That was hard to answer, because it very much depended on what the doctor said. I tried not to burst into tears, because that wasn’t going to help anyone.
“Hopefully.” It was the best I could say, but it only made him drive faster.
Luckily, the Cheshire police were being entertained elsewhere, so we didn’t get pulled over. Nate was round to the passenger side before I’d even opened the door, helping me out, although I really didn’t need it.
“I’m okay. Honestly, it isn’t even really painful.” Because it wasn’t. “And don’t even think of getting me a wheelchair.”
“Good idea.”
Fuck.
I didn’t have the strength to argue so I sat down in the wheelchair and let Nate push me. I was shattered, exhausted and extremely worried. I’d done my research on shortened cervixes and knew that had the doctor been worried when I was there last week, if it had been less than a certain measurement, she’d have recommended something then. As it was, everything had been the same as the week before.
We were at the ward before I knew it, our usual doctor not on duty, but a doctor who smiled and was reassuring, and had already read my notes because Nate had phoned ahead, was waiting for me.
I knew the drill: sweats and underwear off, towel over me like it would protect my dignity – something I didn’t care about as long as our baby was okay. I barely felt the gel when it was smeared on my skin, the doctor smiling as the baby’s heartbeat echoed fast and loud into our ears.
“He sounds fine. Let’s have a look at him.”
Images came up onto the screen, Nate fixed on them, smiling. The look of joy on his face was what made me cry first.
“Time for the wand.” The doctor gave me a look that told me she knew this wasn’t the nicest. “I know on your notes we’re watching out for a shorter than usual cervix, but Doctor Jan was happy when you were in last week. Let’s see if anything’s changed.”
I assumed the position, my eyes on Nate as the doctor did her thing, talking me through it.
“It’s the same as it was last time you were in, which is the same as it was when we saw you at twenty weeks. Everything looks good up there.” She finished off what she was doing, then let me get back into my sweats. Nate sat on the chair, looking like he’d just saved every penalty in a shoot-out.
“What’s causing the discomfort?” She’d already taken notes on how it felt.
She gave me another smile and I realised how tired she looked. “Your body getting ready for the baby to grow. He’s going to be a big boy.” She cast a look to where Nate was. “Like his dad. But you did the right thing coming in. If that pain changes and becomes more severe, come back in. You’re not quite at the point where we’d say it was a shortened cervix that needed treating, but you’re not that far off. You’re lucky – usually this isn’t picked up unless a woman has lost a baby already.”
“I’m lucky in a lot of ways. Is there anything I should be doing?” Because I had scared myself.
“Rest. Not bed rest – that can do more harm than good – but take it easy. Sleep. Have a quiet day. And think of me while you’re having it.”
“Thank you.” I rubbed my belly, sweats now back on, the remainder of the gel on my stomach still feeling a bit icky. “I hope you get a break soon.”
The doctor shrugged her shoulders. “I’m in the middle of a double shift, so just another shift to go before I get a break.”
I humoured Nate by letting him take me back to the car in the wheelchair, too tired to be stubborn. He was quiet, but I could tell he was relieved. There was something more there though, which was why he was quiet.
I had a feeling I knew what it was.
“Is the offer still there to stay with you?” Because it had been scary being on my own. The new nanny started in another two weeks, which meant that even when Nate was away, there would be two adults at his house. That was reassuring because I knew the rest of my pregnancy would be spent with worry at the back of our minds. In another month or so, the season was over, and Nate would be around full time.
“Yes.” One word. He gripped the steering wheel too tightly and said nothing else for the drive home.
When we got there, Jerrica was up, waiting for us in the kitchen. She looked pale, worry in her eyes. Her hair was mussed, and she was wearing a large dressing gown that swamped her.
“How are you?” She headed straight for me, arms open to pull me into a hug, which I took.
My head rested on her shoulder, the tension going with that physical contact from someone else. Nate hadn’t hugged me since we’d been in the hospital, which I understood. He was angry that I’d been at my home. If it had been serious, we could’ve been too late.
“Baby’s fine. He’s good. Just normal discomfort.” I breathed the words as she held me. “It was so fucking scary.”
Then I cried, wiping tears away as fast at they poured out. It was relief, all the worry and fear bubbling out of me.
Jerrica carried on holding me, until I felt her tears too.
