Now I knew I was having a girl, I could start thinking about names. I knew exactly what I wanted to call her – Princess, because to me she would be my little princess, doubly precious because of the baby girl I'd lost. She might get picked on at school for her name, but then you can just as easily get picked on for wearing the wrong trainers and I think I can get away with giving my daughter an unusual name. But when I told my mum, she rolled her eyes and said straightaway, 'How on earth can you call her that! That's so cruel! What about when she's older.'
'She could grow up to be a butch lesbian with a shaved head!' I replied, 'But then it's up to her to change her name.' I changed mine when I was eighteen from Katrina Amy Alexandria Alexis Infield Price to simply Katie Price, so my mum was a fine one to talk after giving me a mouthful of a name like that.
I was also honest with Pete's parents about what we were going to call the baby. One of the things that had seriously stressed me out when I was pregnant with Junior had been the way Pete and me had rowed so badly over what to call him. Pete had it in his head that he had to call our son Savva, after his dad, because it's the Greek-Cypriot tradition that you name your first son after your dad and your first daughter after your mum. But much as I liked Pete's dad, I didn't want to call my son Savva, as it just wasn't a name I was happy with. I'm not Greek-Cypriot, so I didn't think I should have to follow a tradition that's got nothing to do with me. It wasn't until Pete and me both came up with the name Junior and decided to give him Savva as his middle name that the row was sorted, and it was stress I didn't need this time round. So, just after we discovered we were having a girl, I decided to call Pete's parents and let them know the name I was thinking of. I spoke first to Thea, asking her if she knew how much Pete and me had argued about choosing Junior's name. She hadn't known and was really shocked and immediately wanted to know why.
'I've been brought up the way I have and Pete's been brought up the way he has,' I replied, 'and I understand that your culture's different to mine, and I'm not knocking it, but you've also go to remember I'm not going to be following your traditions because I'm not Greek-Cypriot. To me it's strange that your tradition would expect me to name my baby after you when you've already got a granddaughter called Thea.'
I was really glad that I was upfront with his mum and I think she understood how I felt and appreciated my honesty. She knows what I went through with my Postnatal Depression and is very sympathetic. And I want Pete's parents to understand my feelings; otherwise it puts a strain on me and Pete. He obviously doesn't want to upset his mum and dad and worries that he will by not following their traditions. His parents were fine about it, though. It was Pete who had the problem and he really wanted us to call the baby Thea. Because we didn't name Junior after Pete's dad, he really wanted to name his daughter after his mum this time. We didn't argue like we had over Junior's name, but it was becoming an issue between us and I thought, Oh no, here we go again! At the end of the day, I was the one carrying the baby, and I wanted to have a say. 'What about Princess Thea?' I suggested. 'You'll be letting my mum down if we don't call the baby Thea as her first name,' Pete insisted, and I was really upset at his attitude, as this was my baby we were talking about. I thought I'm not going to have this argument every time I have a baby. I decided to go for the direct approach again and so I phoned his mum and dad up. 'Pete seems to think that you've got a problem because I didn't name Junior after you, Savva,' I told Pete's dad. 'And now he wants to call the baby Thea, but I want to call her Princess.'
Savva was really nice about it and said, 'Don't worry about Peter. All that matters is that the baby is healthy.' And I spoke to Thea as well, explaining that we were arguing about the baby's name again and she reassured me that she really didn't mind if the baby wasn't named after her, though I did say that I was thinking about calling her Princess Thea. Later, they phoned Pete and had a go at him for stressing me out, telling him that they really didn't mind what we called the baby. Pete is really protective of his parents, so he was cross with me for phoning them. But at least I'd sorted things out and stopped the arguments.
Then Pete came up with the great idea of combining both our mum's names – straightaway I loved the idea, because it would make our daughter's name unique and it would mean something special to us. One night, when my brother Daniel was round at the house with his wife Louise, we all wrote down different versions of the name to see how we could spell it. I think it was my brother who came up with Tiaamii – it's pronounced tee-ah-me. I loved the name because I thought it looked really pretty and unusual. I was determined that no one should shorten her name to Tia. She would be Princess or Princess Tiàamii.
* * *
Typically for me, I couldn't take it easy now I was only a few weeks away from the birth. I had to promote my new novel, Crystal — the story of a beautiful and talented singer in a girl band who shoots to stardom after winning a reality TV talent show, but falls for the wrong man. This one mistake could cost her everything: her friendships, her fame and her chance of every finding love again. It's a page-turner, I promise! I was launching the book in spectacular style at Harrods, followed by interviews and book signings. Some of the signings were a very long way away from home and from my London hospital and, while I might say cockily 'Oh it will be okay if I go into labour on my book signings! It'll be something to remember!' inside I was panicking. Still, everything else seemed to be going okay for once. Pete was still fragile, but he was getting stronger every day. Harvey's leg was continuing to make progress too and Junior was really excited about having a baby sister.
On bank holiday Monday at the end of May, Pete and I decided to drive to Toys 'R' Us to choose birthday presents for Harvey and Junior. We'd already given Harvey some presents, as his birthday had been at the weekend but Junior's was in a couple of weeks' time and we wanted to give the boys a joint party. Up till then, because of Pete's illness, we hadn't had much time to organise anything. We were both feeling really happy as we drove back, pleased with all the toys we'd ordered, imagining how much the boys would love them, when we got a phone call. Pete took it and immediately I could tell that something was very wrong. It was a paramedic. There had been an accident at home and a mirror had fallen on Harvey and injured him. 'Is he all right?' I asked anxiously. I couldn't believe that Harvey had been hurt again. I knew I had to stay calm and so I spoke to the paramedic, explaining about Harvey's medical condition and how he would need his emergency cortisone injection. I was desperate to get home, but we were stuck behind Sunday afternoon drivers who were driving painfully slowly and I couldn't overtake because we were on narrow country roads. To make matters worse, we'd chosen to go in our new Ferrari and it was raining and I was having to drive very cautiously, as those cars can wheel spin in wet conditions and that was the last thing I needed.
My stomach lurched when I saw the ambulance parked in our driveway. Please let him be okay, I prayed, as I got out of the car. Harvey was lying on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance. He had several deep gashes on his face, which was covered in blood, and his nose looked badly swollen. He didn't seem to be breathing, his eyes were closed and for a few heart-wrenching seconds I thought he was dead, 'Oh my God, is he okay?' I exclaimed to the paramedic, feeling as if my legs were about to give way with shock. He replied that they had to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. Knowing how vital it was that Harvey had his cortisone injection, I rushed inside the house to get the bag containing all his medication. I couldn't believe the state of the hallway, there was blood everywhere and the huge Venetian glass mirror was lying shattered on the carpet. He could have been killed, I thought, a wave of horror rushing through me. I quickly gathered Harvey's things and went back outside. The nanny was sitting in the ambulance, clutching a cloth to her nose and looking dazed. When I asked her if she was okay, she seemed out of it and I thought she must have concussion. I asked her what had happened and she said that she'd been sitting in the hallway with Harvey as he played with his toys. Suddenly she saw the mirror falling towards him, so she dived in front of him to save him from being hit, but he had been struck by some pieces of glass. There were so many questions I wanted answering but Harvey was my priority and I got in the ambulance with him, though I felt a horrible sense of déjà vu as it drove us to the hospital. I sat next to Harvey, holding his hand, but he wasn't talking and he wasn't moving. I didn't know whether he was in shock or whether he had concussion. It was really frightening seeing him like this. We were taken to my local hospital – the same one that Harvey had been taken to after his burn accident and the same one from where someone had reported me to Social Services, a place I'd hoped I'd never have to go to again. Once Harvey was wheeled inside, it was the all-too familiar routine of having to explain to each and every doctor about his medical condition and about what dosage of medication he needed. Honestly, you'd have thought if you told one doctor they could explain it to the others.
By now Harvey was really upset and crying because he was in so much pain, especially when the nurses cleaned the deep cuts on his face. I hated seeing him suffer again. But he is such a tough, brave little boy that very soon he was calm, accepting that he had to lie down and be still. The hospital was really busy and, when Harvey was wheeled along the corridor to have an X-ray to see if he had broken his nose, I could sense everyone staring as they recognised us. On top of my anxiety for Harvey, I felt embarrassed too. I hated people thinking that I might have been responsible in any way for Harvey's injuries.
The doctors told me that they couldn't treat Harvey there because of his medical condition and so, at six o'clock the following morning, he would have to be transferred to Croydon, where his cuts could be stitched – I was told that the wounds could be left open for twenty-four hours. My heart sank at the thought of Harvey having to stay in hospital yet again. He had been through so much this year. Meanwhile, the nanny had been discharged within an hour; she didn't have concussion, just a small cut on her nose.
At Croydon Hospital the following day Harvey was given another X-ray and this time it was discovered that he had broken his nose, so my opinion of my local hospital sank even lower, because they had told me earlier that he hadn't. He was going to be operated on that afternoon and then have his nose re-set and his cuts stitched. I was immediately worried because he was going to be given a general anaesthetic, something which we were told wouldn't have been safe when he was being treated for his burn injury. But the doctors explained that this time Harvey's condition was more stable. I had to show the surgeon a picture of Harvey so he could see what his nose was supposed to look like. Harvey wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything, which was hard for him as he is so used to his routine and he couldn't understand why he couldn't have anything to eat. Not being able to drink anything affects his medication too, as he has to keep his water levels up. He got upset and started throwing himself back and it was really difficult to calm him down.
As he was wheeled down to theatre, with me at his side, we had to endure more curious stares from people. I was allowed in the operating theatre with Harvey and he was so incredibly good, just lying there quietly. It brought tears to my eyes watching him. He's so innocent, and he doesn't understand what's going on, he just trusts me that everything is going to be all right. Then the anaesthetist put the mask on him and Harvey started to drift into unconsciousness and it was so horrible, because it looked like he was dead. 'I love you, Harvey,' I said, holding his hand, and he murmured groggily back, 'Love you too, Mummy.' As I left him there, I felt overwhelmed with emotion, imagining the worst – that he wouldn't wake up and that I'd lose my little boy. The next forty-five minutes were the longest ever . . . Finally, to my huge relief, a nurse came and told me that the operation had gone well, and I was taken to the recovery room to wait for Harvey. As he came round he was fine, his cuts had been stitched and his nose had Steri-Strips across it, and he must have been feeling okay because as soon as we got back to the room he asked for something to eat, which he wasn't allowed for the next half hour. I thought that after a couple of hours he would be discharged and I'd be able to take him home, but they wanted to keep him another night to monitor his condition. By now I was almost beside myself with exhaustion, but I couldn't ask Pete to take my place alongside Harvey, as he was still recovering from his Meningitis and was still really weak.
It was such a relief when Harvey was discharged from hospital the following day. He was so happy to be back home with the family. I wanted to rest, so I was on good form for my Crystal book launch but we had a bit of a childcare problem that meant I couldn't stay in London the night before appearing on the Chris Moyles show and there was no way I could leave Pete to look after the kids in his present fragile state. I would have to leave first thing in the morning after I had creamed and re-bandaged Harvey's leg, changed the dressings on his face, given him his medication and got him and Junior ready for school. On the morning of the launch I was up at the crack of dawn. By now I was just a few weeks away from giving birth and I was exhausted. But I was still in the car, leaving the house at quarter to six, which should have given me plenty of time to get to Radio 1 for my live interview at eight. However, we got caught in horrendous traffic, which delayed us. I had the radio on and could hear Chris Moyles and his gang slagging me off, speculating whether I was going to get there on time or not. Chris was saying, 'Shall I let her on?' And I thought, Come on guys, give me a break! I'm a few weeks away from having a baby, I've got two kids to look after, a husband who's still fragile after a major illness and no one to help me at the moment. Yes, you should be on time for things, but sometimes shit happens . . . I would only have been fifteen minutes late and, even though my management had called the production team to let them know that, at eight o'clock, Moyles said that he wouldn't let me on air. I'd always got on well with Chris before that, but I didn't need his power trips. I felt like saying, Come to my house one morning and look after Harvey and I'll present your show and then you'll see what I have to do.
* * *
I didn't let it get to me, though, as I had a busy launch day ahead. 'You're not going to drop me, are you?' I joked to the four strapping lads who were carrying me as I sat in my jewel-shaped sedan chair like a princess, dressed in a flowing white dress encrusted with silver crystals and wearing a sparkling tiara on my head that spelling out Crystal. Yes, this was me on my way to launch my second novel. Never let it be said that I make an understated entrance! I'd, of course, had the idea to arrive like this for my book signing at Harrods and so far everything was going to plan: the sun was shining, and in front of me I could see a sea of photographers and crowds of fans lining the pavement. The lads – who were stripped to the waist with Crystal written across their backs and chests – lowered me down carefully and then I posed away for the photographers. When they'd got their shots, I was led inside Harrods. Panpipe players were playing in front of me as I walked through the store and up the escalators to where the signing was going to be taking place. And I was being followed by hundreds of people, as if I was the pied piper. It was such fun and I felt like royalty, especially since I was wearing this amazing dress. I know people often see me looking shit on my reality show, with no make-up on and wearing a tracksuit, but at my signings I really like to make an effort. After the launch I managed two days of book signings, but by then I was exhausted and really suffering with sciatica. When I saw Dr Gibb for a checkup, he said I could go into labour at any time. Suddenly the thought of going into labour miles away from home was really terrifying. I hated letting people down and felt really guilty, but I had to cancel the rest of my signings. I love doing them, but I wanted to be feeling my best. I decided to do them later in the year. Meanwhile, Crystal was doing brilliantly and had gone straight to number one.
So now I had just under three weeks before my caesarean on 29 June and, much as I wanted to take it easy, Pete and me still had a childcare crisis on our hands. We contacted several agencies and interviewed lots of nannies and some we even tried out, but it was so hard finding the right person, someone who would be able to cope with Harvey's special needs as well as look after Junior. I wanted a nanny to fit in with our family. And I hated having to interview would-be nannies in my house, as it felt like a real invasion of my privacy. Fortunately, though, within a week we found one nanny who seemed great, but we still needed to find another one too, as I really wasn't sure about leaving her to look after both boys when I had the baby. Meanwhile I was driving Pete mad with my nesting! I could not stop cleaning and organising the house — I'd never been like this with my other pregnancies. I was obsessed with getting everything ready for the baby's arrival – hanging up all her clothes in her wardrobe, packing the baby bag, then unpacking it to check I'd got everything. I spent ages sticking crystals onto her baby blankets and baby gros. I wanted her to be able to look at those early pictures of herself and think, Wow! Look at all those crystals on me! I also threw a joint baby shower with Claire, my manager, whose baby was due a few weeks after mine, which was such good fun. We held it in a marquee in my garden and it had an Alice in Wonderland theme, with a Mad Hatter's table and oversized chairs and thrones, a clairvoyant, magician and a poker table with a proper dealer. I also had goody bags, which were packed with treats, including pole dancing lessons, make-up and lots of gorgeous toiletries for all the guests, and I think I was just as excited about handing them out as I was about the party. So while I was still stressing over childcare, there were lots of positive things going on in my life as well. Above all, I was so excited about meeting my little Princess.