He swings the monitor around and the image flickers on the screen, but the shape in the centre is still. And there’s no flickering blip inside her.
The sob that’s been doing circles around my insides claws its way up my throat and erupts into the room.
The consultant’s beeper goes off and he glances down. ‘Your midwife will fill you in on where we go from here. I’m so very sorry, but I have to go.’
‘Oh, lovie.’ Jenny gets to me first. I stay still for what feels like an eternity, but it’s probably only seconds. The arms encircling me are claustrophobic and all I can hear is my own voice inside my head.
Look what you did.
This is all your fault.
You were drinking.
I push Jenny away roughly.
I need to get out of here. I drag the paper towel across my skin and it scratches as I wipe up the gel. I don’t deserve the sympathy that is flooding my way. I deserve to hurt.
My hand curls into a fist, my knuckles white, and I scrub even harder.
‘Go easy there, Ellie,’ Sue says, laying her hand on my arm.
I flinch at her caring touch.
My chest is tight as if someone has wrapped an elastic band around it and they’re twisting it tight, turn by turn. With every breath I think my ribs are going to splinter. I slide off the bed and my legs buckle when they take my weight. The screen is directly in front of me now. Her tiny shape in the middle with no beating heart. I want to reach out and trace my fingers around her outline, but my arm won’t rise and my tears won’t fall.
I’m not allowed to cry because I made this happen. No one should feel sorry for me. I want to rip my insides out and fling them as far away from me as possible.
‘Are you OK, Ellie?’
I raise my eyes to look at Mum and nod numbly.
‘I have to go.’ I push myself towards the door. The antiseptic smell is filling my nostrils and I want to run from it.
‘No, Ellie …’ Mum is getting out of her chair, her arm outstretched towards me.
I ignore her and out of the corner of my eye catch Jenny putting a comforting hand on Mum’s arm.
‘I need some air,’ I gasp and run, my feet slapping on the squeaky-clean resin flooring. I bolt down the stairs two at a time and run through the entrance hall. The doors slide apart with a hiss and I burst through them out into the fresh air and keep going. I don’t want to be anywhere near the hospital.
By the time I get to the car park I’m out of breath and gasping for air. I hang on to the lamp post and bend over double.
‘Ellie, love. Oh Ellie.’ Mum is running towards me. She folds me in her arms, but I stand like a wooden board resisting her hug, thoughts still hurtling through my head.
My baby is gone because of me.
I disgust myself.
Mum takes a step back and takes my face in her hands. ‘I’m so sorry, love. This is not your fault. You …’
I jerk myself away from her. She has no idea. How could she?
‘I need to go.’ My voice is bland and detached.
‘No, Ellie. We need to …’
‘Mum, I said I’d meet Reeni. I’ll be fine. There’s nothing anyone can do now anyway.’
She wrings her hands together. ‘We need to talk about what happens next.’
