Chapter 7

Andrea staggered out of the ensuite bathroom, her face as grey as the Hudson River in January, and her shoulders hunched over to control the dry heaving spasms which were still rocking her. She looked seriously unwell, and Miranda could see that her brisk, "Well, it's perfectly normal. Stop moaning. I had seven straight months of it with the twins," line on the situation wasn't going to cut it this time.

Andy groaned and rolled back down onto her side of the bed. "I want to die!" She buried her face in the pillow and growled. "Just go away. I can't face today. Tell them to cancel everything. Say I'm too ill to be there."

Miranda looked over at the bedside clock. Seven a.m. It meant she had exactly an hour to turn her miserable waif of a wife into a calm and beautiful icon of literary achievement. What she had on her mind was an important editorial meeting, which she knew was set for nine a.m. at the publishers' offices where Andrea would meet the team responsible for marketing her finished book. It had gone through the editorial processes in double quick time, mainly because Miranda had pulled strings and made some strategic phone calls, but this meeting was crucial, if the book was to come out on schedule.

"I know morning sickness is hell. But it won't kill you, sweetie, I promise. I'm going to go call downstairs to get Cara to make you some hot tea and dry toast. If this carries on beyond the first trimester, there are pills you can take. We can ask Doctor Jones."

"So where are we now? I've almost forgotten," came a muffled complaint. Honestly, being pregnant had turned Andrea from the family angel of happiness into a whinging cry-baby. Miranda, who had left their bed some minutes before and was drawing back the black-out drapes to let in the September sun, knew she had to get her up and running. A bit of bullying might be needed.

She had a packed day ahead of her at Runway, as usual, but helping Andrea face the day was her main priority. She picked up her phone and rang down to the kitchen. "Black decaffeinated tea and toast for Andy please," she asked her right-hand woman in the kitchen. She could hear the twins with her at the breakfast bar. They were all getting on with life as normal, which was a relief.

"I'll be down in five minutes, but Andy needs a little longer."

Then she turned back to Andrea. "Stop pretending you don't know. You are eleven weeks into your forty-week pregnancy. We go for your twelve week scan as planned next Thursday."

"Forty weeks, that's ten months. How did they pull the con trick that a pregnancy lasts nine months then?"

Even in her nauseated state, Andy could still show some spirit. But she was clearly feeling weak and depressed. One month of initial bliss that her heart's desire was going to be granted, and that she had conceived at their first attempt, had turned into eight weeks of almost constant nausea, and she was at the end of whatever tether Miranda provided to peg her down to the reality of being pregnant.

"I can't believe Mom went through this five times," she groaned. "She must be a saint. And you, how did you cope? Working all the time, and according to Nigel, you never even told them at Runway you were pregnant until the twins were almost about to pop."

"Well, maybe I should have warned you about the less pleasant aspects of giving birth," said Miranda, tightly. "But you'll feel better soon. The middle months of pregnancy are the best. The last three are more testing, as you will end up looking and feeling more like a beached whale every day. And we won't talk about the actual childbirth experience. Nearer the time, you can go to Margot and Hannah for advice on that, bless them."

Andrea lifted her head from the pillow. "I'm sorry. I know I'm being pathetic. I have so much to be grateful for, and I do want this baby so much. It's just when you have a splitting headache, you feel ill all the time and you keep chucking every morsel of food back up, you lose your sense of proportion. How will my little baby get any nourishment? Nature just doesn't make sense."

Miranda sat down on the bed and gently brushed Andy's hair back from her face. "Nothing in life makes any sense if we just apply our tiny human minds to it. We have to live by instinct and trust, leave it to the universe to give us the bigger picture."

Andrea looked up into her calm blue eyes, and blinked. "Is this Miranda Priestly speaking, or have you just taken her place, some philosophical goddess floating down to me from Mount Olympus? I've never known you leave anything to the universe, and certainly you aren't the world's keenest proponent of instinct and trust."

"Oh I am, darling. I followed my instincts when it came to you, at every stage. And now I trust you will find your normal cheerful spirit again, and your famous sense of humor, very soon."

There was a tap on the door, and when Miranda said, "Come in," Cara marched in with a tray of perfectly crisp wholemeal toast, and a steaming pot of tea.

"Come on, kiddo," she said, without stopping to look pityingly at Andrea, still lying against the pillows. "Where's your fighting spirit? You put something in your stomach and you'll feel better immediately."

Andrea looked up at both the older women beside her bed. Between them they certainly packed some psychological muscle, and she knew she was no match for all this cheerful positivity.

"OK, sorry. Pour me a cup of tea, please, Cara, and I'll try to eat the toast."

"And you'll go to your meeting at 9 am," said Miranda.

"Um, maybe."

"No, that wasn't a question, before you start making excuses!"

And as always, when Andrea knew she was serious, Miranda's will prevailed.

Andrea made it to her editorial meeting. She was frankly too frightened of Miranda's reaction if she didn't. The old terror from her days as an assistant came back to haunt her just occasionally, and she remembered the nine months she had worked for her as a mere minion with a mixture of joy and residual post- traumatic stress.

How Miranda had driven her in those days, played games with her, sometimes sadistically torn her into shreds just for the hell of it! But she had emerged, forged into white steel, stronger, more confident, and aware of her inner power.

Maybe this current nine months and four weeks would do the same. Pregnancy was certainly biologically empowering, and it also connected her with so many millions of other women across the world. They were all going it through it.

The folk at her publishers didn't even know she was pregnant and she hardly showed yet, so it wasn't an issue. When she entered the meeting room, she forgot all her earlier nausea and headaches, and interacted with her editor and the team with enthusiasm and focus.

Miranda was right, work usually solved everything. The book launch was programmed for the following spring, in six months' time. She wondered if she should mention she was due just about then, but thought it wouldn't change anything. Even if they pulled the publication date forwards to the New Year, no-one bought books in January or February.

By the end of the meeting, she felt much more positive, her headache had lifted, and she walked home through Central Park in the September sunshine full of hope. She hadn't been in Central Park for a while, and it revived her. It was almost exactly two years since an early morning run through the Park had resulted in her being mugged, and losing her memory for an anxious few months.

But she could now look back and see the funny side of her recovery from the head injury. The bang on the head had given her concussion and amnesia. As a result she had forgotten all about Miranda and her coming out to each other, and about Miranda deciding to take a sabbatical and proposing to her. She'd forgotten how good they both were at sex. She had thought she was back in June when none of this had happened. It was so embarrassing!

So Miranda had made up outrageous stories about what she had and hadn't done. She had teased her and cajoled her, courted her once more, nursed her with care and gentleness and made her adore her all over again. Emily's fear that Miranda would have big second thoughts and toss her aside couldn't have been further from the truth.*

Now, they weren't just lovers, they were married. Miranda, the boss from hell and the centre of her universe, and Andy, the idealistic workaholic assistant were closer than any two women she could think of. She couldn't imagine life without her. Their hearts beat as one. But Miranda could still scare her, and her goddess could also still be a bossy, irrational and demanding cow, not often, but definitely sometimes.

It made Andy feel less guilty about the spineless way she had dealt with all the morning sickness. Cindy, the twins' young step-mother, had had it so badly she had been admitted to hospital at one point with severe dehydration, and her own sisters Margot and Hannah had suffered as well. To use a crude expression, which didn't exactly fit biologically, Andy knew she just had to grow a pair and get on with it.

That Monday morning of morning sickness however marked the lowest ebb in Andy's early pregnancy. By the following Thursday, when Miranda accompanied her to the clinic for an ultra-sound scan, she was already feeling better, much less nauseous, and seeing the little shape of her baby growing according to plan in the uterus made her eyes water with happiness. Miranda held her hand as they looked at the screen together. What had been a dream, and then a bit of a nightmare, was now real. She and Miranda, between them, were going to have a baby!

Sexing it accurately would have to wait for another eight weeks, but she now had a due date she might rely on. Her baby was due on or about April 5th. Springtime in New York, with all the fresh flowers, and the warm weather returning would have just begun. Nothing could be more perfect!

They arrived home from the clinic just as the twins were coming in from school, and the girls crowded round the little black and white photo to catch a glimpse.

"See, that's its head and that little thing there is a foot," Andy said to them, as they tried to interpret the fuzzy image.

Caroline was suitably impressed. "Let's put it up on the fridge, on the date next year when you are having it, to remind Mom, so she keeps the day free!" she said, heavily into their calendar schedule by now. It was covered in orange marker ink, her preferred color.

"I expect it's one date I won't need to prioritize, darling," said Miranda.

Then the land-line phone rang, and Cara picked it up. "Hello, Priestly-Sachs residence." It was not often they had calls on the house phone, as cell-phones were in constant use.

"Andy, it's for you. Harry."

Andrea gave a little squeal and rushed to take the phone. "Is it…?" she asked. "What's happened? . . . Oh wow! Yes, I'm coming. We both will… "

Miranda obviously guessed what was happening, "No need to tell me. Hannah's in labour?"

"Yes, her waters broke at noon, and they are in the delivery suite at Presbyterian. We should go. We're their only family in New York."

"Go on then," said Cara. "I'll stay with the girls. It's only mac and cheese for dinner anyway and we'll save you both some for later."

So they picked up their purses, and went back down to the garage where Miranda's Porsche's engine was still warm.

"Let's go to welcome another little member of our family," said Miranda. "This baby would have made my mother a great-grandmother."

"And me another auntie. It will be so precious."

"Like all babies should be!"

They were allowed in the hospital suite without gowning up, and found Hannah lying in definite discomfort on a narrow hospital bed, with Harry pacing up and down beside her.

"Calm down, dear," said his aunt Miranda. "You won't help by marching about like this. Just sit quietly with your wife and try to take her mind off the contractions. How often are they coming now, Hannah?"

"Arghh, every four minutes or so, and they are screwing up my insides.

"What have they given you to help?"

"A little Pethidine. I said I didn't want an epidural. I wanted to be present in the moment. What an idiot I was!"

"Just go with it. Try not to fight it."

Miranda sat down beside the bed, and allowed Andrea to come forward to hold her sister's hand and distract her with a little chat.

"I had my twelve week scan this afternoon. It was wonderful to see the baby for the first time. As I get bigger, can I borrow your maternity outfits?"

"Yes, and you can keep them," groaned Hannah with a wince. "I'm never going through this again. Six hours of labor and I'm hardly dilated."

Then another big contraction grabbed her and she definitely began to holler.

Miranda looked at Harry's stricken face, and chuckled. "Yes, you're to blame. They don't call it labor for nothing. But it looks as though things are moving along now. We'll retreat and make room for the midwives and doctors."

Andy accompanied her down to the hospital restaurant. Normally Miranda wouldn't have countenanced eating in such a place, but she knew Andy had fasted all day, and she needed something, at least. There was some not too disgusting Mac'n'cheese on offer, and she grabbed a tray and pushed Andy in front of her down the line of hot food counters. Cara had put the idea into her mind.

"Come on, it might be a long night. You need to eat, and I do too." So they collected macaroni cheese, two salads and some black coffees, and retreated to a corner table. Andy yet again marvelled at how Miranda could surprise her by acting like a normal human being at times. Here she was, eating cafeteria food at five dollars a plate, and not even sneering at it. She realised just how much better she felt herself, because she could pick up a fork and spear a pile of the gooey mixture into her mouth without turning a hair.

Hannah's baby came at midnight, yelling his little head off, and sounding very angry at having to spend so long struggling to get out. Miranda and Andy had long since returned upstairs to the delivery suite, and were sitting together in the family room, both reading eBooks and occasionally holding each other's hand and kissing their fingers. It was lucky the gynaecological wards were quiet that evening, so their gentle making out wasn't proving a shock to any other waiting relatives.

Harry was in the birthing room now with Hannah, as she'd been moved through as the birth became imminent. But so far he hadn't been dragged out by his heels having fainted, and normally polite Hannah's yells and curses sounded robust and productive.

When they finally heard a new-born baby cry, Miranda and Andy exchanged happy smiles, and within minutes, Harry put his head round the door and said, "Come and see!"

The women went in, and saw a tiny boy with bright red hair and excellent lung capacity being wrapped up in a white cotton blanket and placed on his mother's breast. He immediately gripped on to her nipple and started to suck, as if to say, "I haven't had a square meal in weeks!"

Miranda couldn't help laugh at him. "He reminds me of Cassidy when she was born. No hesitation whatsoever! Caroline was much more cautious. Well done, both of you. He's a beautiful baby."

Objectively he wasn't, of course. He resembled a purple frog. But Andy was totally entranced. "Look at him," she crooned. "Look at his tiny little toes and fingers! He's gorgeous!"

"What will you call him?" asked Miranda.

"John Richard Albert," replied Harry, "After my father, and Hannah's Dad and Albert Einstein, my hero."

"Oh, Johnny, Johnny, welcome to earth," whispered Andy. "I'm so glad we could be here. I wouldn't have missed it for anything."

Hannah looked exhausted after twelve hours in labor, but also ecstatically happy.

"You'll be doing it too in a few months, and they can grow up together."

"We'll go home now," said Miranda, "and leave you in peace. Do you want me to call your parents? They must be desperate to know all's well."

"Yes, please do," whispered Hannah.

"Wait a sec then," said Andy and she took out her phone. "I'll take a picture of you all."

So Jennie and Richard Sachs, and Momma as well, as she had also sat up late with them to wait for news, not only received a most welcome phone call, but also a little picture of their newest addition to the family, along with his happy parents.

An hour or so later, when they had driven home, tiptoed up through the sleeping house, and after her normal routine of makeup removal and brushing all the lacquer out of her hair, Miranda slid thankfully into bed next to Andrea.

"Do you think my baby could hear Johnny being born?"

"I don't know. We must check when their hearing develops but I don't think it's yet."

"I must ask Caro to play her cello for her when she can hear."

"So you still think you're expecting a daughter?"

"Yes I do, instinct and trust, you know?"

Miranda laughed, and gathered her wife in for a cuddle.

"Goodnight darling. We might grab five hours or so of sleep, before tomorrow starts."

Andrea felt like heaven in her arms. She put down her hand and gently caressed the soft rise of her wife's expanding belly.

"I feel much more like sex, now I've stopped throwing up so much," said Andy, encouragingly.

"Oh? That's nice . . ." murmured Miranda. "But enough excitement for one day…" and she was fast asleep. Helping to make babies, even when they weren't your own, was such an exhausting business!