Positively Yours (24 page)

At eighteen weeks she had told everyone in work that she was pregnant, but it had been so hard to do. Beth was surrounded
by men there, and while some were a little curious as to whom the father was, most weren't that bothered, and like any males preferred talking about work and the financial markets than babies and pregnancy. And that suited Beth; but it was the girls who had made things difficult. Beth knew she hadn't tried hard enough over the years to get on with most of the other women in the company, who mainly worked in the marketing, IT or human resources departments. And now they were having their revenge.

‘Oh well, thank God you are pregnant! I thought all those muffins and croissants you'd been sneaking into your office were simply making you fat,' said the office bitch, Caroline, who was Tom's personal assistant.

Beth had tried to ignore her, and the constant questions about the mysterious father, and just concentrate on work, but at times it was lonely not to have anyone interested in her ever-growing bump and baby. Often she could go for days without anyone acknowledging that she was soon to become a mum. She hadn't expected people to fall at her feet, but a little enthusiasm and interest would have been nice.

At least Susan knew the truth. It had been four weeks now since Beth had told her, and it was the only thing that kept her sane at work. Susan sat down at Beth's desk, which was covered by files, financial papers and a large calculator. Beth's whole life had been about numbers and figures – from excelling at maths in school, and coming top of her class in accounting in college, to reading share values. But now she found the only calculations that interested her were to do with pregnancy: how many weeks had passed, and how many weeks she had left until Baby Prendergast arrived.

‘Oh, I sneaked this can of 7 Up out of our finance meeting this morning for you,' said Susan, pulling a can of the drink from her handbag. Beth noticed the others in her work pod
smile. At this stage they were getting used to the pile-up of cans of fizzy drink on their colleague's desk.

Beth smiled, too: along with croissants, she was craving sugary drinks. And Susan was great at keeping her supplied with her favourite things.

‘So how are you feeling?' she asked.

‘I'm fine,' replied Beth, as she gulped back the cold drink. ‘My flipping car is in for a service this week, though, so unfortunately I've had to get the bus, which is so annoying. Not only is it packed with pushy teenagers, but I end up having to stand the whole journey, and my legs just can't take it any more.'

‘You've to stand? Surely people offer you seats?' exclaimed Susan. ‘I always give up my seat for an old person, or a pregnant woman.'

‘Well, I think it's a difficult situation for them to judge. Yes, my belly is big, but it's not that big. I guess people are nervous of offering me a seat in case I'm just overweight. They don't want to insult me.'

Susan began laughing.

‘So to help them confirm that I'm pregnant I begin rubbing my belly, and smiling,' Beth said. ‘That seems to be the international sign for, “I'm pregnant, and just so happy.” It also confirms I'm not just fat, because I guess most people wouldn't rub their overweight bellies in public! So after that I sometimes get a seat, but honestly I can't wait to get my car back, and just sit down when driving into work!'

‘Yes, you deserve a rest. Anyway, how did the scan go?' asked Susan excitedly.

Beth ignored the glances from the three guys on her team as she pulled out her handbag and handed Susan an envelope. Inside was a printout of three grainy black-and-white photos of what looked like a big blob. Susan didn't know which way up was the right one.

‘What am I supposed to be looking at, exactly?' she asked, confused. ‘Is this your baby printout, or never-seen-before photos of aliens?'

Beth laughed. Yesterday she had had her twenty-week scan, and it had been amazing. The doctor had shown her the baby's limbs, heart and head. Her bump was still small, so it had been hard to believe all the magic that was happening inside of her. They had given her a printout of three views of the baby, and Beth hadn't been able to stop looking at it.

‘OK, Susan, that is the head, and that's an arm. Can you see it?'

‘Yes,' said Susan, unconvincingly.

‘Well what about this one? Surely you can make out a foot? Although it looks huge, which is a complete disaster! I don't want the baby to be big-footed and too tall like me,' said Beth, putting the pictures back into her bag.

‘You are a brilliant height,' said Susan encouragingly. ‘I wish I was as tall as you. You can carry the bump so well, and you haven't put on a pound in weight. I bet whenever I get pregnant I'll balloon up and have to drag my swollen ankles and legs around!'

Beth giggled as they continued chatting, but she had already started finding it hard to get long-enough pregnancy trousers, and the pressure was on. The other day Tom had called her into his office, and said that he'd noticed she had worn the same suit three days in a row. Beth had explained that she was struggling to find any nice fitted pregnancy suits that were long enough. Tom had some sympathy, seeing as he was tall himself and couldn't just buy a suit off the hanger, but he said that he wanted to draw Beth's attention to it now, before others noticed. Beth knew looking smart was a high priority in Burlington. They paid people good salaries, and expected them to spend some of it on high-quality suits. They wanted their staff to look like employees of one of Ireland's
most successful companies. Beth had seen many a young man, fresh out of college with only one or two suits, being called into management's offices and told to smarten up or find a job elsewhere. But she had never expected to be told off herself. She was annoyed with Tom, but knew he had only been trying to help her save face and give her time to get some new clothes. And so Beth planned to go shopping after work.

The day passed quickly enough, and soon Beth found herself in one of Dublin's most popular clothes stores trying on jeans. She knew she needed to get some work clothes, but she was also tired of wearing the one pair of loose jeans she had every weekend, and now that the weather was getting better she could do with some summer clothes too. She'd heard they had a good maternity range here, so she had high hopes. There were so many outfits, from frilly dresses to huge T-shirts. Beth couldn't ever imagine being big enough to fit into one of those. For now all she wanted was jeans, though. So she grabbed a few from the rack and headed to the changing room. They looked funny: some had stretchy waistbands, while others had large black elastic inserts that grew with your bump. Beth preferred the more subtle ones that were low rides, yet had waistbands that expanded. She tried on the first pair, and looked in the mirror. She laughed out loud. The legs were so short that she resembled Tom Sawyer. Beth hurried to get them off her. She picked up a pair of nice-looking black jeans and pulled them on. She laughed again. They, too, sat above her ankle. This is ridiculous, she thought, as she put on her own long trousers and headed out to find an assistant. She explained her problem.

‘I thought you did a “tall” range,' she said.

‘Oh, we do, we carry plenty of long trousers, jeans and clothes,' said the young girl enthusiastically. ‘But not in maternity clothes, unfortunately.'

‘So you are saying I can either buy maternity jeans or long jeans, but not both together?' Beth asked, annoyed.

‘Yeah, I guess so,' said the girl, now trying to distance herself.

Beth went and looked at the maternity jeans again. They were exactly what she needed, but they were so short. She decided to head out to some of Dublin's leading maternity shops, presuming they would have what she wanted. But she was sorely disappointed. It seemed the fashion world assumed only imps got pregnant, as nowhere had long enough trousers. Beth had never felt comfortable wearing skirts or dresses in her very male-oriented office, so finding some kind of trousers was imperative. There was one shop that kept slightly longer ones, but even they weren't lengthy enough to cover Beth's feet.

‘You see,' said Beth, as she looked in the mirror, ‘when you're tall you need long trousers not just to cover your long legs, but your feet, too. The taller you are the bigger your feet, and as no one carries nice large women's shoes, I need long trousers to cover my rotten big feet and shoes!'

The owner of the maternity boutique sympathized, but couldn't help. ‘Maybe you should try looking online?' she suggested.

Beth promised she would, but not before deciding that she didn't want the whole shopping trip to be a waste. She picked up a few shirts for work and a bump band. She had never heard of these before, but learnt that the band went under her shirts or tops to cover the gap that her ever-rising bump caused. She didn't need people at work seeing her belly, so was glad she had found it.

As Beth drove home she worried about what she was supposed to do about finding long-enough trousers. Surely there were millions of tall women getting pregnant every year? What did they wear for nine months, she wondered? Or
was it only elves who procreated? She laughed as she put the key in the door of her apartment, and decided she would need to go online, and find help. She might be man-free having this baby, but still she wanted to look her best.

‘
WHAT ABOUT THE
oak?' asked William Prendergast.

Beth looked at the thick oak cot. Her dad preferred more traditional-style cots, while she liked white painted ones.

‘I'm not sure if the oak will go with my apartment,' she said, as she looked at the bed, wondering how she was going to fit all this baby stuff into her small place.

Beth and her dad had been in Mothercare for over an hour. She had been spending more and more time with him recently. She didn't know how she would have gotten through some of the weekends without him. Her girlfriends were supportive and excited for her, but once it came to Friday or Saturday night they went out drinking, and Beth couldn't handle another night of being stone cold sober and sipping water while they got drunk, repeated the same boozy stories to her, and then tried to meet men. No, she was getting sick of it, and with no boyfriend in her life she had started staying over at her dad's once a week. As the only man in Beth's life, William was taking the whole pregnancy thing very seriously, and once Beth came through the door of the family house she wasn't allowed to raise a finger. He cooked her big hearty meals, kept her bedroom spotless and warm, and had even said he would come on her hospital visits with her if she wanted. But Beth had had to draw the line somewhere; she was too old
to be bringing her dad to the doctor with her, even if he was dying to see the baby scans.

Beth had been nervous going for her first visit to Dr O'Connor. Back then, she hadn't told anyone in work, so she had pretended she had an urgent dentist's appointment, when really she'd been sneaking out to Holles Street. She had literally run through the doors of the maternity hospital: she hadn't wanted anyone to spot her going in there, as it would have ruined her secret.

The midwife had met her before the visit and Beth had filled out the forms and medical questionnaires, but had found herself stuck once the nurse enquired about family history and allergies.

‘I don't know about those,' she had admitted.

Yes, she had known most of her own family's medical history, but nothing of Tom's. She had cursed him for putting her in this situation. But the nurse had been very kind, and quickly moved on to the next part of the forms, and Beth had suspected she was used to mothers coming in on their own. It was hard, but Beth was realizing she wasn't alone in this situation. She had had so many questions for the nurse, and as her bloods had been taken she had asked her if she really had to avoid shellfish? And if it was true all first-time mums went overdue? The nurse had patiently answered everything.

‘You know, one of the best people to ask advice from is your mum,' she had said, handing Beth some leaflets about labour. ‘A lot of women end up having a similar pregnancy and labour to their mothers, so she's a good person to turn to.'

Beth had felt her mouth go dry. This pregnancy had constantly reminded her how much she missed her mum, and having someone female to turn to for comfort, advice and reassurance. She wished she could ask her mum about the labour, and about the food she'd craved, and how she'd
known she was picking the right name for her child. If only Beth could have had her back for even one day!

‘My mum's dead. She died a long time ago,' she'd said to the nurse.

‘Oh, I'm sorry, pet,' the nurse had said, looking straight at her. Beth had realized what she was thinking: here she was, raised by only one parent, and now she was going to repeat history.

‘Anyway Dr O'Connor will see you now, and he will answer any more questions you have. He's very kind, you'll like him.'

Beth had thanked the nurse, and had discovered she was right, Dr O'Connor was very likeable. He never asked her where the father of the child was. He had only been interested in Beth: asking her how she was feeling, and checking the baby's development. She'd got very emotional the first time he'd shown her the baby move on the screen. Her happiness had only been slightly marred by the fact that she'd had no one to share it with.

‘I'll print out copies of some of the stills for you. So you can pore over them at home!' Dr O'Connor had said, helping Beth up from the table and passing her a tissue to clean the sticky gel off her stomach.

Those scan pictures were now proudly displayed on the fridge in William's kitchen. Every time Beth went to get a drink, or some food, she said hello to her child. She was still amazed at how well her father was taking her impending single motherhood, but Beth suspected it wasn't just the baby William was happy about, it was her new, closer relationship with him, too. And so now, many hospital visits and scans later, Beth and William stood in a packed Mothercare, amidst screaming babies, lively children, heavily pregnant women and exhausted looking dads.