Then, across the waiting room, she saw Gigi, not recognizing her at first because of the uniform. It took her a second to register who it was. Gigi always looked good, when she saw her at Clearview. She was a stylish woman. With big wavy hair. The navy tabard with white piping and straight navy trousers seemed alien on her – definitely not her best look, and the generous curls were tucked into a well-controlled bun at the nape of her neck. She was handing a manila folder to the receptionist, exchanging a few words. Gigi laughed her throaty laugh at something the receptionist said. The sight of her inexplicably made Tess want to cry, and she bit on her lower lip to control the urge. She picked up an ancient dog-eared copy of Parenting magazine and stared at an article on cots, but sudden tears made the words and pictures swim. She wiped her eyes and sniffed, hoping Gigi wouldn’t see her like this.
‘Hello, love.’
Gigi’s voice was tentative and gentle, her smile as warm as usual.
Tess smiled and hoped her voice wouldn’t give her away. ‘Gigi! Of course! This is your hospital.’
‘You’ve switched your care to here?’
Tess nodded. ‘While I’m staying with my mother, this is the place.’
Gigi didn’t let the moment be awkward and Tess was grateful to her. Gigi must think she was such a flake, but she didn’t let it show. ‘Of course. Do you think you’ll deliver here?’
‘I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Maybe …’
‘Well, you’ll be in good hands if you do. This is a great team.’
‘That’s good to know.’
‘You can take a tour, check it all out …’
Tess nodded. She didn’t know what to say.
‘Are you on your own, Tess?’
Tess had to look at her to give a quick nod in answer. A single tear betrayed her, spilling down her cheek. Gigi’s eyes filled with concern. She slid into the seat next to Tess.
‘Are you okay, sweetheart? Is everything all right?’
She nodded again, taking a moment to trust her voice.
‘It’s my second scan. I’m fine. It’s just a routine appointment.’
She wondered whether she needed to explain the tears. Gigi put her hand – cool and dry – across her own for the briefest moment.
‘I get it. Even the routine stuff can feel a bit overwhelming. All gets a bit much, doesn’t it?’
Tess smiled, grateful for the understanding.
‘What time is your appointment?’ Gigi wore one of those upside-down watches, old school, pinned to her tabard. She tipped it up expertly.
Tess looked up at the clock. ‘Ten minutes ago.’
Gigi rolled her eyes. ‘I said they were great. I didn’t say they were always punctual! Want me to go and see what’s happening?’
She shook her head quickly. ‘No, no. No need. I don’t want to be difficult.’
Gigi smiled kindly. ‘Okay. I’m sure they’ll call you in a minute or two.’
They looked at each other for a long moment.
Ask me, Tess was thinking. I don’t want to do this by myself. Ask me. She half wondered if Gigi was willing her to say those words out loud.
But the moment passed before she was brave enough, and as it did a sonographer stepped out of a door and called her name. She stood up, raising her hand in acknowledgement.
‘That’s me. You summoned her up!’
Gigi gave her a quick hug. ‘Good luck, darling.’
‘Thanks, Gigi.’
‘See you at the weekend, maybe?’
‘I expect so.’
And Gigi was gone.
The room was dimly lit, and the sonographer briskly efficient.
‘If you’d pull your skirt down to low hip, and your top up to under your bra for me, please. You know the drill. Just like the first scan.’
She pulled three or four sheets of blue paper from a dispenser and tucked them into Tess’s skirt without speaking any more.
Lying back, Tess’s belly rose like the small Teletubbies hill, moon-white in the light from the monitor. How was it possible that some women didn’t even show at this point, or for another six weeks or so either? She stroked her tummy gently. She was so definitely, absolutely pregnant.
The jelly was cold – it made you breathe in, and Tess knew she was holding that breath, waiting for the rushing whoosh of the heartbeat. The probe rolled backwards, forwards. The sonographer dug it in so that it was almost uncomfortable, and rocked it. I wonder if you can feel it, baby?
It felt like ages.
‘There we go. Good, strong heartbeat.’ And Tess exhaled.
More probing. Measurements and checklists. It was unnaturally quiet in the room, but Tess couldn’t think of anything to say.
‘All looking good for dates. Right on track size-wise. Good. Good.’
Well done, baby.
Without looking up, the sonographer asked, ‘And are you wanting to know the sex today?’
‘I wasn’t sure you were allowed to tell me.’
The sonographer smiled. ‘We never guarantee it. It’s not one hundred per cent. But yes, I can tell.’
She hadn’t been sure she wanted to know, but now it was unbearable that this person might know and Tess not. ‘Yes, please. I’d like to know.’
‘It’s a girl.’
‘Oh. Oh my God. A girl.’ This time Tess didn’t even attempt to check her tears. They welled out of her eyes and ran down into her hair. She hadn’t known until that exact moment that’s what she’d wanted. ‘I’m having a little girl.’
And then there were a few moments of silence, more probing, and the sonographer pushed her stool back and stowed her wand in its holster.
‘I’ve seen something I’d like to show a doctor.’ She put a hand up. ‘The baby is absolutely fine, Tess, so try not to worry, okay. I will be back as quickly as I can.’
It was the first time she’d used her name.
Alone in the room, she felt an absurd urge to run away. They couldn’t tell her anything bad if she wasn’t there, could they? ‘You are absolutely fine, baby. That’s what she said. Absolutely fine.’
She spread both palms across her stomach and concentrated on breathing in and out.
The door opened, letting bright light from the corridor in, and the sonographer was back, with another woman in blue scrubs and Adidas trainers. She looked too young to know anything much.
‘I’m Dr McCullough, the obstetric consultant. I’d like to have a look at you, if that’s all right.’
‘What’s wrong?’
The doctor smiled kindly. ‘Give me just a moment.’
Tess forced herself to stay quiet while she was examined again, for long minutes. She dug the nail of her forefinger into the soft pad of flesh on her thumb to stop from crying, and longed for Holly, who didn’t know she was here, or Iris, who might not know who she was, or even Gigi, who’d been a stranger to her just a few months ago. She did not feel brave. She felt terror. She tried to think of all the clichéd things – the palm trees on the beach, the breathing in and out – but her mind played the early weeks of the pregnancy back at her on a high-speed loop. The days when she didn’t know she wanted to keep the baby. When she’d contemplated not keeping it. Keeping her.
Eventually Dr McCullough nodded decisively at the sonographer, handed Tess some more paper towels and sat on the sonographer’s stool as she stood behind.
‘Okay. You can clean yourself up, Tess. The first thing to say is that everything is perfectly normal with the development and health of your baby. She is right where we want her to be at this point, all right?’ Tess nodded.
‘What is causing us concern is you – your cervix, to be specific. What’s happening is what we call funnelling. If you imagine your cervix, what we want it to do, once you are full term, is to open from the bottom up.’ She made a shape with her hands. Tess forced herself to concentrate on the words, supressing the panic. ‘Yours is opening already, and it’s opening from the top down.’
‘Wha
t does that mean?’
‘It carries a risk for your baby. You’re only’ – she looked back at the screen – ‘twenty-four weeks or so.’
‘That’s far too early. Am I in labour, then? I haven’t had any pain, or any show or anything …’ Tess felt self-conscious using the language of the books and the websites – her new lexicon. Holly had laughed at her, and said she was probably a qualified midwife by now, but the laughter had been fond and understanding.
Dr McCullough shook her head. ‘No, no. You’re not. But your cervix is what we call – rather unkindly, I always think – incompetent. Left alone, it will shorten and open with the increased size and weight of your baby, and that’s not safe for baby.’
‘So I’ll go into labour early?’
‘Not if we have anything to do with it. But, yes, left alone, that is the risk. Tess – this is not an uncommon problem. And we’ve no reason at this point to be unduly worried. It’s one of the things we look for in this anomaly scan and that’s because we stand a very good chance of fixing it. What we need to do is a simple procedure – it’s called a cerclage. We pop a small stitch in your cervix and that stays in place for the rest of the pregnancy. Keeps everything tight and closed. You’ll stay here one night. We can chat about anaesthetic – whether we use a spinal or a general. Rest at home for a week or so. Take it relatively easy for the rest of the pregnancy. But basically, Plan A is that you’ll be able to live your normal life. No vigorous exercise. At thirty-six or thirty-seven weeks, when medically we consider you to be near enough to full term, we take it out again, so your body can do its thing and it won’t matter. This is your first pregnancy, am I correct?’ She looked at her notes. Tess knew she was reading ‘elderly primigravida’.
Tess nodded.
‘Any questions?’
‘Would I need it again … with another baby?’ She had no idea of why she was asking that.
‘Most likely. Incompetent cervixes don’t usually correct themselves, I’m afraid. Any history of miscarriage in your family?’
‘I don’t think so. Is there a risk of that?’
The doctor smiled gently. ‘There’s no such thing as a risk-free pregnancy, Tess. But this is a safe, common procedure, with an eighty to ninety per cent success rate if it’s elective, which this will be. We have every reason to believe that, once the cerclage is in place, you’ll go on to have a completely normal pregnancy, a safe delivery and a healthy baby.’
Tess clung to those three things, trying to make them promises.
‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but do try not to worry. Book yourself in at the desk. Any pain or bleeding, any at all, before the appointment, you come back stat. Right?’ She’d told her not to worry and then she said things like that. The doctor was looking at her file now. ‘Did you come alone today?’
‘I did.’
She frowned for the first time. ‘Bring someone with you, won’t you, when you come in? It’s not a big deal, it only takes about ten minutes, but anaesthesia can make you feel a bit shaky, and we do understand it’s worrying for you.’ Her face softened. ‘You’ll need someone to take you home. They may as well stay and keep you company, okay?’
‘I will.’
‘And have a cup of tea today, before you go. Take a moment. Don’t get straight into your car, or go straight back to work. It’s a shock.’ She squeezed Tess’s arm reassuringly.
She was as kind as she needed to be. Tess was grateful she wasn’t kinder. It helped her to keep herself together.
The doctor left, and the sonographer busied herself replacing the giant paper roll on the bed while Tess finished tidying herself up. ‘Weren’t you talking to a midwife when I called you in?’
‘Gigi.’ Tess nodded, realizing she didn’t know her last name.
‘Gigi Gilbert. She’s fab. Friend of yours?’
Tess smiled. She hoped so.
‘Do you want me to see if I can find her?’
‘No, no. I don’t want to be a bother … she’s working.’
‘I’m sure she’d love to come and see you, if she’s free.’
‘Really … I’m fine. Thank you.’
But somehow she was there anyway. Tess wondered whether she’d hovered on purpose, but she didn’t care. She was beyond glad to see her. As Gigi walked towards her, her open, smiling face asking for affirmation, Tess felt her shoulders drop, and her face crumple, close to dissolving. Without a word, Gigi folded her into a warm, maternal embrace.
She held her for ages. Then, as Tess pulled away, recovered enough to become self-conscious, Gigi pulled a packet of tissues from her trouser pocket and gave one to Tess.
‘Come and sit here a minute, and tell me what happened, if you like?’
She nodded understanding while Tess explained what she could from her conversation with the obstetrician.
Gigi squeezed her hand.
‘Well, then, you’re going to be fine. This is not uncommon, Tess.’
‘That’s what she said.’
‘Because it’s true. They don’t lie here, not even a bit. They can’t. They give it to you straight, and that’s what she’s done, and you’re not to worry. I’ve delivered so many healthy babies whose mums had this done earlier in the pregnancy.’
‘You have?’
‘Dozens.’ She smiled reassuringly, and then dried a tear on Tess’s face with her thumb. The gesture was intimate and tender, and it made Tess want to cry again.
‘Why on earth didn’t you bring someone with you?’
Tess shrugged. ‘I’m an idiot?’
‘I know things aren’t … things are up in the air with the father, but what about your mum?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I’m not in the business of giving unsolicited advice …’ Gigi paused, then laughed. ‘Actually, if any of my kids were here, they’d be hysterical if they heard me saying that. I probably am. I definitely am.’ Tess giggled. ‘So forgive the overstep, but … love, I’m a mum. She’d have wanted to come with you. I bet she would …’
‘You’re right. I’m being stubborn.’
‘You’re trying to be independent. Nothing wrong with that, nothing at all. But you might be trying a bit too hard. No one can do it all on their own. No one should have to. You’re going to need support. And there is nothing wrong with that.’
‘You’re so kind.’
‘And I’m right too. Believe me.’ She winked at her. ‘I’m going to get you a cup of tea from Costa. What comes out of that machine doesn’t really count as tea. I’ll be a minute … You stay here. Call your mum while I’m gone. You have your phone with you?’
Tess nodded.
‘So use it. Midwife’s orders.’
Donna made her wish she’d taken her with her. She’d got her act together for the journey home – Gigi had sat with her and made lovely small talk while she drank her tea – and she’d made it back through the traffic dry-eyed and calm, Radio 4 distracting her. She’d cried again the minute she’d seen her mum, though, and let herself be held again. Donna asked gentle, careful questions, and Tess relayed as much of what the obstetrician had told her as she could remember.
‘So it sounds like this is going to be fine, love. Fine. She told you – it’s not uncommon.’
‘I know … it’s just that … I’m just a bit shocked.’
‘You’re bound to be. It’s difficult enough, without complications.’
‘That’s it …’ Tess was grateful that Donna understood.
‘I had spotting, with you.’
‘You did?’
‘Well – they called it spotting. It was more than that … it was bleeding, and I was terrified even to move. I was afraid that if I did, it would get worse … that I’d lose you.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
Donna smiled. ‘Because I didn’t. You were tougher than that. And so is this one.’
‘Did you ever find out why?’
‘There’s no why, Tess … I mean, there are medical re
asons, and I’m sure, at the time, I looked them up or the doctor told me … but it just was. That’s how my body did it. This is how yours does it.’
‘Incompetently.’
‘Well … what can you expect from an elderly primigravida?’
‘Shut up.’
But now they were laughing, the kind of laughing that is very close to crying, and that happens when all your emotions are right at the surface, and the fear is slowly but surely subsiding. Donna pulled her back into an embrace, stroking her back and starting to talk about what she was going to cook for supper, and what they might watch on the television later, and Tess had the strange thought that what Donna had said was pretty much what she might have expected Iris to say, and the thought was incredibly comforting.
She called Holly too, later, while Donna cooked. It took a village, right? She rang on the pretext of asking about Dulcie, still a bit uncomfortable at the idea of putting herself front and centre, but Holly, of course, asked, as she had known she would.
‘Don’t you dare even think about going to that appointment on your own, you daft mare.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Doesn’t have to be me, although I think it should be.’
‘You do?’
‘Absolutely. I am great in hospitals.’ Tess loved her boastfulness. ‘You have people, you know. Don’t be stubborn. Take someone. Any-bloody-one. Except Sean. Not Sean. Did not mean Sean. Me or Donna …’ She drew out the syllables of Donna’s name slowly, still just a tiny bit incredulous about her mate’s mother’s renaissance.
‘Promise.’
‘I promise.’
‘I’d bring snacks.’
‘Snacks are good.’
‘Just saying. I’m excellent in hospitals.’
Week 25. Very nearly Week 26, even. I’m sorry, baby mine. I’ve let you down. It was bad enough that I saddled you with an elderly primigravida for a mother. Got you a bum of a father. Okay – he’s not a bum. But he’s not what you deserved. Nowhere near. I haven’t got us a place to live. Now I’ve got a crappy womb. Cervix. Whatever. I’m buggering everything up. Nothing is like I would have wanted it to be. God knows I’ve judged people like me … I’m so scared. You have to be all right. You just have to. I realize there’s nothing more important, nothing I wouldn’t do, to get you here, with me, safely. But you’ve got to bear with me, little one. I’m going to be better, I promise. I’m going to get it right, from now on.
Letters to Iris Page 27