Chapter Text
despite knowing
they won’t be here for long
they still choose to live
their brightest lives
sunflowers, Rupi Kaur
31st DECEMBER 1991
Margot had made it through Christmas.
On tenterhooks the whole time, of course. Even though the baby wasn’t due for another few weeks, she knew it would be early. Some would say that was a sort of ‘mother’s instinct’ kicking in for the first time, though Margot was not convinced. She knew her body – it was as simple as that. She’d come to know her baby too. Restless, raring to go. Agitated. Grumpy. Excited.
A bit like she’d been, when she was a kid. Her own mother laughed when she’d said that. “You’re still like that”, Cynthia had said.
The year was drawing to a close – a long year. A chaotic one, for the family. All years were chaotic in their own way – but this one had felt especially so. But, as the days rolled on and the new year came closer, it seemed like the birth was not going to be following in the long line of events dominating 1991. Instead, it would christen 1992 – a year that they would all say, in unison, couldn’t be more insane – before proving everyone wrong. So, believing that the baby would stay firmly inside of her until January marched in, Margot allowed herself to relax in that New Years’ Eve.
Until she felt the twinge.
For a moment, she stared at her abdomen, as if in some sort of Western standoff – waiting for the next move.
There was nothing. Everything felt as it had done before.
Braxton… whatever her mother kept calling it.
So, she returned to her grandmother’s armchair. They had been staying with her for the Christmas season and, after a bout of sickness rendered Margot unable to fly, they remained in New York state. Margot certainly didn’t begrudge it – any excuse to spend time with her grandmother.
She picked up her bowl of crisps. Flicked up the volume on the television, letting the sounds wash over her. Trying to forget everything (again). The stress was not good for the baby. As everyone kept telling her – it seemed everyone was an expert, after all.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget it. The twinge had brought everything into perspective, and up she was again, back on the tenterhooks. The birth was inevitable, drawing ever closer. For all that the twitch might only be a preamble – not even for the main event – it was still a chilling foreshadowing of what was to come. Margot was only 17, and to be on the verge of motherhood was terrifying. To be bestowed with such responsibility. A human life. Knowing that such a challenge would soon be before her put her on edge.
It was also difficult to forget because she kept feeling that same twinge. Every 10 minutes or so.
Hours passed. Margot ate lunch. She returned to her position in front of the television. Chatted to her mother and grandmother. Watched more television. Ate dinner. Sat in the garden to get some fresh air, before returning indoors – in her current condition, she did not get out much. The sheer effort of carrying another human inside her was draining.
This, like the days succeeding the 25th December, was her usual routine. It was agonisingly boring, but as her walk had been transformed into a waddle and her mobility therefore restricted, her life had been changed to that of a life of confinement and monotony.
However, this time, the feeling did not go away. The stabbing feeling kept going. And going.
And worryingly, getting more regular.
Margot didn’t say anything to anyone all day. Her mother was worried enough as it was, and she didn’t want to cause any great concern for no reason. So, when Cynthia left to go and buy groceries, Margot waved her off, hoping that she would find some respite. After all – there was no need to cause undue stress for anyone. Let alone because of the fact it would also make her worry even more.
Unfortunately, worrying became unavoidable at seven o’clock that evening.
Margot was pouring herself some frosted flakes – she had developed a love of cereal over the course of the pregnancy. Also, the tiger on the box was cute. As she leaned over the counter to pour on the milk – it happened.
Dribbling down her leg, some sort of liquid pooling on the floor beneath her.
At first she thought it was the milk – she’d always been clumsy, and feared that she’d just spilt it all down the side of the bowl.
But then came the pain. And this time, it was harder.
Much, much harder.
“Okay,” Margot muttered to herself. “Okay, okay, okay…”
Don’t panic, she repeated, over and over. Like a mantra. This was it. The starting gun, as it were. The moment that the stakes were truly upped. She glanced to the door, and then to her frosted flakes, and then back to the door again. Take the frosted flakes? It was in that moment that Margot truly realised the extent of pressure she was under. The panic screaming inside her as she realised, this is it. The time to do something.
Leaving her frosted flakes, she returned to the living room. Back to her grandmother.
Amelia Williams sat in her chair, peering at a book over her rounded glasses. Shorter now than she ever used to be. Red hair turned grey with age – the ginger had taken on a somewhat mythical quality amongst the family, but Margot was too young to remember it. Despite Amelia’s old age, she had always remained a fashionable woman.
Margot was well aware that she was about to shatter the state of contentment that Amelia was enjoying, reading her book. She didn’t feel too guilty – Amelia wasn’t one for sitting down and doing nothing.
“Hey, Grandma? I think I’m giving birth.”
***
“Bloody hell, bugger, bugger, bugger,” her grandmother muttered, as she helped Margot down the first step.
Surprisingly, Margot felt safer than she had done a few minutes ago. There had always been a mysterious quality to Amelia, and a reassuring one too, which Margot was grateful for. Even when Amelia was rewriting the dictionary with her blue language, it was at least taking Margot’s mind off of the impending birth. Yet, they must have made quite a sight – Margot in her… well, state, and her grandmother hobbling on a walking stick, swearing like a trooper.
Grandma always said, you can take the girl out of Scotland, but you can’t take Scotland out of the girl. She’d even kept most of the accent.
“In the car,” Amelia ordered, jamming the key into the door.
Margot stared at her, astonished. For all that the panic had dissipated, it was back now. She wasn’t sure of the last time her grandmother had got behind the wheel of a car, but it can’t have been for many years – and it probably wasn’t at night, nor with the added stress of her granddaughter giving birth in the passenger seat.
“Your mom isn’t here, I don’t have much choice!”
Margot resigned herself, and climbed aboard, while Amelia muttered on about the evils of grocery shopping. Why had she let Cynthia go? This was ridiculous.
Her grandmother leaned into the driver’s seat, negotiating her way in. it was easier for Margot, 8-and-a-qaurter months pregnant, than it was for Amelia.
“Hold my stick,” Amelia pushed it over onto Margot’s lap, balancing it on top of the bump. “Actually, just chuck it in the back.”
She held onto the back of the seat, lowering herself down into it. Thinking that all of her bones could probably fragment at any second. So, when Amelia (finally) sat down, she breathed an immense sigh of relief.
But then her brain was back on the ball. She turned the key in the ignition. Slammed her foot down on the clutch, put the car in gear. Found the bite. One hand on the handbrake, the other on the wheel. Amelia faced the windscreen, gritting her teeth. Determination furrowing her brow, as she prepared for the quest upon which they were about to depart on. A mission, big and important. And very, very special.
Amelia Williams had done a lot of things in her life. She’d journeyed around the whole of time and space. She’d become a beloved author, her books in publication all over the globe. She’d travelled, both across the stars and across the world.
But, just as had been the case with motherhood, and then grandmotherhood, there was something different about what was before her now. Both terrifying and incredible, all at the same time.
After all. This was the birth of her first great-grandchild.
And Amelia Williams needed to get her granddaughter to the hospital.