Xmas Story
By Claire Duff / Spinebreakers Crew
Mum,
I have something to tell you. Please be waiting for me in the kitchen when I get home from school.
Love,
April xx
I reread the note, checking that it made sense and that there could be no misinterpretation. I left it on the mantelpiece, made sure it was immediately visible and left for school.
Mum had obviously read the note as when I came home she was sitting in the kitchen. I dumped my stuff in my room, then came downstairs. She was sitting upright at the kitchen table, a mug of steaming coffee in her hands. She looked pale and withdrawn, with the black circles under her eyes, a clear sign of lack of sleep. She didn’t even look up as I came in, until I loudly dragged a chair out to sit on.
“Oh hello love,” she said dazedly.
"Hi,” I replied.
“What is it you need to tell me?” mum enquired. I looked her in the eyes, and found that no words would come out of my mouth.
“Well?” These words came out sharper, and when I glanced into her face she seemed a bit more together and herself.
“Mum, I don’t know how to say this . . .” I began, hesitating.
“But?”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurted.
While we had been talking I had kept my eyes on the tabletop, but now I risked a look at mum. She didn’t look any different from a minute before, yet I felt there was already an enormous chasm opening between us, impossible as it was.
“How many weeks? Or is it months?” she asked.
I gaped at her uncomprehendingly, wondering if I was just imagining the words coming out of her mouth.
“April! How far gone are you?”
“Umm, about five months. I’m not sure exactly, but the doctor reckons that I’m due about Christmas,” I replied after getting over the original shock.
“Well, have you thought about if you’re going to keep it? Have the baby and give it up for adoption? What about an abortion? You have to consider your options, you know. Babies can ruin your life, and I am not looking after your child so you can go out and party with your mates,” mum said.
She was voicing the thoughts that had been going round and round my mind for months, since I had first found out, yet I still had no answers. I knew in my heart that I could never have an abortion – killing a being that hasn’t even had a chance at life is the worst crime anyone could commit.
“I’m not having an abortion,” I say, because mum is looking at me as if she expects answers.
“I’m not sure apart from that, but I am definitely not having an abortion.”
She slowly nodded, then asked another question:
“Whose is it?”
“A boy called Steven,” I answered, knowing that she would have no clue who he was as even I didn’t. I made up a name off the top of my head, knowing that if I had told mum the truth she would have murdered me and my unborn child.
“OK,” she said, and I could tell that she was trying very hard to be calm.
“And where did you meet him? How old is he? Did you use protection? Was it your first time?”
Loads of questions came tumbling out of her mouth, and I was slightly startled.
“I met him at school. He’s the same age as me. Yes we did. Yes it was.”
I lied through my teeth. I knew that if I told my mum about Kisten she would ban me from ever stepping foot out of the house again, as I wouldn’t ‘be trusted’. Kisten was the ever-hot forbidden fruit – the guy who will always appear gorgeous to me because I’m not allowed to have feelings for him.
“Mum, I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed, alright?” I stand up, suddenly drained of all my energy. She nods, staring moodily into her coffee cup as I leave the room.
“Kisten! Pick up your phone! I know you’re there! Pick up!” I hiss into the phone, not wanting to alert my mum to the fact that I was ringing him.
He had his own flat, which was good as it meant plenty of time for me and him there without being disturbed, but also bad because he was hardly ever there. I give up, resorting instead to bombarding his phone with text after text. Eventually, after about an hour, his phone is picked up.
“Hello?”
My heart leaps just at the sound of his husky voice.
Hey Kisten,” I say, and listen to the sound of his breathing get heavy.
“Baby, what’s up? I must have got more texts and calls form you in the last hour than I have --- ”
“My mum knows I’m pregnant,” I say, cutting him short. I heard a sharp intake of breath, then silence.
“Does she know its mine?” he asks quietly, so quietly I almost can’t hear him.
“Do you think I’m stupid? No of course she doesn’t know it’s yours! She thinks it’s the kid of some guy called Steven. I made it up, so don’t go all jealous and protective like you so often do.” I reply quickly and angrily.
“Come over,” he orders after a short pause.
“What? Now?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes now. What you think coming over in a year’s time would be better?” he gently teased me.
“All right. I’ll be there in about half an hour. I need to sneak out of my bedroom window, so don’t expect for at least a good 20 minutes.” I warn him.
“Or I could just wait round the corner for you in my car,” he offered.
I smile at his thoughtfulness, knowing that he cared about me if only because of his actions (and I’m not talking about in the bedroom!).
“That’d be great. See you in ten,” I breathe hurriedly, and hang up.
Seven and a half minutes later I am standing at the corner of my road, stifling even in my vest top and shorts. I hear the sound of an engine, and my heart speeds up. The car passes without slowing down, and my heart gradually returns to its normal rate.
A few minutes later and I hear the engine of a different sort of car – one that sounds a lot like Kisten’s. My breathing and heart rates increase, and I have to hold my breath to stop from gasping as he turns onto the main road. He’s cruising along with the top down in only a pair of jeans and a tight t-shirt, and as he spots me a grin spreads across his face. I rush to the car before it’s even stopped, climb in and do up my seatbelt. It’s important to get away fast, in case someone sees me with him and makes the connection between him and my mum.
We speed to his house, the wind ruffling my hair and making me smile. It’s great living here, I think to myself; the sun is hot yet the wind is cool.
At Kisten’s flat the mood quickly changes. While the atmosphere on the journey was cool and light, it darkens with each step. We sit down on his huge leather sofa.
“So,” I begin nervously.
“Your mum knows you’re pregnant at the age of 14. She thinks that you slept with a guy called Steven. She hopefully has no clue about us. Does that sum it all up?”
“Yep,” I say. I smile at him, trying to alleviate his worries, but he only frowns back at me.
“What is it?” I say, wondering what could have put him in such a bad mood.
"I’m thinking,” he answered shortly.
“About?” I push him further, hoping to gain a rare insight into his closed mind.
“About us. About your mum. About whether I think it’s actually fair to do this to her. I already broke her heart once – do I have to do it again?” I start to wish I hadn’t pushed him that far.
“Why? Why have you only started thinking about this now? Shouldn’t you have thought about it before you began sleeping with me?” I question, angry that the idea my mum might be hurt by us has only just occurred to him.
“I did think about it then! But I didn’t think that soon you would be carrying my child!” he explodes.
“And you think I did? If you think I’m any more prepared for this baby than you are you’re in for a shock! I’m 14 years old, pregnant, and with a guy who is the most unsuitable partner for me ever! So if you think that your life’s hard, try considering mine for a minute!”
I see red, unable to calm down as I can feel my heart racing in my head, a result of the intense anger coursing through my body. I know it’s unreasonable to blame Kisten for everything, but he is supposed to be the adult, the mature one. I’m supposed to be the stupid kid who’s fallen in love and acts like an idiot, but instead I find myself pregnant by a guy who has had very close ties to my mother before me. We both glare at each other, neither backing down nor looking away, until we suddenly crack a smile. And then I knew that everything would be all right. Kisten would look after me and our child, and I could rely on him to help me through.
A while later Kisten drives me home. After the argument we had kissed and cuddled, and talked about the future together – the three of us: him, me and our child. I felt much calmer, and although I wasn’t exactly looking forward to going home I knew it would be better because I had Kisten’s support.
I wasn’t expecting what happened when I got there though. I climbed quickly but quietly up the side of the house until I got to my bedroom window. There I almost dropped, because my mum was standing in my room! She was sitting on the bed with a worried expression on her face, one of my old teddies in her hands. She looked so anxious I hadn’t the heart to carry on avoiding her, so I opened the window and clambered in. Mum looked up at the noise and movement.
“And where have you been? I’ve been sitting here for hours, after feeling really guilty for ages as I’d obviously upset you enough that you couldn’t bear to be in the same room as me. I thought to myself, she must be really mad at me. Because although I think I reacted much better than my mum would have, you obviously didn’t share my opinion.
So I come up here with a mug of hot chocolate,” here she gestured to an unnoticed mug on the floor beside her, “and knock on the door to give it to you. When at first you didn’t answer I thought you must be ignoring me because you thought I’d be mad. So I told you about the cocoa and left it outside your door. But when I came upstairs again about half an hour later it was still sitting there, untouched. That was when I became suspicious.
I walked in here, and sat down on the bed where you were supposed to be. I picked up your bear, and I cried for a while because I thought you had run away, and I love you so much I can’t bear the thought of you not being here any more. But then I got worried when it hit five o’clock. Gradually, as the hours passed and you still weren’t home, that worry became anger.
How could you just leave me here with no idea where you were, who you were with and when you were going to be home? It’s totally unacceptable, and it’s just not fair!” Here mum stamped her foot, and I was surprised to note that she looked like I did when she wouldn’t let me do something.
I was totally shocked. I hadn’t even thought about mum while I’d been with Kisten, except for when it finally dawned on him that she might be hurt. The time had literally flown, and the only reason I was home now was because I happened to glance at my watch. Kisten hadn’t wanted me to go home, he’d wanted me to phone mum and say I was sleeping over at a friend’s, but I’d refused on account of the fact she was probably mad at me for my bombshell earlier.
“Mum I’m really sorry. I went for a walk to clear my head, but then I spotted some mates from school. We went to Kelly’s house, and just lost track of time. I’m so sorry though,” I quickly apologise.
It was almost the truth – I did go for a walk, just not to clear my head. And I didn’t see mates from school and go to Kelly’s house. That’s a point actually; I’ll have to get Kelly to cover for me. I must ring her really soon.
“Well, if you’re sorry it makes everything better doesn’t it? Yes, because the whole world apparently revolves around you. Sorry sweetheart, but it doesn’t. You’re grounded – the only place you’re allowed to go is school. And don’t climb out your window again, or I will take more drastic action,” mum sounded really bitter and sarcastic. She must have been really worried to sound like that.
She stormed out of the room after dumping my teddy on the floor. I picked it up and hugged it to my face, inhaling the smell of my mother’s perfume. I felt like a little child again.
A few days later
“Mum, why have you been in my room? You know I know you have, so why bother going in there at all?” I called as I walked into my bedroom. I got so irritated at the little things; it was worse than PMT.
“What do you mean?” she asked, walking in after me with innocence sketched into her features.
“I mean you’ve moved my stuff around!” I exclaimed. “Recently you’ve really been getting on my nerves! Why can’t you just stay out of my room?!”
“If you kept it tidy I wouldn’t need to come in here!” she retorted. “It’s your fault for staying in a pigsty!”
“I like it messy! I can find all my stuff that way! With you coming and interfering it all moves about and then I run late because I can’t find anything!” I shout back at her.
“Mothers are supposed to interfere! If you had come to me and told me you were planning on doing anything I would interfere! Like when you lost your virginity. If you had come and told me before you did it, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” she shouts.
“What would you know? You’re just a stupid cow who can’t even hold onto her fiancé!” I yell, really riled now.
“Don’t you dare bring Kisten into this! He has nothing to do with it!” mum roared.
“He has more to do with it than you do! He’s the father of my child!” I retort, smiling until I notice the disbelief and shock spreading across my mum’s face.
“He was engaged to be married to me. Then he goes and beds my teenage daughter? That pig is absolutely unbelievable! He broke my heart, so what? Now he wants to break my daughter’s as well? Will he not stop until he’s ripped apart all of our family?” she said, surprised into not shouting.
“He won’t break my heart! The only reason he broke yours is because he loves me!” I retort, reckoning that she’s wrong and Kisten will stop once me and him get married.
“What?” my mum asked, turning her head slowly to look at me. “What did you just say?”
“Kisten broke the engagement to you off because he loves me,” I repeat more slowly. “And he knew I wouldn’t develop our relationship unless you and him weren’t together any more.”
“You stupid little slut! He was my fiancé! You saw me moping around for weeks, and all the time you were climbing into his bed willingly? How could you?” she said.
“Quite easily actually. I just remembered all the times you were a bitch to me!” I reply angrily. I storm out the house, almost regretting the moment I saw grief spread across her face.
4 months later
“Ooh!” I said, shocked by a ripple of movement across my now-large belly. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and I was wrapping up presents in my room. The baby in my stomach had just kicked; it was still a strange sensation despite the fact it had been happening for months.
It was still going fine with Kisten; my mum and I had become closer as we bonded over my first child; everything was great as the days rapidly passed, getting closer and closer to the festive season. My mum came in.
“What is it?” she asked, worry etched into her face.
“Don’t worry mum, the baby just kicked. It’s just a shock, that’s all,” I replied, smiling broadly.
“The little guy’s just like you were – he won’t stop moving!” she said. “Is he still going now?”
“No, he’s stopped. I’ll call you next time though,” I answered, knowing that mum was still excited over having a new baby in the house. She would have preferred to wait a few more years before having grandchildren, but some things can’t be helped (or rather they can but they still happen).
“Great,” she called as she walked out of the room.
Christmas Eve
“Mum, how does childbirth feel?” I asked. It was one question that had been on my mind for ages, and although mum had been very open with me I hadn’t felt comfortable until now asking her.
“It hurts,” she laughed. “But then that’s obvious. It’s quite nice, in a way, because you know that at the end of it you’ll have a baby.”
“Tell me the story of how I was born,” I begged. I had already heard the story hundreds of times since I told my mum I was pregnant, but it was one that I could hear a million times more.
“No, silly. We’re watching a movie! Now shut up, here’s the best bit,” she replies teasingly.
“All right calm down!” I joked.
We watched the movie in silence for a bit, then I felt a sharp pain in my side.
“Ouch!” I said.
“What?” mum asked, immediately distracted from the film.
“It’s probably just indigestion. Don’t worry about it,” I reassured her.
“OK. I had bad indigestion with you, so I know what it’s like. Go take some Gaviscon,” she advised.
“All right,” I agree, and go to do so.
Once I get into the bathroom, however, the pain rippled across my belly once again, more violently than the last time. It cripples me for a second, but it soon passes. I take the Gaviscon, and return to the living room to finish watching the movie with my mum. Within a couple of minutes, however, the pain strikes again. It makes me gasp involuntarily, and my mum looks over at me with concern. I smile through the pain, pretending I’m fine, but secretly I’m anxious and worried about my unborn child.
When the pain hits my belly again, I convince myself to tell my mum.
“Mum, I think I’m going into labour,” I hear myself say with an air of detachment.
“What?” mum questions. “How can you be going into labour now? You’re not due till January!”
“Have you never heard of a premature birth?” I ask.
“Yeah, but I never thought it would happen to you! My family has a history of being late, not early!” she replies.
“Well, it appears I’m breaking the tradition,” I say through gritted teeth as another wave of hurting hits me.
“OK, now we’ve planned for this. Remember to breathe slowly and deeply each time a contraction comes. I’m going to ring for an ambulance. Darling, I know it hurts but you will get through it,” she says, getting up.
I nod, trying to remember her advice as each new wave of agony courses through my body.
Soon she comes back, and tells me the ambulance is on its way. I grit my teeth in return, as pain has just come back to torment my body further.
“Mum I want to push,” I say as the realisation hits me.
“Now? Oh God,” she says.
“Yeah now,” I reply. “When do you think – in a million years?”
“Ha,” mum laughs. “If you’re still making jokes you have a way to go yet.”
“Oh goodness,” I moan. “You mean I still have more of this?”
“Yes you do,” she says abruptly, rising to get the door. “But at least you’ll have a beautiful baby boy at the end of it.”
She comes back a minute later with the paramedics.
“You’re a bit young to being giving birth aren’t you?” one of them asks.
“Yeah but what do you care?” I retort, fed up with everyone because of the pain.
“All right love,” the other says. He looks nicer than the other – a bit like Santa. “What’s your name?”
“April,” I manage to say as yet another wave of pain strikes me unable to do anything but grit my teeth and hope for it to pass.
“And how old are you April?”
“Fourteen.”
“OK,” he replies. “Are you able to walk, or do you need some support?”
“I think I need a little help,” I say. “I’m not sure how able I’ll be to walk when the contractions come.”
“All right then,” he says. “We’ll get the wheelchair for you.”
I nod, and they come back with the wheelchair. They help me into it, and push me to the ambulance.
A short while later I was on the maternity ward. A doctor came to see me, and informed me of the fact that I was only 2cm dilated – basically I still had a long way to go.
There was a knock at the door. I answer it, getting up slowly and carefully, and find . . . Kisten!
“Oh my God,” I said. “You’re here!”
“Looks like it,” he replied with a grin.
“How did you get in? Does mum know you’re here?”
“I got in by letting the receptionist know that you, my girlfriend, was on the maternity ward in labour. And no, I haven’t seen her to let her know,” he replied.
“She’s going to go mental,” I warned him. “But I’m glad - Oh my God that hurts!”
I grabbed his hand and squeezed as another wave of pain hits me. He yelped, but eventually stopped.
“I take it you just had a contraction,” he said.
“Yep,” I answered, cheerful almost now that I was no longer in pain.
“Do you always grab the hand of the nearest person and squeeze until they can’t feel it anymore?” he enquired.
“No, that’s the first time,” I replied. “But I think that that was the worst contraction so far. I’m going to go lie down now, because I feel really tired.”
“OK,” he said, coming into the room after me. “By the way, I’m not going to do a disappearing act. I’m here for you and our little baby boy.”
I smile widely, unable to do anything else.
A few hours later I was in surgery. The doctor had told me that my baby was breech, although he should turn around by himself. He hadn’t, however, and so I had to have an emergency Caesarean.
I felt an odd tugging sensation, then a snip of scissors and a wail.
My gorgeous little baby was born to me and my boyfriend Kisten at 3:00am on Christmas Day 2008.