All That Is Left Of Us. Catherine Miller

are we getting on here?’ A cheery midwife entered the room with David in tow.

      ‘My contractions are pretty close. We can’t be far off.’ Dawn was over wanting to stroll around the room. She was getting to the point she wanted to push this baby out.

      ‘Fabulous. Well, I’m Melanie and I see from your notes that you’re the surrogate mum, so this must be the expectant mummy.’ Melanie smiled at Rebekah and they carried out introductions of who was who in this little triangle. ‘Well, it looks like I’m going to be your midwife if things are close. Do you want to pop up on the bed and we’ll take a look at how things are progressing?’

      ‘I’ll just be outside,’ David said, looking like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

      ‘You can just pop up the head end,’ Melanie suggested. ‘You won’t see anything if you keep your eyes averted.’

      David’s gaze fell on Rebekah. They both looked like fish out of water, neither of them certain what to expect.

      ‘You can go at the head end, but no looking anywhere you shouldn’t,’ Dawn said. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought about the fact the couple would need to be together during one of the most important moments of their life. She’d made the decision about her brother not being in the room early on, worried he would catch a glimpse of something she’d rather he didn’t. But at this moment, she realised it wasn’t about her dignity; it was about Rebekah and David becoming parents. They should both be in the room when it came to the main event.

      Between contractions, Melanie managed to examine Dawn with a sheet keeping everything hidden. ‘Fully dilated, I’m glad to report. Let’s sort you out with some gas and air and I’d say we’re ready to go.’

      ‘Good.’ Because it really bloody hurt and Dawn was more than ready to start pushing. She writhed about with the agony of the next contraction before snatching the gas and air as soon as it was passed her way.

      ‘I should go,’ David said, starting to head out before things got messy.

      ‘Push,’ Melanie said, with the next contraction arriving.

      ‘No,’ Dawn said, only able to say one syllable.

      ‘You need to push, sweetheart. Baby’s ready to arrive.’ Melanie was trying to be helpful, encouraging, but she had the wrong end of the stick.

      ‘Stay.’ Dawn looked at her brother, wanting him to develop twin telepathy so she didn’t need to explain while having to push. He hadn’t left the room so that was enough to allow her to bear down and clench every available muscle in order to get the baby out.

      Only once Dawn’s face relaxed again did David manage to speak.

      ‘I thought you didn’t want me in here. I don’t expect you to change your mind.’

      Not being in a position to have a full-on conversation about it, Dawn resorted to barking instructions instead. ‘Go. Stand. Over. There.’ She pointed towards Rebekah before every muscle in her body racked up towards another push.

      Feeling the need to be on all fours, she turned with some effort, and assistance from Melanie and Rebekah to keep her dignity. ‘You two need to be together for this. Only Rebekah is permitted to look down the business end, though,’ she managed to instruct between contractions.

      Rebekah and David embraced, both smiling for the first time since they’d arrived. The time was almost upon them.

      Leaving them to it, Dawn inhaled again on the gas and air, the pain becoming more intense with each contraction.

      ‘Right, we’re nearly there,’ Melanie informed her. ‘A few more pushes should do it.’

      Dawn lost count of exactly how many waves of pain she endured after those words had been spoken, but they came quickly and all too soon it was over. That intense agony of having several pounds pass through a space that seemed way too small was done; the amazing miracle that was giving birth.

      Dawn collapsed into the pillow. Having a baby on all fours was not the most dignified of poses, but it meant she didn’t have to look. She didn’t want to cast an eye straight away and fall in love. That was to be a moment for David and Rebekah. The baby started mewing.

      ‘It’s a boy. Anyone want to cut the cord?’ Melanie offered.

      ‘I will,’ Rebekah said, and somehow it seemed right she should be the one to do it. After all, the baby was her DNA and this act would signify the transfer of responsibility.

      ‘Take your shirt off,’ Dawn heard Melanie say.

      Skin-to-skin time. The first stage of bonding. And it would be for Rebekah’s benefit as much as the baby.

      As the baby’s crying continued, Dawn’s every instinct wanted to respond, but she counted to ten before she braved lifting her head from the pillow.

      It was her brother with his shirt off, not Rebekah like Dawn had thought. He was caressing their creation in his arms and the sight was enough to drive her to tears.

      ‘Hi, little guy, I’m your daddy.’ There in David’s eyes was the moment they’d all been working on. It was clear to see the instant love that was forming. Rebekah’s gaze was just as taken with the newborn in the room.

      ‘This is your mummy.’ He moved the baby cautiously so Rebekah would be in his eye line even if she would be nothing more than a blurry outline as his eyes adjusted to the world. ‘And this is your very special auntie. Thank you, sis. Nothing we can ever say will cover this.’ David’s eyes glistened with tears.

      It was enough for Dawn’s own to burst through. ‘Hi, baby nephew.’ She managed to smile through the tears, knowing how privileged they all were to be in this moment. Then a final contraction ripped through her body to remove the organ that had connected them all on this journey.

Chapter 6

      It was three days later that Dawn started losing it. With the birth having gone smoothly they discharged her less than twenty-four hours later. She was glad to be out of the hospital, but being at home sucked pretty badly as well. After Archie was up in bed, she sat in front of the telly with trashy programmes and an absurd amount of yummy things that would normally have helped cheer her up.

      There were some of the supermarket’s finest blue cheeses and liver paté spread on crackers waiting to be munched; a chilled glass of wine and a divine platter of seafood calling to be devoured – all the foods she’d been deprived of for the past nine months and had regularly craved during her pregnancy. She’d daydreamed about this moment throughout, the day she would have her body back and enjoy herself once more.

      Only the cheese tasted too rank and the wine too bitter. It wasn’t the perfect moment she’d been after. She wanted it as a celebratory slap on the back. Her own “well done, you’re bloody amazing” moment.

      Instead she was still raw with hurt. There was something so cruel about having to waddle around with a maternity pad between her legs without a baby against her bosom. It was a selfish thought, knowing her predicament was one that had brought joy, not the sorrow others might suffer. And she’d known this was coming. She’d had time to prepare for the void that was filling her, but sitting here with her expensive cheese and dry crackers it was a recipe for feeling sorry for herself.

      Storage Wars seemed like a pretty safe bet TV-viewing wise, but then they cracked open a unit containing what could only be described as a mother’s treasure chest, the objects of childhood only a parent would hold dear: medals, drawings, photos, items of clothing. In their montage they knew nothing about the previous owner of the locker, but surmised, as the photos didn’t go past the age of about eight, that perhaps it had belonged to the child’s mother. That in the face of the father finding reminders too painful, she’d gone and rented the space to preserve her son’s memory in her own way and visited it in remembrance