Birth, Marriage and Death

Eight Weeks to Go

Poppy

"Ugh, this isn't coming off at all." Ricky was stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing away at a saucepan that I'd used to cook the chilli we'd had for dinner last night. Unfortunately Beth had phoned just as it had started simmering and, chatting to her, I completely forgot about it until I could smell the bottom of it burning – or possibly welding – itself onto the inside of the saucepan. "What did you do to it?"

"Um, I might have forgotten about it. Beth phoned just after I'd started cooking it." I grimaced as I peered into the pot. "Leave it to soak, I'll have a go at it later."

Ricky didn't need telling twice; immediately he stepped away from the sink and pulled off the yellow rubber gloves he'd been wearing, turning them inside out in the process.

"You look nice today, is that a new dress?" He asked as he picked up the mug of coffee I'd just made him.

"It is," I looked down at myself, my growing belly clad in a navy and white striped jersey dress with a random pattern of bright pink and coral flowers splashed over the stripes. It was probably a bit summery, but I was so fed up with all my boring winter clothes. "I treated myself earlier in the week. I know I won't get much wear out of it now."

"Doesn't matter," Ricky grinned at me over his coffee mug. "I can't believe its eight weeks today."

I picked up the tea I'd made myself and wandered over to sit down at the breakfast bar. "She's not guaranteed to arrive on my due date Rick. Babies tend to come along when they're ready, particularly first babies. She could be a couple of weeks late."

"I know, but I hope she's not. I don't think I can wait that long."

"God, I hope she's not either. I don't think I can wait that long, although probably for slightly different reasons to you. This is getting to be hard work." I sighed and rubbed my lower back, which seemed to ache pretty much constantly these days.

"I know love," Ricky put his mug down and came to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his hands on my stomach. "You're still feeling okay though aren't you?"

I leaned back into his body and tilted my head back to look at him. "Yeah, of course. It's just a bit tiring. Still I've only got a couple more weeks work and then I can be a lady of leisure for a few weeks. I hope you're ready to be at my beck and call because I intend to lie on the sofa and do nothing."

I'd been working a bit over the last couple of months – not full time – but we'd decided together that my last job before I had the baby would be the three live shows of The Voice. Once the final was over I was going on maternity leave. Ricky would be taking a bit of a break too before festival season started at the beginning of summer. For once the band had no festivals booked in until mid-June, a concession to my due date of mid-May and Ricky's request for paternity leave. All in all, he'd have a couple of months off and neither of us could wait.

I was looking forward to being able to rest and hopefully get a bit more sleep. At the moment the baby seemed to wake up every time I tried to sleep and spent most nights flipping around in my belly, kicking and poking me and generally being extremely active. It was good that she kept moving, but tiring for me. I was convinced she somehow knew about Ricky's onstage antics and was doing her best to copy him already. I just hoped she wouldn't feel it necessary to copy him when she was older; the way he climbed the lighting rigs scared me to death.

"I think I can manage that, you're doing all the really hard work." He bent his head and nuzzled my neck. "I better think about making a move, I'm sorry I can't come with you this morning."