And Baby Makes Two

Chapter Three (part two) - The Miracle Worker

Craning my neck so as not to set off the automatic doors I seek out the signature black and white outfit. Yes, there it is again, a dalmation print headscarf atop a black silhouette. It is, it must be, Davina. But hang on, she is with someone else...I...just..can’t...quite...see. It....looks like....
“Hello Zoe, what are you doing?”
Standing stock still for a moment my mind races: Who? How to respond? Shit! I pivot on one foot and come face-to-face with Flea.
“Flea....Facility....Felicity….”
“Flea!” She reassures me gently.
“Ah…, I was just….” I wave my hand in the general direction of the organic cafe, and without waiting for me to finish Flea takes me by the arm and marches me inside,
“Come on, let’s go in.” She smiles at me, vaguely conspiratorial.
Sheepishly I steer my pram into the cafe area of the souk and am stunned to discover pram-sized gaps between tables. It is like a pushchair car park. I am in newborn limbo. Everyone seems to have a tiny baby with them; like babies come complementary with your latte or freshly-squeezed juice. I head for the far end of the cafe and the only remaining table. With eyes fixed on my final destination I overhear a familiar deep laconic voice and remember my original pursuant.

Davina sits to my right, deep in conversation, holding a baby at her breast. I can see the baby clearly with its black crop of hair atop a ruby-red velvet bodysuit. I lean over to try and catch Davina’s attention and say hello, only to realise that her companion is Tasha! Her hairstyle has changed and I hardly recognised her. I lean so far over I just about fall off my chair when Tasha catches my eye and belts out a cheery “Hi!”. Davina stops in her tracks and swings around removing her breast from the baby’s mouth. As her full breast lollops in front of me like a space hopper I quickly say “hi” smiling at both women in an animated mouth-smiling-eyes-somewhere-else kind of way.
“Come and sit with us,” Tasha insists,
“Let me get you a chair, how are you? Let me see your baby. Is he in there? Boy or girl?”

Unsure which question to answer first I turn to show both women my new prize.
“Oh my god, he’s gorgeous! He is a boy right?” I nod,
“hhhhuuhh, gorgeous!” she gasps again.
Flea draws up behind me, waits for the baby introductions to subside before asking,
“What drink would you like – I will treat you! I’m having camomile tea.”
“Oh, umm, coffee, latte please. Thanks.”
Flea smiles in acknowledgement to the other women and heads off to the service counter.

While I park my pram out of the way, Tasha gathers up two more chairs. “Thanks” I say timidly and look over to Davina to swap a smile. She looks away and concentrates her attention on her baby who seems to be a fish-out-of-water trying to catch the breast. I can see the baby much more clearly now. Her features are very small giving her a delicate, fragile appearance compared to Josh’s robust little body. She is unmistakably a girl, rose red lips and big brown seal eyes like her mother.
“So,” Tasha launches in, “How long was your labour? When did you give birth? Don’t say last week as I couldn’t leave the house for four weeks after having Avril!” Avril nestles in her pram swaddled in a cloud of pink.
“Oh no," I assure her, "it was three weeks ago now, this is my first outing actually.”
“Well, thank God for that.” Tasha feigns relief. “So, spill the beans, was it awful?” she asks with relish.
“It was fine really. A bit of a hiccup when we got home which meant spending a couple of days at Gt Ormond Street Hospital but nothing major.” I try and sum up my story with as little meladrama as possible not wanting to attract unfounded sympathy.
“God, how awful!” Tasha gasps, eyes wide as saucers, “What happened? How scary!”
“No, no it was fine really.” I assure her, “In fact it was a bit of a blessing in the end because the nurses got me all sorted out with breastfeeding and nappy-changing and everything. I even got a few traditional tips.”
“Really?” Tasha marvels, “What were they?”
“Well, one which worked well was the old wives' tale of squirting a bit of breast milk into sticky eyes to clear them up!”
Davina looks up at me and I’m not sure if I am in trouble. Then startlingly fierce she fires back,
“Good God, that might be alright if you’ve got enough to spare. I can’t even squeeze out enough for a spoonful.”
Taken aback by her sudden outburst I am left feeling a bit stumped for words. Tasha interjects,
“Davina is having a bit of trouble breastfeeding at the moment.”

Summoning up all my courage to address her direct I gesture toward her baby and ask Davina, what her baby's name is.
“Scarlett” Davina she replies fairly non-plussed.
“She’s beautiful,” I say and Davina squeezes out a smile before returning to her nursing. As I sit watching her struggle I decide to take a leap of faith,
“Can I make a suggestion?”
Davina shoots me an enquiring look and I falter a little.
“It’s one of the tricks the nurses showed me.”
Disarmed, Davina leans back and allows me to carry out my work.
Placing a thumb under Scarlett’s rosebud mouth and a forefinger just below her brow I force her mouth open as wide as it will go. Then, bringing her further around Davina’s breast I push her head right into the breast and position Davina’s hand firmly behind it to keep it in place. The baby gobbles up her mother's milk like a starved child and Davina just stares at me eyes and mouth wide open. Releived my imposition paid off I let out a little smile in the knowledge that I have just made a friend – perhaps for life.

posted by Rebecca Valentine at 4:00 pm