The Single Mums' Secrets - Janet Hoggarth Page 0,62
ever. All I’ve ever wanted was a family. I didn’t want you to hate me for being part of that. When you turned it all round and acted all brave, I was in awe of you. I don’t think I would ever have got over it. But you did, and you achieved so much in life.’ She paused for breath and I swallowed hard against the lump forming at the base of my throat.
‘And now you have a chance to have a baby. I think you would be an amazing mother. You are a wonderful aunty to my kids and they are lucky to have you. I don’t know what I would have done without you the last few months being my support. Let me help you. If you have this baby, it will be so loved, so cherished within our family. I know you can’t do this for me in any way, and I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to do it for you aged twenty-one. That strong girl who never got the chance to see what it would be like to hold a baby she’d grown inside herself. To know the hurricane of love that hits you so you wonder how you ever existed in the world before without it. Give that girl a chance to have a dream she hadn’t yet realised. Give yourself permission to have a family. And fuck anyone who judges you. They haven’t walked in your shoes and they don’t know what you went through. I promise you won’t regret it.’
By now I was busy crying, tears washing away years of certitude. ‘But what if something’s wrong with it?’ I sobbed, not quite believing what I was saying.
‘I don’t think you would have been gifted this opportunity by the universe if it was going to be snatched away.’
‘Oh my God. You’ve turned into one of the Beardy Weirdy people.’
‘So…?’
19
The Scan
‘Christa, the gel will feel cold on your abdomen,’ the young female sonographer explained. The last time I’d had one of these, Mia had been by my side and it had been loaded with a fraught outcome. This was no less fraught for me, but for different reasons. My hatred of being poked and prodded simmered beneath the surface and I instigated anti-panic attack breathing to try and combat it. What if, after everything, the baby was dead, poorly, non-existent… What if…? I shut down the ‘What if’ game and grabbed Louise’s hand. She squeezed it and smiled at me encouragingly. I had stayed at her house the night before and she had cooked me my favourite roast chicken dinner, bustling about me like a mother hen, fussing. It had been comforting. The woman pressed into my stomach and the foetus floated into view on the screen, looking like it was mid somersault on a bouncy castle, its aquatic limbs flaying in response to the rude interruption of its gymnastic display.
‘Ah, there we are,’ the sonographer said, a smile evident in her voice. ‘A strong heartbeat.’
I stared at the screen, a black void occupying where I thought my heart was. What should I feel? I looked sideways at Louise and she was captivated by the fourteen-week-old bean bobbing around twitching, having its vitals measured, clocking up its chances of a healthy delivery with every box it ticked. It was a studious little thing, a people-pleaser already. My due date was given as January 14th.
‘A shame it wasn’t Valentine’s Day!’ Louise had laughed. ‘We could have called him Valentine!’
I shook my head.
‘Oh, Christa, look, so tiny.’ Louise brandished the Post-it Note sized printouts the woman had given us as we walked off to wait for my blood results. ‘Everything is perfect. See, I told you it was going to be OK! I just need to pay for these pictures of Valentine.’
‘Louise! I’m not naming it yet!’
But she wasn’t listening; she’d already scooted over to the hatch to pay.
‘How long do you normally wait for the bloods?’ I asked as we sat nearest to the edge of the last row of seats. I was itching to escape, tingling zipping up and down my back; the Skippy senses were on full beam. I glanced nervously over my shoulder and saw a familiar face. Emergency fucksticks. A friend of Tom’s was sitting in the row behind me. I whipped my head round to face forward, praying to a God I didn’t believe in that he hadn’t noticed me.