‘Ella? Please don’t tell anyone else, not yet. Not until we know what’s going on. I don’t want to upset my dad…’
She agrees, patting my arm in sympathy. She leaves the room, and I try my best to pull myself together. I need to get a grip, to stay calm and not let my heart crumble. I amoverreacting, I know. Even though it is understandable and forgivable, bearing in mind my history, it is also not helping me or my baby. If the Bad Thing is happening, then I need to know. There might be something that can be done to stop the Bad Thing, or it might not even be the Bad Thing at all. Either way, staying in my bedroom and crying isn’t the right way forward.
I swipe my tears away and realise that I yet again need the toilet. I am scared of going, and I even consider keeping my eyes closed when I do. I see a few more smears of pinkish blood on the tissue and bite my lip so hard I bleed there as well. It weirdly helps, the sudden pain dragging my mind into the here and now. I go back to my room, throw a few things into a bag just in case I need to stay in the hospital. I’m surprised my hands do what I’m telling them to do, because I am completely hollow and scooped out. On autopilot.
I hear voices downstairs, then feet pounding up the steps. The door to my room flies open, and Guy closes the distance between us in a second. He wraps me up in his arms, murmuring soothing words as he kisses the top of my head. I sway in his embrace, my body melding into his, accepting his warmth and his comfort and the way that he makes me feel better just be being with me.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ he tells me, and for some reason I start to believe that could be true. His voice, his words, they all calm me to the point where I can breathe again. I cling on to him for a little while longer, then pull away. I’ve left tear stains on his T-shirt. He smooths my hair back from my face and leans down to kiss the tip of my nose. ‘Come on. Let’s get you checked out. I’m taking you there, and Ella’s going to meet us.’
I nod numbly, and he looks inside my bag. ‘All you have in this are bed socks.’
I shrug. ‘I was distracted. And I hate having cold feet.’
‘Fair enough. It doesn’t matter. If you need anything else, I’ll get it for you.’
We take Bettina, and I feel comforted to be inside her familiar curved cocoon. He’s driven her a few times, so he knows how to handle her as we make our way towards the hospital, driving as carefully as usual. I sit beside him, my hands on my belly, staring out of the window.
The sun is shining, the landscape is lush and green, the sea a blue ribbon running alongside us on the coast road. It’s a beautiful day, and that somehow feels wrong. If I am losing my baby, I don’t want it to be a beautiful day. It is a day for thunderstorms and cyclones and tornados that tear the world apart.
Guy stays calm and cool and focused for the whole drive, which is exactly what I need, and ushers me inside the unit. I thought I felt stressed the last time I was here, but this is a whole different world – I am made entirely of dread, barely aware of my surroundings.
Ella has called ahead, and we are greeted by a nurse who is exactly the right combination of kind and professional. She takes us through to a consultation room and takes down all the details of what has been happening. I feel smothered as I speak, answering her questions in a dull monotone, Guy’s hand holding mine the only thing keeping me present.
‘Okay,’ the nurse says, once we’re done. ‘Well, we need to do a few tests. We’ll take some blood, urine, test your hormone levels, and do a scan to start with. I know this sounds impossible, but please try not to worry too much at this stage. I do understand how hard that is when you’ve suffered a loss before, but don’t assume the worst. Let me go and get things started for you.’
She leaves, and Guy crouches down in front of me so he’s on eye level. He holds my face between his palms and forces me to look directly at him. ‘Suzie, it’s going to be all right. I’m herewith you, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together, okay?’
I manage a weak smile and nod slightly. He looks so strong, so real, so determined. Like he can make all of this right through sheer strength of will. I let some of that belief seep into me, let it work its magic. He kisses me briefly on my trembling lips, and wraps me up in a comforting hug, holding me close. I feel terrible, drained and empty, but he is helping – he always helps.
‘I love you, you know?’ I murmur, letting myself unravel against him. I have no idea where that came from, and I don’t even regret it. Love comes in many shapes and sizes, and what I feel for this man is undeniably love.
‘I know. I love you, too. We’ll get through the next hour, and the next day, and the next week. One foot in front of the other.’
SEVENTEEN
Ella is almost as relieved as me, it seems. As soon as she finds out, she gives me a hug, gives Guy a hug, and even gives the nurse a hug. Then she dances a little jig around the room, punching the air like she’s Rocky Balboa after an especially triumphant training montage.
‘A UTI!’ she says, joyously. ‘A UTI – how bloody fantastic!’
The nurse shoots her a surprised look, and she calms down a little. ‘Sorry. I realise I am inappropriately excited about a urinary tract infection. Antibiotics?’
She sounds more like a doctor now, and the nurse fills her in on what’s been prescribed. She nods her approval and tells her that she’ll make sure she keeps an eye on me when I’m back home.
I am sitting on the edge of the bed, my feet encased in four pairs of fluffy bed socks because I felt an irrational urge to justify their presence in my overnight bag. Turns out I won’t need to stay here after all, which is wonderful news.
I found out half an hour ago that I have a UTI, and no woman has ever been happier about that than me. All of my tests came back okay apart from that one pesky infection, and the ultrasound showed that the baby is very much alive and verymuch kicking, even if I can’t quite feel it yet. That was the best part, getting to see the baby again – a bit bigger now, a bit more distinct, a bit more human-shaped.
I cried as I looked at the screen, Guy by my side looking almost as emotional. I had assumed the worst and seeing that tiny creature curled up in its peaceful ball, heart booming healthily away, was an unbelievable relief. It was like a vice had been clamped around my whole body, and as soon as I saw that, it released me. The technician confirmed that everything looked just as it should – that there were no signs of foetal distress, no signs of anything at all to be concerned about.
The bleeding, the back and stomach pain, the fatigue, the constant peeing – all down to that fabulous, marvellous, intoxicatingly happy-making UTI. Other than that, I have been given a clean bill of health and will be discharged with some pregnancy-friendly antibiotics, and instructions to rest and drink lots of fluids. Frankly, I’m so relieved that the baby is okay that I could probably float all the way back to Starshine Clove on a cloud of my own euphoria.
Ella is making a few notes on her phone and then grins when she sees a message that’s just landed. She turns the screen around to show us, and I laugh out loud when I see the picture – a scene of revelry at the Starshine Inn. Miranda, normally quite reserved, appears to be dancing on a table top and singing into a microphone.
‘Wonder what song she’s doing…? Looks like we’re missing a good one,’ Ella says slightly wistfully. True to her word, she rearranged her afternoon appointments, which I feel pretty guilty about now. She assured me it was all standard stuff and that she’d make sure she caught up with all her patients tomorrow morning, but still. I now feel like I’ve wasted her time.
‘Why don’t you head back?’ I suggest. ‘You’re skiving off work because of me, so you could go and grab your karaoke joy?’
I can see she’s tempted, but she shakes her head. ‘No, I’m okay to stay. I’ll wait until your meds arrive from the pharmacy, check everything is all right.’
