The One Addicted (42 page)

   
I shake my head.

   
“Ok. Well let’s start by doing a few tests and a repeat pregnancy test here. Then we’ll have a talk about things.”

    
Finally I speak. “Ok thanks, Dr. Graham.”
 

    
She puts her pen down and gives me a comforting smile. “Was one test not enough?”

    
“No.” I look at her sympathetic face and am suddenly defensive of my actions. “No, honestly it wasn’t. I did the first test and it came up with one line. The instructions told me one line for no, two lines for yes, I just thought I wasn’t pregnant. I was interrupted when I was testing and put the sticks in my bag and then at a later date, when rummaging, the same stick fell out and it now had two pink lines, although as you can see, the second line is paler in tone than the first.” I’m aware I’m rabbiting and from the sympathetic frown deepening by the second on her brow, my nerves are apparent.

    
“Sometimes it can take a little longer for the second line to show up but it will only show up if the HCG pregnancy hormone is present
 
- maybe you didn’t wait long enough the first time?”

    
“Hmm. Well, I did the second test in the kit - this one…” I wave the identical stick in the air as proof and then select the two Clearblue digital pens. “And it came back with two lines pretty much immediately. Then I dip-tested these two tests consecutively for added measure. These, as you can see, actually said ‘pregnant’ so no need to panic about lines and delays.” The waffling has increased big-time.

    
“I take it you aren’t happy about the circumstances?”

    
How I can I not be happy about the thought of carry the baby of the man I love. A mini Sebastian.
“Honestly. I’m not sure.”

    
“Have you had any other symptoms?”

    
“I’ve gone off my food and a little nausea - oh and I’ve felt a bit dizzy. I didn’t have that with my son.”

    
She nods again and takes my blood pressure, and confirms my endometriosis and previous pregnancy and then hands me a urine sample bottle and asks me to nip to the ladies and pee in the bottle, then bring it back and she’ll test it in her office, before sending it off to the lab for further testing. I excuse myself and head off in search of the loos.
 

    
After fifteen minutes and much tap running I’m back with the GP.
 

    
“Why is that you can always pee when you don’t want to but when you’re asked to pee on demand its virtually impossible?”

    
Dr. Graham ignores my nervous banter and dips a stick into my sample bottle, extracting it and holding it up to read the results. “Right, well that confirms it Lucia, you are definitely pregnant we just need to decipher how far along you are and with your cycles that may be rather difficult. Congratulations.”

    
I hear the rush of breath come from my mouth as she confirms what I already knew in my heart. I am 100% pregnant.
 
As she pats my hand I chew my lip in thought. “Bit of a shock is it?”

    
“Something like that. I took the morning after pill but it must not have worked. Will the baby be ok?”

    
“Look, let’s try work out some dates for you and then I’ll send you for some blood tests. I think you may be a little anaemic from what you’ve told me about the dizzy spells. When was your last period?”

    
“Early July.”

    
“Ok, so based on that I make you about 7 weeks pregnant.” She points to the calendar on the wall and with her pen points between a five day window, “We’ll need to get a more scientific test done with a scan, but I think you’d have been ovulating around about these dates.”

    
“Yes.”

    
“Thereabouts anyhow. Do you remember the occasion - was it an anniversary or special occasion?”

    
“A special occasion.”
 

    
The best night of my life - the first time I slept with my best-friend.
 

    
The first time Sebastian made love to me.
 

    
The first time I’d ever been so irresponsible.

    
“Like I said, I used the morning after pill, Levonelle within the directed 72 hour window and I wasn’t sick; I felt dreadful but I managed to keep it down.”

    
“You were probably already pregnant and by the time you took the pill it was too late. How long was it after unprotected sex that you took the Levonelle?

    
“About 48 hours? But I thought I had 72 hours?”

    
“Really - the sooner you can take it after you’ve had unprotected sex the better - its only 58% proof if taken after 49 hours and 85% if taken within 25-48 hours.”

    
Crap!

    
“So should I go have some blood tests now?”

    
She hands me a completed blood form and directs me to the practice nurse who runs a drop in centre that closes in 20 mins. “Get these done and then I’ll text you if I need to see you again. You need to go away and have a think how you feel about things in the mean time and I’ll book you in for a dating scan. It could be a little early but we’ll try anyway, especially with your history. The hospital will ring you with an appointment over the next few days.”

    
Wow that’s quick. It’s all way too fast.

    
“Lucia, are you sure you’re OK?”

    
“Not really no - sorry I just need some time to process things. I’ve been away in The Maldives and Dubai recently and whilst the trip was fabulous, I’m shattered.”

    
“You will be, it’s the first trimester after all. You didn’t have injections to go to The Maldives did you?”

    
I shake my head. “No. I was fortunate. I’d already had them the year before for South Africa and the nurse said that they lasted 3 years.”

    
“Good.”

    
“I have been drinking alcohol though, not excessive amounts admittedly, but enough. Will the baby be OK?”

    
“Lucia - there are young ladies who come in to see me regularly who have been drinking for months before they find out that they are unknowingly pregnant and they go on to have perfectly healthy babies - providing you stop any form of alcohol from now on, I’m sure things will be fine but the Ultrasound will tell us more and then we’ll talk further, if you need to. OK?”

    
“Ok. Thank you.”

    
“You’re very welcome, Lucia. You know where I am.”

    
I stand on wobbly legs and head towards the door, my fingers on the handle for what seems an age - the minute I open this door that’s it, I’ll be walking through it as a pregnant woman. Everything has changed.
 

    
What the hell am I going to do?

*****

    
An hour later, I’m about to pull off into the left hand lane, and head up the slip road that will take me off the dual carriageway and in the direction of home, when my phone rings. At least ‘me so horny’ has been replaced with Lionel Richie’s ‘Hello’ - Colin was definitely playing it safe - very tame for him, I’m impressed. The no caller ID flashes and I’m tempted to ignore it, my arm hurts after the blood tests and I need to get some lunch, but it could be a new client so on a whim, I decide to give in to my inquisitive nature. “Hello, Elysium Interiors?”

    
“Hello, may I speak to Lucia Myers?”

    
The voice on the other end of the phone sounds friendly and efficient and I relax. “That’s me - how can I help?”

    
“Your GP has called our office this morning with a referral for an ultrasound scan and we have had a cancellation today at 2pm - would you be able to make it?”
Whoa! This is all going far too fast. I knew they’d be calling soon but I thought the scan would be in a few weeks?

    
“Err… I thought it would be a while until I had to have the scan…”

    
“Dr Graham has marked your request as urgent and we like to get our urgent referrals seen within 14 days, but once our radiographer saw your medical notes, we felt it best to see you sooner anyway - then this cancellation came up.”

    
“Oh - well I suppose I can come… yes…”

    
“Super. If you can ensure you drink at least two pints of still water 30 minutes prior to the scan.”

    
“I remember. Yes, I will and thanks again.”

    
“Not a problem. If you come to the main x-ray department at Lords General Hospital and then head for Maternity clinic, it’s the only one on today.”

    
So that’s that then. This was becoming way too real!

*****

    
The ultrasound department was an ‘L’ shaped corridor with treatment room doors which led off from it, numbered 1- 6. As I take my first few tentative steps down the vaguely familiar hallway, I glance at some of the women waiting for their appointments; many in varying stages on impending motherhood.
 

    
I can do this - you can do this girl.
 

    
A rather dour nurse asks my name and directs me to a seat, informing me that I’ll be going into room 4.
 

    
“Have you drunk enough water?”

    
I nod and wiggle uncomfortably in the orange plastic hard-backed chair - any more and I’d disgrace myself.

    
“Well there’s a water tank at the corner and paper cups if you need to top up- try not to spend a penny before the first part of the scan.”

    
I know the drill.
 

    
I instinctively place my hand across my tummy, now slightly bloated from my fit to bursting bladder. I should have discussed this with Sebastian before I came to the hospital. It’s all been such a rush I feel in a complete fog. But how could I just ring him at work and drop it on him now, even though part of me wants to do exactly that. “Morning, Seb? All good? Yeah I’m great - work busy? Good good - by the way, you’re going to be a Daddy - yeah, I know its quick, but it’s great news isn’t it? Let’s go pram shopping.”

    
No, that wasn’t the way I wanted to tell him. It had to be done properly - it was already too soon, and placing far too much pressure on our fledgling relationship. I have to get all the facts first then I can think things through and figure out the best way to tell him. I’ve not even come to terms with it myself yet. I glance across at the posters crowding the wall in front of me, showcasing breastfeeding, anti-smoking in pregnancy campaigns and then my eyes fix on a 40 week gestation calendar. If I was 7 weeks pregnant the baby would be about the size of a blueberry.

I’m lost in my own little world and nearly miss my name being called by the radiographer that has appeared at the doorway of room 4, her blonde curls and bright lipsticked smile, a comforting boost as my knees nearly buckle upon standing. I head in and place my bag and coat on the chair and take a deep breath to calm my nerves.; right girl this is it - do or die.

    
“Lucia Myers?”

    
“Yes.”

    
“Good, at least we’ve got that part right.” She chuckles and I smile weakly at her attempts to settle my anxiety. “Have you had a scan before?”

    
I nod. “With my first baby and also with gynae problems.”

    
“Ok good, so you know what to expect. If you can lie back onto the bed, pull your top up and undo your trousers, then pull those and your pants down to your pubic bone. I’ll rub some cold gel on your tum and we’ll see what’s going on inside of there.”

    
I go into robot mode and lie back onto the exam table, the fresh paper covering it, tearing slightly with my movements.
Do they never fix the ceiling tiles in this place - there’s always one that’s cracked or stained from a leak?
My mind wanders off as I hear the Radiologist gathering her equipment and speaking to her assistant.
 

    
“So, it says here you think it may be around 8 weeks since your last period?”

    
“Maybe 9?” I wince at my uncertainty and quickly justify my flakiness. “I have Endometriosis so they can be a little all over the place and last forever.”
 

    
She bobs her curls in understanding, smiling patiently. “There’s mention here of the morning after pill - when was that?”

    
“5 weeks, give or take.”

    
“Hmmm.”

    
She squirts some of the icy jelly onto my stomach and I flinch as its hits my skin, then watch as she grabs the scan tool, pressing it gently across me, smoothing the substance in as she goes in different directions.
God, I need to pee.
 

    
“Well, you’ve certainly got a full bladder, well done you.”
No shit sherlock!
 

    
My eyes are focused on her face, concentration prominent as she analyses the grey and black blobs, on the small screen to my right. I can hardly see it without twisting my neck uncomfortably but I know all scan images always remind me of moving pencil drawings; smudged and grainy - how they manage to figure out what is what, I don’t know.
 

    
After what seems an age of silence, she stops, places the wand back in its holder and passes me a paper towel to wipe my belly. Sheer panic grips me. This can’t be good.