The first week of the new year went by quickly for Vesper. She kept up with her journal, began reading the book she'd picked up as well, which had helped her greatly to understand the changes her body was going through, as well as prepare her for what to expect in the future. She was now eating rapaciously, her appetite thriving, and was gaining weight quite steadily.
Dr. Grewal had called to confirm the ultrasound technician's assertions: they hadn't detected any anomalies on the ultrasound. Her baby was, as far as they could tell, completely healthy. The news was the best she could have hoped for, and after hanging up the phone, she brushed away her happy tears unashamedly.
He asked again whether she planned to deliver at home or in hospital and whether she needed a midwife's referral. She was still not sure exactly where she'd be delivering this child, though a homebirth seemed like the best option to her. After setting up an appointment for early February, she told the doctor she'd get back to him about it.
A week and a half into 2007, M called, the sound of the woman's voice at the other end giving Vesper a jolt of fear. But Vesper soon found she had nothing to worry about, as the head of MI6 sounded distracted and tired. Thankfully, she sounded satisfied with Vesper's progress, and the phone call was short.
Her condition was getting nearly impossible to hide, despite the fact that she still had two weeks until she reached her third trimester, and she was starting to feel the strain this growing life was putting on her body. According to the book she was reading, the baby was now over a pound in weight and almost a foot long, and she found this very easy to believe.
Her skin was starting to feel tight around her belly and breasts, though she hadn't yet developed any stretch marks, and she took care to slather it in lotion every chance she got. Her navel was becoming shallower as the days went on, and she was finding it a little harder to get around, what with the growing weight on the front of her and the shortness of breath.
But she still took daily walks, bundling herself up despite the fairly mild and wet London weather. She found herself making little purchases here and there, baby clothes and supplies, though she still felt almost silly buying such things.
She knew this was the 'nesting' instinct kicking in, and as her third trimester loomed it got even stronger. She felt an implacable need to furnish the little corner of her bedroom that would be the baby's, to have everything ready for its impending arrival.
She bought a little cot, not much more than a basket, and laid it on the floor, equipping it with a few soft blankets. She didn't have much use for a big wooden one at this point, anyway, as newborns were tiny and content on whatever soft surface they were lain. Plus, she wanted her child close to her.
The child's movements were getting stronger and stronger, and from time to time, the baby's kicks would actually cause her pain. She spent hours watching her child move beneath her skin, her belly rippling and shifting as the baby tested out its environment, twisting and somersaulting. It was of endless fascination to her, to be able to watch her child, to be able to touch it beneath the thin sheath of flesh that separated them.
Her hips were starting to widen, her joints becoming more and more flexible as her body prepared for the baby's entry. She had gained half a stone in the month since she'd started keeping track of her weight, though a lot of it was likely due to her retention of water, her feet and lower extremities swelling from time to time, making her shoes occasionally uncomfortably tight.
Soon January became February, the weather turning frosty for the first time, and she kept her promise, walking to Dr. Grewal's for her planned check-up. He measured her belly, took her blood pressure, some urine and listened to her baby's heartbeat, and then let her go, assuring her that everything looked well, and making another appointment for her in a month's time.
She had nearly finished furnishing her baby's little area, buying things here and there, one or two at a time so as not to be conspicuous. She had still not made a birth plan, though, or decided where she was going to deliver, though it was not a particular worry for her.
She was determined, now, to avoid the hospital at all costs, not only because of its distance from her home, and the lack of privacy, but also because she was hesitant to involve anyone else in her affairs. Hospital births required the participation of many individuals, and it had been difficult for her to trust even Dr. Grewal. She was also hesitant to involve a midwife, to invite another person into the home that had become like a sanctuary to her.
So as February waned and her child grew, its developing body becoming more and more restricted inside her womb, she began to do more and more research on childbirth, buying every book she could afford. She read voraciously, accounting for every probability and complication. She had no definite plans yet, had made no decision on how her child was going to come into the world, but she wanted to be prepared.
Her third trimester was progressing well, and she was still not uncomfortably large, still able to get around well. She found the fact that a mere ten weeks remained in her pregnancy astounding. As her due date drew nearer, the time seemed to go by quicker and quicker, and she found herself wishing almost that it would slow down, that she could have more time to enjoy it.
But March was soon there and her appointment with Dr. Grewal went well, her blood pressure and fundal height satisfactory and the baby's heart rate and presentation acceptable. She was thirty-two weeks along and the baby was putting on weight quickly now in preparation for its birth. As well, the doctor told her as he felt her abdomen, pushing on it uncomfortably, its head was down, its little bottom pointed up. He informed her that it was unlikely that it would move from this position, which she found reassuring.
She was determined to deliver this baby naturally, though she still had not decided exactly where that would be. Though she still had some time to think about this, as the doctor informed her that she hadn't begun to dilate yet, and it still would be some time before her child was born.
March proceeded sunnily, which made her daily walks enjoyable. She had purchased a new thick coat that helped to conceal her burgeoning belly, and she was pleased that most people she met still remained ignorant of her condition.
Even as wintry weather hit in late March she remained active and mobile, still keeping up with her journal and reading often. She often found herself incapable of refraining from tidying up the flat, from cleaning the bathroom floor-to-ceiling, from arranging the baby's now considerable collection of things.
It was not until March became April and brought with it sun and warmth that she began to feel truly burdened by her child. Her check-up with the doctor went well, everything staying within acceptable levels, her baby still head-down. Her cervix had begun thinning and dilating, though the doctor encouraged her not to be worried by this. Thirty-seven weeks was considered full-term, though most babies remained in the womb for at least a few more weeks after this, the body's preparation for birth often taking quite a while.
Vesper found it hard to believe that she had made it to this point so quickly, and walking home from her appointment, trying very hard to walk and not waddle, having to stop several times to catch her breath, she realised that M had not called since January. She wondered, as she laboriously ascended the steps to her flat, if it had anything to do with the distraction and exhaustion she'd heard in the older woman's voice during their last conversation, and, she thought, as she reached the last step, if it had anything to do with James Bond.
As she entered and removed her coat, slipping off to the toilet to relieve her bladder, she found it hard be concerned about it. In fact, the timing of whatever was keeping M away was rather fortuitous. She could feel that April would be the last month of her pregnancy. She knew, somehow, and she was glad she'd slipped down to the bottom of the list of things M was concerned with.
April was uncharacteristically sunny and dry, though as the days crept by Vesper found herself venturing out less and less. Not only had walking had become difficult, with her bladder having to be emptied often and her feet uncomfortably swollen, but not even her thick coat could hide the fact that she was with child anymore. The skin over her abdomen was stretched unpleasantly taut, and she was mildly vexed to see a few angry red stretch marks developing on either side of the rounding.
She was often out of breath, the baby's girth pressing into her diaphragm, and she began to wish, as the days began to crawl by, her daily routine becoming more and more difficult, that this would be over soon. She longed for the early days of her pregnancy when everything had been so easy and she'd felt so light. The baby's movements slowed as the days went on, its growing body becoming cramped inside her womb, but it stubbornly remained active, squirming and protesting against its shrinking environment.
Two and a half weeks into April, though, she got some relief, when the baby's head began dropping into the birth canal. She found herself unable even to become flustered at the obviously impending birth of her child, it was so much easier to breathe. Though as the days went on she began to feel more and more pressure in her pelvic area and she was shocked one day to discover blood on the toilet paper.
This bloody show told her that soon her pregnancy would come to an end, and as the thought took hold, a sort of calm fell over her. Her conscious mind took a backseat, leaving her instinctual one to make the decisions. She stepped out one last time one evening under cover of darkness, picking up the few things she needed. She did not even realise until later that she had made up her mind.
And so, when the pains began the evening of the twenty-third of April, she unconcernedly went to bed, knowing she'd need her rest for the day ahead of her. She would not involve anyone else in the birth of her child. It would come into the world only in the presence of its mother, in the tiny flat that had become their home.