A rush of warmth swept through me. ‘I love you so much. I’m so happy we’re bringing a child into the world
together,’ I said gently.
Michael opened his mouth to speak, but then a doctor appeared in the waiting room. ‘Mrs Mills?’ he called out.
‘Have you had any bad morning sickness?’ the doctor asked as he looked at the computer screen. He was a tall man with thin, greying hair and round glasses. His hand had been cold when I’d shook it.
‘Yeah, I have actually,’ I replied. ‘I’ve had a few dizzy spells, and I’ve had horrible pain in my shoulders. Is that normal?’
The doctor turned to look at me and frowned. Michael squeezed my hand. ‘It can be,’ the doctor said, not seeming too worried. ‘How often have you been feeling like this?’
I pursed my lips as I tried to think. ‘I suppose for the past ten days. I’ve been feeling sick suddenly. Is that normal too?’ My heart started to pound. I was sure everything was fine, it had to be, but sitting before a medical professional awaiting answers to my questions caused panic to swell in my chest.
The doctor nodded. ‘I’d like to order some blood tests and an ultrasound, just to make sure everything is okay. Have you had any bleeding or discomfort when passing stool?’
I shook my head. ‘What is it you’re looking for, doctor?’
He smiled warmly. ‘Oh, probably nothing, but when sickness is as bad as you say it’s been, it’s always a good idea to check on things.’
*
We sat in the hospital, nervously awaiting the results.
Over the past couple of days I’d had blood two blood tests, and earlier that morning I’d had an ultrasound.
‘I’m sure everything is fine, sweetheart,’ Michael whispered as he took my hand in his. It was soft and reassuring against my skin.
‘You are?’ I asked, looking up at him. I wasn’t convinced. Over the past couple of days, I’d been researching my symptoms. My search had brought up some frightening results which I’d shared with Michael, and I’d barely slept with the sickness and the worry. I couldn’t believe how much had changed in the space of two weeks.
Michael didn’t respond. He didn’t seem to know how to. He sighed. ‘Look, what I do know is that we have each other. Always. Okay?’
I managed a smile. ‘You can’t ever leave me. You know that, right?’
Michael laughed. ‘I’ve known I could never leave you
since I was eleven, you muppet.’
I laughed too.
A few minutes later we were sat in a doctor’s office. It smelled clinical, and the walls were bright white and displayed posters promoting healthy eating and warning against the risks of drinking alcohol and smoking.
‘Now, Mr and Mrs Mills,’ the doctor began. It was a different doctor to the one we’d seen last time. She was a thin woman who looked about forty, with black hair tied back in a soft bun. Her face was void of makeup and her years showed in the fine lines that were starting to appear around her eyes. Her voice was soft and gentle, her expression unnervingly sad. ‘There is never an easy to way to say this, but what I am about to tell you is not uncommon, and there are things we can do to help.’
‘What’s happened?’ Michael asked firmly. I was glad he did. I’d opened my mouth to say the very same words, but no sound had come out. I knew something was wrong.
The doctor took a deep breath. ‘What’s happened here is an ectopic pregnancy. This means that an egg has been fertilised but has implanted itself outside the womb in one of the fallopian tubes.’
‘What does that mean? What can you do?’ Michael questioned, squeezing my hand tightly. His brow furrowed. I’d read about these…
The doctor looked sombre. ‘I’m afraid it means that the only thing we can do for your wife’s health is to end the pregnancy.’
What?
End the pregnancy?
I wasn’t going to have our baby?
Was I at fault?
Had I done something?
It felt like a hammer had whacked me in the stomach; like I’d been dropped in smothering ice-cold water. The baby I’d only known about for two weeks was never going to be born. But how? I’d already decorated the nursery in my head. I’d already held it for the first time. I’d already kissed its soft head. I’d already grown to love it. How could it be gone already?
Just like that.
‘I’m so sorry. You should know that it doesn’t affect your chances of getting pregnant again and that it’s not so uncommon. Lots of women find they can have a baby within a year or eighteen months of an ectopic pregnancy,’ she said, trying to be encouraging.
I nodded, swallowing. My mouth felt dry. I had so many questions. So many concerns. ‘How, ah, how do you end the pregnancy? Will I have to have surgery?’ I asked, sniffling, as tears began to roll down my cheeks. I don’t even know how I managed to talk. It was like I was on autopilot or something.
‘We’ve caught it early which means we won’t have to operate,’ she said sympathetically. ‘All we’ll have to do is give you a single injection of a medicine called methotrexate. You might find that you have some undesirable side effects such as tummy pain, dizziness, and nausea, but it shouldn’t last too long. I’d also like to give you some leaflets about some organisations that can help couples in your position. The Ectopic Pregnancy Trust can offer counselling and guidance should you seek it.’ She spoke so softly and offered nothing but kindness, but at that moment I hated that woman. It felt like she had taken my child from me, merely because she’d uttered the words that I was no longer going to be a mother, that Michael was no longer going to be a father.
The room was silent for a few moments. But it felt like much longer.
I could hear the ticking of the clock, the footsteps outside the door, the birds chirping beyond the window. My world had come crashing down, and yet outside the office, the world was still spinning, lives were going on, unchanged.
The doctor spoke again. ‘One of the most important things to remember is to give yourselves time to grieve. It’s not unusual to feel like you’ve lost a family member, and you might feel that way for a few months. I’m going to give you a few minutes alone,’ she said gently. ‘And then we’ll discuss the steps we need to take next.’
She was gone from the room in a couple of seconds.
And then I broke down in Michael’s arms.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
6th August 2019
Time without Michael: 1 Year, 7 Months, 20 Days
‘I think we deserve another round, ladies,’ Roanna said, getting to her feet and wobbling slightly.
‘Oh, I couldn't agree more,’ I chirped, sucking on the glacier cherry from the cocktail stick that rested on the rim of my empty glass.
‘After the day we’ve had, absolutely!’ Kit said triumphantly. ‘But first, nature calls!’
My two best friends headed off in different directions, one to the bar and one to the toilets, leaving me to reflect on the day alone.
We were sat in a beach bar near our hotel and had been since we’d got off the boat. We hadn’t even changed, and I still wore my denim shorts and a t-shirt over my bikini. Luckily, the Floridian heat had dried the wet patches our bikinis had left hours ago. Other patrons of the bar, however, had come out in their finest, and some of the girls looked like they’d spent hours contouring their faces and slipping into slinky dresses. I never understood girls that wore so much makeup. As well as they applied it, and as beautiful and glamorous as they looked, I’d always thought the point of makeup was to make it look like you weren’t wearing any. I was partial to the occasional smoky eye and a red lip, don’t get me wrong, but what they had on was far beyond my abilities and desires.
I checked my phone to get an idea of the time. It was twenty-past-nine in the evening. I noticed I had a message from Mum and a couple from Max.
I put my phone back in my beach bag. I didn’t want to read any messages yet. I wanted to absorb my surroundings
, to completely disconnect myself from life back in England.
I sat back in the wicker chair and watched the sea.
The waves looked shiny and black beneath the silver shell of the moon, with frills of white foam crashing against the sand. I’d always loved the sound of the sea at night. It sounded different somehow; like it was further away than it was during the day, more inviting, more alluring, like each wave was the slow curl of a finger, enticing me to immerse myself in its enchanting darkness.
I inhaled and took a deep breath, taking the sea air straight to my lungs. I could smell the salt, could faintly taste it on the tip of my tongue. It made me feel excited and calm simultaneously, like a bead of hope had been planted in my belly. Michael would have loved this, I thought with a smile, absently rubbing my finger against an earring.
‘Oh, brill! You got Margaritas!’ I beamed when Roanna pulled me from my thoughts and returned to the table with a tray of drinks. Limes sat on the salt-covered rim of the curved cocktail glasses, and I could smell the tequila a metre away.
‘Yeah,’ Roanna said as she set the tray down and slid back into her chair. But she seemed off. Spooked. Her forced smile didn’t reach her bright blue eyes, and her face was pale.
‘Whoa,’ I said, reaching forward and grabbing her hand. ‘What’s wrong? Has something happened?’
Roanna shook her head and took a long sip of her drink, almost downing half of it at once.
‘Roanna, don’t lie to me. I can tell something’s up,’ I said. She wouldn’t look at me; her blue eyes were fixed on her drink.
She shook her head again. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said softly.
‘Okay. The second you do, I’m here.’ I nodded with understanding and offered her a smile, even though she wasn’t looking. ‘I can’t believe we’ve almost come to the end of our trip! We only have two days left! What do you want to do tomorrow?’ I asked, changing the subject.
Roanna put her drink down and dropped her head in her hands. ‘I just saw Eric, Lina,’ she spilled. Her voice shook.
‘What?’ I gasped in shock. ‘Where?’
‘He was sat at one of the booths inside with that tramp he was cheating on me with!’ She was seething, and her hands started to shake.
‘Oh my god!’ I didn’t know what else to say. It had been years since Roanna had divorced him and she seemed fine, strong, and yet here she was crumbling before me just like she had the day she’d first learned of his infidelity. ‘Roanna, you deserve so much more than him. He’s a prick, and he doesn’t deserve half of you.’
‘I know. I know I do,’ she said after taking a deep breath, running her index fingers beneath her eyes to stop tears from falling. ‘I don’t even want to be with him. Not anymore.’
‘You will find someone so much better, Ro. Someone who will love and cherish you. Someone who will never hurt you the way that bastard did.’ I was certain she would. She was gorgeous, funny, smart and interesting. Eric was an idiot for letting her go.
‘But, how do you know?’ she asked. ‘I always thought that Eric was a sleaze and that he’d cheated on me for some cheap fling. But he’s still with her. He loves her more than he loved me! What does she have that I don’t?’
I was stunned. I’d never seen Roanna doubt herself so much. She was the strongest, most self-assure woman I’d
ever known. ‘She doesn’t have anything you don’t.’
‘She has Eric,’ Roanna said bitterly.
‘How do you know he isn’t cheating on her the same way he cheated on you?’
Roanna shook her head and bit her bottom lip. ‘He looked so...happy. He never looked at me the way he was looking at her. Like she was everything. I was never enough for him. But I loved him so much, Lina. How can my love not have been enough?’
‘It’s not about that, Roanna. His love wasn’t enough for you. He wasn’t worthy of you,’ I told her firmly.
She shrugged and let out a long exhale, dipping her head to the table. Her hair trailed in something sticky, but I didn’t think now was the best time to tell her, so I gently moved it for her without her noticing. She looked up at me and scoffed, tucking her hair behind her ears, trying to pull herself together. ‘I know you’re right. But, god, I just feel shit right now.’
I smiled. ‘Feeling shit is part of this wacky adventure we call life.’
Roanna let out a breath of laughter, but it was short-lived, and her smile faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. ‘When we met at uni all those years ago, did you ever think the three of us would end up with such tragic love stories?’
I shook my head and took a long sip of my drink. The tequila hit the back of my throat and made my eyes water a bit. I’d noticed they made drinks a little stronger over here. ‘I had my future all mapped out, and it didn’t look anything like this,’ I said with a sigh. ‘But we’re here. We’re alive. We have so much to be grateful for. I might not have Michael now. But I had him. And I am so, so grateful for the brief time we had together. Every day is a constant struggle not to think about the worst day of my life, the day he was taken from me, so I do my best to remember the best days we had together, to remember what I still have.’
‘Where do we go from here?’ Roanna asked.
‘From where?’ Kit asked as she returned from the loo and sat back down. ‘Oooh, margaritas!’
‘Roanna and I were just wondering when our love lives became so tragic,’ I told her.
Kit scoffed. ‘Tragic is an understatement.’
Roanna nodded in agreement. ‘I’m tempted to never look at another man again. I’ll just buy loads of vibrators instead.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Maybe we all have room for another love story at some point down the road.’
The girls raised their brows at me. It was the first time I’d ever spoken about finding love again since Michael died.
‘I don’t know when, or if, it will happen, so how about a toast to us for now?’ I raised my glass. ‘To always being there, no matter what tragedy comes our way?’
Kit and Roanna raised their glasses. ‘To us. To always being there, no matter what tragedy comes our way.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
26th November 2016
‘I’ll be home at around nine, sweetheart,’ Michael said as he emerged from the bedroom, looking incredibly handsome in a dark blue suit. It was the end of November and the night of his staff Christmas party. They were going for a meal in the city and then out for some drinks, but Michael wanted to come home straight after the meal.
We’d been grieving the child we never had for about six months, and while things were slowly getting back to normal, he didn’t like to spend too much time away from me. I’d never seen him so worried. It had been the most difficult six months of our lives, but Michael had been right when he’d said we were in this together. We’d spent hours talking during the night, comforting each other, listening to the other’s concerns.
I’d spent so long blaming myself, feeling like I’d failed. Michael was devastated, and every time I saw a sombre look in his eye or heard an emotionally exhausted sigh, I felt responsible. I was supposed to keep the baby safe. I was supposed to nurture it. But I’d failed. As a wife, as a mother. As a woman.
I’d even wondered why Michael had stayed by my side after I’d failed him so terribly. But whenever I’d voiced my concerns, he’d been nothing but kind and loving. Nothing but Michael.
After what we’d been through, we decided we wanted to try for a baby again, but not yet. We decided that after Christmas we’d get back to planning our belated honeymoon. We needed it more than ever.
‘You can stay out a bit later if you like,’ I offered. I was in the kitchen kneading cookie batter in a mixing bowl. I’d started baking a lot more since the pregnancy. It had helped me focus my attention on something else, and I’d even started a blog about it. I had lots of positive responses from other women in the same position, who had found other ways to help them griev
e. It had been so successful that my freelance writing career had gone through the roof. In the past couple of months, I’d had more work than I’d ever had and I now wrote full-time.
‘No, that’s fine. I want to come home and watch a film with you. It might be time for another Potter or Middle Earth marathon,’ he said with a smirk.
‘I think you might be right. But, I’ve invited the girls over to watch Sex and the City, so don’t worry if you’re having a good time,’ I insisted. I didn’t want him to feel like he had to babysit me.
He nodded as he put on his charcoal coat. He looked so smart. ‘Okay, I’ll see how it goes.’
‘Although,’ I said as I looked him up and down. He looked so sexy with his smart outfit and shaggy hair. ‘Don’t have so much to drink that we can’t have a bit of fun when you get home,’ I flirted.
He grinned. ‘You have yourself a deal there, Mrs Mills,’ he said as he closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. He rested his stubbly chin on my bare neck. I was only wearing a strappy top with a pair of his boxer shorts. ‘Why don’t we blow everyone off and do some naughty things with that cookie dough instead?’ He slipped his hand down the front of the boxers.
I bit my lip and stifled a moan. ‘Oh, god, you have no idea how tempting that is Mr Mills.’
‘What time are the girls coming over?’ he asked in between kissing my neck and shoulder. His breath was hot and his tongue tantalising.
‘In about fifteen minutes,’ I breathed. My hands were still in the bowl of cookie dough. ‘When do you have to be at the restaurant?’
‘In about ten,’ he said roughly. ‘But I don’t think they’ll mind if I’m late, do you, Mrs Mills?’
‘Not at all, Mr Mills.’
Half an hour later, once I’d quickly showered, changed my
clothes, and thrown out the spoiled cookie dough, Kit and Roanna arrived fashionably late. Thank goodness.
‘Oh my god, you look so big now!’ I said as Kit took off her coat. I’d only seen her a couple of weeks ago, but she looked huge. Around the time I’d lost our baby, Kit had announced she was expecting twins. It was like she’d unintentionally rubbed salt in my wound, and for a couple of months I’d made up excuses to avoid seeing both her and Roanna. I wasn’t myself. I was grieving. And giving myself that time away to do that had enabled me to be nothing but happy for my best friend. It wasn’t her fault my pregnancy had failed. It was nobody’s fault. So I was only excited to meet her boys when they arrived. They’d already named them Ross and Hugo.
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