39 Weeks (13 page)

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Authors: Terri Douglas

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We went into the examining room, if that’s what it was called, and were confronted by a barrage of medical equipment and machinery all lined up around the bed come couch table, ready for easy access. Just that was enough to want to make me turn and run. Not that I could run, even when I wasn’t pregnant or getting rounder by the minute I was pretty rubbish at running, and now with my frozen back-side the thought was almost laughable.

I peeled off my jeans, I really was goi
ng to have to do some fat
clothes shopping soon, and laid on the couch table as ordered. The nurse wasted no time, after checking that I was who I was supposed to be and that she’d got the right file for the right person, she lifted my tee shirt and pulled down my pants and slapped a handful of freezing gel onto my rounded stomach. It wouldn’t have surprised me to find out that they froze the gel on purpose, just for the sadistic hell of it.

Then she held some kind of flat probe over my distended stomach moving it around and studying the monitor. Almost instantly
I he
ard
the soft
regular
thud of my heartbeat and
a picture appeared on the screen, if you could call it a picture that is. It was black and white and to call it grainy wouldn’t do it justice. She um’d and
aah’d
a bit to get the blurry interference fuzz just right and said ‘look, you
r
baby’.

I looked but the picture looked nothing like a baby
. ‘Here’, she said pointing with her finger to a white splurge no different from all the other white splurges dotted around the screen. Was I supposed to be able to see something, something even vaguely baby shaped? Because I didn’t. No matter how hard I tried to focus it was all just a really bad fuzzy picture on a TV monitor that needed fixing.

‘Mmm.’ I said trying to sound appreciative. ‘Look Shelley.’

‘Mmm.’ Shelley said, obviously she was having the same trouble I was.

‘Baby’s heartbeat is
good and
strong.’
The nurse said.

‘That’s the baby’s heartbeat?’ I said surprised.

‘Yes.’ She laughed. ‘Who’s did you think it was?’

‘I thought it was mine.’ I said to which she laughed again, looking at me in a despairing way. Can someone please explain why everyone remotely medical thinks everything I say is so amusing, I mean if it took them five, seven, or even ten years of dedicated study to learn everything they know, then how is everyone else non-medical, and without all that studying
supposed to automatically know everything they know. If that was the case then you wouldn’t need to go to the doctor for anything would you, you’d just diagnose and treat yourself.

‘Would you like a picture to keep?’ The nurse asked.

‘Yes that would be nice.’ I lied.

‘That’ll be four pound’s twenty.’ She said missing her vocation of working in John Lewis. Then after seeing the surprise on my face
at being charged at all said ‘s
orry we have to charge
for prints of your scan
now, cut back’s you know.’

She cleaned off the gel and I climbed off the couch table to retrieve my jeans. By the time I’d got them back on and had sorted out the safety pin holding them up, the button at the waist no longer being functional, she was waiting for the printout of my scan
to come off the printer
. I paid the four twenty without a murmur, and she slid the scan print into an envelope, which I straight away stashed in the depths of my bag, hoping that later given
enough
time and maybe the use of a magnifying glass I might be able to see some resemblance somewhere on it to a baby.
Then I ran inelegantly
and as fast as I could manage
to the nearest loo that thankfully was on the same floor
,
and peed for ten minutes nonstop.

12

5
th
September – Week 14
+ 1 Day

After the scan Shelley and I had gone for a coffee together before both hurrying as fast as possib
le to our respective workplaces
to arrive at around noon
so
actually
it was
more
like
lingering as fast as possible
,
which wasn’t very fast at all really.

Shelley had noticed how tight my clothes were getting and agreed to come with me on Saturday to choose a few things that would be more comfortable.
So Saturday morning I met her in town at the sam
e coffee place, where we picked up on
our conversation as if we hadn’t had a couple of
days break in
between.

Of course the first thing I
’d
wanted to know was what had happened on the expensive dinner date. Had he proposed? Had she said yes?
She was smiling so I’d already guessed that the answer to both was in the affirmative.

‘Ok give me all the details, every word. Don’t hold back.’
I told her and she didn’t.

I won’t bore you
with all the he said and
she said stuff, but the outcome was that he’d asked if she’d like to move in together, so not a proposal as such, well not a marriage one, but still a proposal of sorts. And Shelley was like a kid in a sweet shop with a tenner in thei
r hand to spend, obviously
quite happy
about
the idea
,
and
told me she’
d said yes straight away. I thought she should have deliberated for a day or two, or at least fake deliberated just to keep him on his toes and appreciate what he was getting when he eventually got it, but
evidently Shelley wasn’t able to stop herself from practically shouting her yes almost before he’d finished asking. I’m sure I would have handled it better, at least I think I would, I guess it would depend
a lot
on who was doing the asking. 

They’d spent the rest of the evening debating whether she w
ould move into his place or he sh
ould move into hers and eventually
,
despite
an hour or two’s
distraction
mid debate
from the main topic
if you know what I mean,
decided on finding a
brand
new place
t
ogether
.
So someone else moving, I thought, I really need
ed
to
get on that and find a new
bigger place
for myself.

Then like a light bulb being switched on it suddenly occurred to me that here
I
was looking, well supposed to be
looking
,
for a
bigger
place and
here was someone
, no make that three
someone’s
if you counted Nick
and G
ill at work
, planning to move out of their old place
s
. Dah! It was so obvious it was almost shouting
at me
.

I filled Shelley in on my epiphany but she immediately discounted her place as not worth the effort as it wasn’t mu
ch bigger than my current place. ‘
Nick’s might do though

she said
. S
he’d ask him if I could go and have a look at it and see what I thought, and I resolved to ask Gill on Monday morning what was happening to her old flat. It was the first time in a long time that I’d felt optimistic about anything.

Of course that euphoria was short lived as soon as we started looking at fat clothes for me. We started with proper maternity clothes
in a couple of the shops I usually favoured, not that I’d ever looked at the maternity ranges before, except once by accident when I nearly bought a tee shirt that was meant for someone pregnant and only just realised in the nick of time before I’d actually paid
for the thing, but
w
e soon realised not only was the bona fide maternity stuff God awful but it was really, really expensive. We switched tack and headed for the more down market chain stores where at least the prices were a bit more realistic. The styles still weren’t too thrilling, but I suppose
given the shape they were meant to fit they wouldn’t be would they, but it was the colours and the patterns that really had me retching. Do they, and by they I mean the designers and the buyers really think that if you’re pregnant you automatically go colour blind or lose any fashion sense you might have had?
I mean what’s with all the dread patterns.

I found a pair of jeans that fitted, don’t even ask what size they were I
’m
too embarrassed to even admit to myself how big they had to be before they felt comfortable, and I knew even when I chose them that they’d only be a temporary
stop-gap before I’d need the next size or even the one after that
at some point
, but I refused point blank to wear those dread maternity jeans with the weird knitted bit at the front that expands as you expand. I found a couple of loose, well looser than the ones I
already
had at home tee shirts, and blew the budget on three over-shirts for work, at least I think that’s what they’re called they just looked like big shirts to me
, the sort that leans toward
a hippy type style
, I hoped that was the case
anyway
and that they didn’t just look like
your regular
fat clothes.
And last but not least a large pair of plain black trousers that, for the time being anyway, were a bit on the loose side,
and
that would be perfect for work and go quite well with the shirts.

Fairly exhausted by our
foray into the fat side
of life we surrendered our will-to-
live in the queue
at our local pizza place,
which was massive it being Saturday lunch time, bribing ourselves with the thought of deep pan, extra cheese, filled crust, calorific pizza
to keep ourselves going.
After what felt like a year we finally got a table and were waiting for the pizza
to be bought to us
.
 
   

‘So,’ Shelley said. ‘Guess this means you’re coming out of the pregers closet.’

‘The what?’

‘The pregers closet, you’re going to start telling people you’re pregnant.’

‘Oh.’

‘Well the fat clothes are going to be a bit of a giveaway aren’t they? Better to be up front I think than have everybody talking behind your back.’

‘Yeah I guess. I wasn’t really planning on saying anything for at least another month
,
but maybe you’re right, maybe I should tell them at work.
Although I’d feel a lot happier not saying anything until after the
builders have gone and the
twonk wasn’t there every day.


Good point, but he’s busy . . building . . or painting, or whatever, isn’t he? And you said yourself he’
s
going to be finished in a couple of weeks
. I think you should tell them. I mean as soon as you turn up at work in this lot,’ and she glanced at the small mountain of carrier bags we had stashed under the table, ‘the jigs going to be up and everyone’s going to guess anyway.’

‘I suppose.
Y
ou’re probably right. I’m really not looking forward to it though.’

‘And I’ll tell the girls, or did you want to tell everyone yourself?’

‘Oh God, what do you think everyone will say?’

‘It’ll be fine don’t worry
. Either they’ll commiserate or they’ll be pleased for you, maybe even be a bit jealous. But either way they’ll be there for you, you know help if they can and give you a bit of support.’

‘Jealous, you think they might be jealous?’

‘Ye
ah lots of girls would love to have
a baby.’

‘Really? Would
you?’

‘Well sort of, I mean I wouldn’t want one right now, this minute, but yeah I’d like to have children.’

‘With Nick I suppose?’

‘Yeah with Nick.’ Shelley said all dreamy.

So here I am at work Monday morning bright and early, in my new black trousers and one of the oversize shirts.
The first person I see is Shirley, and the first thing she says is ‘bout time’.

‘Time?’

‘Bout time you stopped trying to squeeze yourself into
stuff that don’t fit anymore
. You finally going to tell them
are you that
you’re having a baby?

‘How did you . . .?

‘Wasn’t hard. Figured it out weeks ago.’ Shirley said looking smug.

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