Page 6 of The Mistake

Pete’s phone blares to life, his ringtone cutting through the pain, and she sees his face illuminated by the screen as he holds it up apologetically.

‘Sorry, babe, I really need to take this. That bloody drainage.’ Pete drops a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’ll be back in a tick, OK?’

Natalie doesn’t even have the energy to be furious. Another contraction comes, and she sucks deeply on the gas and air, even though it makes her dizzy and her throat feel thick, barelyrealising when the midwife comes in and gently lifts the blanket covering her lower half.

‘I need to push,’ Natalie says, the feeling coming almost as a relief. She squeezes her eyes closed, pushing hard, as the midwife encourages her tobreathe, keep breathing, Natalie, come on.

Exhausted, Natalie bears down as hard as she can, only slumping back against the pillow as the contraction fades.I want Pete, she thinks. She tugs at the sleeve of the midwife’s uniform. ‘Pete isn’t here. I need to wait for Pete, he’s going to miss it all.’ But then there is another contraction and she has to push again, screwing up her face and trying her hardest even though she’s tired,so, so tired.

‘Nat, I’m here.’ Pete’s face appears in the corner of her vision, flustered and breathless. ‘I’m here. Oh, God, this is actually happening.’ But Natalie is too worn out to do anything other than close her eyes as the midwife braces for another contraction. When it comes, Natalie just doesn’t have the energy for it.

Moments later, the room feels crowded and Natalie feels the first inklings of panic through a haze of exhaustion. There are three midwives and a consultant all gathered around the monitor, murmuring to one another before the consultant – a man with grey hair swished stiffly back from his forehead – smiles down at Natalie.

‘Natalie, I’m Mr Goodfellow. I’ve had a look at Baby, and things aren’t progressing as quickly as I’d like. Baby seems to be getting a little bit distressed in there, and I think we need to get him out as soon as possible.’

Her. It’s a girl, Natalie wants to say, even though she never asked at the scan. She knows, though; she knows this baby is another girl.

‘With the next contraction, I’m going to need you to push as hard as you can for me. I’m going to make a small incision, and then we’ll get this baby out in a jiffy.’ Mr Goodfellow pats her hand. ‘Nurse, get the forceps ready, please.’

The nurses begin bustling around Natalie, doing things she doesn’t fully understand, and then there is the next wave of pain and Natalie grits her teeth and pushes as hard as she can.

‘Oh my God, Nat,’ Pete breathes, ‘she’s here. You did it. God, you’re amazing.’ He leans down and kisses her sweaty forehead.

I did it, Natalie thinks.We did it. We have another baby. Erin, if she really is a girl,Arlo, if he’s a boy. It has taken Natalie and Pete ages to decide on names, and when Eve suggested Erin, which had been her grandmother’s name, Natalie had loved it immediately. So had Pete, luckily, although Natalie has never told him the name was Eve’s suggestion. Natalie feels hot tears slide out and into her hair, waiting for the wail that will split the air and announce the baby’s arrival. But there is nothing. No cry, no shriek. Natalie looks up at Pete, who is pressing his hand to his mouth as the nurses hurry the baby away, towards the resusstation.

‘Pete? What is it? Why isn’t she crying?’ Panic is back, licking at Natalie’s still-swollen belly.

‘Mrs Maxwell, congratulations, you have a beautiful baby girl.’ One of the nurses appears by the bed and Natalie drags her gaze to meet her eyes.

‘Why isn’t she crying? What’s going on?’

‘Baby just needs a little bit of help, that’s all. The doctor is with her now, and as soon as we can we’ll get her over to you.’

Time seems to stretch out like toffee, seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into hours. Pete is still clutching Natalie’s hand, and she is vaguely aware that he is squeezing it too hard, crushing the tiny bones of her fingers. Finally,finally, a cry rents the air, high-pitched and utterly furious. At first Natalie isn’t sure if she’s imagined it, and then it comes again, just as angry, and then the nurse is there, placing the baby – fists clenched and eyes screwed shut – onto Natalie’s chest. She’s saying somethingabout skin to skin, but Natalie isn’t listening; all she can hear is that beautiful, ear-splitting wail.

‘She’s OK,’ Pete breathes in her ear, reaching out a finger as the baby quiets, wrapping her tiny fingers around his. ‘You scared us there for a moment, little one.’

‘Erin,’ Natalie says, suddenly feeling light-headed. ‘Welcome to the world, Erin.’

‘Nat?’ Pete’s face is alarmingly close to hers, but Natalie can’t speak as black spots dapple her vision and she feels awfully sick and faint. ‘Natalie? Are you OK?’

‘Mrs Maxwell?’ Mr Goodfellow, the consultant, is back and she doesn’t know why he’s here; the baby is born. Shouldn’t he be looking after another mother now? ‘Natalie, you’re bleeding very heavily, and we can’t stop it.Natalie.Natalie, you’re haemorrhaging. We need to get you down to theatre now. We need to perform a hysterectomy in order to stop the bleeding.’

Natalie nods, vaguely aware that the baby is no longer lying on her chest but too woozy to do anything about it. She doesn’t care what happens, what they do to her. She just wants to see her baby. As they rush her bed along the corridor, bright lights flashing overhead, Pete runs alongside, his face twisted with worry. He reaches out and squeezes her hand, and this time she lets him.

The room is dark and Natalie is tucked away in her hospital bed, the curtains blocking out the rest of the exhausted mums on the ward. Pete left a couple of hours ago, heading back to the house to break the news to the girls about their new baby sister. He’d fussed over Natalie as they wheeled her from the recovery room to the ward, explaining that she’d lost so much blood, he’d thought she would die. Telling her how she’d gone so pale it was as though she’d failed to exist, a ghost of a woman. That they’d taken everything away inside her, it was the only way to save her, but she’d barely registered what he was saying. Now, it’s 3 a.m., the witching hour, and Erin begins to stir in her cot beside thebed, a murmur that quickly becomes a full-on wail. Natalie pushes back the blankets, before pressing the buzzer for the nurse. The anaesthetic has worn off and her belly is a raging inferno of pain. Erin cries louder, her tiny face red and furious.

‘I’m coming. It’s OK,’ Natalie puffs, just as a nurse whips her head through the gap in the curtains.

‘Baby’s hungry, mum!’ The nurse says. ‘I’ll pass her to you, you’re not going to be able to lift her yourself.’

Natalie pushes her way up the pillows into a sitting position.Oh, God, the pain. She isn’t expecting it – after the girls she’d ached, of course, and she’d been ridiculously out of breath, but this is like no pain she’s ever felt before.

‘Here you go.’ The nurse places the baby in Natalie’s arms, and Natalie sinks back onto the bed, allowing the nurse to get her into a comfortable position. ‘Let me know if you need a bit of pain relief.’

Erin feeds for what feels like hours, and when she’s finished Natalie buzzes for the nurse to put Erin back in her cot, feeling oddly disconnected as she watches the nurse do a quick nappy change before laying Erin down. The pain relief the nurse bought hasn’t done much, but as Natalie lies down she feels a wave of exhaustion. Both Emily and Zadie had slept well their first night in the hospital, and Natalie craves sleep like a drug, even if it is just for a couple of hours. Her eyes droop closed, and just as she is on the edge of dozing off – a blissfully dark oblivion laid out before her – there is a muted cry. Natalie squeezes her eyes closed, but it comes again, before ramping up into another angry wail.

‘OK. It’s OK,’ Natalie says again, once more pushing herself back up the pillows and pressing the buzzer for the nurse. She wants to weep at the pain as Erin screams, aware that all the other babies in the ward are sleeping soundly.Why is she crying?She fed less than an hour ago; she’s clean and dry. The sound seems to ricochet off the curtains as Natalie feels more and more out of her depth, a swimmer grasping for the bottom of the pond withher feet. This wasn’t how it was before, with Emily and Zadie. Neither of them cried like this.What’s wrong with my baby?Natalie looks down into the cot at Erin’s angry little face, at the red cheeks and gaping mouth, the dark curls plastered into sweaty little horns at her temples. She is utterly furious, this new child of Natalie’s. Furious with the world. Furious withher.

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