neck so she could see into Catrionaâs pram. âAnd who is this little one?â
âHis nameâs Sebastian.â
âHeâs a cutie. Look at all that hair!â
Catriona sat at the end of the table and positioned Sebastianâs pram next to her, grateful that he was asleep so she wouldnât have to feed him a bottle in front of everyone. She listened without contributing to the conversation as the women spoke about their pregnancies, babies and husbands. Rochelle told the women about the trouble she had experienced getting her daughter to breast-feed, and how much it had upset her. Catriona started to think that maybe her doctor was right; maybe being around other mothers was what she needed. But then the conversation turned to the womenâs birth stories.
âTwenty-three hours and then a natural birth,â said Rebecca, a heavy-set woman with dark hair pulled back in a severe part. âNo drugs.â
All the women except Catriona gasped or offered her their congratulations, as if she had just swum the English Channel.
âPlanned C-section,â said another woman, Nadia. âNot by choice, of course. Iâm not too posh to push or anything like that. The doctor said Ronanâs huge head wasnât going to fit through my pelvis without tearing me open.â Catriona stared at Nadia, stunned that she could talk about it so casually. She glanced around the table, but the other women didnât seem put off.
Rochelle nodded at Nadia and murmured her approval. âYou made the right choice. I had to have an episiotomy with Ruby. The scarâs taking ages to heal. It still hurts when I sit down.â
âWhat about you, Catriona?â the fourth woman, a redhead named Naomi, asked as she attached her baby to her nipple without even looking at what she was doing. To Catrionaâs amazement, the baby started sucking immediately.
âWhat about what?â Catriona asked, not able to take her gaze away from Naomiâs breast.
âTell us about how you had Sebastian.â
âWhy?â
The four women exchanged a glance before Nadia spoke. âWell . . . weâre just curious, thatâs all.â
âI had a caesarean,â Catriona said.
âA planned one?â asked Rebecca.
âNo.â
âSo, it was an emergency caesar?â Rochelle asked.
âI guess so.â
Nadia stroked the downy hair of the baby cradled in the crook of her arm. Ronan, supposedly. The one with the head too big for her pelvis. âDid you go into labour?â
âYes.â
âThat must have been terrible, you poor thing,â Nadia said. âGoing through labour and then ending up with a C-section after all. Were you in labour long?â
âI donât know. Long enough. Is there anywhere to get a coffee around here?â
Catriona left Sebastian in his pram by the table and walked over to a small kiosk at the corner of the park. The milk in her coffee tasted burned, but Catriona drank it anyway. She wished there was a way she could grab Sebastian and take him home without having to speak to the women again, but she knew that was impossible.
Naomi smiled at her as she sat back down. âHowâs the coffee?â
âItâs decaf,â Catriona said immediately. It wasnât.
âOf course, I wasnât . . . I didnât mean anything.â
Catriona felt like they were all staring at her, judging her. None of them was drinking coffee. As soon as she left the table they would probably call child services, who would come to take Sebastian away from her. Maybe they had already called. She had seen Nadia on the phone while she was ordering her coffee. She glanced around the park, looking for the people who had come to take Sebastian away, but she couldnât see anyone.
âSo, youâre breast-feeding, then?â Rebecca asked.
âYes,â Catriona said, turning back to look at
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