Page 17 of Bed of Roses

Think about it, love.

All my love, now and forever,

Rosie

So many feelings were rushing through me. The words “How can we move past this if we can’t talk” made me feel like I was going to vomit. They were so similar to words I had given Haz. This woman needed to be sectioned. I’d have to push ahead with the restraining order. She was off her rocker. I was unsure if I should tell Haz. She had a week before her due date and I didn’t want her to worry, but if Rose was a threat, she needed to know. Also, I’d nearly drowned in my own lies last time, so I didn’t want to add another lie to my sin list.

I walked inside, ready to tell Haz. I glanced across the road and saw Rose’s shadow in the living room. What should I do? Give her the bird? No, this was a matter for professionals. I was such a fucking idiot. Letting this woman into my life was my greatest regret. I only hoped Haz wouldn’t be the one to pay for it.

Chapter 15. Harriet – Precious new souls

I didn’t need the hassle at 40 weeks pregnant, but we’d had to secure a restraining order. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t all that difficult either. We had no evidence of violence, injury, or threats, but we had a reasonable fear of Rose, so the order was granted. It was like an order they’d give to a stalker. When the officer used the word “stalker,” I was equal parts angry and fearful. How dare Blake put me in this situation? It’s not like Rose saw him on the street and followed her home. He played into this; he fed into her delusional fantasies.

Blake was apologetic and contrite during the whole process. It was difficult with Rose living so close to us, but she’d been told to not come to our property and not contact us in any way. I’d done some reading on these orders, and while it offered hope in the sense that she had it in black and white that “Bear” wanted her to stay away, if she was truly delusional, it was essentially just a piece of paper.

So here I sat at 40 weeks and 2 days, waiting and hoping to go into labor. Blake was doing everything at this point. I’d get up, plonk myself on the sofa like a whale and watch television. It was good to see that Petal had learnt to be a good girl and I was now invested in the progress of Bats, a German Shepherd cross who couldn’t stop barking. Every hour or so, I’d get up and take a waddle around the house. I longed to go outside but really didn’t want to stir that pot. That made me even angrier at Blake. I felt uncomfortable leavingmyhouse because he was a moron. Every now and then, I’d tell him as much, and he’d hang his head and apologize again.

I was taking my hourly stroll to the bedroom when I felt warm fluid leak down my leggings. Finally! This baby was way too bigand only gave little movements a few times a day. “Yes,” I’d say to my belly. “You’ve outgrown your cocoon. Time to get out!” Hopefully the eviction process had begun.

“Blake,” I called out. “I think my water broke.” He rushed into the room, frantic and moving his body around like I was going to give birth any minute.

“Relax, it’ll probably be ages. Ring the midwife and tell her.”

He grabbed his phone and had a quick conversation with Cathy.

“She said to wait a few hours for contractions and ring her back at the end of the day if nothing has happened. You need to go sit. Don’t move,” he urged.

“Actually, moving is good,” I corrected him. If moving was going to push things along, I’d run a marathon.

By 4:30, I had contractions, though they weren’t regular or close together. Cathy had urged me to come in if I felt uncomfortable or wait it out until the contractions were strong and regular.

We finally headed in at 9:30, hoping to meet our baby before midnight. It was a good day to be born! Blake lived up to his promise to be the most supportive partner ever. He distracted me when I asked him to, was silent when I preferred that, and eagerly got me anything I asked him to.

“Okay Harriet, I just need you to take a breath, and push at the next contraction,” Cathy encouraged.

“I don’t want to. It hurts,” I gasped.

“Come on, babe. You can do it.” Blake was beside me, wiping my head with a flannel. I barely registered it, but felt irritated because he was doing it so lightly. Ugh, just push the thing into my head and give it a strong drag, I thought.

Baby Imogen Ruby Evans was born at 3:34 am, a healthy, red-faced, screaming, 8lb 3oz bundle of sweetness. The hours after her birth were like a haze. I had held her, fed her, andshowered. A post-birth shower is like a gift from Heaven. It was seriously the best shower I’d ever had, even though my legs were shaky and everything below my waist throbbed. My poor vag. She would be angry for some time.

Seeing Blake with Immy made me melt inside. He was so in love. He’d cried when she was born, thanking me for giving him his little angel. Now, he was asleep on the pull-out sofa that all men seemed to whine about on social media, but he had no complaints.

We arrived home from hospital two days later. Immy and I were declared healthy and ready to go home. We were still figuring out the breastfeeding thing, but were improving each time. It really didn’t come naturally to me, and I’d been warned that many women experience difficulty. She latched well, but I was just so sore. I kept trying to fix her position because I read that if they’re properly latched it should only cause minor pain initially, but man, I felt like my nipples were going to fall off and Immy seemed to be a very hungry baby. My milk was still coming in, and she was still a prolific feeder.

I came home to a house full of flowers and gifts. Some friends hadn’t come to the hospital to visit, knowing that I’d be exhausted. Instead, they’d left flowers and gifts on the stoop. Jacqui was a lifesaver. She had our spare key and brought everything in as it arrived, even putting the flowers in water for me. She’d also left four meals in our freezer.

I was reading through all of the cards and opening the gifts. People were so thoughtful. My boss Eliza had sent a hamper full of pink baby goods, with a card wishing all of us well. Mick had sent meals from a meal service, packed in a box with dry ice. He’d visited in the hospital and given us some adorable rompers, but the addition of the meals was a very kind thought.

I grabbed a gift wrapped in pink paper and a soft pink bow. A small card in an envelope was taped to the front.

Dear Baby Bear,

You’re a girl! So much pink on your stoop! Keep this bear always; she will be your comfort when you cry if your daddy isn’t there to hold you.

Love Momma Rose

I tore open the package. It was a pink bear. She’d made the bear a tool belt and stitched it to its belly. What the actual fuck? This woman was terrifying. Momma Rose? All the bear references? The tool belt?

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