Beneath the Music From a Further Room
Athena, 36
Perth, 2010
All her life Athena had known that she would have a baby. She remembered what Yiayia Sia had said to her once at her mother’s cousin’s kitchen tea. She would have a daughter. And now she was having twins. Twins!
Her mother had been driving her insane because Athena wouldn’t find out if the twins were boys or girls and therefore didn’t know whether to buy blue or pink. It was, of course, unthinkable to her mother to buy grey or neutral-coloured clothes. Pink was for girls. Blue was for boys. Grey was for elephants. End of story.
And now Athena was lying in the hospital bed, enormous beyond recognition. Would her body ever return to the way it was? She could no longer picture what it would be like to not be pregnant with the twins. They were a part of her and felt like they always had been. She felt their arms and legs kicking and hoped they were not hurting each other in there.
And today was the day she would try to deliver them. It was time.
Richard stood in the doorway of the birthing suite, grinning and buzzing with excitement. He’d been different since Athena had been pregnant. He wanted to be a great father. He had ideas about how it would be, their holidays, their weekends. Richard had been very gentle with Athena since her pregnancy. He hadn’t stayed at work late or started anything up with anyone. They had moved home to Perth after those ten years away and Richard had a new job. He had showered her in gifts and she had tried to distract herself by doing up the babies’ bedroom (How can you paint a babies’ bedroom if you don’t know what the baby is? said her mother). Athena painted the room grey and white. She mounted framed black-and-white photographs of London on the walls.
Her mother shook her head.
‘This does not look like a baby’s room. This looks like an art gallery for depressed people,’ her mother said.
‘Well, Koula, Athena read an article saying that babies can only see black and white for the first months of their life,’ said Richard.
‘What, so you want them to know the London landmarks before they’re six months old?’ she asked.
Athena changed the subject. Her mother did not approve of most things she did. Maybe their relationship would improve once the babies arrived. Maybe?
Athena looked over at Richard. And then it hit her. The contraction. As if it were crushing her, squeezing her from all angles, from the inside out. And then it had passed, as if it had never happened at all. Athena breathed normally, trying to forget the intensity of the pain.
‘I think I’ll need the epidural,’ she said to the midwife. ‘Like, now.’
They inserted it into her spine and there was a sharp twinge of pain as she stared into Richard’s forehead.
Athena lay down on the bed and played with the máti on her bracelet.
‘Everything okay?’ the midwife asked, checking her chart. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t be long. You’re doing really well.’
Athena stared into the centre of the máti. The tiny black circle. She knew that her mother was at home, pacing. She wanted to be there.
‘I can’t believe you’re choosing him over me,’ she had said.
‘He’s my husband. They are his children,’ Athena had said to her.
‘In the olden days, only the women were allowed to be there. The men were at the pub or at work. People used to just have babies at home too and it was no big deal.’
‘And women died in childbirth,’ Athena said.
‘I know what to do. I’ve had three babies,’ her mother had said. ‘I could help you. I could be the doula in the hospital.’
Athena shook her head.
‘Chrissie was in the delivery room with both of her daughters. She was even allowed to cut the cord for Eleni’s babies,’ her mother said.
Chrissie’s daughters were always held up as the standard of how one should behave. Athena was never going to get it right like Chrissie’s daughters. She always failed terribly at the good Greek daughter test.
‘You think Chrissie’s daughters are perfect,’ said Athena. ‘Isn’t it enough that Eleni had to be my koumbára? You always get your way, but not with this.’
‘Chrissie’s daughters are good to their mother. They love their mother and they care about her.’
‘I care about you.’
‘No, you don’t. If you cared then you would let me be the doula.’
‘No,’ said Athena quietly and that was the end of it.
_____
Athena’s phone beeped with a text message. ‘So how are you going? Any news?’
‘Can you please call her and tell her there is no news yet?’ Athena asked Richard.
‘If you really want me to,’ he said.
‘I really want you to,’ Athena said. And just at that moment, something happened. Athena screamed just as Koula picked up the phone.
‘What’s going on?’ Koula demanded.
‘Call the doctor, Richard,’ said her mother. ‘Get the midwife to call the doctor. I’m coming now.’
Athena didn’t remember much after that point. She recalled being wheeled into emergency surgery, and a little later feeling a tugging sensation and seeing the first baby emerge. A boy! Oh, he was so tiny and beautiful. He was her baby! He was curled up and red and cried hard. And then there were lots of beeping and coldness through her veins. The doctor was telling her something while Richard held the baby. And then it went completely black.
_____
Athena woke to a swarm of medical and nursing staff. She was numb and an oxygen mask was affixed to her face.
‘Oh, you’re waking up. That’s great,’ a nurse said, smiling and holding her hand. Athena looked down at her hand, which was covered in tubes and tape. And then the small, wrinkled hand of the nurse with glossy red nails.
Athena blinked and swallowed. Her throat was sore and people moved around the room as if in fast forward.
‘Athena,’ the nurse said.
Athena followed her voice and looked back down at her hand, and then at the nurse’s face.
‘We have great news. You had the twins. Your little boy was very healthy. You had your little girl too. She was in distress and you were losing a lot of blood, so that’s why we needed to sedate you. The good news is that she’s in the neonatal intensive care unit. She’s hanging in there,’ the nurse said.
Athena was hearing the words and then slowly understood that everything was not okay.
‘Can I see the babies?’ a hoarse voice spoke and Athena realised it was her own.
‘Of course, of course,’ the nurse said. ‘We’ll take you as soon as we can.’
_____
When Athena woke up again she was in a different room. Richard was there, holding a tiny baby.
‘Richard?’ Athena whispered. ‘Is that our baby?’
‘Oh, you’re awake,’ he said. ‘Athena, you did such a great job. This is our baby boy.’
He brought the baby over and put him on her chest.
‘Oh, he’s so beautiful,’ said Athena, feeling a rush of love. ‘I love you. You’re amazing. You’re here.’ She kissed his forehead and looked up. ‘Where’s our other baby? The nurse said we had a girl.’
‘She’s still in neonates.’
‘Is she going to be alright? Can I see her?’ Athena cried.
‘Her lungs weren’t working properly, but it’s still early days,’ said Richard.
Then the midwife came into the room and she began teaching Athena how to breastfeed the baby – and asking did the baby have a name yet?
‘I like the name Sam,’ said Richard quickly. ‘Athena is going to name our daughter.’
‘I don’t want her to be alone. Can I go to her? I need to see her,’ said Athena.
_____
Richard wheeled Athena to the neonatal ward. She tried to feel strong. The drugs were dulling her pain. Athena looked through the glass at all these babies. But which one was hers? Was she meant to know? She looked to Richard. He waved at a nurse, who pointed at a baby in a crib. They went through the door.
Athena couldn’t quite fathom that the day before everything had been going along normally, the three of them coexisting in her body, and now her daughter was in the incubator while she had to leave her son in the nursery on a different ward. She wished she felt something when she looked at the baby, but she didn’t. They could have pointed at any of the babies. She didn’t say this to Richard.
But then, everything started beeping and the nurses jumped up and called the doctor.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Athena.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Richard, as one of the nurses came around to speak to them.
‘We’ve called the doctor. Her heart rate has dropped—’
‘Clara,’ Athena said out loud. ‘Her name is Clara. Please be okay, Clara. Please be okay.’
_____
It was such a relief when the nurse finally handed Clara to Athena, when she finally held her tiny body in her arms. And it was in that moment that Athena recognised her. She was Clara. She was meant to be here.
Richard and Athena stayed in their hospital room with Clara while Sam slept in the nursery.
Yiayia Sia and Koula arrived soon after, bearing gifts and a basket of chocolates.
‘Oh, Athena!’ said her mother, bolting towards her bed. ‘But where are the babies?’
‘Sam’s sleeping in the nursery. Hello, nice to see you too,’ said Athena, trying to sit up. ‘They’re beautiful and—’
‘Don’t praise the babies, Athena,’ said her mother. ‘Ftoú ftoú ftoú.’
‘I’m going to get a coffee. Anyone want a coffee?’ Richard asked. ‘Then I’ll pick up Sam on the way back.’
‘Yes, I’ll have a coffee,’ said Athena.
‘No, Athena, you won’t. You can’t drink coffee and breastfeed. It’s not good for the babies,’ said her mother.
‘I really want a coffee,’ said Athena. ‘Please just relax a little bit, Mum. I’m exhausted. It might wake me up a bit.’
‘You don’t need to wake up, you need to rest,’ said Koula, pointing to Athena.
‘Hi, Athena,’ said Yiayia Sia, approaching Athena’s bedside and squeezing her hand. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you, Yiayia Sia. I’m very tired,’ said Athena.
‘Oh look at her, so sweet,’ said Yiayia Sia. ‘Baby Clara is okay.’
Athena nodded and then something in her head shifted. She hadn’t told them the name yet.
‘How do you know we named her Clara?’
‘I just knew,’ whispered Yiayia Sia.
‘What’s her name? Clara? That’s not Richard’s mother’s name. You’re meant to name your first son and daughter after your husband’s parents, and then after me and your father,’ Koula said.
‘Well, I’m not having any more,’ said Athena. ‘And I don’t think that Richard’s mother cares about that stuff. That’s a Greek thing.’
‘Well, if she doesn’t care, then why isn’t she named after me? Where you did get this Clara name from?’ said Koula.
‘Okay, Koula, let’s just calm down. Athena’s been through a lot,’ said Richard. ‘Clara sounds a lot like Koula anyway.’
‘So her name in Greek will be Kyriakoula like mine, when you christen the babies in the Greek church.’
‘I can’t talk about this now,’ said Athena.
Athena closed her eyes. She didn’t feel totally in the room, in the scene. She felt like there was thick Lalique glazed glass between her and everyone else. She was aware of the pounding ache in her abdomen and pressed the button again.
Yiayia Sia smiled at Athena and squeezed her hand. ‘I have a present for your daughter, Clara. I have something for Sam too. But this one I have kept for a long time, since before I left Greece. I want to give it to you for her,’ she said.
Athena nodded as Yiayia Sia dropped a tiny blue orb into her hand.
‘A máti,’ said Athena.
‘I’ll pin it in her cot,’ said Yiayia Sia.
‘I want to see the boy,’ said Koula. ‘Your father will be here soon and he will want to see him too.’
‘Okay, okay,’ said Athena.
‘Here are the presents from me,’ said Koula, lifting up a gigantic pink bag and the same bag in robin’s egg blue. ‘I bought double of everything just in case.’
A wave of fatigue suddenly hit Athena. Where was Richard with that coffee? Her mother started opening the presents that she had bought. Tiny matching pink and blue jumpsuits and bibs, muslin wraps, cotton sunhats in Liberty prints. She wanted Athena to respond to the patterns, the frills, the cuteness. Athena asked if they minded if she closed her eyes for a few minutes.
‘We’re not here to see you. We’re here to see the babies,’ Koula reminded her.
Athena’s eyes fluttered, and through her fogginess she saw her mother leave the room to go to the bathroom. Athena was left with Yiayia Sia and baby Clara. Yiayia Sia leaned over her cot and whispered something to Clara.
_____
Athena dreamed, vividly. She saw a younger version of her grandmother, a woman in labour, blood on dark wooden floors in a small cottage. An older Greek woman in black. Screaming.
She felt their pain and confusion. There was a baby. There was death.
The baby lived.
Who was that baby?
_____
A few days later Athena left the hospital, tired and sore. Richard was on leave for one blissful week and then returned to work. And then it was as if everything really started.
Clara and Sam refused to sleep at the same time, if at all. She would get one to sleep and the other would wake up. And she was feeding them, constantly. She had never had to do anything like this before. The BBC had been so easy.
Athena didn’t understand. Why weren’t they acting like the babies in the parenting books? Was it her? Did they hate her? They were only babies. So if not, then how was she doing it so wrong? This was what she had wanted: children with Richard. And now here she was, unwanting it. Just wishing things could go back to the way they were before. But she could not travel back in time to London. She stirred her coffee and threw the spoon in the sink. She used to like coffee spoons but she couldn’t remember why. She heated up the formula, she expressed, she breastfed. She did everything but it felt like nothing.
A text message flashed onto her phone, reminding her of the appointment with the maternal and child health nurse. She put both babies in the double stroller and walked there. At least they slept in the stroller. That was something. She walked and walked, the long way around, until she came to the old beige brick building. In the waiting room she saw a woman with one baby, a little boy, strapped to her chest. They both looked so content. When the child health nurse called the woman in for her appointment the new mother smiled dreamily and drifted into the room.
Athena was pushing the stroller back and forth, wishing for a few extra minutes. She caught sight of herself in the glass and patted her hair down, wishing she’d made more of an effort with her appearance. But it was too late now. She had got here. That was something.
‘Athena,’ the nurse said from the door. ‘Oh, you had twins. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you,’ said Athena.
‘Oh, how lovely for you,’ she said. ‘Now do you mind if I take them out so I can check how they’re going?’
‘Do you really have to wake them up?’ said Athena. ‘I just got them to sleep. They hate sleeping. They never sleep.’
The nurse frowned at her.
‘Do you have their purple books?’
‘Oh, yes. I remembered them,’ Athena said, handing the nurse the plastic folders for each child with their birth and health information. It felt like her greatest achievement of the day.
‘Let’s concentrate on you first then,’ said the nurse.
‘Me?’
‘Here’s a little survey. Can you fill it in for me?’
Athena looked at the questions on the piece of paper in front of her while the nurse perused the twins’ folders.
Athena realised that it was one of those tests where they measure how well the mother is doing or not doing.
Question number three: I have blamed myself unnecessarily when things went wrong. Why unnecessarily? Of course it was her fault!
I have been anxious or worked up for no good reason. There were plenty of good reasons!
I have been so unhappy that I have had difficulty sleeping. At least she didn’t have to lie on this one – there was such limited sleep. When both twins were asleep, it was a total miracle and she fell into a velvety abyss of pleasure.
Athena knew what the right answers were. She wasn’t in the mood for a lecture or any kind of intervention, so she pretended everything was fine. She ticked the right boxes. She lied. But she was doing it for Clara and Sam. She loved them so much she had to pretend, especially to the nurse, that everything was okay.
‘Oh, it looks like Clara is waking up. What a beautiful name,’ said the nurse.
‘Thank you,’ said Athena.
‘Let’s take off her clothes and weigh her,’ said the nurse.
Athena undressed Clara, peeling off one of the myriad printed pink onesies that her mother had bought.
The nurse scooped up Clara with her long fingers and yellow gold rings, set her in a bowl on the metal scales.
‘Oh, it’s probably a bit cold for you on there,’ she said.
Clara’s face started to scrunch up. Athena knew it would only be a matter of time before the wailing started.
‘Hmmm,’ said the nurse. ‘She’s not really putting on the weight she should be.’
‘Really? What should I do?’
‘Are you still breastfeeding?’
‘Yes, all the time. And topping up with formula,’ said Athena. ‘That’s what they told me to do in the hospital.’
‘Well, you might need to do more than that.’
‘You might need to feed her more.’
‘More? I feed her every three hours. And Sam. I basically sit in my chair all day and feed them. This is the first time I’ve left the house,’ she said.
The nurse scanned Athena’s questionnaire responses again. ‘Well, maybe you need more help.’
‘Help? What kind of help?’
‘Help with the twins. It’s not easy with one baby and you have two.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘With Clara’s lungs and her difficult start, you’ll need to do a bit more.’
I have nothing left to give.
Athena stared at the nurse, waiting for the solution.
‘So, I don’t really understand,’ she said. ‘You said that she’s not gaining weight and I’m meant to feed her more. So I’m meant to feed her every two hours instead of three?’
‘Well, I can’t tell you exactly what to do,’ said the nurse. ‘When I had my children, and I had four, they were very hungry all the time. You just have to respond to how the baby is.’
Athena didn’t understand and Clara started to scream uncontrollably.
The nurse repeated the process with Sam, while Athena held Clara and tried to calm her down. ‘Do you mind if I feed her here?’
‘I have another appointment now, so maybe in the waiting room? I’ll book another appointment for you.’
Athena sat in the waiting room and latched Clara onto her breast, while the nurse weighed Sam and wrote in their purple books.
‘How amazing, you have twins!’ the next mother said. She had straightened hair and had put on lipstick. There she was with her one child. A content, plump girl in her arms. They both stared at Athena.
‘Yes,’ said Athena.
‘Wow, it’s so hard with one. How are you doing this?’
‘Well, I don’t know any different,’ said Athena, loading the babies into the stroller.
‘See you next time, Athena,’ said the nurse, beckoning in the next mother.
Athena wheeled the babies out the door, both of them screaming in unison as she walked as quickly as she could home. Screaming on home ground was much easier than in public. Maybe she shouldn’t have lied on the postnatal depression test. She just didn’t want to be doing this the wrong way. She was already failing. She had to get Clara to eat more. She was already failing them. Even the nurse knew that.
Tears streaming down her face underneath her oversized black sunglasses, she called Richard. His phone went to voicemail and she sobbed a message into it. The twins were still screaming when she got home. She had to go to the breastfeeding chair and keep breastfeeding, keep making formula, keep feeding them, even more than she had been.
Her phone rang and Athena picked it up thinking it was Richard and cried into it.
‘Athena? It’s Yiayia. Are you okay?’
‘Sorry, Yiayia, I’m just a bit upset and tired,’ she said.
‘You want to come over for lunch? Your forty days has passed now.’
‘I have to feed Clara and Sam,’ Athena said. ‘I have to feed them all the time.’
‘It’s okay, you can have lunch and I can give them the bottle,’ she said.
Athena knew she shouldn’t cry in front of her grandmother and worry her. Her grandmother had done this before. She hadn’t even had a husband to help her, just Thea Tasoula, who died years ago.
‘Okay, I’ll just walk home, pack the formula and I’ll put the babies in the car. I’ll be there when I can,’ Athena said. She wiped the tears from her eyes and kept walking. She hadn’t even noticed that Clara and Sam had stopped screaming.
_____
Yiayia Sia held Clara while Sam slept in the travel cot.
‘I don’t understand why he’s sleeping here. He never sleeps at home. It goes on and on. There is no sleep,’ Athena said.
‘Just eat your fasoláda and don’t worry too much,’ said Yiayia Sia.
Athena ate two bowls of the clear broth with white beans, carrot and celery. She savoured every mouthful. It was nourishing, familiar and warm.
‘Why don’t you have a sleep after lunch? I can look after the babies while you have a little rest,’ said Yiayia Sia.
‘Are you sure?’
‘I don’t have much else to do,’ Yiayia Sia said, shrugging. ‘It’s the babies or Days of Our Lives. And I think I’ve figured out what’s going to happen today.’
Athena smiled and went into her grandmother’s bedroom, staring at an oval-framed black and white photograph of Yiayia Sia and her two sisters, back in Aeaea. She fell hard into sleep, ignoring the babies’ cries as she travelled down a dark tunnel of relief.
She dreamed again. The same dream as in the hospital. The same women, the blood, the new baby. This time she saw the face in the photograph. Yiayia Sia’s sister was the mother. It was her blood. She did not live.
Athena woke suddenly, her mouth dry and her breasts full and leaking out of her breast pads onto her grandmother’s quilt.
‘Oh dear,’ she said out loud.
She stood up and went into the lounge room, where Yiayia Sia was watching Days of Our Lives. She was wheeling the twins in the stroller back and forth.
‘I’m sorry, Yiayia. I leaked breastmilk all over your bed.’
‘Den peirázei,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I can wash it later.’
Clara and Sam began to whimper.
‘They can smell you,’ said Yiayia Sia. ‘They have been fine the rest of the time.’
Athena picked up Clara and Sam and began to breastfeed them concurrently. She felt the milk drain from her.
‘I had a really strange dream,’ Athena said. ‘I saw one of your sisters and I saw you. And your sister had a baby and there was blood everywhere. There was so much blood. She died.’
Yiayia Sia looked at Athena. Athena scanned the wall of baby photos behind Yiayia Sia.
‘The baby. The baby was Koula,’ Athena said as Yiayia Sia’s face turned paler with every word.
‘You dreamed it?’
‘Did it happen? I felt like I was in the room with you. I had the same dream in the hospital.’
‘Oh, dear Athena,’ said Yiayia Sia, looking very serious. ‘There are some things that nobody else knows. And there are some things that we know, you and me, Athena.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You saw something. It may or may not have happened how you saw it. But we must not tell your mother, because I promised my sister that I would not tell her. But you are not Koula. I guess I can tell you,’ she said, rubbing her eyes. ‘Koula was my sister’s child.’
‘That really happened?’ Athena said. ‘My mother is not your daughter?’
‘Some people in my village believed that when women give birth to their children they develop this sense of seeing. It might not last very long. But it is an amazing thing to bring life into the world. It is quite incredible. But when Trina was pregnant to a man she loved, the world wasn’t as it was now. Especially the Greeks. We had to hide the truth.’
‘So, I saw—’
‘But you must not tell your mother. I made a promise. Do not tell your mother,’ she said.
‘Do not tell me what?’ Koula said from the doorway.
Yiayia Sia went white.
‘Mum,’ said Athena, her head swimming.
‘What don’t you want to tell me? I’m here now, you may as well tell me,’ she said, her arms laden with Kairos Greek Yoghurt cooler bags.
Sia looked at Athena, pleading with her eyes.
‘That I bumped the car today. When I was driving here. I just scraped the side of it on the letterbox,’ Athena said.
‘What!? You did what?! With your babies in the car? Why didn’t you call me? I could have come and picked you up. I’ve come straight from the factory. I have yoghurt for everyone. Blueberry swirl. Athena, you must eat some right this minute. You are too skinny and your babies are too skinny.’
Koula went to the kitchen to dish out the yoghurt. Yiayia Sia smiled at Athena, tears in her eyes.
‘I made a promise,’ Yiayia Sia whispered.
Athena nodded, clutching the twins to her breasts.
‘Is there more?’ Athena asked.
‘There is more but I cannot tell you,’ Yiayia Sia said. ‘You were given that dream. We can talk about that dream. But not with her.’
Athena nodded.
‘Evan has made this new yoghurt and I think it is too sweet,’ called out Koula from the kitchen. ‘And I called the priest today about the 40 days blessing for the babies.’
‘I won’t tell her,’ said Athena.
‘Here,’ said her mother, storming into the room and handing Athena a bowl.
‘Sorry, Mum, I don’t have any hands free right now,’ said Athena.
Yiayia Sia made Koula a tea with milk and gave it to her to drink. Koula spoonfed thick yoghurt into Athena’s mouth while Athena continued to breastfeed the twins (‘Can’t you wait ten minutes, Mum?’).
Days of our Lives finished. The twins were asleep. Her grandmother was not really her grandmother. Her mother must never know. Athena had always found it difficult to picture Yiayia Sia as a young woman, but in those dreams she saw her. Young and fierce. Fighting to save her family’s honour. Saving the baby.