I, the head of London Daytime Television (if you're going to have a fantasy there's no point in being half-assed about it), managed to bring up such a beautiful well-behaved child as well.
She'd be the perfect accessory.
We'd go to the park wearing big boots and woollen hats, and handsome single men would find us irresistible. We might even have to get a dog. And maybe a holiday home on the coast somewhere. Not too far, maybe near Viv, but we could play on the beaches and spend our evenings reading Dr. Seuss in front of the fire.
I could teach her everything I know, watch her grow into a little person with her own thoughts, own opinions, and I could stand back proudly as she grew into a beautiful woman.
Hmmm. A little me is really rather enticing.
So when Mark gently suggested it might be a good idea to see a doctor and book a scan, I agreed.
What harm can it do?
Although it doesn't mean I've made a decision.
It doesn't mean I'm definitely keeping the baby.
Not definitely.
“Can you see the leg move?”
I'm lying on a table, craning my head around to see the screen, while the sonographer presses down on my stomach, keeping her eyes on the screen, stopping only to note measurements.
Mark's sitting next to me, holding my hand, which in other circumstances I might find off, but in these is enormously reassuring. We're both staring at the screen, and I don't know what the sonographer's talking about because I can't see anything at all other than a greenish tunnel, and suddenly my heart flips over and Mark and I gasp, squeezing each other's hands tightly.
“Oh my God!” we whisper in unison. “Did you see that?” And suddenly the screen becomes clear. There is a tiny leg kicking up in the air, and we follow the leg up as we start to define the shape of a baby. My baby. Our baby. A living being inside of me.
Oh my good God.
I turn quickly to Mark, who has tears in his eyes and a huge smile on his face, and we grin wordlessly at one another before turning quickly back to the screen so we don't miss anything.
“Can you see the spine?” She presses down to the left and points at the screen and I nod, a lump suddenly in my throat.
“Whoops, the baby's on the move,” the sonographer laughs, and I watch in awe as an arm stretches out and the baby arches its back.
I start to laugh. And cry.
“Don't worry,” she says, handing me a tissue from a box at her side. “First-time parents often find it a bit overwhelming. It's incredible, isn't it? That's your baby!” She smiles indulgently at us. “Everything seems to be fine. See that flickering there?”
A tiny flickering, barely noticeable.
“That's the baby's heartbeat. Nice and strong. You're thirteen weeks and four days? Five days?”
I nod. Thirteen weeks and five days exactly.
“The measurements are incredibly precise at this stage,” she says, “so the due date is . . .” She turns to check but Mark and I get there first.
“The thirty-first of October.”
“Spooky,” she says, grinning, and I don't laugh, because it is at exactly this point that I know there's no going back. No way. No how. My life, from this moment forward, is irrevocably changed.
She carries on for a while, and I try to follow the shape of the baby, but every time the screen changes all I can see are indistinct markings, and after a while I stop looking and turn to Mark.
“You okay?” he whispers, giving my hand a squeeze.
I nod. “You?”
“I think this is the greatest day of my life,” he says, smiling.
I smile back.
I don't need to tell him I feel exactly the same way.
Mark drives me home and goes into the kitchen to heat up a can of Heinz tomato soup for me (can that really be called a legitimate craving?), while I head for the wardrobe and pull out the plastic bag from Books Etc.
Page 36 of What Does My Baby Look Like Today? tells me exactly what I wanted to know.
Welcome to the second trimester! If you've had morning sickness, it should be starting to subside, and miscarriage is less of a risk.
You should see your doctor and discuss what precautionary measures you should follow to avoid infection by salmonella, listeria, etc., and what tests you'll need to take, for example, toxoplasmosis.
What's Going On with My Baby?
The vocal cords are developing, and the voice box has formed.