A Child in the Spring.
Chapter 11.
"She'll be sleeping in our room, at least to begin with," said Miranda, stating what she hoped was the obvious, as she and Cara sat at the kitchen table, planning Amelia's imminent release from hospital. It was the morning after her birth, which had finally happened late the previous evening, and Miranda hoped that Andrea was able to catch some sleep in the hospital for a few hours and rebuild her energies.
Although, knowing the heightened adrenalin and the general hurly-burly of a delivery suite she guessed that was probably unlikely. But she hadn't called yet, even though she had wanted to, from the moment she'd woken two hours earlier. Part of her wished she could have stayed at the hospital all night with her.
But she would go over there later to bring her and the baby home. Roy had already installed a new infant car-seat into the Lexus for her, knowing it would be illegal to transport their baby anywhere without it, and the whole Ohio/California tribe of visitors were poised to descend on them later in the day as soon as she gave them the signal and allowed it.
But Miranda was so fiercely protective of Andrea, she hardly wanted anyone to come, even their nearest and dearest, with their germs and their friendly banalities, to worship at the bedside of her girl and their little darling. And now she had Cara to deal with, as she'd known she would.
Cara, who had quietly fought her for control of the twins' regime every day until they had started kindergarten, showed all the signs of trying to take over again.
"You'll want me to move in. I can do it. I'm all packed ready. Then the baby can sleep with me and Andy needn't be disturbed."
"Cara," said Miranda, as firmly as she could, without dropping all pretence of trying to meet her halfway, "Listen to me, please. We want you here. We need you. You're one of the family, and I know you did a wonderful job of raising the twins with me. But Andrea will be breastfeeding Amelia, and looking after her herself. She has longed for this moment, and she's such a natural mother. Don't turn this into a battle before she even comes home. There will be plenty of chances for you to have Amelia more under your wing in a few months."
Cara, a very tall, masculine woman married to a soldier who seemed permanently to be on overseas deployment, was Miranda's age or thereabouts, and had never been able to have children. So she had poured all her maternal feelings and deep love of children into the Priestly twins like a mother tiger, and the thought of a new baby to care for had increasingly enthralled her and dominated her thinking for many weeks now.
She and Miranda looked at each other, and neither blinked, but Miranda could tell Cara heard what she was saying. In effect it was, "Hands off Andrea's baby or else. Don't do to her what you tried to do to me for the first year of the twins' life."
They both remembered the battles then, which Cara had won more than she had lost, because twins physically needed there to be two people nursing, changing and feeding them, and Miranda had crawled back to work at Runway after a ridiculously few weeks' maternity leave, effectively leaving her in sole charge.
Cara was perhaps the only woman in the world who Miranda didn't want to get the wrong side of. She did genuinely trust her with her life and the life of her children. But Miranda was not going to let Cara bully Andrea like she'd bullied her. She morphed from Miranda the twins' Mom, into Miranda, Dragon Queen of Runway. Her face grew as stony as marble and her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Do we understand each other?"
Cara's eyes dropped to the floor.
"I understand, Miranda. No worries."
"Good."
So that was sorted, well, maybe.
Miranda had had enough battles for one morning, anyway. It had taken all her maternal psychic powers of persuasion to drive Caroline and Cassie off to school as though it was any normal Monday.
"You're not sick. I haven't called the school to get special dispensation. Andy and Amelia will be here at 4pm when you come home, and you can hold her then."
"But Mom!"
"No, off to school as normal. Roy will take you this morning, as I won't be needing him."
"So you get to stay home from work? That's not fair!"
"I think it's eminently fair. I've started granting paternity leave of a whole week to staff at Runway, so I'm entitled to take some days myself. And I'm not a Pa, but a Ma. Besides, this household is not a democracy. I've decided that we wield power according to the points system based on our ages. I am fifty-two. You are both twelve. So even with your combined ages, I outrank you."
Cassie knew her mother was playing ridiculous games with them. "But if we had Andy on our side…" she did a quick sum and her face fell. "We'd still only get to fifty points. So you win, Mom. That sucks. You've weighted the table against us."
"For now, darling. Just for now. While you're in the car with Roy, you might do the math, and work out how old you need to be to weight the table the other way, if we're running a casino here."
Cass didn't need that much time.
"By next year, we're be thirteen and Andy will be twenty-seven! You'll still only be fifty-three. We can catch you up in just a year and take over!"
Miranda realised just what a hole she'd dug for herself. Time to change the subject, maybe.
"Just be good girls and get on the way!"
So with gusty sighs and much rolling of the eyes, they went.
There was a separate nursery upstairs, of course, beautifully decorated and exquisitely appointed with a closet full of miniature masterpieces of babywear, delightful handmade tiny outfits in organic cotton and the finest of soft cashmere and softest gauze. A bedroom for a fairy princess. Andy, Cara and the twins had all contributed to it, and had had a great deal of fun organising it.
But the room was mainly Miranda's fantasy playground, for someone who'd been collecting fripperies like a little girl denied her own dolls and doll's clothes as a child. Both Andy and the twins had openly laughed at her as she'd arrived home time and again with something else totally impractical, like tiny silk and gold slippers, gossamer fine dresses.
"I don't care. Laugh all you like. Amelia and I will appreciate these even if you set of Philistines don't."
"Mom, she'll probably grow up to be like Andy's Momma, especially if she's named after her," said Caroline.
"Yeah," added Cassidy. "I reckon we could have a right little tom-boy on our hands."
"Wait and see," Miranda had replied, burying her face in the exquisite Irish lamb's wool shawl which her McCarthy cousin Evelyn had sent them. "And even if she ends up in dungarees and baby Doc Martins, she'll have these in her layette and know she was very much loved and very much wanted."
Hearing those words, Andy had embraced Miranda as closely as her bump would allow and kissed her fondly on the cheek, just above her mouth. She knew the fairy garments were all about Miranda's lost childhood, which had still been buried under concrete slabs of frozen painful memories when she'd given birth to the twins.
Then, her designer baby clothes had certainly been the height of fashion, and were also chosen for the efficient dressing of twins. But these little garments for their new baby, these were the outpourings of maternal love from a heart set free from its shackles, a heart which Andy felt beating against hers every night as they lay in bed together.
They were also a silent statement which said, "We will both mother this baby. You have had the joy and pain of carrying her, but I will love her every bit as ardently as you will, and I will love and protect you too, my darling wife. So don't separate us. Don't shut me out, even a little."
While Miranda was trying to maintain domestic order at home, tucked away safely in the hospital, Andy and Amelia were getting to know each other. As the baby lay on her breast, with the little rosebud lips firmly attached to her right nipple, and those amazing new-born blue eyes gazing up at her, Andrea could only marvel at the intensity of the passion she felt for this little scrap of a person. Amelia was the living proof of her and Miranda's love for each other.
Somehow, defying the constraints of biology, they had created a child who was the standard bearer for their marriage, and a witness to the world of how good such a marriage could be. They had a family in which to welcome her, but she would be the apple of their eye. Andy felt the milk which had engorged her breasts so quickly after the birth gently leave her body and nourish her child and the hardness and pain in her breasts began to soften and ease.
Then she saw her phone vibrate with a silent ring on the side table beside her bed. She reached over with her free hand, and pressed the green button.
"Hi, darling," she said, the smile on her face more than evident in her voice. "When are you coming to take us home?"
And she settled down for a beautifully happy conversation with the woman she adored.
The first weeks of life for Amelia, as for any new-born, were a mixture of huge bouts of energy, and complete exhaustion. She gradually learned the difference between light and dark, between hunger (which she definitely didn't like) and the wonderful sensation of a full tummy, and between the warm, sweet smell of her Mama, and the other equally gentle scent of "the other" Mommy.
After seven days, she could focus her eyes a little better, and she recognised different faces. She could feel the strength growing in her arms and legs, and practised her exercises, especially when she was dipped into the warm baths of water, and people laughed at her as she splashed about.
For the first days Andy had held her as close as a baby monkey, virtually all her waking moments, but gradually Miranda, the twins, and yes, Cara, as well as Jenny and Hannah, managed to prise them apart, and all claimed a share of the cuddling.
It was an intensely feminine society into which she was born. But she had a father as well. And when she was three weeks old he came to visit her. Miranda had called Benjamin the night Amelia was born, and he had openly wept with the emotion of hearing the good news.
"But, darling, she's early, isn't she? I'm caught up in Paris with my new collection and can't get away before June. I'm desolate!"
"Bunny, don't fret. She'll be still here in June, and you'll be able to have a better idea of her then. Come and visit when she's got used to the world and to us."
"Can I bring Bruno?"
"Of course. Just let us know. But in the meantime…"
"What?"
"Just be aware. I believe Amelia has inherited your good looks. She has the brightest blue eyes and a quiff of golden hair."
"Oh, how nice of you to say that. But darling Miranda, that means she looks like you as well, more to the point! We'll come over in three weeks. Give my love and congratulations to Andy. Isn't she a wonder-woman?"
"She certainly is!"
And Miranda felt very happy how her little piece of biological engineering had worked out. It was more than she deserved.
The evening after Bunny and Bruno had visited, bringing in a further pile of extravagant gifts, and expressing just the right amount of awe and wonder at her new creation, Andrea sat on the couch resting in Miranda's arms. She was letting Amelia enjoy her ten pm feed, while nestling herself against Miranda's own breast as she felt her wife's fingers gently run through and smooth down her hair.
"It's funny how intimidated grown men can be by a tiny baby," she said quietly. "Bunny was certainly scared to death of dropping Amelia, when you let him take her."
"It's natural. He's never held one before. But he's such a gentle soul. He'll be a quiet force for good in her life as she grows up. I think we chose well, didn't we?"
"We did, darling. We did."
"Bunny said his mother, the saintly Bridget, has also asked if she can come to see her grand-daughter."
"What? The woman who claimed all homosexuality was of the devil? Who virtually disowned her own son and drove him into exile in France?"
"Yes. She has no rights in the matter, of course. But I think she's mellowed somewhat. A baby can do that to the hardest of hearts."
"Well, what do you think?"
"If she contacts us, I'll see what she says. I won't refuse out of hand, unless you say 'No'."
"No, I won't do that. I'm so very, very happy in our little family, that I'm quite prepared to share the joy. I'll trust to your judgement."
"There's another matter I want to run by you, to see what you think."
"Hmm?"
Andy was uncoupling Amelia's sweet little mouth from her right nipple and changing sides.
"It's about Cara."
"Don't tell me! I never knew the woman was so hard to avoid. We keep falling over each other in the nursery, and as soon as Amelia's lip quivers, she's onto me like a ferocious Nanny. I've been wanting to talk to you about it, but didn't know how to broach the subject."
"Cara has far too much energy and thwarted maternal instinct not to be a pain. I did tell her as plainly as I could that you were to be in charge, and you'd ask her to help only if and when you needed her. But she won't listen. But I have thought of a possible solution, and wondered what you think."
"What?"
"How about asking Hannah if she'd like to bring Johnny here every day to share the nursery with Amelia while she's at work at the UN building? I know she's unhappy with leaving him in day-care with a dozen other babies every day, and Cara would give him the best care. That would take her attention off you and Amelia, and eventually the baby cousins could amuse each other. Heaven knows this house is big enough."
"Miranda, you're a genius! Hannah will love that! Would you really not mind? Johnny will be ten months soon, and is already crawling. Your lovely home…?"
"Hey, none of that. It's both our lovely home, and we can easily make one or two more downstairs rooms child proof."
"Well, I think it's a splendid idea, and I'll call Hannah tomorrow if you run the idea by Cara."
Andy snuggled back against Miranda on the couch, and closed her eyes.
"Ready for bed, darling?" Miranda didn't want her loved one to nod off on the sofa before she had the chance to make it up the stairs.
"Yes, I am," Andy replied, "And I'm going to try Amelia in her own little cot in the nursery tonight. I can still run in quickly if we hear her cry on the baby monitor."
Miranda pushed her gently upright, and then took Amelia from her.
"You go and put on your PJs and get ready for bed then. I'll change Amelia and wind her. Then we can retire. It will be the first night we've been able to sleep alone since she was born, even if it's just for a few hours."
They climbed up the two flights of stairs together, and parted briefly on the landing.
Andy turned and looked at their sleeping baby in Miranda's arms.
"I love you, have I ever told you?" she whispered.
"Once or twice, maybe. Certainly not often enough." Miranda's smile held a Giaconda promise.
"Well, in that case… Wait for me in bed, and I'll make up any deficit."
At which point Amelia woke up, opened her little mouth and gave a very large burp. "No need to worry about bringing up the wind then", laughed Miranda, and went off to change the last nappy of the day.