Chapter 15

"I don't think it'll fit, Jon" said Mike, peering over his shoulder at the little yellow babygro he was holding.  "Besides, it's not really your colour!"

"Ha bloody ha!" he said.  "If you want to make yourself useful, go and put the kettle on!"

"I don't want to make myself useful" said Mike, planting himself firmly on the sofa. "I want to be an idle git and let you make it!!"

"Wassock!" said Jon, throwing a cushion in his direction, and disappearing into the kitchen.  "The fact that it's my house and I should be making the tea anyway has nothing to do with it!!"

Mike followed him into the kitchen, and sat down at the table, while they waited for the kettle to boil.

"You know what this proves, don't you?" said Jon.

"What?" said Mike  "Donna being pregnant?  It proves that you've got plenty of snap in your celery!"

After a few minutes of helpless laughter, they both sobered up.  Jon spoke first.

"Now we're being serious, what I meant was it proves that if you never lose hope, things eventually begin to look up, and that's finally happened for us.  I'm just hoping that it's not too good to be true, like it was last time."

"I'm sure everything'll work out" said Mike, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.  "No-one deserves it more than you."

"I've got some good friends" he said, his voice choked.  "And God knows I've needed them!"

"All part of the service!" said Mike, too moved to say anything else.

The weeks passed, and Donna's pregnancy progressed well, she was looking positively radiant.  Her mother's knitting needles were never still, and almost daily, presents for the baby arrived in the post from Jon's family.  It was wonderful to know that, in just a couple of months, they were going to be parents - and this time it was for real.  They both remembered the first time she had felt the baby kick - Jon had spent the entire evening with his hand on her stomach, almost as though he wanted to feel every kick, every small sign that their baby was waiting to make his or her entrance into the world.

The only downside was that, following a scan, Donna's baby was found to be in the breech position, meaning that a Caesarean section was necessary.  She had been hoping to avoid this, but in the end she decided that as long as her baby was born healthy, she did not really care how it arrived!

Finally, the due date arrived, and, feeling nervous but happy, they made their way to the hospital.  Donna was settled into a bed, and preparations were made for her to have the baby the next day.

It seemed like he had been waiting an age, but, in reality it had only been about an hour or so, when the surgeon came through to him, but he was not smiling.  Jon felt his heart lurch - please, not again, he thought.

"I'm delighted to tell you that your wife has had a healthy baby girl"  he said.  "but I'm a little concerned at how long she is taking to come around - we're experiencing a few problems..."

"What kind of problems?"  Jon gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white.  "What are you trying to say?"

"We're sure everything will be fine" said the surgeon, trying to reassure him.  "would you like to see your daughter?"

He nodded wordlessly, this was not the start to fatherhood he had envisaged.  A few minutes later, he looked up to see a nurse carrying a tiny bundle wrapped in a white shawl - his daughter.

"Here" she said, offering him the baby.  "Meet your daughter!"

She placed the baby in his arms.  As he gazed at her tiny, perfect features, nothing could have prepared him for how he felt right now.  He stroked her wispy blonde hair, and, as he touched her tiny hand, she instinctively gripped his finger, her mouth desperately searching for something that only Donna could give her.  He felt desperately happy, as he held his newborn daughter, but at the same time, he was worried for his wife - why was she taking so long to come round?  He was shaken out of his reverie by a nurse offering him a small bottle of milk.

"Just until Donna can feed her" she said.  "How does it feel to be a daddy?"

"I don't know!" he said, tears suddenly pouring down his face.  "I can't put into words just how I feel right now!  I've only just laid eyes on her, and yet I love my little girl more than anything in the world - I would lay down my life for her!  I've waited so long for this - so long...."

The nurse sat down next to him, putting her arm around his shoulders, as, for some inexplicable reason, he began to sob uncontrollably.  He had never felt like this before - the feelings he was experiencing were so intense, so overwhelming, that he did not know what to do.

"I'm sorry!" he said, trying desperately to control himself.  "I've made such a bloody fool of myself!"

"Of course you haven't!" she said, smiling.  "You're not the first father to cry when their baby's born, and you won't be the last, either!"

They both looked up when the surgeon came into the room.  His face looked grim.  Jon looked at him as a sudden unexplainable fear gripped his heart.

"I'm sorry" he said.  "but I have to tell you, your wife has suffered an allergic reaction to the anaesthetic, and we have transferred her to intensive care"

"Oh, Jesus - no!"  Jon looked down at his now sleeping daughter, then back at the surgeon.  "She'll be all right, won't she?"

The surgeon's reply that they were doing all they could did little to reassure him, and he realised that, once again, like so many times before, his future happiness was in God's hands.