The date was December 27th. Roger and I had gotten so much for our baby at Christmas and we didn’t know where to put most of it. Today was the big day. We were interviewing four people for the position of nurse midwife. Most of the applicants had applied for the simple fact that they knew it was midwife job for a celebrity couple. The four we had chosen seemed to be the best candidates in terms of experience, and genuine interest in Roger and me instead of the romance of being the nurse midwife that would ultimately add ‘cared for the Taylor baby’s mother’ to their resume. Roger was typically quite cordial with the press and the media and until it involved me. He wanted a midwife who hadn’t any previous experience with celebrity couples and he wanted a midwife who doted over me and not him. We scheduled our interviews for 9:00, 11:00, 1:00, and 3:00. I was jealous because Roger looked positively handsome for our interviews and I looked like a pregnant lady.  We had prepared a pot of coffee, a pot of tea and set out some assorted appetizers we had ordered in. We were all set for our day of interviews; a little nervous but ready to get them completed and get someone hired.

 Mary held Michael in her arms, rubbing and patting his back and soothing him. He was very close to going down for his nap and Robert had already fallen asleep. Veronica sighed as she retuned to the living room where Mary sat on the couch. “Well, Robbie is fast asleep.” She said, seeing that Michael was beginning to relax and drift off himself. Mary continued to soothe him. “Do you want me to take him?” Veronica asked. Mary shook her head.

 “He’s fine. Just let him fall asleep.” She said, giving Veronica a soft smile. She had stopped by for the afternoon. John was out for the day with his parents and Veronica, at home with the boys.

 “So, how was Christmas?” Veronica asked, all smiles. “John and I had a most wonderful time at his parents’ house. Oh, you should have seen how cute the boys were. It really felt like Christmas…having John home and seeing how very relaxed and content he seemed. He just acts like touring is eating on him this time around.” Veronica said. Mary smiled again as Michael began to fall asleep. She continued to rub his back, averting her gaze to the couch. Veronica watched her carefully.

 “Do you want to tell me why you’re so very quiet?” Veronica asked as Mary looked up to meet her stare. She sighed.

 “I’m sorry. You asked me over and I’m not being a very good friend.” Mary said.

 “Mary, what’s wrong?” Veronica asked, being able to see that she clearly wasn’t herself. Mary sighed a bit nervously.

 “I haven’t mentioned this to anyone. I’ve been….I’ve been occupied. Since around November, I’ve been doing some research.” She paused. “Freddie called me, from the United States early in the tour. He…he was complaining of some…some physical symptoms.” She said. Veronica had a peculiar look on her face. “You know, kind of like when you get the flu. Things like swollen lymph nodes, sore throat, headaches….sweating, sickness to his stomach....” She said as Michael had fallen asleep.

 “So, it sounds like flu symptoms, yes?” Veronica questioned. Mary shook her head.

 “It sounds like the flu, you’re right. The thing is…is this. Freddie has been complaining of these flu symptoms for over a month. It’s been the same things over and over….the same complaints every time I’ve spoken with him. He…” Mary exhaled heavily, her breath shuddering. She had to hand Michael over to Veronica to wipe her eyes.

 “Mary!” Veronica said, rather surprised, having never seen her like this.

 “Freddie…he got wind of….of this disease that had been reported in the United States.” Mary sniffed. “A disease that begins as if you are getting the flu.” Mary said.

 “Did he need to get an antibiotic or something? That would help the symptoms right?” Veronica inquired, laying Michael on the couch as he continued to sleep peacefully. Mary shook her head.

 “I have been doing…so much research. There’s a disease that was recently published in a medical periodical titled the Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report. It was published in Los Angeles.” Mary paused and her hands became clammy. “It’s called….Pneumocystis Carinii Pneumonia…PCP. I’ve talked to doctors at University of California, Los Angeles and I’ve talked to….to doctors in Oxford…” she stopped again.

 “I…I’m afraid I don’t follow where you’re…” Mary cut Veronica off.

 “I have done nothing but research this disease. It’s a form of pneumonia that was reported by five healthy men in the Los Angeles area.” Mary said, wiping her eyes.

 “Okay?” Veronica said. Mary swallowed hard and looked at Veronica with tearful eyes.

 “Five healthy gay men reported flu-like symptoms before being diagnosed with this PCP.” Veronica reached for Mary’s hand as she spoke. “Freddie was doing some reading on his own. No one else knew about it…not Brian or….John or Roger. He was asking around and making some calls. He wanted me to make him an appointment with his physician here in London to do some further testing to see if he….if he was pre-dispositioned for PCP.” Mary’s voice began to crack.

 “Alright, and so?” Veronica shrugged. “Did you make him one.” Mary shook her head.

 “I did. He and I went to his doctor the day after Christmas and nine vials of blood were drawn. They took a urine specimen, saliva sample…” Mary swallowed again.

 “And what happens next?” Veronica asked, still uncertain as to why Mary was so upset.

 “We wait. The results of the test will come back after Freddie has left for the tour again. Veronica, it’s not as simple as yes you have PCP or no you don’t…” Mary said.

 “What if he does have this…this pneumonia thing? You can always have a prescription mailed to hi…” Mary interrupted Veronica. She didn’t mean to raise her voice and wake Michael.

 “Two of the five men died before the report was published! After the report came out dozens and dozens and dozens of men came forward reporting similar symptoms and complaints of colds that would never go away! Veronica, there have been 270 cases reported of these immune system related problems and opportunistic infections associated with it! Of the 270 cases….121 resulted in death. Doctor’s don’t know why! They don’t know enough about PCP or….or whatever it is! They can only look at a patient’s blood! What if…” Mary put her head in her hands as the tears streaked her face. Veronica was still trying to digest it all. Veronica carefully placed Michael toward the back of the couch.

 “Come here. Come here, Mary. It’s alight. It’s alright…ssshhh…” she held on to Mary who was weeping like she never had before. “It’s okay, you’ve don’t everything you can. Fred’s gonna’ be just fine. Mary it’s a case of partying too hard coupled with the flu. Everything’s going to be okay.” Veronica said, moving her hand along Mary’s back and giving her a sweet pat. All Mary needed right now was a shoulder to cry on. It was official, she had untaken so much. Nearly to the point of breaking. It was now a waiting game.

 Harriett Kinderwell was a 55-year-old devout Catholic woman from Scotland and the last of mine and Roger’s interviews for the day. I was emotionally exhausted from all this and Roger could tell. Ms. Kinderwell had obviously been living under a rock because upon arrival at our estate, she was in awe. She was even more taken aback when she learned that she had responded to the request for a nurse midwife for a celebrity couple. To be honest, I think the only Queen she knew…was Elizabeth.

 She looked around our home upon entering our door like a tourist who had just arrived at their destination. She crossed herself twice before our interview even began. She was kind, soft-spoken and took an in Roger and I.

 “Um, salary can negotiable and…” Roger stopped me. 

 “No, no it’s not negotiable. You name your price because she needs full time care here and I can’t be here for ‘er. I gotta’ leave in 18 days to tour again. I can’t do what it is that she needs the most right now. Her mum lives in Cambridge and won’t know what to do if a medical need arises. My mum lives in Cornwall and it’s the same situation. She has no one and she needs help.” Roger so passionately shared. 

 “He is right, actually. You would also have a fully furnished guest room, which we will show you today and of course, access to our kitchen, you know for meals or anything and whatever else here at the house you need. Oh! And we have a fully stocked liquor cabinet. That thing never runs dry.” I shook my head and smiled. “I make a wicked cosmopolitan.” Roger laughed and elbowed me, shaking in head in full agreement.

 “Oh….O…okay.” Harriett tentatively said. 

 “Do you have any questions for us?” I asked of her. 

 “Actually, yes….yes. I do have a few questions. What’s your pregnancy story?” she asked, all smiles in her thick Scottish accent.

 “Pregnancy story…hmm…” I looked to Roger, he looked at me. We were both thinking. “Well, it’s…I…we really don’t know for sure but we were at my parents farm in September and we were drunk. Before I knew it I was bent over the island bar in the kitchen, the parmesan pesto tortellini appetizers to my left and the beef tenderloin sliders to my right and me between them getting pounded hard like uh, uh, uh, uh!”

 “Lyd, stop doin’ the hand motions…” Roger mumbled to me, reaching for my arm and tucking my hand underneath his thigh. 

 "Sorry, sorry..." I mumbled back.

 “Oh my god! That is…not what I meant at all!” Oh poor Harriett was traumatized. Roger was right…it was the hand motions that did her in. She partially hid her face in her hand. 

 “I…I meant….when…did you start trying to get pregnant? What was it like for you to find out?” she smiled at us nervously.

 “Okay, you…you go this time.” I looked to Roger.

 “Alright, Umm…well. We tried to get pregnant once…I mean, we didn’t have sex one time and expect to get pregnant, that’s not what I mean. But you know how it’s creepy when you say oh we’re trying to get pregnant and people automatically think you’re makin’ homemade hardcore porn for hours and hours a day?” I shook my head in agreement with Roger. Harriet looked at both of us with that same look again. 

 “No.” she said shaking her head. 

 “Okay, um…so we tried to get pregnant once and…well she went to the doctor for some tests and long story short. Her body basically attacks sperm.”

 “Oh, nukes the hell out of it.” I added.

 “So, her doctor tells her that she has about a 20% shot so we didn’t really try anymore.”

 “God, he doesn’t mean we stopped sleepin’ together!” I interjected.

 “No! No, no, no, no. God, no. We just figured it wasn’t gonna’ happen for us. She hasn’t been on birth control for over a year and the only thing we can figure is that her prolonged use of the pill made her insides more stable.” Roger shared. Harriet shook her head, genuinely interested in our story but also a bit scared of us.

 “So, it was quite a joy when you had a positive test, yes?” she smiled at us.

 “Huh? God no! I was mindin' my own business. I wanted a cigarette and a cocktail but instead I had a big plus sign and an utter sense of oh fuck! I didn’t know how it happened.” I shared with her. 

 “Yeah, yeah….it was...shocking. It was very shocking. When she told me I’m pretty sure my heart stopped for a minute.” Roger shook his head. Harriet shook her head. 

 “Lydia, pregnancy is a journey. What’s your journey like?” Harriet asked me. I stared at Harriet with almost tearfully honest eyes. I sighed and looked at Roger. At this point, I had nearly had enough of this.

 "It's...it hasn't been easy. It's hard. It's very hard. It's painful. I hate it." I stopped and rapped my fingers on my knees before sighing and squirming a little. "There! There, I said the thing that pregnant women don't say! I hate being pregnant. It's horrible. Every day I get bigger and something else changes! I look at Roger and I haven't and I actually resent the fact that he still looks like Roger...because I don't look like Lydia! He can pick up a cigarette or a drink any time he wants! He doesn't have to worry about whether or not he's going to throw up whatever it is he just ate or if a certain smell is going to make him dizzy. Every woman who talks about pregnancy being some magical fucking joyride is an idiot!" I stopped and sniffed, clearly feeling the tears in my eyes. You just don't know what it's like to look in the mirror in the morning and have no idea who you are anymore." I wept. I could feel Harriet's soft, kind eyes on me but even more so, I could feel Roger's arms around me. I had reached my breaking point for the day.

 "You wanna lay down, babe? I'll make you some tea?" His voice was so very soft and comforting. I was trying to dry my eyes for the embarrassment."S'cuse me, I'm..." Roger pointed to me and then Harriet and then lipped something to her as she shook her head. "C'mon, baby. Let's get you to bed. I'll put the tea on." 

 "I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. I don't mean to...I'm sorry. Harriett, it was very nice to meet you.That embarrassed me even more because there was a stranger in my home and here Roger was with a mopey, hormonally wild, crazy woman on his hands. 

 Poor Harriett had been sitting quietly and politely in the exact spot for a good solid twenty minutes. Roger finally returned to her; preparing to say something. Harriet shook her head.

 "You needn't say anythin'." She said. 

 "This is really hard on her." Roger said, his tone a little helpless. “She’s held it together very well today.”

 "Believe me, I've been a midwife for a long time and..." Roger stopped her.

 "I realize you have a lot of experience but you don't know my wife. I mean you don't really know her. Lydia..." He stopped again. "...Lydia is strong and confident and she's tough as nails and...and I've only been home for a few days and in that time I've watched my strong, confident wife fall apart. Sure her hormones are a little wacky but what you're seeing there...that's not pregnancy. That's a woman who put so much pressure on herself to be perfect and she doesn’t think she is.”  Roger paused. "But she is...she really is. All that throwin' up her doctor has been worried about? Harriett, that's not morning sickness. That's her eating disorder rearing its ugly head. Look..." Roger sighed. "She's been better since I've been home. But, I to leave again in January and I personally think you're best qualified. The starting date would be January 17. If you tell me yes today that you'll take this job; I'll let you name your price and I'll tell Lyd later. Her problems will occur when I leave and she's enduring all the...the pregnancy stuff on her own. That's when she's going to need support." He paused again and looked at Harriet with fearful eyes. "Look, I am scared shitless about this. But, I have to hold myself together for her because Lydia feeds off me. When I get back on that plane; I'll crack. She's made me a father and I have 6 months to figure out how the hell to be one." He confessed. Harriett smiled kindly.

 "Mr. Taylor, I will take your job. You need to remember that you're pregnant too. Your wife goes through the obvious pregnancy but a man experiences it in a very different way. There is nothing wrong with being afraid and there isn't a wrong way to be a good father to your baby. Don't overthink it so much." She said, offering her words of kindness. Roger shook his head, feeling a little relief having shared his fear with her. 

 "I feel like I need to share some things with you that I would really like for you to take some notes on about what works for Lydia." Roger said. Harriett shook her head and took the tablet and pen from the table beside her.

 "I'm ready." She assured him. 

 "Lyd and I…we’re not exactly religious people. We will offend you, okay? And she will a lot.  She will say things that will probably rub you the wrong way. But...you need to look past that. We're just...we're quite a bit different than you. Now for the real stuff; when you prepare any meals for Lyd; eat with her. Don't fix her something and leave it for her to eat alone. She won't. She'll either pick it or eat it and then throw it right up. I don't care if you have to eat seven times a day. Sit down with her every time.

 Um, tea calms her down; it settles her...makes 'er sleepy. If she's restless or emotional or it seems like she’s had a long day; make 'er some. This will sound very..." Roger stopped and shook his head. "...childish but...tuck her in at night. Walk around the bed on both sides and straighten up the covers. Talk to her while you do it. She'll roll over, jam the covers between her legs and hold 'er pillow. She likes to fall asleep with the Telly on." Roger stopped again. "I guess that's all...that's all I worry about." Harriett smiled at him. 

 "Mr. Taylor, I must admit. You and your wife both come across as a bit excessive. You like to spend money and I think you both are a little insecure. But if you know how to take care of your wife like that; you'll make a good father." Roger shook his head.

 "You don't understand how I've drug Lydia over the coals, okay? I owe her everything. I have to be a good father." He said sincerely. "Let's talk about your salary and the things you'll need here for you're stay at our home." Roger smiled most contentedly at Harriett. He felt a sense of relief in knowing that Harriett Kinderwell would look after me and keep me in check. 

Mary. however, was still in need of someone to keep her in check.