Baby Trap

by Hodge, Sibel

  He rolled over and turned on the lamp, rubbing his eyes.

  ‘Look, it’s about two inches!’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ His eyes focused on it.

  ‘I know. They didn’t mention anything about that.’ I glanced nervously at the clock. ‘There won’t be anyone there now to ask. Shall I pop down to Accident and Emergency and ask someone if it’s OK? I don’t want to pierce my stomach or something by doing it.’

  He flipped the covers back. ‘Come on. I’ll drive you.’

  I paced the floor of the accident and emergency department while the nurse paged an on call gynaecologist to come down and speak to us. I looked at my watch every couple of minutes. What if I went past the 1 a.m. scheduled time to inject the HCG? Would it be OK, or would the whole treatment be ruined? Would months of planning and waiting be wasted? I gnawed on my thumbnail.

  Finally, she managed to get hold of someone.

  ‘The injection needs to be done into your muscle,’ the gynaecologist said. ‘That’s why there’s a longer needle on it. Just do it in your stomach where you’ve been doing the others, but be aware it might be sore for a few days.’

  I groaned inwardly for a second. My stomach was already a patchwork of bruises from the injections.

  ‘Thanks so much for your help!’ I cried, already half way out the door so we could get back home and administer it.

  Two Eggs and Chips

  I couldn’t sleep the night before the egg retrieval. I tried to meditate. I tried to concentrate on my breathing and relax. I even tried warm goat’s milk but nothing was working. I felt sick with worry about the procedure, which Poppy had said was pretty painful. Would something go wrong? Would they get the eggs OK? Would they fertilize?

  But at the same time I felt hope. This was my final chance to get pregnant. So far, everything had gone well. Who was to say the rest of it wouldn’t, as well? In a couple of weeks, I could be holding my baby in my arms like Kerry.

  Zelda! Are you there? It will work, won’t it?

  Zelda?

  Why can’t you just answer me instead of sending signs?

  I turned over in bed for the gazillionth time, huffing.

  ‘Karl, are you awake?’ I poked his shoulder at four o’clock in the morning.

  No response.

  How could he sleep at a time like this? Didn’t he realize how scary and exciting this was?

  ‘Karl.’ I poked him harder. ‘Are you awake?’

  ‘I wasn’t, but it looks like I am now.’

  ‘Will it work?’ I asked.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘What does that mean? Is that a yes or no?’

  ‘Yes,’ he insisted.

  ‘Why don’t we get up now in case we oversleep and miss the alarm? The batteries might run out overnight and we might miss the train,’ I said, picking up the clock next to my bed to check it was still working.

  ‘I’ve set the alarm on my phone, too. Go back to sleep. You need to get some rest.’

  I plumped up my pillow, lifted myself up onto my elbow and rested my head in my hand. ‘I can’t sleep.’

  ‘Well, I can.’ He turned his back on me.

  Bloody cheek!

  ‘How do men do that? How can men sleep when there’s something stressful going on?’ I sighed.

  ‘It’s one of our amazing attributes. Like women can multi-task. We can sleep.’

  ‘Well, it’s not fair.’ I poked him again. ‘So, anyway. What time do you think you’ll have to start masturbating to ejaculate at 9.44 a.m.? Do you want me to help?’

  ‘Gina!’ he grabbed his pillow and pulled it over his head. ‘I’m not going to start bashing one out now so leave me alone. You’ll be entering me into the wanking Olympics next!’

  ‘What if there’s a train strike?’ I ignored him and carried on.

  ‘There won’t be,’ his muffled voice groaned.

  ‘But how do you know?’ I said, aware that I was being annoying but the timing was absolutely crucial. I hadn’t come all this way and gone through all this horrible treatment, not to mention emotional trauma, to have it ruined by something out of my control. ‘What about a derailment? That could mess everything up.’

  ‘Stop thinking about it.’

  ‘What if there’s an inconsiderate suicide bomber on the tube?’

  ‘Suicide bombers are only human. Once we explained our predicament, I’m sure they’d understand and let us be on our way.’ He threw the pillow at me. ‘Turn over.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, the only way I’m going to get any sleep is if you’re asleep. So turn over and I’ll give you a back massage.’

  ‘Ooh, I like the sound of that.’ I turned over as his hands went to work, kneading my shoulders.

  ‘What’s this?’ Karl noticed the drawstring bag from the spell I’d done, poking out from under my pillow. He pulled it out, frowning at it.

  ‘Nothing.’ I gave him a sheepish look.

  He undid it and peered inside. ‘A pink stone and a bit of smelly stick.’ He held it up, eyebrow raised. ‘Do we have to sleep on a bed filled with garden rubbish now? What have you put under my pillow? A dog’s turd from the local park?’

  I snatched it off him, embarrassed. ‘It’s that spell I did, OK?’

  He tried to suppress a snort but it didn’t work. ‘A spell? I thought you were joking when you told that couple at the hospital open evening. Haven’t we got enough with one witch in the family?’

  ‘It’s a real fertility spell, actually.’

  ‘And you seriously think this ridiculous idea will work?’ He gave me a disbelieving look.

  ‘There was a woman on Fertility Friends who did one and got pregnant straight away.’ I heard my voice becoming defensive.

  He shook his head. ‘If someone had suggested you did a spell before all this baby business started you would’ve thought they were nuts.’

  ‘I know, but I need all the help I can get.’

  ‘I’m not saying anything,’ he said in a tone of voice that said it all.

  ****

  We finally got up at half past seven and had breakfast. Well, Karl had breakfast. I just played with my organic wholemeal toast and organic strawberry jam. Every time I went to take a bite, I felt nauseous.

  ‘You should finish your breakfast. You won’t be able to eat anything after this because of the sedative.’ Karl tucked into a couple of boiled eggs.

  I averted my eyes, the thought of eggs bringing about a fresh wave of anxiety. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  I glanced at the clock again. Only a minute had gone past since the last time. I stood up and paced the floor.

  At half-past nine, I had my coat on and Karl was reading a report from work.

  ‘Are you going to start?’ I asked him.

  ‘Hmm?’ he glanced up at me.

  I mimed a wanking action. ‘It’s half nine. You know what happened last time at the hospital. It took you ages.’

  ‘That’s because I was in a broom cupboard!’

  ‘Do you want a hand?’ My eyes darted nervously to his crotch. ‘You’ve only got fourteen minutes to do it before we have to leave.’

  ‘No. I think at the moment you’d put me off with all your nerves flying around.’

  ‘So go on then!’

  ‘Yes, sir, Sergeant Major, sir!’ He leapt up and saluted me, then grabbed the pot from the kitchen side.

  I tapped my watch and he rolled his eyes at me and disappeared upstairs.

  I looked at the clock. 9.33 a.m. He had twelve minutes left. I thought I was going to throw up.

  I grabbed a glass of water and downed it.

  9.34.

  I stared out of the window and saw Dad pull up on the drive, hoping Karl hadn’t heard it in case it put him off.

  I sat down, resting my head in my hands and jigging my legs up and down. Then I stood up and paced the floor.

  9.38.

  He should’ve started earlier. I knew it! Why was I the only one panicking around
here?

  At 9.43 he came downstairs with a big smile on his face and handed me the pot. ‘There.’

  I shoved it down the top of my leggings. ‘Dad’s here. We might as well go.’ I grabbed Karl’s jacket and thrust it towards him.

  Dad knocked at the door.

  ‘Hang on a sec, I just need to get something.’ Karl went into the lounge and came back with a big silver milk churn we used as an ornament.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I hissed.

  He grabbed a label from the office desk, wrote Karl’s Sperm Sample on it and stuck it on the front of the huge churn. Then he opened the door and held it up to Dad who stood on the doorstep. ‘Can you give me a hand with this?’

  Dad rushed to take it off him. ‘Ah, right. That’s your…erm…’

  Karl burst out laughing.

  I rolled my eyes at Karl, grinning in spite of how stressed I felt. ‘Come on!’ I put the churn back in the house and slammed the door. ‘Stop mucking about.’

  Dad chuckled. ‘You’ve got plenty of time, love. Don’t panic.’

  ****

  On the train en route to London we didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I was too busy freaking out inside. I was very conscious of Karl’s sperm down the front of my leggings. How weird it was to think that I was on my way to getting pregnant but the sperm was on the outside of my uterus, instead of the inside. This wasn’t exactly how I’d envisioned getting pregnant all those months ago. A candle-lit dinner with a nice bottle of wine, or a cosy little holiday for two, followed by romantic love-making, yes. In a hospital, with a test tube, definitely a no-no. It felt so clinical and disconnected – the most unromantic thing in the world.

  I tried to shield the pot carefully in case someone accidentally bumped into me and broke the container. One little slip and everything could go wrong.

  I stared out of the window at the world speeding by. In a distant field, I spotted two magpies. They were supposed to be lucky, weren’t they? What was the saying? One for sorrow, two for joy? That had to be a good sign.

  I reached for Karl’s hand and he gripped it like he never wanted to let me go.

  ****

  ‘You can put your bag and clothes in here.’ Claire showed us to a cubicle with a bed and locker next to it. ‘Then put your gown on.’ She nodded to a blue gown on the bed with ties at the back. ‘Have you got the sperm specimen?’

  ‘Yes.’ I pulled it out of my leggings and handed it over.

  She wrote Karl’s name, date of birth, and the time it was taken on it, then hurried off.

  I got undressed and Karl did up the ties on my gown with fumbling hands.

  Half an hour later, the embryologist arrived. She was tall and slim and glamorous, and looked more like a catwalk model than someone who’d be popping eggs out of me.

  ‘Hi, I’m Dr Sheena Coulson. I’ll be doing the egg retrieval for you today.’ She smiled at us and examined some notes on her clipboard. ‘Do you want to go in with Gina?’ she asked Karl.

  He looked at me to see what I wanted.

  I nodded at him.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK, we’ll take you down in about fifteen minutes and get everything set up.’ She shook our hands and disappeared.

  More intolerable waiting until the anaesthesiologist arrived. ‘I’m Dr Jones, and I’ll be administering the sedative for you today.’ More note examining. ‘Do you have any allergies to any medication?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ I said.

  ‘OK. We just need a signature on this consent form.’ He handed me a form on a clipboard and I squiggled my signature on it. ‘See you soon.’ And he was gone.

  When Claire came to get me, I’d had about ten nervous wees. She wheeled me on a stretcher into a room with lots of futuristic medical instruments and machinery that looked like something out of a scary science fiction film.

  I gulped, my eyes darting from the equipment to Karl and back again.

  He bit his lip, holding onto my hand.

  Opposite me, there was what looked like a small dinner hatch in the side of the wall that you’d find in a café.

  The hatch suddenly flew open and a plump nurse with grey hair peered her head through.

  The whole thing seemed so surreal I just blurted out, ‘Two egg and chips please.’

  Karl laughed next to me.

  I grew hot with embarrassment and slapped a hand over my mouth when I realized I’d said it out loud, worrying that a sudden onset of Tourette’s was another side effect of the hormones.

  Everyone else chuckled, as if trying to humour a nervous, hormonal woman.

  ‘Can I have your name and date of birth, please,’ the dinner lady said through the hatch.

  I gave her my details.

  She nodded and handed something to Dr Coulson.

  When everyone had stopped checking their equipment, Dr Jones gave me a sedative, and I passed out. Well, I sort of passed out. I could hear myself groaning in pain. God, Dr Dye had nothing on this lot. It was bloody agony, like someone was repeatedly stabbing my insides with knives.

  I came round properly back in the cubicle in a lot of pain. ‘Ouch.’ I opened my eyes and Karl leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bed, his face the colour of raw cake mixture.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

  ‘No. I could feel it when they were doing it. It still hurts.’ I slurred, rubbing my stomach.

  ‘This is crazy. You shouldn’t have to be going through this. It was horrible to see you in so much pain.’ His voice overflowed with anger and passion.

  I squeezed his hand again. ‘How many eggs did they get?’

  ‘Five.’ He rubbed my arm and kissed my cheek.

  ‘Only five? They said I had eight follicles.’

  Just then, I heard the woman in the next cubicle tell her husband they got seventeen eggs and I felt like the IVF idiot. If I wasn’t still half doped up and in agony, I would have marched around the curtain and punched her lights out.

  ‘God, I feel sick,’ my mouth started watering and my stomach churned. ‘Can you tell the nurse?’

  Karl rushed off and came back with a nurse who had a cardboard kidney-shaped sick bowl in her hand.

  ‘Don’t feel well.’ I struggled onto my side and threw up in the bowl.

  ‘You may be having a reaction to the pethidine,’ the nurse said. ‘I’ll give you an anti-sickness injection.’ She disappeared off again as I puked for England.

  When she returned she gave me an injection in my bum. ‘That should get you feeling a bit better.’

  ‘You look green.’ Karl’s eyes moistened with tears.

  ‘I feel green,’ I croaked before throwing up again. ‘Can I have some water?’ I wiped my mouth with tissues and he poured some water from a jug on the locker.

  I lay on my side, Karl stroking my back as finally the sickness subsided.

  When the nurse came back, she suggested Karl go and get me something to eat to help settle my stomach.

  ‘What shall I get you?’ Karl asked me.

  ‘Ugh! I don’t want to eat anything,’ I said.

  ‘How about a sandwich?’ the nurse suggested.

  ‘OK.’ It was easier to agree than resist.

  Half a sandwich, a pint of water, and an hour later I was feeling a bit more human, although still in pain, drained, and tired. ‘I want to go home,’ I told Karl, although I was dreading the train journey on the way back.

  On wobbly legs, I got dressed as Karl supported me.

  Claire returned and cut off my hospital wristband. ‘Take it easy on the way home. If you have any problems, give us a ring. We’ll phone you tomorrow to give you an update on the fertilization.’ She gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘Good luck, Gina. I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.’

  ****

  Karl put me to bed when I got home and I was off in la la land as soon as my head hit the pillow. It was the first decent sleep I’d had in ages, although that was probably due to the drugs still in my system. I didn’t ev
en hear Karl get up the next morning and woke up at 10 a.m. when he brought me a cup of green tea.

  ‘Have they phoned yet?’ I asked him when he sat on the edge of the bed.

  He pursed his lips and shook his head.

  ‘I wonder when they’ll ring,’ I said.

  ‘Hopefully soon. How’re you feeling?’

  ‘Like someone’s been shoving knitting needles up my fufu.’

  ‘Do you want some pain killers? They said you can have some.’

  ‘No, thanks,’ I said as the phone next to Karl’s side of the bed rang.

  I looked at him.

  He looked at me.

  Then he dived for the phone.

  ‘Hello?’ He answered the phone as my heartbeat clanged around in my chest. There was a pause, then: ‘Oh, hi.’ He glanced at me and mouthed, “It’s your dad.” ‘She’s a bit sore, but OK. Do you want to talk to her?’ He passed the phone to me.

  ‘Are you OK, pumpkin?’ Dad asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. Just a bit sore. Listen, sorry Dad, but the hospital might be trying to get through to tell me if the eggs have fertilized.’

  ‘Oh, OK. Ring me later, then, when you find out. I’ve got my fingers crossed.’

  I hung up and it immediately rang again. I stared at the phone in my hand and passed it to Karl. ‘You answer it. I’m scared.’

  He answered, then rolled his eyes at me. ‘Hi, Amelia. No, she’s fine, but we’re waiting for a phone call from the hospital. Uh-huh. Yes. I’ll get her to ring you later.’ He hung up.

  Three agonizing hours later, they phoned. I heard Karl’s voice downstairs as he answered. Then his heavy footsteps as he ran up the stairs.

  He burst in the bedroom door, a massive smile on his face. ‘Two eggs have fertilized.’

  My hands shot to my mouth and I burst into tears. ‘Oh, my God!’

  Come to Mama

  Two days later, we were back at the hospital for the embryo transfer.

  I stopped short in front of the entrance doors. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’ I felt a surreal glow inside. My eggs fertilized. They actually fertilized, and I’d had a permanent smile on my face since I got the news.