You Bring Me Home

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April 2026

I woke with a start, my heart pounding. It took me a second to recognise my surroundings before I remembered I was at my parents' house in Cambridge and Harry was breathing deeply next to me. The sun was filtering through a gap in the curtains, and I could hear the distant sounds of my parents moving around downstairs, presumably having breakfast. The clock next to our bed read 7.31 a.m., which meant my dad would be leaving for work shortly and my mum would be pottering about, making his lunch and tidying up. 

I rolled over from my left to my right, but before I was even half way over I realised something was wrong. The bed beneath me was soaking wet. I gasped in shock and attempted to sit up, but at thirty eight weeks pregnant this was no mean feat. I eventually struggled into a sitting position and lifted the duvet to inspect further. There was a large wet patch that had soaked through the sheet onto the maternity bed protector below, and my long tshirt was sticking to my legs. 

"Harry," I said, nudging him with my elbow. "Harry!"

"Mmhhh," he mumbled, his eyes tightly shut.

"Harry! My waters have broken!"

He rolled over in bed, his eyes wide, staring at me. "What?!" 

"Well either that or I've wet the bed," I told him, and he peeked under the duvet.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, running his hand through his hair. "OK, um, let me think... we need to get you to hospital. Have you rung the maternity ward?"

"I don't even have the number for anywhere in Cambridge," I told him, feeling a tinge of panic. "I wasn't expecting to go into labour this early! And I don't fancy attempting to make it back to London!"

"Good job I did my research then, isn't it," he smiled, reaching for his phone and scrolling through his contacts. "There's a maternity hospital in Cambridge - Rosie Hospital. The labour ward number is in my phone." He handed me his phone and I saw it was already dialling a local Cambridge number. 

"How did you...?" I began, staring at him as I lifted the phone to my ear and waited while it rang.

"You were so adamant she wouldn't arrive early, but I just wanted to be prepared," he shrugged. "I brought your hospital bag with us, too, just in case. It's in the boot of the car, so we're ready to go."

"Labour ward," said a voice in my ear.

"Oh hi, my waters have broken," I began. "Just checking it's OK to come in?"

"How long ago did they break?" the midwife asked.

"I'm not sure, I've just woken up about two minutes ago to a wet bed," I explained. "No contractions yet."

"Is this your first baby?"

"No, third," I replied. "My youngest is two and a half."

"OK, you'd better come straight in," she advised. "Can I take your name?"

"Jessica Styles," I supplied. 

"Do you have anyone who can bring you in?"

"My husband is here, he'll be bringing me," I told her. "We live in London, so this isn't our local hospital. We're visiting my parents. I'm thirty eight weeks and two days."

There was a pause. "Oh - I have some details here," she said. "Your husband called us last week and booked a private suite. Come straight to ante-natal, and we'll assess you."

"You booked a private suite?" I demanded after I had hung up the phone and handed it back to Harry. "I'm not due for another two weeks!"

"Yet here we are, about to head down there," he answered smugly as he slid out of bed and came round to my side. "Do you need a hand getting dressed?"

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