The following weekend Lucy moved into Thurloe Crescent. Rory was certainly determined to make up for his recent absence. She was sure that their time apart had forced them both to re-evaluate their relationship. They were both completely and utterly besotted with each other. It was as if they were in the first throws of young love once again. They spent all their time together. Rory took great care of her, empathizing with the miseries of morning sickness and the overwhelming tiredness she was experiencing. They created space for Lucy’s paintings and furniture in the house and soon she felt completely at home. She had always loved Rory’s house but now that it was full of her belongings it had started to feel like her home too. Simon had given Lucy a little flipchart which she had positioned on Rory’s bedside table. It was supposed to chart the progress of your baby’s growth throughout the course of the pregnancy, however instead of the usual fruit-sized comparisons, it was a ‘dad-friendly’ version. The baby had already passed through ‘day-old stubble’, ‘chocolate drop’ and ‘cufflink’ to become the size of a ‘golf ball’.
As her bump passed through ‘baseball’, ‘BlackBerry’ and ‘loo roll’, Lucy decided it was high time she stopped her usual running regime. Instead they took gentle walks around the park with Rufus tearing off at his usual pace, terrorizing the wildlife. Rory tried his best to make life as easy as possible for her. He took on full responsibility for the housework and cooking and generally declared himself at her disposal for whatever she needed, be it foot rubs or endless cups of herbal tea. Rory was so excited about the prospect of fatherhood that he read almost every parenting book going. He made sure that Lucy was taking care of herself, sleeping and eating well and giving the baby everything it could possibly need.
Every night he would crawl under the covers and wriggle down the bed. He would say goodnight to the baby using whatever term of endearment the calendar happened to define the baby’s size that week. ‘Night night little Benjy,’ was a particular favourite for week eighteen, a tub of Ben and Jerrie’s ice cream. Or, a few weeks later, ‘Sleep well Whoopee. Don’t you wriggle too much and keep your mummy awake now.’ One night a tiny little fist pummelled the taut skin of her stomach as he was doing so. ‘Lucy! Uke gave me a high five!’ he squealed in disbelief at the little imprint that he had seen appear for a split second before disappearing just as quickly. The baby was apparently the size of a ukulele now, a thought that somewhat disturbed Lucy.
‘I certainly felt that one!’ laughed Lucy, reaching around to the spot where the baby had kicked her.
‘What does it feel like?’ asked Rory. He had been intrigued by every stage of her pregnancy, his fascination increasing all the more as her bump continued to swell.
‘Honestly? It feels like an alien is wriggling around inside me,’ said Lucy.
‘That doesn’t sound very pleasant!’ said Rory.
‘It’s not unpleasant exactly, more uncomfortable. But you do get used to it!’
Lucy had loved being pregnant and had never lost the feeling of wonder and gratitude, of awe, at what was happening to her. She knew some women weren’t lucky enough to experience it and that it truly was a miracle: a blessing and not a right.
They had decided to wait until the baby was born to find out the sex. For Rory it had been love at first sight; he had been utterly enamoured with the baby at the twenty-week scan. The sight of its tiny curving forehead with its little button nose, its fist curling up towards its face, coupled with the miraculous sound of the heartbeat echoing through the room had moved them both to tears.
‘Not long now little one,’ he said, planting a kiss on her belly. ‘Not long now! You sleep tight.’ He crawled back up to the top of the bed as Lucy rolled over; resting her bump on the crescent shape pillow Rory had bought her for extra support. He stroked her hair and kissed her gently.
‘I love you Luce,’ he said as her eyes began to close.
‘I love you too,’ she said. She truly meant it. He was absolutely everything to her. She had never felt such peace and contentment, and such hope and excitement for the future.
The next day she was going to meet Claudia for lunch in order to celebrate the first day of her maternity leave. It was a month until her due date; she had decided to give herself plenty of time between finishing up at work and the baby’s arrival. She had some last-minute baby-related shopping to do, in particular a tube of nipple cream that Tor swore was a lifesaver. Oh how her life had changed!