SARAH had a love hate relationship with being pregnant; she loved feeling Bean move around, loved talking to the baby, knowing someone else was there. But then feeling the baby move reminded her that she probably wasn't keeping it. And she was starting to hate that.
Today she hated pregnancy more than usual.
Her back was sore and paining, her feet were swollen and she was tired. Really tired.
Sarah had just under a month to go, probably closer to three weeks (though Margaret kept reminding her that first babies were often late and all of hers except Dane were overdue by several days at least). She felt like a whale already, she wasn't looking forward to three to five weeks more of this, getting out of bed was almost a fork-lift job already and it was so long since she'd seen her toes that she could actually be wearing anything at all on her feet and she wouldn't know. She hoped it was her nice slip-on Vans; she didn't care which of the four colours it was but knowing her luck it was her fluffy rabbit slippers – highly professional indeed.
At the moment she wished there was someone here with her to help her put her slip-on shoes on and do up her mega-bra – needed to support her now back breaking boobs. But there was no-one. Margaret had offered to come and stay with her but she was still recovering and Boyd and Dmitri and Barb and Dehlia had also offered to either stay or have her come to them. But well she wasn't up for that much fussing. She needed someone to help and then get out of the fucking way "wide-load" coming through. Someone who knew her well enough to gauge her moods. Sure Boyd and Dmitri had known her a long time but not in the way she needed. She needed? She didn't need anyone!
Dane flew back yesterday but she was in Stratford until this morning and he was in a meeting now and wouldn't be out until lunch and then he had a rehearsal at a hall not that far away from his house. A rehearsal for the piece he was doing with Sabine for the RSC. He and some of the other London-based actors were meeting with the director to go through their pieces and discuss the event. They'd held a similar event in Stratford yesterday and she and David the director had driven back down for today's run-through. Sarah was there as technical advisor and co-producer. Luckily for her David had driven there and back, getting behind the wheel of a car was quite an effort these days and if she got too close and the wheel pressed her stomach Bean would give it hell – one of the many joys of pregnancy.
This was one of her last jobs before she went on maternity leave – well her version of it, which was more working from home than actually stopping. She had hoped to have Bean's future settled by now but Davie had wanted a face-to-face meeting, first with her and then the two of them with Boyd and Dmitri. She hated to be mucking them around but they were both so damned understanding and supportive, she wondered how they'd be if they hadn't found a surrogate and weren't actually going forward with impregnation – Bean might be a big brother or sister if it went to them. An only child if it stayed with her until she accidentally left it on a bus and it was adopted by Gypsies (not that she used buses that much but that was beside the point). Who was she kidding, she knew Boyd and D well enough that she knew they would be just as supportive even if there wasn't a chance that the little one would be theirs. She had a lot of support if she was honest but the self-doubt was still crippling. In her head she knew she could do this, in her heart, she suspected she wanted to do this. But without her mum and dad and Dane, it felt overwhelming. Even though she knew Del and Barb would be there, Petra was proposing some sort of informal mother's club and Dane's family, her family, were overwhelming (she still hadn't told them – coward, that she was). But she was an academic first, had always been an academic, it came first – just as it had with her dad. Her Aspie academic father had loved her but well he wasn't good on the practical side – without the support of the extended family and Dane's Sarah had no doubt she'd be living in a caravan somewhere and destined to wear a large meringue dress to borrow a popular and probably erroneous stereotype.
No family was everything.
And theirs – hers and Dane's – didn't know anything about the potential adoption.
Best not to say until she had her meeting with Dane and the boys.
For a strong independent woman, she was a coward well maybe, more than that she wanted this to be her decision, not something she was railroaded into by anything.
So they were waiting until the wheels were in motion or the decisions had been made.
That was all taking place over the next two days and then she could plan properly either to hand the baby over or to keep it. She was scared of both decisions. Terrified she'd lose everything either way. If she was keeping it, she had a lot of work to do –it had a cot and a pram (not put together) a few clothes given to her by friends and family, the odd toy – nothing like the well-appointed nursery that Petra had. Sarah had spent the past few week's convincing all and sundry not to throw her a baby shower. Dehlia and Barb knew she was toying with adopting the child out (and were none too happy about it) and had acted as She wasn't one for fuss at the best of times but now, well now it was redundant, well it might be. It's not that she' hadn't done some prep work but she'd lost some of the stuff in the car that night – scattered all over the road and hadn't had the time or inclination to replace it. At Dmitri's insistence (after a prenatal class last week) she'd made a half-arsed attempt at packing a bag for the hospital and had actually booked into said establishment (under pain of death from Dehlia). Apparently, once she slowed down she'd get the urge to "nest" or so her family kept telling her. There was a lot to do if she wasn't keeping the baby too, she couldn't just hand the child over and that was that but she was only vaguely aware of what that was too.
She's avoided the minutiae of both decisions.
Well, not avoided. Been too busy with work to think about it – yeah that's what it was. Well, that's what she told herself. She was telling herself a lot of things at the moment.
Seeing Dane meant dealing with it all. So she was dreading seeing him, to the point where she had worked herself up, anxiety was overtaking her and her usual crotchety demeanour was ramped up to 11 – 11,000!
Director David had dropped her off at home to grab some stuff, change, check in with work at the Library and have a quick bite to eat (she did that a lot now – eat – small and often – either she or Bean were going to be the size of the side of a house by the end of this – she didn't know which she'd prefer. She wanted Bean to be healthy but she didn't much fancy pushing a watermelon out of the lady garden).
By the time David returned to her, she'd showered (again), changed for the third time – checking in the mirror that her shoes weren't embarrassing (okay she'd got David to help her put her Docs on). With her favourite black docs, black tights and a long baby-doll style tunic in emerald green, she was ready for the afternoon and she was ready for Dane .
Maybe.
She felt sick and anxious and tense as she entered the rehearsal space. Most of the actors were there already and Sabine had welcomed her with an uncharacteristic girly squeal, a hug (as much as you could hug a hippo) and a kiss on each cheek. The last time they'd seen each other, Sarah was flat on her back and worried that any wrong move would mean an early delivery for Bean and drama for her. So her young friend was pretty excited to see her on her feet and "huge" - thanks, Sabine.
No Dane though.
"Dane's running late, caught in meetings," Sabine said reading her mind – or more correctly surmising why her friend was looking around like something was missing.
Sarah took a deep angry breath. Of course he was and of course, he'd ring Sabine not her. Anxiety was building and reason was leaving her. He was rehearsing with Sabine, he wasn't sure that Sarah would be there. But she wasn't seeing that any more.
By the time he finally strode into the hall, an hour late, Sarah was a hormonal force to be reckoned with. Dane himself didn't know how to play it – how do you play this? Your best friend is heavily pregnant with your baby, you love her, you want her but while you stride a stage full of self-confidence you suck at the everyday. He was terrified he was going to fuck this up.
"Hi everyone – sorry I'm late – a lunch meeting that went over time," he said to understanding nods as he walked towards the stage, stopping to shake David's hand, hug Sabine and greet the other well-known faces in the group. Sarah stood a little apart from the rest and the first thing Tom noticed was how big she'd become, how big and how beautiful she looked. Her clothes were girly for Fox – not over done but feminine enough. He wanted to lift up that top and kiss her tummy, undo the plait in her hair and well um no that wasn't a suitable thought for where he was now – not suitable and given her size he wondered if it was even logistically possible. But he'd enjoy finding out later if everything went to plan!
Of course, this was life and nothing went to plan.
He walked towards her and kissed her cheek and hugged her, trying hard not to put his hand on her tummy. He fought the urge to kiss her bump and say hello to Bean with so many others around. She flinched when he hugged her. Not what he expected.
"You look amazing!" he whispered in her ear.
"I'm fat and you're late," she said matter-of-factly back.
Ah okay – they were playing it that way.
"Yes, quite right! About the late not about the fat part, you're pregnant and I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world," he said reluctantly letting go of her. She had relaxed in his arms when he'd called her beautiful so maybe there was hope but she was off, very off. She looked tired and the way she moved he wondered if she wasn't having a bit of drama with her back. She had suffered a bit with it over the years and all that extra weight wouldn't be doing it much good. Men got the easy part in this pregnancy lark, he realised and added "But I might be biased," winking and trying to keep it light as he walked back to the director and got stuck into the afternoon's work.
The afternoon rehearsals went well, not that Sarah could concentrate, her back was giving her hell aggravated by old wooden chairs they had to sit on. She got up and walked around a bit through the course of the afternoon but it wasn't helping much. She needed a massage, she'd had a pregnancy massage a few months ago – the masseuse had a table with a cut out for a pregnant belly – Sarah doubted Bean would fit in there now – she was house sized now -there were small dwellings that had nothing on her now. The other thing that had worried her was Bean. It usually loved something like this – all the noise and colour. It moved to the sound of Tom's voice too and here he was in front of them in all his glory if it wasn't for the pain in her back and her anxiety about the discussions they had to have she'd have been really turned on. She loved him performing Shakespeare. She loved Shakespeare in all its form but the most amazing and often erotic thing was Dane performing it. He always seemed to go up another level. But while Dane and Shakespeare turned her own (it is normal to bring yourself off when you watch your best friend performing Henry V on video right?) – Bean reacted, moved and kicked when "Daddy" performed. She had often put the phone to her tummy so he could talk to the baby or she'd taken to watching his movies so Bean knew his voice. But the baby seemed to be sleepy and 3 pm in the afternoon wasn't nap time usually and it worried her.
She stood up again, stretched and left the room moving into one of the small offices to ring Barb and get a little advice. But of course Barb wasn't answering her phone and neither did Margaret. She wondered if she should ring the hospital or her doctor or if she was just panicking. She'd read so many things about "trusting your instinct" it worried her because her instincts had her in full "I'm a little teapot, I'm a little teapot" mode.
"Sarah are you okay?" a voice called across a long distance, well from the door, but Sarah was miles away. She jumped, looking up to see Dane standing at the door with a concerned look on his face.
"Has anyone told you not to scare heavily pregnant women?" she snapped. She really didn't want to be angry with him, he was home and she'd missed him but she couldn't help herself, she was in pain and scared and taking it out on him.
She took a deep breath.
"Fine," she said more quietly as he walked across the room to her closing the door behind him again to keep out the noise of the rehearsal it was loud now – someone was practicing the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet and there was laughter ringing through the small space.
Lucky them. Sarah winced in pain; her back was making her very uncomfortable.
"Are you sure you're okay baby?" he asked quietly moving up to touch her face gently, reverently with his hand, running his fingers down her cheek. He was taking a risk, he knew that, but he didn't care.
"I'm fine, don't worry," she snapped trying to move away but wincing again just from the movement.
"But I do worry Fox, I worry about you and I worry about my baby," he said gently like he was trying to tame a wild beast, which wasn't far off the truth at that moment.
"Oh yes YOUR baby, that's really all you care about it, isn't it? Your baby – something we made in a moment of drunken idiocy but it's more important than me now isn't it?" she said pulling away from him and striding across the room suddenly full of a surge of energy and rage. She'd started to think he wanted her no he wanted HIS baby.
Typical.
"You know that's not true Fox, I love you," he said moving towards her.
"Stay where you are!" she growled. "Stay away from me! It's not your baby it's mine and I'm not keeping it so you can drop the act."
"It's not an act," Dane sighed not dropping eye contact with her. "You have to know I love both you and OUR baby, I'm sorry for calling it mine all the time, I just can't believe I'd be as lucky to be having a child at all let alone with my best friend, with the woman I love."
She was backed into a corner of the room now but he made no attempt to move towards her, he didn't want to provoke her more.
"It was a mistake and I don't need you I want you to leave, I'm handing this baby over to Boyd and Dmitri and that's it!" she hissed. Dane let out a frustrated breath, he didn't want to be irritated with her but she was doing her best to push his buttons and refused to listen.
"You and I can tell the world that but we both know that it isn't true – the morning after your birthday, after our drunken fuck, we took it slow and neither of us bothered with looking for condoms – it didn't matter, we knew what we were doing and we knew what could happen and we didn't care. I think deep down we both wanted this, both knew that this would force us to confront our own feelings – I want you Fox and I don't care who knows it!"
"What a load of shite," she said the words making her angry, angry because she knew they were true."You'll only want us until the next awards ceremony or the next juicy role – you don't want us – if you wanted us you'd have acknowledged us properly out there in front of everyone but Bean and I are your dirty little secret – you don't love us you love the idea of us until something better comes along."
"AAAAAAh," Dane yelled. She was the most frustrating woman in the world and if he didn't leave now he was going to say something he'd regret.
"Go," she growled. "Just go!"
"I will – but only because I can't talk to you when you're like this, you are the most frustrating woman imaginable and stupid me loves you completely you you aaaaahhh," he grabbed hold of his hair in frustration – no wonder his hairline was receding.
"I'm going for a run – I'll see you in an hour at yours when both of us calm down!"
The door slammed.
And he was gone.
And she was an idiot.
Sarah slumped against the wall in defeat and then............ then the intense pain shifted from her back across her front and worried turned to scared. But before she could hit full panic mode, the door opened again and relief rushed through her – Dane was back just when she needed him but it wasn't Dane this time it was director Dave with Sabine on his heels.
He took one look at Sarah and he rushed across the room.
"I'd ask if you were okay but I know you're not – he didn't hit you did he?" Dave asked in a concerned voice. Sarah shook her head. "Back pain!" she hissed still trying to get her breath back after that last intense pain. She took a few big cleansing breaths to clear her mind but suddenly the pain hit again.
"I don't think that's just back pain, Sarah, I think you're in labour sweetie," he said in his soft Irish accent.
She shook her head – she had weeks to go, this wasn't labour it was sciatica, it was a slipped disc. It couldn't be labour, there was no dramatic water breaking, no pain in her abdomen – not really, it was just back pain.
"No, no I just need a massage – it's stress!"
Director Dave looked back over his shoulder to Sabine – "I think you should ring Dane and tell him to meet us at the hospital – he's about to be a dad!"
He looked back at Sarah's shocked face and laughed.
"Oh please – I didn't come down in the last shower Sarah, anyone can tell how you feel about each other and if that's not his baby then the man has a serious pregnancy kink," he giggled.
Sarah scowled and then another pain sliced across the top of her hips and she tried to breathe through it as Director Dave put one arm around her to support her and held her hand while she worked through the pain.
"Yep definitely in labour," DD gritted out as she crushed the hand he had given her to hold.
"What would you know," she stammered and he giggled again.
"You forget my dear I'm a farmer – I've delivered more than a few sheep in my life – I know what labour looks like," he said shaking his now injured hand vigorously.
He looked over at the worried young French woman near the door.
"Might want to tell that boy to hurry!"