CATERPILLAR
by Aliya Whiteley

At first, it whistled. Early in the pregnancy, while Kate was still suffering from morning sickness, she kept catching a sound behind her, and turning, thinking the kettle was boiling or someone was trying to attract her attention. It took her over a month to work out that it was coming from inside her.

Then it would laugh, particularly first thing in the morning when it took her a minute to struggle up from the mattress and longer to pull her clothes on. She thought maybe it had the hiccups � she had heard her cousin talk about her baby having hiccups in the womb � but it only happened when Kate was frustrated by her growing size, or in pain. It seemed the baby found her suffering funny.

She waited a long time before she told Greg, knowing what he would say. But she had to talk to someone about it, so for a whole week she let him have the remote control to himself and didn�t complain when he talked about getting a motorbike in the hope that when she raised the subject on Sunday evening, in the lull of The Antiques Roadshow, he wouldn�t give her that look.

Her feet were on his lap, and he was watching a chest of drawers get valued as he rubbed them.

�Greg, the baby laughs,� she said.

�Isn�t he a bit young for that yet?� Greg said. �Can you believe that piece of junk was worth eight grand? I could do with some of that. Could get myself a Triumph. And something nice for the baby.�

�Well, it was whistling too. But now it laughs.�

He took her feet from his lap and stood up. �Want a cup of fruit tea?�

�No, thanks. I want to talk to you about the baby.�

�Babies can�t whistle, love. There�s no air in there. It must be trapped wind.�

�I know the difference between whistling and trapped wind!�

He switched off the television and gave her that look. �Well, you�re going through a lot of changes, and you can�t expect to know what�s happening in there. Make an appointment with the doctor� he�ll put your mind at rest. I�ll make you a fruit tea.�

He wandered off in the direction of the kitchen.

It was the first time someone had suggested to her that she should no longer expect to know anything about herself. Any emotion, pain, feeling or intuition could now be assigned to the pregnancy � it was in control of her, and Greg and the doctors were in control of it.

The next morning she started talking back to the baby.

When she tried to pick up the newspaper from the living room floor and strained her back, it gave a little giggle. She heard it.

�Show some respect to your mother,� she said, �or I�ll give you what for.�

The giggling stopped. Instead, from inside her, there emanated a wary silence.

�There,� she said. �That�s better.�

So, for a while, it appeared that it was just a case of needing to be the boss.

About a month later, six months into the pregnancy, it upped the stakes. It spoke to her. Kate was struggling to rub some moisturising cream into her lumpy thighs. Standing naked in front of the bedroom mirror, she reminded herself of a gigantic white, blue-veined caterpillar, twisting around, bulging with the potential to split open and reproduce. All that would be left of her after the birth was a pile of skin on the floor. The baby was draining her of life.

�That�s right,� it said.

She stopped rubbing her thighs.

�Gonna change you,� it said. �Heh.�

Kate dragged herself to the edge of the bed and sat down. The springs crunched under her weight.

�Moron,� it said.

�Stop insulting me,� she whispered.

�I�ve got your number. I know all about you. You�ve got no idea, have you?�

�Shut up,� she said, trying to shout, but her voice was barely louder than the one inside her. She lay down and jammed a pillow over her head. �Shut up.�

�Don�t you know you�ve got me forever? Might as well get used to it.�

�No��

�Shall I open your eyes, metaphorically speaking?�

Kate threw the pillow across the room and jammed her fingers in her ears.

�You are funny,� the voice said fondly. �Funny Mummy. I know something you don�t know. You�re little better than a baby yourself, doing what you�re told, listening to the experts. If you can listen to them, you can listen to me. And I�ve got plenty to say. Let�s start with self-knowledge, shall we? Every human being has the ability��

It took an eternity for the clock to crawl round to five, and another twenty minutes for Greg to get home from work.

�Talk to it,� she demanded, pointing at her stomach.

Greg pulled off his coat and hung it on the rack. �Nice to see you too,� he said. �I could do with a coffee and kiss hello.�

�Tell it to stop.�

He kneeled down and put his lips against her bump. �Stop being mean to Mummy, tiger,� he whispered, and then looked up at her, smiling. �How was that?�

�Crap,� the voice inside her said. �Did you really think that would work?�

She stomped off into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. A moment later, she felt Greg�s hands push between her arms to stroke her stomach. �What�s up?�

�You wouldn�t believe me,� she said. �Just do me a favour and stay out of my way for a while. Go and look at bikes on the computer.�

�Is he being bad in there?� He tapped a spot just below her belly button, and the baby moved in response.

She slapped his hands away. �Get off me!�

�Fine.�

Greg left the kitchen. Kate refused to act on her impulse to go after him.

�He�s not very masterful, is he?� the voice inside her said. �Bit of a loser, actually.�

�I�m beginning to realise that,� she muttered.

�So you�re finally getting the idea! You have to take responsibility for this yourself. It�s no good expecting a man to save you. Let me tell you about personal freedom and how to fight for it��

�Please don�t,� she begged, but it had already launched into another speech.

***

The next three months felt like a lifetime to Kate.

When she finally went into labour, one cold Thursday morning, she phoned Greg at work to come and pick her up. She couldn�t stop crying all the way to the hospital. There was no way she could explain to Greg that she was crying with relief.

�You�ve got at least another five hours to go, dear,� the midwife said. �It�s too early to be pushing.�

�Are you going to let someone else dictate to you about your body?� the voice in Kate said.

�It�s coming now!� she screamed.

�Listen to the midwife,� Greg urged.

�He really is totally ineffectual,� the voice said. �Tell him to piss off.�

�Piss off!� she shouted into Greg�s face. He retreated to the far end of the room and pushed open the curtain to look outside.

�That wasn�t nice,� the midwife told her, wagging her finger.

The voice inside Kate came up with a few choice descriptions for the midwife, and she passed them all on. The midwife backed out of the room and a minute later the doctor arrived.

�Hello,� he said. �Shall I take a look?�

He peered between her legs.

�Pervert,� the voice inside Kate said. �You know he�s getting a thrill out of this? A man seeing a woman in pain. It makes his day.�

�Oh,� the doctor said. �The baby�s coming now.�

�We told you that!� the voice and Kate said simultaneously, and then the pushing began, drowning out all other considerations.

***

Kate looked down into the face of her newborn daughter.

Her daughter didn�t look back at her. Her eyes were shut, and her face was empty. She was a blank slate. She had no ideas of her own yet.

She had no voice.

�Did you really think I was coming out of a baby?� the voice inside her said.

***

�You�re not doing it right,� Kate said to Greg, snatching the nappy away from him. �I�ll do it. Can�t you ever get anything right?�

�Sorry,� Greg said, moving to one side. He pulled a face at the baby. She was too young to smile, but Greg thought he could see happiness shining out of her little face. �She�s going to be a stunner when she grows up, isn�t she?�

�Don�t put your unimportant assumptions on our child, Greg. It�s not what she looks like, it what she thinks that matters.�

�Sorry,� Greg said again. He couldn�t seem to say it enough nowadays. He got up and slouched into the computer room, hoping to look at a few bikes before Kate used the opportunity to tell him he was being brainwashed, wanting the thrill of speed as a macho bullshit statement.

Motherhood had altered her, no doubt about it. All his friends had said the same thing � they change once they get pregnant. Suddenly you�re not important any more. Only the baby matters. Nothing pleased Kate any more, and when he tried to ask her what was wrong, she told him that he couldn�t possibly understand.

He understood one thing � he understood mothers and daughters. Kate used to moan about her own mother, saying she was a battleaxe, too demanding, refusing to accept what Kate wanted out of life, saying Greg was never good enough, her life was never good enough.

Give it fifteen years, and his daughter would be saying the same thing about Kate. And he�d be tempted to agree with her.

Greg looked at a picture of a Triumph and imagined freedom.

� Aliya Whiteley
Reproduced with permission

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