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Roger awoke that morning to a soft yellow glow coming in through the semi-open curtains. A soft hum of traffic resonated from the street below, and he could faintly hear the sound of a train’s horn in the distance. Morning time in London.
Ultimately, Roger had woken up because of a rather sharp kick to the base of his lungs. He was 39 weeks pregnant, and those kicks certainly had a decent amount of force behind them now.
Rolling over onto his right side, he stretched out a hand and felt the other side of the bed. It was empty, and cold. Brian must have carefully left early this morning, as Roger hadn’t noticed. It had been many, many months since he’d had a decent night’s sleep, so it was rather peculiar, but of course welcome, that he had slept so deeply.
The clock on Brian’s bedside table illustrated that the time was 8:36 A.M., time to get up. Roger and Brian’s first child, Endeavour, would soon be stirring in his nursery next door, eager to begin another day of mischief causing.
With a huff, Roger swung himself up into a sitting position on the side of the bed. He wiggled his toes, which he couldn’t actually see anymore unless stretching his legs out in front of him. The baby bump was now undoubtedly huge, considering he had endured this pregnancy for a whole three weeks more than he did with Endeavour. He reached his arms above his head, hearing a few satisfying and tension-relieving cracks and pops of his back. His back seriously was aching, but that was to be expected when carrying around an unborn baby.
Roger yawned widely, and as he woke up a bit more, he noticed a different feeling in his abdomen. Not pain per se, but a funny cramping feeling. Like period cramps, not that Roger experienced those as he didn’t get a period. Thinking back to what little he could remember of his first labour, those contractions felt wildly different, so this must be a bit of dehydration, constipation or something else unpleasant one had to experience while in the third trimester of pregnancy. Or just strong Brackston Hicks. He sighed in disappointment. A real contraction would have been so welcome, as in Roger’s eyes, this baby needed evicting.
After relieving his ever-shrinking bladder, Roger made his way to the kitchen, where a note had been left on the breakfast bar.
Darling,
I've gone to the studio with Freddie, just to tidy up a few things and test something new. Be back late. Call me at the studio if you need anything, or come by to visit.
Love,
Brian
Roger rolled his eyes. The band’s newest album, Jazz, had been released only four days ago and already Brian was starting another song. But, the kitchen looked immaculate, with Endeavour’s bottles (which he still took of a night time for comfort) were sterilised and lined up by the sink, so Roger could not be grumpy. He guessed that he was not a huge deal of fun to be around these days, often too tired and sore to do much more than move from the bed to the couch and back to the bed. But he was getting rather bored and lonely. He was also itching to get back behind his drumkit without the enormous nuisance of an enormous bump getting in the way. His mind briefly lingered on the point of why they call it a baby ‘bump’, implying something small, when in actual fact it gets absolutely huge. Rereading the note, he chuckled to himself. As if he would drive a whole hour straight to the new studio Brian and Freddie were working at today, just to pop in.
Brushing this off, he left the kitchen and headed through the lounge into the hall. Next to their bedroom was another bedroom, this one belonging to Endeavour.
“Good morning, Dev,” Roger called softly as he poked his head into the room. As lovely and fitting as the name Endeavour was, it didn’t leave much room for cute or practical nicknames.
Endeavour was still in his toddler bed, a big feat for the nearly 2 and a half year old who would usually be up before sunrise and terrorising the house.
“Papa!” Endeavour immediately rolled out of bed and onto the floor, quickly scrambling up and running over to his father, soft brown curls bouncing around his angelic face.
“Yes, good morning!” Roger exclaimed with a smile, as the toddler wrapped himself around his leg. “Come up here for a proper cuddle.”
Roger crouched down (leaning over was not an option anymore), and grasped Endeavour firmly under his arms before using every ounce of core strength he could muster to lift the hefty toddler onto his hip. He felt another funny cramping, probably caused by ill-advised lifting of 27 pounds.
“You’re a bit too big to be picked up now, Dev,” Roger said reproachfully, walking over to the curtains to open them. “When the baby comes, I won’t be able to lift you at all for a while.”
“The baby,” Endeavour cooed softy, pushing his hand on the top of Roger’s bump. From inside his stomach, Roger felt a strong kick.
“Did you feel that?” Roger asked Endeavour, and the absolute delight and wonder filling the child’s big blue eyes answered his question.
“She can hear me!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.
“She?” Roger questioned, walking back into the living room. “Has uncle Freddie been telling you it’s a girl again? Daddy won’t be happy.” Roger crouched back down and set the toddler on the floor, his hips and back creaking in protest.
“Fred says that Daddy is wrong,” Endeavour stated with a strong air of finality, which made Roger think Freddie had been rubbing off on him a bit too strongly.
“Hmm, you and Freddie are probably right,” Roger said, entering the kitchen. “He guessed that you were a boy when you were in my tummy!”
Endeavour smiled, content with that.
After supplying Endeavour with a bowl of porridge, Roger stepped out into the hall to use the phone.
After a few rings, a familiar voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi John, it’s me.”
“Oh, hi Rog! Is everything alright?”
“Yes, we’re fine.”
“Right, it’s just that every time the phone rings, I think it’ll be you or Brian ringing to say you’ve gone into labour,” John said.
“I wish,” Roger sighed. “But no. Brian has gone to the studio with Fred, and I don’t want to be alone all day, so did you fancy a bit of shopping?”
“Sure. I can’t believe him and Fred already have new song ideas. The bloody album’s only just come out. I’ll be over in half an hour.”
Roger smiled. “Thanks John, I’ll see you soon.”
After breakfast was finished, Endeavour chose his outfit for the day (a fabulous pair of purple trousers and lime green shirt), before returning to the living room to play while Roger dressed himself. Nothing really fit properly anymore. Luckily it was winter, so hugely oversized jumpers borrowed from Brian’s closet were socially acceptable.
Now that both parties were adequately dressed, Roger had the task of wrangling Endeavour to nursery. They had made it as far as the landing by the front door.
“Day care time, day care time,” Roger said in his sing-song voice. Becoming a parent meant replacing rock ‘n’ roll with constant nursery rhymes. Children always seemed to react better to unpleasant things if they were delivered in song form. And Endeavour hated nursery, so anything that would help Roger get him out of the door would be utilised.
Endeavour groaned, pretending to struggle with his shoes.
“Come on, Dev, you’ve been able to Velcro your shoes since you turned two!”
Endeavour looked up at Roger from under his impossibly long eyelashes, giving him the most intense puppy-dog stare. “I can’t do it Papa. I’ll have to stay home.”
Roger rolled his eyes once more. “Dev, you know I can’t bend down anymore. And I’ve got lots of shopping to do with Uncle John!”
“Can’t I come?” Endeavour whined.
“I’m sorry baby, but you learn so much at nursery. Don’t you want to see all of your friends?”
Throwing his shoes on the ground, Endeavour grumbled, “I want to stay with you and DeeDee more.”
DeeDee was Endeavour’s name for John. Unable to master John or Deaky when he was learning to talk, DeeDee was created and just stuck.
At that precise moment, the front door swung open to reveal Deaky himself.
“Endeavour!” John said, kneeling down immediately and opening his arms wide. Endeavour leapt up and obliged, diving into John’s hug gleefully.
“DeeDee! Tell Papa that I can come shopping with you instead of nursery!”
John unwrapped himself from the toddler and stood up, scratching his chin. “Hmm, what did Papa say?”
Roger cleared his throat. “That you need to be at nursery to learn new things, and see your friends.”
John knelt back down in front of Endeavour, velcroing his shoes. “Sorry, little man, but that settles it I’m afraid.”
Endeavour threw himself onto the floor in defeat.
Once Endeavour had been forced into his car seat, and then forced out of his car seat once they arrived at nursery, and then forced to remain in the day care building as they left, Roger and John were able to drive to the shopping centre.
“What did you need to get anyway?” John asked, fiddling with the stereo to find a radio station not playing bicycle race or fat bottomed girls. “God I still do not understand Brian’s reasoning behind his fat arse song,” John said brashly as he caught a snippet of the already popular song. “It’s not like he has to pretend he’s straight.”
Roger giggled. “I really don’t need anything. I just didn’t want to be stuck at home alone any longer.”
John nodded thoughtfully. “You could have kept Endeavour home.”
“Well, it’s not exactly the same as talking to an actual adult.”
“I meant that you could have stayed home with him and me,” John said, casting a glance at Roger, who now barely managed to fit behind the steering wheel. “Are you up for walking around all the shops?”
Roger took one hand off the wheel and rubbed his lower stomach, where he could still feel the light cramping sensation. “I was hoping that a bit of walking would bring on labour. I’m so fucking sick of being pregnant.”
John chuckled. “You know, I distinctly remember you saying when you were in labour with Dev that Brian was not allowed to put his penis near you ever again, but here we are!”
“Clearly,” Roger emphasised the word. “I forgot about that. And forgot about how shitty the third trimester was.”
“Carrying Dev around wouldn’t help.”
Roger frowned. “No, probably not. I think this morning will have been the last time I pick him up. It gave me this weird cramp in my belly.”
John turned to look at the blond man. “Rog, are you sure you’re not in labour?”
“Yes! Real contractions with Endeavour felt very, very different.”
It was drizzling outside when they arrived at the shopping centre. Being November, it wasn’t quite cold enough for snow, so instead they were greeted with icy sheets of rain.
They spent the next few hours until lunch time mooching around the different shops, mostly looking in on children’s clothing and toy stores. Christmas was approaching, and a newborn baby would make it quite difficult to do the present shopping. So far Roger had bought Endeavour a ride-on toy train, various picture books, and his very first bicycle. Brian would probably be a bit upset that he wasn’t there to pick out the milestone present, but Roger simply wanted the Christmas shopping out of the way before the baby was born.
Throughout the shopping trip, Roger still didn’t feel quite right. The cramps were coming and going, not particularly painful, but now he realised they probably weren’t just strong Brackston Hicks. And the backache was worse, not to mention the sore pelvis and hips.
“Can we stop and have lunch now? I think I need to sit down,” Roger said quietly to John as they made their final purchase, two matching Christmas pyjama sets for Endeavour and the new baby.
“Of course, you don’t have to ask,” John said immediately, taking the shopping bags. “You feeling alright?”
“I’m not sure,” was all Roger could supply.
With John leading the way, they quickly found the food court and a nice, secluded table. Roger sat down with a heavy sign, his back and ankles screaming in relief. But there it was again, another cramping feeling in his lower abdomen.
“I think you might be right, John,” Roger said defeatedly as the ache subsided, rubbing his swollen bump.
“About what?”
“I think I’m in labour.”
John’s eyes widened.
“And I think I’ve probably been in labour the whole day.”
Regaining his composure, John began, “are you sure, you said real contractions felt different? Maybe you ate something funny?”
Roger shrugged. “I went into labour with Endeavour in the morning, so I was probably asleep during the very early stage. I don’t think I can write off these cramps as Brackston Hicks anymore.” He smiled at John’s pale face and held his hands up. “But don’t freak out, I don’t think I’m going to spontaneously drop the baby out in the next hour.”
“Should we go home? We need to tell Brian and Freddie! What about Dev at day care?”
“Like I just said, don’t freak out please. I’m still in the early stage, I’m sure.”
Still, John insisted that they hastily leave the shopping centre, and collect Endeavour from nursery early. Roger still wanted to drive, and John chose not to push it as he remembered how touchy Roger could be when his ability to drive was called into question.
The day care was about a half hour drive away from the shops. 5 minutes in, Roger stiffened all over as a notably stronger cramp grasped his abdomen.
John had been studying his pregnant friend throughout the drive, and immediately noticed his change in demeanour.
“Are you alright?” He asked, poorly masked panic seeping into his tone.
Roger breathed out deeply as the pain subsided. “Fine, John, I promise. Just relax.”
“Please Rog, you’re literally in labour,” John said. “It’s me who should be telling you to relax. Let me at least drive.”
Roger rolled his eyes. Leos are known for their stubbornness for a reason. “I can make it to the nursery without giving birth John. If I get worried, I’ll just cross my legs.”
John crossed his arms. “This isn’t a joking matter!”
“Look,” Roger started, “Do you remember my labour with Endeavour? I was in labour for what, 20 hours? It took ages to go from contractions 20 minutes apart to five, and then even longer for my waters to break and for him to be born. This baby isn’t coming out any time soon, I promise.”
“Second babies are known to come quicker than the first!” John cried.
Roger chuckled. “Then we’ve still got at least five or six hours.”
They drove in silence for another quarter of an hour, Roger remaining calm and collected while John squirmed with worry.
It wasn’t until another pain began a few moments later.
These couldn’t be called just cramps anymore. The pain began slowly, radiating from his back all the way around his bump, feeling like a python constricting its prey. Roger began slowing the car, sliding over to the curb before putting the car in park. John’s face had gone positively ashen, but he remained quiet while Roger took deep breath after deep breath, eyes closed, knuckles white against the steering wheel.
As the pain subsided, Roger turned to his anxious passenger. “I think you’d better drive the rest of the way.”