Catherine Miller - All That Is Left Of Us

Only once Dawn’s face relaxed again did David manage to speak.

‘I thought you didn’t want me in here. I don’t expect you to change your mind.’

Not being in a position to have a full-on conversation about it, Dawn resorted to barking instructions instead. ‘Go. Stand. Over. There.’ She pointed towards Rebekah before every muscle in her body racked up towards another push.

Feeling the need to be on all fours, she turned with some effort, and assistance from Melanie and Rebekah to keep her dignity. ‘You two need to be together for this. Only Rebekah is permitted to look down the business end, though,’ she managed to instruct between contractions.

Rebekah and David embraced, both smiling for the first time since they’d arrived. The time was almost upon them.

Leaving them to it, Dawn inhaled again on the gas and air, the pain becoming more intense with each contraction.

‘Right, we’re nearly there,’ Melanie informed her. ‘A few more pushes should do it.’

Dawn lost count of exactly how many waves of pain she endured after those words had been spoken, but they came quickly and all too soon it was over. That intense agony of having several pounds pass through a space that seemed way too small was done; the amazing miracle that was giving birth.

Dawn collapsed into the pillow. Having a baby on all fours was not the most dignified of poses, but it meant she didn’t have to look. She didn’t want to cast an eye straight away and fall in love. That was to be a moment for David and Rebekah. The baby started mewing.

‘It’s a boy. Anyone want to cut the cord?’ Melanie offered.

‘I will,’ Rebekah said, and somehow it seemed right she should be the one to do it. After all, the baby was her DNA and this act would signify the transfer of responsibility.

‘Take your shirt off,’ Dawn heard Melanie say.

Skin-to-skin time. The first stage of bonding. And it would be for Rebekah’s benefit as much as the baby.

As the baby’s crying continued, Dawn’s every instinct wanted to respond, but she counted to ten before she braved lifting her head from the pillow.

It was her brother with his shirt off, not Rebekah like Dawn had thought. He was caressing their creation in his arms and the sight was enough to drive her to tears.

‘Hi, little guy, I’m your daddy.’ There in David’s eyes was the moment they’d all been working on. It was clear to see the instant love that was forming. Rebekah’s gaze was just as taken with the newborn in the room.

‘This is your mummy.’ He moved the baby cautiously so Rebekah would be in his eye line even if she would be nothing more than a blurry outline as his eyes adjusted to the world. ‘And this is your very special auntie. Thank you, sis. Nothing we can ever say will cover this.’ David’s eyes glistened with tears.

It was enough for Dawn’s own to burst through. ‘Hi, baby nephew.’ She managed to smile through the tears, knowing how privileged they all were to be in this moment. Then a final contraction ripped through her body to remove the organ that had connected them all on this journey.

Chapter 6

It was three days later that Dawn started losing it. With the birth having gone smoothly they discharged her less than twenty-four hours later. She was glad to be out of the hospital, but being at home sucked pretty badly as well. After Archie was up in bed, she sat in front of the telly with trashy programmes and an absurd amount of yummy things that would normally have helped cheer her up.

There were some of the supermarket’s finest blue cheeses and liver paté spread on crackers waiting to be munched; a chilled glass of wine and a divine platter of seafood calling to be devoured – all the foods she’d been deprived of for the past nine months and had regularly craved during her pregnancy. She’d daydreamed about this moment throughout, the day she would have her body back and enjoy herself once more.

Only the cheese tasted too rank and the wine too bitter. It wasn’t the perfect moment she’d been after. She wanted it as a celebratory slap on the back. Her own “well done, you’re bloody amazing” moment.

Instead she was still raw with hurt. There was something so cruel about having to waddle around with a maternity pad between her legs without a baby against her bosom. It was a selfish thought, knowing her predicament was one that had brought joy, not the sorrow others might suffer. And she’d known this was coming. She’d had time to prepare for the void that was filling her, but sitting here with her expensive cheese and dry crackers it was a recipe for feeling sorry for herself.

Storage Wars seemed like a pretty safe bet TV-viewing wise, but then they cracked open a unit containing what could only be described as a mother’s treasure chest, the objects of childhood only a parent would hold dear: medals, drawings, photos, items of clothing. In their montage they knew nothing about the previous owner of the locker, but surmised, as the photos didn’t go past the age of about eight, that perhaps it had belonged to the child’s mother. That in the face of the father finding reminders too painful, she’d gone and rented the space to preserve her son’s memory in her own way and visited it in remembrance of him.

It was the kind of story that would have had Dawn in tears anyway. Just thinking about the poor woman having to grieve in such solitude started the sobbing, but then it was every thought that followed, which meant she wasn’t able to stop. The locker for her second child would be empty because he wasn’t hers and never would be, and somehow she had to find her peace with that.

Dawn switched the telly off, not wanting to think about it any longer. As she did so, she spotted the present Jane had given her when she’d left the school. It was nestling between the sofa and TV cabinet. It was time to open it. Ripping the wrapping paper off revealed a patchwork quilt. She unfolded it and realised each square had been made by one of the schoolchildren in her class. It gave her a whole new reason for the tears to flow.

Cocooning herself in the quilt, for now Dawn wasn’t able to stop herself from crying. Even when she managed to get up and replace her tray of unappetising snacks with a whole bar of fruit and nut, the flow of tears didn’t let up. She tried to banish the thought of the empty locker with the image of her brother’s happiness at seeing his newborn son, but it wasn’t sticking. So she allowed the tears and sadness to flow, afraid that, if she didn’t, there was a chance she would never get a grip again.

The next day was a better one. Dawn managed to get out of bed and shower without going into complete meltdown. She reminded herself she was a mother already, and even though going out of the house was the last thing in the world she wanted to do right now, it was Saturday. It was zoo day and feeling the sunshine on her face might remind her that life wasn’t so desolate. Even though Jane had offered to take Archie, she wanted to get out of the house, so had said she would take him herself.

‘You’re late, Mum,’ Archie shouted into her bedroom.

Dawn was wrapped in a towel, huddled in bed. She’d stopped there to get dry and keep warm, but she’d let minute after minute pass by without making any effort to move.

Archie knocked at the door, a rare gesture from her son who liked to stick to routines. The fact she was late would be enough to cause him distress. Maybe she should let Jane take him. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this. She made sure she was covered up, but she was pretty well cocooned. ‘Come in.’

Archie tiptoed in, like this was a mission and he needed to remain undetected. He was getting so tall and was at the gangly stage where everything was growing so quickly it hadn’t had chance to bulk out. His brown hair and grey eyes made him look like his father, a shadow of the past, but his frame made him look like David at that age. The thought brought an unexpected lump to her throat and she knew she needed to stop. She couldn’t cry in front of her son.