‘You might not agree with my methods but please don’t mock them.’
‘It’s hard not to,’ he muttered, reinforcing the idea that a calm, peaceful birth wasn’t going to be possible anywhere with him around.
‘What is so wrong in wanting to be in the comfort of my own home, listening to the music of my choice and letting nature take its course?’ There’d been too much upset already during this pregnancy and the least she could do now was give this baby a smooth transition from the warm cocoon of her body into its new environment.
‘It’s selfish,’ he answered without taking time to think about what it meant to anyone other than him.
‘No, it’s simply an alternative to a hospital birth. Women have been doing it for centuries. I think I’ll manage.’
‘What? You’re going to deliver the baby yourself? I’m sorry, but this is crazy. I’ve already lost my brother. I’m not prepared to jeopardise my baby for the sake of your whim to raise a flower-child. I don’t think the sixties were all they were cracked up to be, you know. There was a higher mortality rate back then, likely for this very reason.’
Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t punch things.
Kayla hadn’t realised dinosaurs still roamed the earth masquerading as pretty doctors, but Jamie was living proof.
‘There are such things as friends. I know that concept might not be familiar to you if this is how you speak to everyone you meet. I have my own doula to assist with labour as well as a community midwife.’
‘Great. It’s reassuring to know there’ll be two of you howling at the moon and stinking the place out with incense.’
She didn’t know where he plucked these ideas about home births from. He was a GP, for heaven’s sake. She was sure he’d dealt with them in his time. This seemed more personal to her. As though he simply disapproved of her and her life choices when, really, he knew nothing about her.
All his talk so far surrounded his wishes for his baby, relegating her to the role of incubator who shouldn’t have any opinion of her own.
‘I really don’t care what you think, Jamie. This is my safe space. My body. My baby. My birth plan. You won’t be here anyway, so it won’t affect you.’ At this rate the baby would be cutting its first teeth by the time she told him it had arrived.
There was no way she was having him anywhere near her, stressing her out during the most important, and unexpected, phase of her life as she transitioned into motherhood. Given the chance he’d probably be shouting instructions like her old PE teacher, calling her a slacker and pushing her until she was sure her lungs would explode. That wasn’t the atmosphere she was striving for on this occasion.
‘Who says I won’t be here?’
‘This is my first baby and I’ve still got a few weeks until my due date. The chances are slim you’ll be in the vicinity when I go into labour.’ She certainly wasn’t going to tell him.
Jamie Garrett hovering over her every decision was the last thing on her wish list. It was the worst possible scenario after losing the men she’d thought were raising this child.
‘I’m going to increase those odds.’
‘How?’ She was compelled to ask, though she did so with a sigh. He was exhausting and as soon as she got shot of him she’d do a bit of meditation to clear her chakras from the negativity he left in his wake. She might even listen to the CD of whale music the boys had given her as a joke present. It would be her way of sticking two fingers up at the biological father-to-be who’d be horrified at the very idea.
‘I’m moving in.’ The self-satisfied smirk strengthened the impact of the bombshell.
She’d been wrong. This was the worst possible scenario and she was powerless to do anything about it.
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