Big Girls Don't Cry Ch. 04

Again, I had to think about the average length of labour with a first delivery.

"Uh, Lena, could be eight to sixteen hours, sorry!"

Lena looked rebellious.

"What! Sixteen hours? I don't bloody think so, get me a doctor, now, and get this baby out of me!"

The midwife looked up at that and grinned at her, patting her gently on her knee as she adjusted her hospital gown.

"Calm down, Lena, it's standard, right now you're only in the first stage of labour, so we can't give you an epidural even if we wanted to. Darryl's right, you know. If it's any consolation, your mother was exactly the same!"

Lena looked sideways at her.

"You know mum?" and the midwife smiled.

"Maureen and I trained at Southmead together, we did our SRN together, and I delivered you...and you!" she glanced at me.

"So you know...?" I asked her tentatively, and she nodded.

"Maureen and I have been friends since we were 17 years old, I trained with her, went to her wedding, and delivered her daughter...and her step-daughter's son, so yes I've always known who you were, Darryl; don't look so worried, Maureen's my friend, your secret's safe with me! I didn't request that I handle this particular birth; it was the luck of the draw, but I'm glad it was me; I delivered Maureen's daughter, and her son, now I'm going to deliver her grandson, I think it all worked out quite well!"

Poor Lena never got her epidural; there was no anaesthetist available so she had to grit her teeth. Labour lasted an excruciating eight hours, the midwife leaving us alone for most of the time so we could talk, hold each other during the most painful and prolonged of the contractions, and wait for full dilation. Lizzie did hang around for a while, but they wouldn't let her in the Mother-Baby unit, family or no, so she decided to go home after wringing a promise out of me to call her as soon as baby Morgan made an appearance.

At last the midwife decided her uterus was fully dilated, and Lena began to push in time with the contractions as they came almost constantly now; this baby really wanted to be born, and less than 20 minutes after she began to push, that little body slid out, a shock of dark hair my first impression of my son. The midwife clamped and cut, and her assistant took the baby to wipe him off a little, wrap him, and weigh him, before placing him on Lena's chest.

"Hello David!" she murmured, and smiled at my raised eyebrow.

"His name's David Robert Fraser Morgan, do you mind, baby? I wanted him to be part of daddy, and that poor boy as well, if it's okay with you."

I smiled; of course I understood; Robert Fraser was my father, nothing could change that fact, and he'd not abandoned me; he'd gone away to fight and never came back, through no fault of his own. If we named our son after him I think that would be a fitting tribute to the boy who'd gone to do his duty and paid with his life. Naming him after dad was always my intention; he was going to be David Morgan II from the second I knew we were having boy, and honouring my biological father was also something I'd considered; trust Lena to anticipate me once again and get it so right. I stroked her cheek and chucked my little boy under his tiny, delicate little chin.

"Of course it's okay with me; he's part of both of them, I think it's right he keeps their names alive. Thank you for thinking like that."

The midwife came up then and asked me to leave, as they still hadn't finished with Lena, so I waved as the porter moved her to another part of the unit to finish the rest of the birthing procedure, something I definitely didn't want to watch. I smiled to myself, wondering if he'd have his mother's startling violet eyes to go with the chestnut hair he'd already gotten from her, or if he'd have my green eyes. His eyes would be open in a day or so, I'd find out then.

I called mum, telling her Lena had just given birth, and listened while she sobbed down the phone at me, then she put dad on. He of course asked what the baby's name was, so I told him, and after a moment's silence he whispered "Thank you son, thank you both!"

I just had time to tell the him we'd be there in a couple of weeks when my pager decided to go off, and I suddenly realised with a guilty start I'd absented myself from Cardio for over eight hours; oh well, if they gave me any flak they could ask the midwife if they wanted, I had a bloody great, iron-clad excuse!

The hospital kept Lena and the baby in for another three days, with Lizzie, the kids, and Emma in virtually constant attendance the whole time she was in, then I was allowed to take her home. I'd asked for, and been granted, three weeks leave of absence to look after both of them while Lena got back on her feet, although so far she'd proved to be surprisingly resilient. The baby was a demanding feeder, and Lena was only getting sporadic bouts of rest, so I felt it was only fair I take care of everything else around the house while we waited for the little one to settle into a pattern.

Lena looked amazing; she'd not really put on any baby-weight around her middle, other than a tiny little curve of 'mummy-tummy', so her waistline was hardly affected, and her breasts, swollen with sweet milk, made her look lush and voluptuous; with her long slim legs, taut behind, and over-emphasised décolletage, she looked like a chestnut-haired Betty Page, and I spent all my time around her with an unfeasibly stiff and swollen erection; alas, it was to no avail; eight weeks before we could 'resume normal relations', as the obstetrician so delicately put it; eight weeks, with her looking so deliciously desirable? I was nearly bent double while being ready to explode with pent-up desire for her after just 3 days, how the hell was I going to survive eight weeks?

Lena was at first amused by my predicament, then sympathetic, but I knew better than to try and force the issue; her insides had taken quite a jumbling and she needed to recover, and the clinical, detached doctor inside me agreed wholeheartedly with the timescale; trouble was, the horny husband-with-needs in there right alongside him disagreed vehemently and spent the long and restless nights baying for her.

Finally, one night, Lena took pity on me, realising I was keyed-up to an almost impossible pitch. The baby was sleeping soundly in his cot next to the bed, and Lena was fast asleep against me, poor girl, obviously tired out, her arm thrown across my chest, and the scent of her hair filling my nostrils. These days she always smelled delicious; a delicate milky bouquet with overtones of baby oil, baby shampoo, and talcum powder always accompanying her, a sweet and tempting combination, and, as usual, I was in a state of frustrated arousal; my head was, as usual, filled with memories and fantasies of the wild and enormously satisfying sex we had indulged in during early days of her pregnancy, and Rosy Palm and her five daughters just weren't cutting it; I was becoming convinced I was actually going out of my mind with sexual frustration. It was while I was having thoughts like this that Lena shifted, her arm sliding off me and her hand coming to rest flat on my stomach, the edge of her palm just brushing my ever-present erection.

I paid it no mind, and then I felt her hand moving, slowly stealing southward, until she was gently but firmly holding me. As she began to slowly fist my erection, I closed my eyes in ecstasy; I'd done this to myself often enough, but having her do it was a next-level experience. As she squeezed and pumped me she lightly kissed and nibbled my chest, eventually circling my nipple with her tongue before slowly sucking it and gently scraping it with her teeth. All through this she never said a word, her lips and tongue, and her pumping hand all the communication we needed. Then she began kissing down my torso, rubbing her tongue through the hairs on my chest and down my abdomen, poking her tongue into my navel and making me gasp with the sensation. Her lips continued to move further down my midsection, until at last I could feel her warm breath on the head of my cock as she continued to pump and squeeze me. I felt her raise her head and I did likewise, to look into her eyes as she smiled serenely at me.

"I love you, Dar!" she whispered, and slowly slid her lips over the head of my stone-hard cock. I groaned softly at the sensation of wet heat as her soft, hot mouth engulfed me, the feel of her tongue as she licked around and under the head while she sucked me almost indescribable. As she sucked and licked me, she began gently squeezing my scrotum, massaging my balls while she slowly sucked my cock, engulfing the head in hot, slippery succulence.

I couldn't possibly last long like this; the pressure had been almost unbearable before, now, the need to empty myself into her was steadily outvoting all my attempts to hold back, to savour the experience. Lena seemed to know exactly what was going through my mind, as her squeezing of my balls became more urgent, her suckling of me more intense as she did her best to bring me off.

I came with a long, soft, growling moan, mindful of the sleeping infant a few feet away, but the orgasm was no less intense for that, all my nerve-endings seeming to sparkle in one huge rush of crackling energy as what felt like a gallon of sperm blasted out of me and into her hot, receptive mouth. Lena sucked and swallowed as fast as I ejaculated, jet after jet of spunk barrelling out of me, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked and swallowed avidly, her eyes locked on mine as she pleasured me so completely.

At last I slumped back, drained and truly satisfied, all the pressure and frustrations of the last few days wiped away by my beautiful girl and her talented mouth. Lena gave one last lick as she polished the last traces of spunk from my cock-head and slid up next to me to plant a kiss directly on my lips as she leaned up and smiled down at me.

"Dar, you are so silly, and so sweet!" she whispered. "All you had to do was ask, you know! I've been watching you suffer so nobly, when all you had to do was ask. Thank you for thinking it would be wrong to ask me to help you out when I'd only just had a baby, but I would have, like a shot; I love you, you silly arse, and you needed me! From now on, until we can resume rumpy-pumpy proper, if you need some help, just say so; I'll never turn you away, Dar, no matter what!"

As she leaned down to kiss me again, I gathered her into me, one thought resonating inside me; how did I ever end up deserving a wonderful girl like this? I fell asleep, proper sleep, for the first time in days, that unique painless agony finally relieved, with the feel of Lena softly breathing against my neck as I held her close. Sometime during the night I felt her stir, and listened, half awake, to the unmistakeable, beautiful sounds of a tiny child feeding contentedly at his mother's breast. I fell asleep again, a happy and fulfilled father, listening to the love of my life nourish our baby with her body.

I awoke to see Lena once again nursing the baby, his tiny, perfect little lips working as he suckled, his eyes fixed on his mother. David had green eyes, like me, and they were fixed intently on his mother, two tiny emeralds in the bluish orbs of his eyes. I know his eyesight was disorganised and still incapable of resolving anything much at this early stage, but some instinct made him fix his stare on his mother as he nursed, somehow he knew she was his world, for now, and I enjoyed watching Lena looking back into his eyes just as intently, boundless love and fierce protectiveness radiating off her. As I stirred she reached over to gently brush her fingers along my cheek without taking her eyes off the baby, including me in the moment as our baby fed.

I showered, shaved and dressed while Lena finished nursing and put him down to sleep, then signalled me to follow her into the other room. We stood in the doorway across the corridor opposite the bedroom, so Lena could watch the baby's cot while we talked in low voices.

"Darryl, we need to go and see daddy; I keep getting the feeling something's going to happen soon, and...I don't know, but I have to see daddy very soon. Dar, get some tickets, the baby can travel after a week, so get them for early next week. Please Darryl, I don't know how I know, I just know, I have to see daddy again, before...before it's...!" she started crying. Of course I agreed; I hadn't wanted to say anything, but I had been feeling that same need to see and touch my father again, to hold him while he held my child, and along with that a growing feeling I couldn't shake, a premonition that time was fast running out for my dad. Lena clung to me as her tears boiled up, until she was crying in great sobbing bursts, a paroxysm of grief and loss, but one I understood completely; she could feel it as well and as sharply as I could, that we were close to losing dad, and we needed to be with him. I knew that her emotions were in turmoil right now, as her hormones ran riot inside her following the birth, but I could tell this was more than just post-baby blues; I could feel it too, and I had been feeling it for several days now, trying and not succeeding to dismiss it as just new father jitters. Lena stopped crying, but she kept her face still buried in my shirt front, and when I handed her my handkerchief she stroked my cheek as she took it from me.

"Book seats for all of us, Dar, Lizzie and the children need to come as well, daddy will want to see them again..."

To hear was to obey, and after a quick conversation with Lizzie I called the Travel Agent and booked the flights for the following Monday, four days hence and 10 days after the birth. I made a quick call to the Obstetrics Clinic and confirmed David would be safe to fly, and set about making preparations for our flights.

The trip was once again uneventful, almost routine, although Allie and Marcus were unaware of what was driving it; I'd had a whispered conversation with Lizzie about it and she confessed she too had developed the certainty that time was getting short; something was nagging her about dad, something was wrong, or was going to happen, but the last time she'd spoken to mum and dad, they'd both been fine, dad was roaming around with his old friends, mum was working, everything seemed normal. If not for that same nagging unease I was also feeling I would have dismissed it all out of hand, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming, and we needed to go to dad, and soon.

Both the parents were waiting at the airport this time, eager to fawn over their grandchild, mum a ball of smiling, crying, motherly concern and grandmotherly pride, and dad proudly holding his new grandson while Lena and Lizzie hugged him, then pictures of all the kids together with mum and dad, Allie holding David like he was a precious Ming vase while beaming at the camera.

Dad had the driver of the minibus take the longer route back to Kolossi so as not to jumble the baby around too much, mum hovering over David in his baby-carrier like she never meant to let go while Lena cuddled up against me. When we finally arrived back at the house, Marcus helped me with the luggage while Lena and Lizzie sat with dad, arms around him as they bantered, but the humour in their conversation wasn't reflected in their eyes; they both looked worried, and yet there seemed to be no cause for concern; Dad was looking far fitter than at any time over the last few years, now that I cast my mind back; he'd put some weight back on, and seemed to be using his inhaler much less frequently. His chest certainly wasn't wheezing so distressingly any more, although it hadn't stopped; he had COPD, and it wasn't going away, perhaps the hot dry air was doing what his doctors had hoped for and slowing the advance, giving him more time with mum, with us, the only thing he'd ever really wanted.

I got to take that picture I wanted, dad holding David, looking fit, tanned and healthy, his face wreathed in smiles as he held his grandson (and great-grandson!) proudly, an image I have burned into my mind and memory forever.

Dinner that night was at a local taverna, Lena raring to taste her favourites again; Souvlaki, Moussaka, and Keftedakia, with Baklava to follow, food she'd discovered on Greek holidays with her friends during her university days. She ordered for all of us, and we sat down together to eat as a family, four generations at one table. We stayed until late, laughing and enjoying our time with dad and mum, but still that nagging unease lurked in the back of my mind, and I could tell Lena was sometimes forcing herself to laugh and appear to be enjoying herself; she too was slowly succumbing to that feeling of brooding unease, feeling the growing vacuum as we waited for the first sign that something was imminent.

As we made our way back to the house, Allie roamed ahead to wait for us, while mum walked ahead of us with Lizzie and Lena, mum carrying David and Marcus holding hands with Lena as he gazed adoringly at her. All of them were apparently engrossed with the baby, but Lena kept giving backward glances, her expression worried, as I walked alongside dad, both of us slouching along with our hands in our pockets, something he'd given me endless grief about when I was younger.

"Stand up straighter, Darryl and get your hands out of your pockets!" he'd order me, "And for goodness sake, stop shambling, walk properly!"

I smiled at the memory, and to see him doing the thing he'd ticked me off about so many, many times.

We chatted about nothing much, just small talk, about the weather in England, how work was progressing, plans for the summer, space fillers, something to stop the silences become brooding; dad was well aware that something was making me edgy; he'd given me several shrewd, questioning glances during dinner, but had said nothing, other than to glance warningly at mum, reminding me not to blurt out whatever was troubling me in front of her. Once inside, while mum, Lena and Lizzie bustled around, dad motioned for me to follow him out onto the rear patio, and asked me to take a seat on one of the sun loungers. He joined me on the other, and we chatted some more, more small talk, until at last he sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring up into the star-speckled sky.

"OK Son, spit it out; what's going on? You, Lena, Lizzie, you're all on tenterhooks, you've been distracted all evening, Lena sounds like a bad laugh track on an old TV show, what's going on?"

I looked away, a huge lump in my throat, and dad at least had the grace to not press me until I was ready to speak. Finally he cleared his throat, something he always did before he spoke.

"Alright, Son, get it off your chest; I knew something was wrong from the moment I first saw you; is it something with you and Lena?"

I turned to stare at him.

"God, no! I love her more than ever, she's everything to me! I promise you, there's nothing wrong between Lena and me!"

Dad pursed his lips.

"Then what is it, son?" he murmured, and waited while I cast about for a way to explain what I was feeling.

"Dad, I know this is going to sound weird, morbid, even, but I keep getting the feeling that something bad's going to happen; Lena can feel it too, that's why we came out here post-haste; even Lizzie feels it, and we can't shake it; I've got a bad feeling, dad, and I wanted to be near you; I can't explain it any other way!"

Dad smiled slightly and leaned back in his chair again, once more looking up at the stars. When he eventually spoke, his voice was even, measured, the voice of a man at peace with himself.

"Son, you're a doctor, you know what's happening to me, you know what's going to happen to me; if it happens sooner rather than later, it doesn't matter, it was always on the cards, and there's nothing anyone could have done. And that's okay, really. My only worry in all of this was what was going to happen with you and Lena, whether you'd both ever find that one person, the right one, like I did with your mother. Well you did, and I'm happy for you both, pleased and happy; you obviously love each other deeply, you always have, it just took a while to work itself out, and for me to accept that you would be together one day. You have a lovely baby son, and you'll have more, and if I'm not here to share in that, well, so what; you two are, and there's some of me in both of you, so I will be there in a way."