, sorry, that took forever!” He apologised. Taking off his jacket he sank down in a chair, eyeing me curiously.

'”How have you two been?”

“We're doing all right,” I smiled. “We've had a nap, we had some food, changed some nappies... Oh, and we had a visitor! Beatrice came by! The obstetrician, remember?” I reminded him when I saw his confused face.

“Oh yeah, right, I remember.”

“She says congratulations.”

“That was nice of her. Listen, I'm sorry I was gone for so long, I just... Colin wouldn't stop jabbering, and when he finally left I had a shower, then the traffic was mad trying to get back here...” James jabbered, looking sincerely sorry about having been gone so long.

“James, honey, its all right...” I said tenderly. “We missed you though.”

“I missed you too,” he smiled back.

“Want to hold her?” I asked, thinking it was about bloody time he did.

“Oh no, no, she's sleeping, you don't have to disturb her...” He mumbled, shaking his head and raising both hands in an averting gesture. Actual panic and fear was visible in his eyes. With an annoyed huff I got up from my chair, cradling the baby in my arms.

“Get up,” I barked, having had enough.

“What?” James said weakly, frowning slightly.

“Get. Up.”

“But...”
“James, I gave birth less than 24 hours ago, you do not want to argue with me,” I growled warningly. Too intimidated to do anything else, he got out of the chair. “Shoes off.” Clearly having no idea what he was doing it, he kicked his shoes off. “Now t-shirt. Off.”

“...What?”
“James!” I said firmly, my voice making it clear that I was not going to argue with him. Hesitantly he took his t-shirt off, looking a little awkward and insecure as he dropped it onto the chair he had been sitting on. “Good. Now lie down,” I commanded. Still frowning, James laid down on his back one side of the double bed, still looking at me with a confused, almost fearful frown. Rounding the bed I unwrapped the bundle from her blanket and turned her over on her stomach.

“No no no, Emily, wait, no...” James jabbered feebly as I gently lowered her onto James' torso, placing her head roughly where his heart would be. His entire body tensed up and he drew his shoulders up to his ears, frozen with fear. He stared at her unblinkingly, as if I had just placed an extremely poisonous and rather cross scorpion on his chest.

“Breathe,” I admonished when he started going oddly pale. He breathed, but didn't relax a muscle. I sat down on the edge of the bed. “James... This is your baby girl, your daughter. Our daughter. She's here now and its too late to change your mind about having her, so you better get used to her being around.” James looked up at me quickly, a mixture of shame and apology in his eyes, as if he was a schoolboy being scolded. Then he looked down at the newborn baby lying on his chest. She squirmed and squeaked, complaining feebly about having been removed from the warmth of her blanket and my arms. Gently I draped the blanket over her and James. There was a long silence in which James stared at her.

“She's so... tiny.. and frail.. and... vulnerable,” he said quietly.

“Of course she is. What did you expect, that I would give birth to a first grader?”

“What if I.. do something wrong...” He mumbled.

“Oh, James..,” I sighed, completely understanding his concerns and fears, but struggling to figure out how to explain it to him in a way that he would understand. “James, Remember when you got your first model train? Or your first motorcycle, or your first car?”

“Er, yeah...?” James said under his breath, obviously not seeing the connection.

“Did you know everything about it when you got it? How to fix it, how it worked, what to do when it broke down?”

“Er.. no... but most of those came with an instruction manual. And if they didn't I could always take them to someone who knew what to do, like a... mechanic or... dad...,” James mumbled.

“But... I bet that before you did that, you often tried to fix it yourself, right?” I challenged.

“Yeah, all right... But I ruined a fair few motorbikes and cars that way.. And I really don't want to ruin her!” He said inconsolably.

“James, what I'm trying to say is... You were hands on and you learned as you went, and if you failed you asked someone who might knew what to do, Well, thankfully, this baby comes with all its main wiring and major parts in working order. All we have to do is... basic maintenance, you know? Refill it with fuel, recharge the batteries, clean the gaskets and other things that need cleaning... I'm not saying our baby is like a motorbike, but the idea is the same. It'll take hands on practice and learning. I don't have all the answers, and neither do you, and we'll just have to settle for that and learn as we go along.”

“But still, what if I do something... wrong...” he maintained.

“James, this is your daughter. You are always going to do what you think is best for her. And you are going to do anything in your power to make sure that nothing will ever harm her.” While James and I had been talking, the baby had gradually settled down and fallen asleep on her father's chest, soothed by the sound of his heartbeats and the warmth and softness of his skin.

“She's gone back to sleep!” James said with wide eyes, his voice a mixture of pride and incredulity.

“See? She knows she's safe with her daddy,” I said quietly. James looked down at his sleeping baby girl and he took another deep breath, as if gathering up courage. He raised a trembling hand and ran a fingertip gently over the back of her balled up fist, feeling her soft skin for the first time. It was as if I could see the exact moment his paternity instinct kicked into gear. His body relaxed, his shoulders sank and his facial expression softened. Still trembling a little he ran his hand over her tiny arm and down her back, his palm almost covering all of it. With a feather-light touch he ran his fingertips over her soft hair. Suddenly everything about him seemed tender; his eyes, his face, his touch. Quietly I watched as James held and touched his daughter for the first time, getting to know her, welcoming her into this world and into our lives. I saw how his jaw tightened as he became emotional, and how he tried to blink away a few tears. After a long while he seemed to snap out of his momentary trance and look up at me, giving me a little smile. So many things shone through that smile; I could see his insecurity waning for his growing confidence and the hope that maybe he could do this after all, I could see his amazement and joy, his pride and his love. Suddenly I felt like I should leave them alone for a minute. I had after all held her ever since she was born, now it was James' turn to bond with her. “I was wondering if maybe I could go take a shower. Think you two will be all right on your own for a while?” I asked quietly.

“Hm? Yeah, I think we can manage, can't we..?” He said in a quiet, tender voice I had never heard in him before. “Are you going to be all right on your own, though?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine,” I smiled. “I have a shower chair in there. And an alarm button for the nurse if I need help.”

“Okay. I love you,” James smiled. Leaning over him I gave him a kiss.

“Love you. And, I love you,” I whispered against the baby's hair before straightening up. I dug out some clothes and my toiletry bag, then headed for the bathroom. I stayed in the shower for ages, the warm water relieving my sore and battered muscles. Getting dressed was also a challenge and turned out to take three times longer than as I was used to.

Nearly half an hour later I exited the bathroom. James was so preoccupied with his daughter he didn't even notice, and for a moment I stood there leaning against the door-frame, quietly watching them. My heart melted as I saw James softly brushing his nose and his lips over her hair and skin, taking in her smell, then kissing her forehead tenderly. A loud sniff from me made James look up, and when he noticed me crying a worried expression came over him.

“What's wrong?”

“No, no, nothing, nothing at all,” I said, smiling through my tears as I crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “It's just... watching you together is so... special. It's amazing, seeing you with her,” I sniffed.

“Happy tears, then?” James smiled shyly, almost blushing a little. Everything about James seemed different now, all the tension and confusion in him gone. At the same time I realised I would never quite see James the same way again; I was seeing James as a father for the first time. Both mine and James' eyes fell to our daughter, sleeping soundly on James' chest.

“You know... Maybe its about time we had that naming-argument now? We can't just refer to her as 'she' for the rest of her life, can we?”

“Mm, I was thinking the same thing while you were in the shower....” He agreed, not taking his eyes off her.

“Yeah? And what have you been thinking?” I asked, curiosity rising within me.

“I was thinking... that maybe we could... perhaps name her after your mum?” The suggestion came out of the blue, causing a wave of emotions to rush through me and render me completely speechless. James didn't quite know what to make of my silence and began explaining his thoughts behind the idea. “Emily, I.. Know how much you miss your mum, and how much she meant to you. The fact that your mum isn't here to see your baby grow up, and the fact that she will never know her grandmother, I know how that breaks your heart. So I thought that if we named her after your mum... She'll carry a part of her with her and she'd always know who her grandmother was. I thought it is a good way of remembering and honouring your mum. It was just a thought...” James finished apologetically, completely misinterpreting my tears. At first I just shook my head at him, unable to say anything.

“No, no, we should do that, that is an amazing idea!” I squeaked, smiling and crying at the same time. The thought of naming her after my mum had strangely never even occurred to me, but now that James had suggested it, it seemed such an obvious idea, one that filled me with a confusing mixture of bitter-sweet emotions.

“So we're agreed, then?” James asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded eagerly, smiling.

“Wow. That was easy,” James mumbled, amazed at how quickly we had agreed on a name. With a sniff I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand, then placed my hand on the baby's back, caressing the back of her neck with a fingertip. “Linnea Brendan May...” James said quietly, saying the name of his daughter out loud for the first time.

“I like that name,” I said, a little surprised that he included my last name. “Little Linnea...” As if in response Linnea sighed deeply, then moved and stretched a little in her sleep. “Yeah, that's an adorable name, isn't it? Just as adorable as you are, huh?” I crooned. Straightening up I groaned a little at my stiff back and stomach muscles. I eyed the empty space next to James on the bed. “Room for me too?” James just nodded and I crawled into bed, inching right up to him. Resting my head on James' shoulder I studied my daughter lovingly. James' arm closed around my back, caressing me slowly.

“She's pretty cute, isn't she?” I said quietly.

“She's... perfect,” James breathed. “I can't believe how small she is. I mean, look at her little eyelashes. And her tiny fingers, and her perfect little nails...” James ran his hand tenderly down her arm and over her fist, then gently straightening out her fingers. I sighed heavily, feeling a happy, mellow tranquillity spreading throughout my body.

“This is perfect. This moment, right here,” I smiled, kissing James' shoulder through his shirt. He hummed as he pressed his lips against my forehead.

“Emily... I'm sorry about acting so strange earlier, I was...” James began, but his sentence ground to a halt as he didn't find the words.

“... having a discreet, but full-blown panic attack?” I suggested in a mild tone.

“Yes,” James admitted with a little laugh. “I was just so overwhelmed and.. terrified, frankly. Which is stupid, because... Look at her, how can a grown man be terrified of something that is this sickeningly cute?” He mused, gesturing to Linnea.

“I knew you'd come around. Even if it meant that I had to make you,” I snorted. “And you're not scared of her, you're scared of the responsibility of having to take care of her, of bringing her up. And so am I,” I admitted. “We'll just have to.. take it one day at a time, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess,” James hummed absent-mindedly.

“You know, it never even occurred to me that we could name her after my mum. I never called her by her name anyway, I always just said “mum”, but still... Linnea is actually a Swedish name, because my grandmother came from Sweden, so she gave her daughter a Swedish name,” I explained.

“And what was your grandmothers name?” James asked curiously.

“Ulrika, actually. We just called her Ulla for short.” For a while all I could hear was the sound of James and Linnea breathing as another serene silence fell between us. “By the way, I sent Hammond a text telling him what he wanted to know, I thought he deserved to know. Oh, and I told him you wept like a hormonal woman.”

“Oh, gee, thanks,” James snorted.

“I also sent the happy news to my dad, my brother and sister, I thought they would want to know. Have you told any in your family yet?”

“Um... no, I haven't even thought about that yet, to be honest,” James realised, frowning. “I'll do it later. Right now I just want to stay right here.” We laid there for a long time, enjoying each other's warmth. Eventually, and inevitably, Linnea began stirring, stretching and making faces, yawning widely to the amusement of both James and me. Then she began complaining, telling us as clearly as she was able to that she was getting hungry again. With difficulty I tore myself away from James and sat up in bed.

“Feeding time,” I told James, gently picking Linnea up from James' chest and cradling her in my arms.

“Can I.. have her back after?” James asked timidly, already looking unhappy without her.

“Of course you can,” I smiled. I carried Linnea over to the armchair and laid her to my breast, using a pillow for support underneath her. “Yeah, of course daddy can have you back after, right? You just have to come to me for a little bit for food. See, daddy has boobs too, but there's no food in them,” I crooned at Linnea, chortling as I spoke.

“Oi!” James protested, and I giggled. Feeling cold, or self-conscious about his boobs, James pulled a duvet over his bare upper-body. “Does that still feel really weird?” James asked after having observed us for a while.

“Hm, no, not really. Its a strange sensation, but it gradually becomes less... sensitive, I guess. I just know that my nipples are going to become really sore eventually, and I'm really not looking forward to that...” James screwed up his face in sympathy at the thought of extremely sore nipples. When feeding time was over I walked back and forth over the floor a few times, bouncing her a little and rubbing her back, trying to get her to burp. James was half-sitting in bed and tapping away on his phone, writing a message to his family I guessed. As soon as I approached the bed he quickly put the phone down and pushed the duvet out of the way, eager to have his daughter back. Linnea was awake and wide-eyed as I placed her on her father's chest again. She stared up at him in that innocent, somewhat baffled way only babies can look at you. James stared back, looking equally baffled.

“Hello, Linnea...” he said, tenderly caressing the inside of her hand with his thumb. “I'm your dad. Sorry it took me a while to say hello to you properly, I was just.. being a bit silly. I do that sometimes...” Crawling into bed I inched up to James once more, resting my head on his shoulder again.

“Yeah, he's a bit silly, but.. Daddy at least makes a good pillow, doesn't he?” I said, running my palm over her tiny head and down her back again.  

Chapter 69

The door flew open and a wild-eyed, bushy-haired James burst through it, breathing like he had run all the way from Paris on his own two legs. Both of us looked calmly up at him from where we were, me standing by my bed and Richard sitting on a chair in a corner. Coming to an abrupt halt he stared at us both with utter confusion in his eyes.
“What did you expect? Blood and goo and hysterical screaming?” I asked, chewing my lip not to smirk at him.
“Something like that! I expected you to be in bed, at any rate,” he said, still out of breath. In three hurried strides he crossed the floor towards me. Despite being sweaty and already feeling exhausted, my heart beat faster at the sight of him and a wide smile spread on my face.
“Hello, sweetheart...” He smiled too as he wrapped his arms around me, giving me a long hug while running his hand down my back.
“Sorry, I'm all sweaty and icky,” I apologised. He didn't care, but kissed my cheek then pressed his lips against mine. “You've been drinking, you wanker,” I smirked, smelling the alcohol on him.
“Yeah... But I have so much adrenaline in my body, I swear I have never been more sober in my life,” he giggled back a little nervously, his eyes glittering. For a moment I forgot everything around me, I forgot about being in a hospital, about Richard and about being in labour, all that existed was my James and his beautiful eyes. “Also, you promised me this wouldn't happen and that this baby wouldn't, under any circumstances, come for another three weeks at least,” James reminded me.
“Damn. I was hoping you wouldn't bring that up...” I smiled innocently up at James. “Call it even?”
“Okay...” James breathed, smiling then giving me another kiss. Richard cleared his throat in the background, obviously feeling rather ignored. He'd gotten out of his chair, looking a little awkward. “Hammond.. Thanks a lot for staying here,” James said, looking even more awkward, and to my surprise he even gave Richard a hug.
“No worries, mate...” Richard answered, patted his back. “Listen, I'm going to get out of here, leave you two alone, this is your moment after all.” He looked from James to me, and I nodded at him. Richard came over to me and I took his hand in mine, squeezing it.
“Richard, thank you so, so much for staying here with me, for all your help... I don't know what I would've done without you,” I said gratefully.
“You've been doing great, Emily. You can do this,” he said reassuringly, then took a step closer and gave my forehead a kiss before hugging me.
“Thanks...” I squeaked, and for some reason I was crying again, touched by Richard's words and his tenderness.
“Let me know when it's over, okay? I want to know everything; weight, length, hair-colour, innie or outie, if James cried like a sissy, everything.” At this I gave a watery chuckle.
“Okay, I will,” I nodded. “Drive safe.” Richard picked up his jacket, put it on and waved one more time before exiting the room.
“And now you're stuck with me... a blithering incompetent idiot,” James said a little apologetically, wrapping his arms around me.
“Both of us is pretty incompetent at this, though, none of us has ever done this before,” I smiled back. A great weight had been lifted from my shoulders now that James was here, I felt like I could breathe easier and actually focus on what I knew was going to get only worse and be one of the toughest things I would ever have to go through. Richard had been great and done everything he could to help and support me, and without him I would have been an absolute wreck. But now that I had James with me, the prospect of going through the rest of my labour didn't seem so daunting.
“I'm surprised you're up and walking,” James admitted, studying me intently.
“I wasn't before, but it's been quiet for the last twenty minutes,” I explained, rubbing at my aching back.
“It just.. stopped? What does that mean? Is something wrong?” he jabbered, instantly worrying.
“No no no, James, relax, it doesn't have to mean anything. It just.. happens. Its just... taking a break,” I shrugged, running my hands over my stomach. Just as I said so, the pain shot through me again and I bent over double. “See? Juuuust a break,” I groaned, crawling back into bed on my hands and knees. Standing on all fours I hung over the raised headboard of the bed, huffing.
“Anything I can do?” James asked, doing a poor job at keeping the panic in his voice to a minimum. “Rub my back...” I begged. I felt James' hands on my back, trembling. “Lower down, and harder.”
“Hammond did this better, didn't he,” James asked mildly when he sensed that the contraction was over.
“Actually, yes,” I admitted with a snort, then awkwardly turned around in the bed, coming to rest on my back. James hovered by my bedside, looking tense and pale.
“We could call him, you know, get him back here, he can't have gotten far,” James suggested.
“Oh don't be daft, James,” I scoffed.
“I'm sorry, I'm just feeling... utterly clueless,” he said, looking desperately unhappy.
“Sweetheart... Just that you're here means everything to me,” I smiled at him, stretching out a hand towards him. He took it and I pulled him closer, making him sit down on the edge of my bed. “Having Richard here was good, he's done this before so he was very calm and together about everything. But... he isn't the father of this baby.”
“I hope not..” James mumbled under his breath, but I could see the teasing glint in his eyes.
“Don't even go there!” I said, unable to stop myself from laughing. “The point is - he isn't you. And you are all I care about. This isn't a competition about who is the better birth helper, you know,” I smirked, and James blushed a little, averting his eyes. “I feel so much better now that you're here, I was so worried you were going to miss out on this.”
“I was worried about that, too.. You know, out of all the races and things we've done on Top Gear, this was by far the most nerve-wracking, it was the longest car journey of my life!”
“Please tell me you didn't drive?”
“And land myself in prison on top of everything else? God no. I've been drinking!”

Now that James had arrived and I gone into a more relaxed state of mind, my body took that as a sign to speed things up significantly. Contractions became more and intense and came as often as every three minutes. When the midwife came to check on me she decided it was time to move into the actual delivery room. After that everything turned into a blur. One contraction just seemed to be replaced by a new one, I was in a chaotic haze of pain and misery. I concentrated on breathing, determined to use my energy for other things than screaming bloody murder, even though I wanted to at certain times. The only time I screamed was when I asked if I, for the love of god, could maybe be allowed to push now?! The midwife gave me permission, and not a moment too soon, because after four or five pushes the pain , the tightness, the tension, the strain, everything just disappeared.
“What happened?!” I asked breathlessly, as my eyes had been tightly shut and I hadn't even seen what had happened.
“Your daughter was just born,” Julia replied, half-laughing at my stupid question. On cue there was a high-pitched, unearthly cry and my eyes sprang open. She was holding a baby, purple-pink and shiny and screaming her lungs out. “Open your shirt, dear. Here you go, baby, here's mummy,” she crooned, placing the protesting infant on my now bare chest. Completely mesmerized, having forgotten about everyone around me including James, I stared at the baby whose trembling wailing was dying down to small, squeaky sobs.
“Hello, little human...” I sniffed, tears pouring down my cheeks. Julia brought a preheated blanket over and draped it over the baby.
“Congratulations mummy. And congratulations daddy,” she said, her face shining. This reminded me that James was there, and as I looked over to him I saw that he was white as a sheet and his eyes were wide with shock.
“James? You all right?” I asked mildly. His eyes snapped up from the baby to me and he nodded absent-mindedly, his eyes dropping down to the baby again. Looking at the infant again, I saw that she had opened her eyes and was staring up at me, blinking slowly. “Hey, you... Hello, sweetheart. Welcome to the world...” I sniffed. For a long time I just stared at her, hypnotized at the sight. She was mine, I had made her, she was my daughter. Our daughter. “God, you're a gloopy, messy one, aren't you?” I gave a watery chuckle and ran a trembling hand over her sticky tufts of light brown hair and down her back.
“What is that on her skin again?” James asked, looking up at the midwife, and she launched inot an explanation about 'vernix caseosa'.
"Listen, how about I take her for a minute and get her cleaned up a bit, weigh her and do all of that. Meanwhile you can get cleaned up a little too? Get into a clean bed and so on?" Julia suggested mildly.
"All right..." I said hesitantly, unwilling to let my baby go. With a trained, gentle hand Julia lifted up the baby and cradled her in her arms. "I'll give you two a minute on your own. Then I'll send in a nurse to help you get cleaned up." She turned on her heels and disappeared, and I stared after her, already missing the warmth of my child. With a sigh I closed my hospital shirt, then turned to look at James, who still looked pale and shaken.
"Sure you're all right?" I asked again. Ignoring my question he just took my hand in one of his, then ran the other of my forehead.
"You did...so good, Emily. I'm so impressed, and immensely proud of you," he smiled. "You are absolutely amazing."
"Aw... Thank you, sweetheart," I said, returning the smile.
"God, I love you," he sighed, then leaned in and gave me a long, lingering kiss.
"I love you too," I said, squeezing his hand. "Can you believe our baby was just born?"
"No," he said flatly, shaking his head a little.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and a nurse entered with a wheelchair and a washbowl full of cloths and towels. She ushered James out of the room and directed him back to the family room. Then she set about helping me get cleaned up and into a new hospital gown before she helped me out of bed and into the wheelchair, as my legs were a bit wobbly. When I was wheeled into our room James was sitting the chair that Hammond had occupied most of the evening, still looking shell-shocked. The nurse helped me over in the bed, then quietly exited the room. As if on cue, Julia appeared with a baby bed on wheels. The baby lying in it now looked very different from the one I had seen twenty minutes earlier. Her skin colour had become more normal, even though she was still quite pink. Most of the waxy goo that had been on her was gone, and she was now clad in a white onesie and cradled in a pink hospital blanket.
"I thought you might want this back," Julie said in a quiet whisper, gently lifting the baby up and placing her in my arms. The baby opened her eyes at the sensation of being moved.
"Thanks," I whispered back. Staring at the bundle I couldn't stop grinning so badly it nearly hurt. "How much did she weigh?" I asked, realising that it couldn't have been much.
"5.7 pounds, and a shade over 18 inches. She's a tiny one, but she is nearly four weeks early. And her mum isn't a giant either," Julia smiled, not looking worried about her small size at all. "Everything is fine, blood pressure and heart rate is normal, good oxygen levels in her blood, everything is perfect. Now, try to get some sleep, all three of you."
"Oh god, what time is it? What time was she even born?" I asked, having forgotten such a concept as time even existed.
"It's now... 3:20am and she was born at 2:47 am. If you need me, you know how to get hold of me." Julia walked out of the room and quietly shut the door behind her. The baby in my arms was wide awake, staring wonderingly up at me. Looking over at James he scooted his chair closer, also needing to look at her.
"Hello, pumpkin... I bet that felt nice, huh? Getting all that goo off and getting some nice, clean clothes on." I crooned softly at the baby, smiling all the while. With amazement I ran my fingers over her now clean hair and her incredibly soft skin, drinking her in. Running a fingertip over her cheek and the corner of her mouth, she immediately turned her head a little towards my finger, opening her mouth a little. I had read enough about babies and birth to know that within the first hour the instinct to breastfeed could arise. "See? Instinct is kicking in already," I smiled up at James. "All right... Lets see if we can figure this thing out, huh? You and me, we'll figure it out, won't we?" Onehanded I undid the buttons on my hospital gown and pulled the shirt away, exposing a breast. I pulled her closer to it, and with my free hand I steered my nipple towards her mouth, brushing it over her lips. She opened her mouth again and I pulled her even closer. She gaped wide, tried to suckle and lost it a few times, then she got the hang of it. "Oh goood this feels weird!" I exclaimed, and James laughed.
"I can imagine it does!” he conceded with a little snort.
“That's my girl!” I cheered in hushed tones. The baby suckled for a little bit, but then her pace slowed and she blinked slowly a couple of times, eventually falling asleep with her lips against my breast. “Lights out, it seems.”
“Maybe you should try and get some sleep too,” James suggested mildly.
“Yeah... But I'm not putting her down,” I said stubbornly. I had been sitting in bed, my back against the headboard. Slowly, hoping I wouldn't disturb her too much, I laid her down next to me on the bed, making sure to wrap her in her blanket before I inched down onto the bed, coming to rest on my side with my head on the pillow. Then I pulled my baby girl as close to me as I could, wrapping an arm around her. James rounded the bed, took off his clothes and crawled under his own duvet. As I closed my eyes, letting myself relax, I felt his hand on mine. Then I was out like a light.

Chapter 68

 Over the next few hours a million things seemed to happen to me, none of which I felt I had any control over. Richard drove calmly to the hospital while I huffed my way through another few contractions, gripping the edge of the seat. Once at the hospital I was admitted, stuffed into a hospital gown, put in a rather dangerous-looking “labour” bed, poked with a needle, prodded and examined. Then I was wheeled in my bed into a room which the nurse kindly explained was a “family room”. It was cozy, it had a double bed, a comfy-looking high-backed armchair, a TV, a dresser with a changing mat and actual nice pictures on the walls. Furthermore she explained that this was where I could stay in the initial stages, but when it got close I would be pushed into the delivery room across the hall. I was still struggling to accept that my water had broken, the fact that I was basically in the early stages of labour was something I hadn't even began to contemplate.

Richard sat on a chair, trying not to pay attention to a conversation between Emily and a nurse that he felt was too personal for him to be listening in on anyway. He was grateful when his phone rang, which gave him an excuse to exit the room. When he picked up, he didn't even have time to say hello before the tirade came.

“Richard?! What’s going on, what’s happening?! I haven't heard a word in nearly two hours! That hardly qualifies as keeping my updated!” James barked.

“You've sobered up, I hear...” Richard muttered sarcastically.

“Richard! I have a machete!”

“James, James, relax! Everything and everyone is absolutely fine,” Richard said reassuringly. “Sorry I didn't call you earlier, traffic was a bit mental, we only got here about forty-five minutes ago, things have been a bit hectic...” He rambled apologetically. There was a long silence.

“... Good.” James' sigh of relief was audible even over the phone.”I'm in a car. The next flight to London didn't leave in a few hours, we figured it might be just as quick to just drive to London.”

“Please tell me you're not driving?”

“Mno, I threatened a sound-tech to do it or he'd be out of a job.”

“Well, needs must, I guess.”

“So.. How's Emily doing?”

“Emily? She's doing good, James, don't worry.” Richard decided to drop the comedy and be a mate for once, he could tell by James' voice that he was going spare. And he had no problems understanding him, either, if it had been him stuck in a wrong country while Mindy had gone into labour he would've lost it on the spot. “You know your woman, she's a Valkyrie, she can take absolutely anything.”

“I know she's tough, but... Richard, could I ask you a favour? Could you stay with her until I get there? She's going to say that you don't have to be there, that you can go home, but just... don't listen to her, just tell her you're staying. Please? I can't bear the thought of her having to go through this on her own. Especially if this baby is born before I get there.”

“James, you pillock, you don't even have to ask me that, I was going to do that anyway.”

“... Thanks,” James mumbled awkwardly. “Listen, could I talk to her, maybe?”

The nurse was long gone, and now I realised that Richard was gone too. I sat there in my enormous hospital-gown, feeling rather abandoned. Inside my stomach there was suddenly no sign of life, no movement, no contractions, no nothing, and even though the rational side of me knew that to be perfectly normal, it didn't help. It still worried me. I raised my head when the door opened.

“Hey, Emily. Want to talk to daddy?” Richard held up his phone, wiggling it a little. I bit my lower lip, looking sceptically at the phone, then I nodded. I couldn't not talk to him, how would that seem? Shaking I accepted the phone and held it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sweetheart. How are you doing?” James voice was warm and tender, and the sound of it nearly tore my insides a part. With a pang I realised just how badly I missed him, how much I needed him here with me. Once again I bit my lip, so hard I tasted blood. When I spoke, it took all my concentration to keep my voice steady and calm.

“Hi, sweetheart. I'm okay. You know, after the circumstances...”

“Is Richard being nice to you?” At this I almost laughed, looking over at Richard who was now sitting in a chair restlessly flicking through an issue of 'Mother & Baby', his hair slightly on end.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. He's brought me chocolate. And ice chips, for some reason. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with those, and he won't tell me, but he says I'll thank him.”

“Good, good...” James mumbled, obviously not taking in a word I was saying. “Emily, I'm on my way home, I'm in a car right now, we're about an hour out of Paris. GPS says this should take about four more hours... Hopefully we won't have to wait too long for channel tunnel train. If we do, I might actually swim the damn channel myself.”

“Okay...” I said feebly, a sour lump swelling in my throat again.

“Could you just... Keep it in until I get there?” He begged, only half joking.

“I'll do my best. Just... get home, okay? But be safe.”

“I will. I'm not the one driving, if that's any comfort.”

“Good! Means you'll be here faster!” I retorted in an attempt to make a joke. That was when I realised I couldn't hold on much longer. “Listen, James, I better hang up, there's a nurse here to talk to me,” I blatantly lied.

“Oh, okay... Keep me posted, yeah...?”

“Of course, sweetie.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” As soon as I had hung up, I flopped back on the pillow with a huge sob that completely took my breath away. Richard obviously hadn't caught the last of our conversation, but he caught my sob and leapt out of his chair. To my slight surprised he didn't ask me what was wrong or why I was crying, he just took my hand in his and caressed my arm soothingly with the other, letting me cry.

“Its okay, Emily... He'll be here soon, he's on his way. I know that doesn't help much right now, though,” he said after a while. I squeezed his hand in an attempt to signal that I had heard him and appreciated his comfort, speech still beyond me. Eventually I heaved a deep breath, sniffed and wiped my face.

“I just... I just couldn't cry on the phone,” I said with a choked voice. “He's in France because of me, I practically forced him to go, promising this wouldn't happen while he was away, that this baby wouldn't be early. I just couldn't... let him hear me be upset that he wasn't here, it wouldn't be fair on him, its my fault he's not here right now. And now he's doing everything he can to get back, so I couldn't let him hear me... fall apart.” Richard sighed and pulled up a chair, then sat down an studied me for a little.

“The two of you are just.. incredible,” he sighed, shaking his head a little. “You two love each other so much you would do practically anything to protect each other. Its amazing how either one of you would gladly destroy yourself if it meant you could shield the other.”

“I would, it's true...” I confirmed with a sniff and a nod, fidgeting with my hands. “Richard, I... I know you only came by to check on me, and that this is probably the last thing you want to be doing on a Saturday night... I hate asking about this, but do you think you could stay here until-”

“Don't insult me by asking, then,” Richard cut me off. “What do you take me for? Of course I would never leave you here on your own. If you want me to stay here, of course I'll stay.”

“Thank you,” I sniffed, feeling a little awkward. I drew a deep breath, calming down a little. There was a knock on the door, and a woman entered. Smilingly she introduced herself as Julia, the midwife, and I shook her hand. Still smiling she turned to Richard.

“So this is the expectant father? Hammond, is it?” She asked, stretching out a hand towards him, obviously recognising him from the telly. Rising from his chair he shook her hand while spluttering feeble protests.

“Oh no, no, I'm just a friend I'm not the.. um.. It isn't me, I'm married, I have children. Its the other one. You know, with the long hair, flowery shirts...?” I couldn't help but laugh loudly at Richard's rambling. She midwife looked confusedly from Richard to me, her smile faltering a little.

“'The other one' is in France, on his way home,” I explained. “Richard was just visiting me and then the water broke and.. well, here we are. Hopefully he'll be here in four hours or so, Richard is staying with me until then."

“Oh, right! Well, lets hope the expectant father gets here in time,” she said soothingly, her smile back again, then she turned on her heels and left. Feeling restless and anxious I managed to heave myself out of bed and began waddling around the room, pacing back and forth. Time seemed to hardly move as my eyes were constantly on the clock on the wall. The contractions were still far apart, and not as bad as I had expected, but I was almost resenting every one of them as I knew each one brought the birth closer. After some experimentation I figured out that hanging over the hospital bed somehow made the contractions easier to get through. Richard kept his calm, cheering me on and rubbing my lower back when it hurt. It was getting late, and I felt bad for keeping Richard up

After a few hours Richard's phone rang, he looked at the screen and then just handed it to me. I read James' name on the screen and steeled myself again.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I said in a bright voice, sitting down on the bed.

“I'm in the right country at least, thank god!” James announced loudly.

“Oh, yaaay!” I cheered.

“We were lucky with the channel train, didn't have to wait long, we just got off it. I still feel like I have been in this car for three centuries!” He said frustratedly. There was a little silence, then he sighed. “I'm sorry, what am I complaining about, you are the only one who should be allowed to complain right now. How are you, honey?”

“I'm okay, nothing much is happening so far, its slow going... I think you're going to make it here in plenty of time, I have contractions about every ten minutes.”

“How awful are they?” He asked sympathetically.

“Not so bad yet, I'm doing okay. ”

“Honey, I'm so sorry, I wish I was there, you have no idea how much I wish I--”

“James, don't do this, there's no point. Just... Concentrate on getting here, okay?”

“Okay, okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Richard. “He's in England, they just got off the train.”

“Oh, that's good! They must be making good time, then.” Richard said brightly. Just as I was about to answer Richard, a pain shot through my pelvis and lower back, it was like every muscle in my midriff cramped up. My 'yeah' transformed into a long, strained howl of pain that made Richard jump.

“Ow... ow ow ow ow...,” I complained as the pain receded finally receded, the contraction having lasted longer than any of my previous. “That felt... different. Bad different!”

“Well, in my experience, birth is a thing that sort of grows... a million times worse before it gets better,” Richard said cautiously, making a sympathetic frown. “At least that was the general impressions Mindy gave...” After that, the contractions changed completely, becoming longer, more painful and more frequent. I had read enough about giving birth to know that there were several different types of contractions, all with different functions and manifestations of pain. As my first bout of contractions had been bad, these were agonisingly all-consuming, sweeping everything else from my mind. Walking around was out of the question now, my legs just buckled under me every time the pain hit. After half an hour of increasing misery I called for the midwife. As I described the changes in my contractions she promptly threw Richard out and did a quick exam.

“Oooh, things have definitely changed! You're at six centimetres now!” She said happily, her head emerging absurdly from between my legs.

“What?!” I squeaked. The last time I had been examined there had barely been any dilation at all. If I had felt like I wasn't in control then, I really felt out of control now. “Do you think it'll happen soon?”

“I can't answer that, dear,” the midwife said, draping a blanket over me again. “It might happen soon, it might not be for hours and hours. There really isn't any way to tell. There has been a lot of progress in the last hour, but it might not continue this way, the dilation might stop for a while, I just don't know. How far away is your partner?”

“I don't know, couple of hours, maybe less.” I talked fast as I was bracing for the next contraction that was coming on.

“I'll send your friend in again, all right?” She asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was huffing my way through another wave of pain. I just nodded and grunted, far too preoccupied with my own suffering. Richard returned and sat down on my bedside, offering up a hand for me to squeeze if I needed to.

“What did she say? She didn't tell me anything,” Richard asked when I relaxed and stopped huffing.

“Apparently this baby is in a fucking hurry all of a sudden,” I grumbled. Then, abruptly and without warning I began crying again. A wave of panic and fear swept over me, every bit as painful as the physical agony of contractions. “No, no, no, I can't do this, I'm not ready for this, and I'm not sure James is either. I can't do this, I can't have a child, its scares the fucking life out of me! I'm not ready for this baby to come out yet...” I wailed.

“Ssh ssh, Emily, calm down....” Richard soothed. He waited for my sobs to calm down before he continued speaking. “Of course you are ready for this, you both are. I know it's scary, but... You and James are going to be such amazing parents. Both of you are calm, intelligent, caring people, and you'll both do everything you possibly can to do what is best for your child. Of course it's daunting, but you've both been so excited and happy about this, too. And that's what so amazing about having a baby, it's like nothing you've ever experienced in your life.”

“That's for sure...” I sniffed.

“Emily, don't worry. You and James love each other, which is the most important thing. Besides, this baby is going to have a whole bunch of aunties and uncles that can help out. Not just James' family but me and Mindy, Francie and Jezza.. We'll all be there.”

“Okay... Thanks...” I mumbled.

“Don't tell James I spoke nicely of him.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” I smiled weakly. I squeezed Richard's hand, looking at him gratefully. “I'm glad at least one of us has gone through this before! Thank you so much for staying here, and for... being so great to me. You're turning out to be a good midwife. Mid...husband? Midman?”

“Birth assistant?” Richard suggested, and I laughed. I spent the next hour huffing and wheezing my way through contraction after contraction, bullets of sweat hailing on my forehead. Between every wave of pain I fought my increasing panic that James wouldn't make it in time. When Richard called James to give him an update, they had just driven past Maidstone and he'd be at the hospital within an hour.

Chapter 67

 Two months whizzed by, and suddenly we were in April. I couldn't even begin to understand where the past seven months had gone, and it was even harder to fathom that my due date was now only a month away. We had finished moving into the house and settled in quite happily. The biggest job of all had actually been to move James' “man cave” from the industrial building in Hammersmith to the warehouse we now had in our driveway. Leaving his old workshop had definitely been the most emotional for James, far more than moving from the house. The workshop meant a lot to him, it was his sanctuary, a place where he could sort out his thoughts and feelings, or forget the world outside. A place to relax and be himself, without any deadlines or expectations. The move hadn't been that easy on Fusker either, he had accepted it reluctantly but sometimes disappeared for days, and I was worried he was trying to find his way back “home”. My favourite room in the house had quickly become the study, where we had lined three of the walls with bookcases and filled them with books, vinyl albums, CD’s, photos and memories. The room held James' piano, and a few huge high-backed armchairs that I loved to curl up in and read, or listen to music or James playing. When spring neared I began pottering around the garden, trying to teach myself how to take care of plants, and failing most of the time. But as my stomach continued to grow I had to abandon that hobby when bending over plants and flowerbeds became difficult and uncomfortable.

Crawling into bed one evening I snuggled right up to James, as close as I could get with my now huge tummy in the way. I was warm as I had just gotten out of the bathtub and James groaned happily as I inched up to him, happy to feel my body and skin close to his. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, wanting to sleep, trying to ignore my stiff back and the fact that I really had to pee again. After a long moment of silence James spoke.

“Emily?”
“Mm?” I mumbled drowsily.

“I don't want to go to France this weekend.”

“Oh, James, don't start this again...” I sighed. The plan was that James and his crew from Man Lab were to go to France to shoot a last sequence for the last episode of the season. “This might be the last chance you'll get to do any work in months, possibly years,” I added darkly.

“But... Will you even be all right on your own? I mean, you can barely put on your own shoes these days, and... You should be taking it easy. Its getting close, and...” he stammered.

“James! The due date is nearly a month away! And first-timers nearly always go over anyway! And I CAN put on my own shoes!” James just looked at with sad, almost pleading eyes. “James, sweetheart. I promise you, absolutely nothing will happen while you're away for three days. This baby is not going to be born while you're in France.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I smiled.

“So what are you going to do while I'm away?” He asked.

“I am going to lie in bed, watch TV and eat Ritz crackers with cream cheese.”

“I'm amazed you're not fed up with eating that yet,” James chuckled, shaking his head exasperatedly. I squeezed him a little, hugging him tight, realising that I was going to miss him a lot even if he was just gone for a few days. “Emily. Our son or daughter is punching me in the ribs,” he announced dryly. The nightly movements had become such a habit for me that I didn't even notice them any more.

“There is no point informing me about it, I already know that. You could try do something about it?”
“Me? What can I do about it? It lives inside you!” He argued back.

“Well, maybe you could try talking to him or her, maybe the sound of your voice will calm it down?” I suggested. James frowned, looking at me with incredulity, as if he really couldn't believe that I had just suggested that. Then he sighed, rolled his eyes and turned onto his side, inching down the bed until his head was level with my tummy. He sighed again, hesitating and looking a little uncomfortable. Apparently James found it absurd to try and talk to my midriff. He ran a hand over my stomach and cleared his throat before speaking softly.

“Um... Hello.” As he said this I couldn't help but laugh loudly. “What?!” James asked with raised eyebrows, looking up at me. “You have to start with hello!”

“Yes, yes, I know, honey,” I said, stifling a giggle and running a hand over his hair. With another sigh, James turned to my stomach again.

“So... Hello. I'm your.. dad.” At this there was a massive punch, so forceful I could see my stomach move. “I know, I'm sorry, I apologise in advance. But... See, I haven't done this before, and so... I don't know how to do it well. I don't like that, not knowing what to do. But I'll try to do my best...” As he spoke James ran his hand calmly over the unruly tummy, caressing the baby within. I watched him quietly as he spoke, running my hand over his hair. Nothing warmed my heart more than seeing James like this, being intimate and bonding with our baby. “I know its probably getting a bit incommodious in there, but do you think you could maybe stop moving around so much? Your mummy can't sleep when you do that, you see... And I can tell that she is really tired right now and really needs her sleep. You should try to be nice to your mummy, because she's the most amazing person in the entire world. You are very lucky to get her for a mum, you know. And I'm even luckier to have her, and that she wants to be with me, because she is the love of my life.”

“I think its working...” I whispered, desperately trying to blink back the emotional tears that were welling up in my eyes. It was indeed working, there was definitely less movement and kicking going on.

“All right, so... In a few days, I have to go away for a little while. I won't be gone for long, but I would really appreciate if you stayed in there until I get back. Because I would really like to be there when you're born, I'm not sure I could forgive myself if I wasn't.”

“Keep going,” I prompted. Having run out of things to say, James began singing quietly in stead. It took a while before I recognised it as some old serenade by Thomas Campion that James sometimes hummed to himself, which almost made me laugh again. But James had a good voice, calm and steady, and it wasn't long until the baby's movements had stilled.

“I.. think it worked,” James whispered as he looked up at me, eyes wide with surprise. Carefully, as if to not wake the baby, he inched his way up the bed again. Resting his head on the pillow he looked at me, looking a little proud of himself.

“You did it, dad!” I cheered in a subdued whisper, running my hand over his back.

“I probably bored it to sleep with my talking...” He giggled, still whispering.

“Whatever works, really,” I shrugged, and we both chuckled quietly. James turned over on his back, pulling me close.

“All right, I guess I'll go to France,” he sighed.

“Good spaniel,” I murmured sleepily, caressing his chest with a heavy hand.

After much fuss and mild arguments I managed to shoo James firmly out of the house on Thursday around noon. When he had left I had a cup of tea then began on the task I had set myself for the weekend, which was to launder all the smallest baby-clothes we had, and put them in the dresser in the nursery. I enjoyed doing these things, all these little preparations made me feel a little bit more ready for what was coming. Most of what we needed were in place by now; the nursery now held a dresser, a rocking chair, a brand new pram and car seat along with a bookshelf that was already bursting with toys and books. In the bathroom was a changer and diaper bin in the bathroom. After some mild persuasion I had managed to get James to agree to a “baby hammock”, which was now hanging from the ceiling in the living room. We had also 'inherited' a lot of things from the Hammonds. Mindy was so excited about the baby that she'd in her eagerness gone through all of the things they had from when the girls were babies, and had come bearing bags and bags of stuff; a play-mat, toys, rattlers, bed linen and neutral baby-clothes. She had another few bags of clothes ready if it turned out to be a girl. I was incredibly grateful for all of it.

Precisely two minutes after I wallowed onto the sofa with a blanket, there was a knock on the front door. I swore loudly and flailed about, trying to heave myself out of the sofa again.

“Yeah yeah, I'm coming, in about twenty minutes or so... Have patience!” I shouted, finally managing to get myself vertical. Clutching at my increasingly aching back I waddled over to the front door. “Richard! Hello! Sorry for making you wait, I just can't get out of the sofa without a winch,” I apologised.

“Hello! I was in the neighbourhood, sort of, so I thought I'd stop by,” he said airily. I frowned, narrowing my eyes a little as I studied him.

“James sent you, didn't he.”

“Yes. Yes he did,” Richard admitted immediately. I couldn't help but laugh as he hung his head in shame for having been found out so quickly.

“Well, if you fancy staying for a bit my plan for the afternoon was pizza and a Lord of the Rings marathon,” I said, taking a step back to let him in.

“God, you are such a geek. But, sure,” he nodded, coming inside and closing the door behind him. “I talked to James on the phone, he was fussing about you, I said I was staying in London until tomorrow and offered to drop by.” I waddled back to the sofa and slumped back onto it, Richard trailing behind me.

“Oh god, what was he fussing about now?” I sighed.

“What wasn't he fussing about, more like! Worried you didn't have enough food in the house so you'd have to go out shopping, or that you were doing too much around the house...” He rambled as he sank down in the armchair opposite.

“He is going to worry himself into a heart attack soon,” I groaned. “The other day the baby had the hiccups, I thought James was going to have a stroke!” At this Richard laughed, then pulled a sympathetic face.

“Aaaw, poor man. But I can understand him, I remember how it was before my oldest was born, I was a constant ball of anxiety. And James is so much more of a worrier than me,” Richard mused.

“Exactly.”

“He was genuinely worried you wouldn't get your shoes on by yourself...” He said, trying to hide a chuckle.

“I can put my own shoes on!” I shouted, more frustrated with James than Richard. “Well, probably not if they have laces, actually...” I admitted, staring down at my enormous stomach.

“On a scale of one to ten, how fed up are you with being pregnant right now?” He asked knowingly.

“A hundred million!” I said matter of factly. “Part of me is very done with being pregnant by now. I am particularly tired of having this baby's arse wedged up against my ribs!” Feeling uncomfortable I nudged and pushed on the top of my bump, trying to get the baby to shift a little. Richard pulled a face.

“You know, I am very glad I won't ever have to be pregnant,” he confided.

“But then again, I don't mind if it stays in there for another month, I'm not sure I'm ready for it to come out just yet. Anyway, I was going to order pizza. Sound ok?” After having gotten our food we settled down for the first film. I kept squirming and shifting on the couch, unable to get comfortable, feeling a lot more smothered than usual. It was as if the baby had its arms and legs stretched out it front of it, pushing all it could. With a sigh I got out of the sofa. “Bathroom. Again. Be right back.” It took nearly 20 minutes before I returned to the living room.

“There you are! I was wondering if you'd fallen in!” Richard giggled.

“With this thing? Hardly likely,” I grumbled, gesturing to my waist. “Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a little favour...?” I asked, gingerly sitting down on the armrest of the sofa. Richard took his eyes off the film again, facing me.

“Sure, of course I will, love. Anything. What?”

“I was wondering if maybe you wouldn't mind driving me to the hospital in a bit..”

“The hospital?” He frowned. “Did they call? I thought you stopped working over a month ago? You can't work like that? You're not going to work, are you?”

“Nooo....” I said firmly, waiting for him to catch on.

“But then wh-- Oh... OH! No..?! No? Now?” His eyes widened

“Well, my water sort of broke. A bit. Ten minutes ago. So... Yes, I guess,” I shrugged apologetically.

“Wow. Bloody hell,” he mumbled, getting up and walking over to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “You all right?”

“Don't look at me like that, if you do I am going to have a panic attack,” I said with a smile, needing to make a joke out of it for now. “Listen, I need to go pack... stuff...”

“Pack? You haven't packed yet?”

“No I haven't! I haven’t packed as much as a diaper! This baby wasn't supposed to come for another month, of course I haven't packed!”

“All right, all right,” he said soothingly, trying to calm me down. “Need some help?”

“Um no, I... I need you to call James. Could you do that? I don't know if I could deal with that right now.”

“Okay, I'll do that, you go pack.”

As Emily waddled off to pack Richard watched her, shaking his head slightly. His heart rate had gone up a little, but nowhere near as badly as it had been when his own children had been about to be born. Maybe that was why he wasn't panicking this time, he had done this before, he felt he was a little experienced. Pulling out his phone he scrolled through his contact list and found James' number. This wasn't a phone call he looked forward to making, he knew that these news would completely unbalance James. It rang for a long time, and Richard had just been about to give up when James picked up. There was a lot of background noise on the other end, chattering and laughter and music.

“Hello, Hamster! Whats up?” James answered. Richard felt how his heart sank.

“Oooh god, you're drunk, aren't you?” He said in a resigned voice.

“No, no, just a bit... inebriated. 'mfine. Are you with Emily?”

“Yes, that was why I was calling...-” Richard began.

“Oh god, is she okay?”

“Yeah yeah, she's fine, James, but... Her water just broke. You better come home, mate.”

“WHAT?!”James shouted shrilly.

“James, mate, listen to me, don't panic! Just.. focus on try and finding a way to get home. Quickly. Okay?”

“But... the due date is a month away!” James protested.

“It seems neither you nor Emily have picked up on the fact that babies don't care about due-dates. When they want out, they come out, thats just the way it is,” Richard said sagely.

“But.. I'm too drunk for this!” James complained.

“I know that!” Richard replied, unable to stop himself from laughing. “Just get to London, one way or another, okay? I'll call you later, keep you updated.”

“Say hi to Emily, yeah? Tell her I'll be home as soon as I can.”

“Emily? You okay? I talked to James, he'll try to find a way to get home as soon as he can. He says hi...” Richard spoke loudly as he walked through the house looking for me. He found me sitting on the edge of the bed with an open bag next to me, clutching a pair of jogging bottoms. “Emily?”

“Yeah? Oh, good. Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Done packing?”

“No... I... I know I printed out a list once, things to bring to the hospital, but I can't find it,” I complained, looking up at Richard with despair in my eyes. “We are the worst prepared parents in the universe! I haven't packed a bag, I don't even have a list of what to pack, and the dad is in another country!”

“Oh quit your wailing, I'll help you pack,” Richard said calmly, refusing to give my rising level of panic any attention. Sitting on my bed he calmly commanded me around, reminding me to pack things like comfy clothes, chargers, slippers, my camera and toiletries. When he mentioned nursing bras and pads I broke out laughing at the absurdity of it. “What? I've done this twice!” He argued. “Well, technically I haven't, but I helped. Sort of.” My laughter got stuck in my throat when the first contraction hit. I didn't say anything, I just screwed up my face and held my breath until it was over. “Don't forget to breathe through those or you'll pass out,” Richard observed, annoyingly calm as ever.

Locking the door behind me I eyed Richards car.

“Oh god, couldn't it have been a Land Rover,” I sighed, staring at the Porsche in the driveway.

“Whats wrong with it?”

“I'm the size of a hippo, Hammond. You might have to strap me to the roof.” Richard laughed loudly as he opened the car door for me. With difficulty, and rather ungracefully, I managed to fold myself into the front seat while Richard headed for the driver's side. He banged the door shut, put on his belt then looked me up and down.

“Ready to go?” He asked. He looked a little tense and worried.

“No. But I guess I have to. And relax, I won't ruin your seat,” I added.

“My seat..?” He frowned, looked down at the seat and up again.

“I am wearing one of my child's diapers, if you must know!”

“I didn't want to know that, no...” Richard mumbled, shaking his head.

“Just.. go...” I squeaked.