Page 86 of Finding Jacob
The pain I felt inside my chest was real. A stabbing through my heart. I clutched myself, rocking to dull the pain I felt. I sobbed, I wanted to scream. I got angry.
“She better fucking pay for what she’s done,” I said. I didn’t believe Hannah didn’t know anything; she wasn’t the innocent she was wanting the police to believe.
With Dory’s arms around me, I cried myself to sleep.
I left Dory sleeping and walked to the nursery. I wasn’t waiting for a wheelchair and once I got my legs going, the need for my child pushed any uncomfortableness to the side. I had more important things to do than wallow in my misery. The nurse smiled at me as I crept to her cot. I noticed another mother in the room, she was rocking her baby. She smiled at me. Her baby looked smaller than Paloma.
I picked my daughter up and she curled her little fists. I guessed she didn’t particularly like being woken. I held her to my chest, breathing in her scent. That time she smelled like a baby. I nuzzled her hair.
“I spoke to your daddy yesterday,” I whispered. “I can’t wait for you to meet him. He loves you so much, my darling.” I fought back the tears.
“Would you like some tea?” I was asked. A nurse stood beside a trolley. “We have lots of varieties.”
I nodded. “Normal with a little milk, please.”
Another nurse approached. “She’s going to be hungry shortly. Would you like to feed her?”
I had been expressing milk and handing it over for storage. Some would be used for mothers who couldn’t produce and some for Paloma. She couldn’t breastfeed, her suction wasn’t developed enough. I frowned.
“How?” I asked.
The nurse held up a syringe. “I’ll show you, then you can do it.”
Under the white vest that Paloma wore was the feeding tube that went down her nose. The syringe was attached to it and a small amount of food was pumped through. It was handed to me, and my hands shook as I pressed down on the plunger.
“Slow and steady,” the nurse said.
I could feel Paloma’s heart beating fast and her eyes fluttered open. She stared at me. “Can she see me?” I asked, feeling totally dumb about asking.
“Sure, her eyes will follow you, but just remember, she must work harder than a newborn to coordinate. She’ll catch up, though. She’s much stronger than some born her age. You’ve got a real fighter there.”
She explained that I could do as much as I wanted. I could change her nappy, dress her, feed her, be with her whenever I wanted. It was encouraged. She hadn’t been born in a traditional method, even an elected C-section would have meant the mother was handed the child immediately, so it was important to bond with her. There was no issue with that. The first time I’d held her I’d bonded. I just wished I could take her to see her daddy. I wish we could all, Jacob included, just go home.
I had no idea how I slept that night. It was disturbed, for sure. I could hear a baby crying and wondered if it was Paloma. I was up and down constantly. I hated we were separated and wanted her beside me. I got that she was under constant supervision, but it tore me apart to know I couldn’t smell or hear her whenever I wanted. I felt bereft constantly.
I was the momma bear pacing and circling, trying to find her cub. Hearing her but not seeing her, knowing she was close but not close enough. I felt a pull towards her constantly. The ache inside me only subsided when I held her. I talked to her constantly, needing her to recognise my voice and know I was her mummy. My breasts ached with a need to feed her, expressing via a machine helped but it wasn’t enough. I was a mass of motherly protectiveness and instinct struggling to adjust to the regime of neonatal care.
“How do you do it?” I asked the other mother, who always smiled but never spoke.
We were both feeding our babies and she was on the other side of the room.
“You just have to. She’s my second, so I guess I’m a little more relaxed. I’m Sarah, by the way, and this one is Abigale.”
“Your second premature?” I asked, wide-eyed as she nodded. “And I’m Anna and this is Paloma.”
“Second premature, lucky huh? And a single parent this time round,” Sarah said.
“Ouch. My partner was in... There was an accident. He’s at King’s and...” I found I couldn’t get my words out.
Sarah stood and wheeled her cot while still carrying Abigale closer to me. “Budge up,” she said.
I shuffled up a seat so she could sit next to me. “And you’re here busting to get to him, but can’t leave her, I assume?”
I nodded as tears filled my eyes. “Someone tried to run us over, I was thrown to the ground, and he took the brunt of the impact.”
“Fuck!” she said, her South London accent coming through. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I found that I did. She was a stranger, but I poured my heart out to her. I told her everything, right from the RSVP to watching him fly over the roof of the car. She stayed quiet as we fed our babies, held them, changed nappies, and laid them to sleep.
