Camilla Läckberg - The Hidden Child

‘She’s going to have a baby,’ said Mellberg to the nurse behind the glass window. She glanced at Johanna, her expression showing that she thought his words were hardly necessary.

‘Come with me,’ she told them peremptorily, showing them to a nearby room.

‘I guess I’ll be… leaving now,’ said Mellberg nervously, when Johanna was told to start by taking off her trousers. But she grabbed his arm just as he was about to flee and hissed in a low voice as another contraction overtook her:

‘You’re not going… anywhere. I have no intention of… doing this… alone.’

‘But…’ Mellberg started to protest. Then he realized that he didn’t have the heart to leave her there all alone. With a sigh, he sank on to a chair and tried to look in a different direction as Johanna was examined.

‘Dilated seven centimetres,’ said the midwife, glancing at Mellberg, whom she assumed would want this information. He nodded, although he silently wondered what that could mean. Was it good? Bad? How many centimetres were required? And with growing amazement, he realized that he was bound to find out, along with a good deal of other facts, before this whole thing was over.

He took his mobile out of his pocket and again punched in Paula’s number. But he got only her voicemail. The same thing with Rita. What was wrong with them? Why didn’t they have their phones with them, since they knew that Johanna could give birth at any moment? Mellberg put his mobile back in his pocket and began pondering whether he could slip out unnoticed.

Two hours later, he was still there. They had been taken to a birthing room, and he was being kept firmly in place by Johanna, who had an iron grip on his hand. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. He had learned that those seven centimetres needed to be ten, but the last three seemed to be taking their time. Johanna was making good use of the nitrous oxide mask, and Mellberg almost wished he could try it himself.

‘I can’t take it any more,’ said Johanna, her eyes glazed from the gas. Her sweaty hair was plastered to her forehead, and Mellberg reached for a towel and wiped her brow.

‘Thanks,’ she said, looking at him with an expression that made him forget any thought of leaving.

Mellberg couldn’t help being fascinated by what was playing out right before his eyes. He had always known that giving birth was a painful process, but he had never witnessed what herculean efforts were required, and for the first time in his life, he felt a deep respect for the female sex. He could never have done it – that was one thing he knew for sure.

‘Try to… phone them again,’ said Johanna, breathing in nitrous oxide as the machine hooked up to her abdomen indicated that a major contraction was about to start.

Mellberg pulled loose his hand and again punched in the two numbers that he had been calling continuously the last few hours. Still nobody answered, and he sadly shook his head as he looked at Johanna.

‘Where the hell…’ she said, but then was overcome by the next contraction, and her words turned to moans.

‘Are you sure you don’t want that… pedisural, or whatever it was she asked you about?’ said Mellberg nervously, wiping more sweat from Johanna’s forehead.

‘No. I’m so close now… It might slow down… And by the way, it’s called an epidural.’ She began moaning again, arching her back.

The midwife came into the room to see how dilated Johanna was, and announced, ‘She’s all the way open now.’ She sounded pleased. ‘Do you hear that, Johanna? Good work. Ten centimetres. You’ll be able to push soon. You’re doing great. Your baby will be here very soon.’

Mellberg took Johanna’s hand and squeezed it. He had a strange feeling in his chest. The closest word he could find to describe it was ‘pride’. He was proud that the midwife had praised Johanna, that they had been working together, and that the baby would soon be here.

‘How long will the pushing take?’ he asked the midwife, and she patiently answered his question. No one had asked about his relationship to Johanna, so he assumed that they thought he was the father, albeit a rather old one. And he didn’t bother to disabuse them.

‘It varies,’ said the midwife, ‘but my guess is that we’ll have the baby here within half an hour.’ And she smiled encouragement at Johanna, who was resting for a few seconds between contractions. Then she contorted her face and tensed her body again.

‘It feels different now,’ she said between clenched teeth, reaching once more for the nitrous oxide.

‘It’s the bearing-down pains. Wait until you get a really strong one. I’ll help you. And when I tell you to push, draw up your knees and press your chin to your chest, and then bear down with all your might.’

Johanna nodded listlessly and squeezed Mellberg’s hand again. He squeezed back and then they both looked at the midwife, waiting tensely for further orders.

After a few seconds, Johanna began to pant. She cast an enquiring glance at the midwife.

‘Wait, wait, wait… not yet… wait until it’s really strong… Okay, NOW!’

Johanna did as she was told, pressing her chin to her chest, drawing up her knees, and then bearing down until she was bright red in the face and the pain subsided.

‘Good! Good job! You did great! Now let’s wait for the next one, and before you know it, it’ll be over.’

The midwife was right. Two contractions later, the baby slid out and was immediately placed on Johanna’s stomach. Mellberg stared with fascination. In theory, he knew how babies were born, but seeing it first-hand was… To think that a child actually came out, waving arms and legs and crying in protest, before starting to root around on Johanna’s breast.

‘Let’s help out your little boy. He’s trying to nurse,’ said the midwife kindly, helping Johanna so the infant found her breast and began to suckle.

‘Congratulations,’ said the midwife to both of them, and Mellberg felt himself beaming like the sun. He had never experienced anything like this before. He certainly hadn’t.

A short time later the baby was done nursing and the midwife cleaned him up and wrapped him in a blanket. Johanna sat up in bed with a pillow behind her back and looked at her son with adoring eyes. Then she glanced at Mellberg and said in a low voice:

‘Thank you. I could never have done it on my own.’

All Mellberg could manage was a nod. He felt a big lump in his throat that stopped him from speaking, and he kept on swallowing, trying to make it disappear.

‘Would you like to hold him?’ asked Johanna.

Again, Mellberg could only nod. Nervously he held out his arms, and Johanna carefully handed him her son, making sure that he supported the baby’s head properly. It was a strange feeling to hold that warm, new little body in his arms. He looked down at the tiny face and felt the lump in his throat getting bigger. And when he looked into the boy’s eyes, he knew one thing. From that moment forward, he was hopelessly, helplessly in love.

Hans smiled to himself. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing that, but he couldn’t help it. Of course it was going to be difficult for them in the beginning. There’d be people who would voice their opinions and no doubt there would be talk about sinning before God and other admonitions in that vein. But after the worst had passed, they would be able to build a life together. He and Elsy and their child. How could he feel anything but joy at the prospect?

Yet the smile on his lips faded as he thought about what lay ahead of him. It was not going to be an easy task. Part of him just wanted to forget all about what had happened in the past, stay here and pretend that he’d never had any other life. That part of him wanted to believe that he’d been born anew, like a blank slate, on the day when he stowed away on the boat belonging to Elsy’s father.