Sixteen
It was nigh on impossible to keep a pregnancy quiet as a nurse—which would have been Rowena’s preference.
But between the rather inelegant dashes to the loo and needing to consistently avoid patients who might have diseases or infections or be on drugs like cytotoxics that could harm the pregnancy, it only took three shifts before her secret was out.
She fielded congratulations left, right and centre, which she smiled through until her teeth ached.
People meant well, she knew that, but Rowena’s awkwardness grew the more her colleagues fussed over her, because she wasn’t feeling what they were feeling.
The more people who knew, the more wellwishes that came her way, only added to the clash of emotions roiling around inside.
If only she could be that person who laughed and beamed and lapped up their attention, safe and secure in the knowledge that everything was going to be okay. But it felt like she was tempting fate if she even dared go there, dared think about a positive outcome.
And she also knew that these people would be the same ones patting her on the back and telling her they were sorry—or not looking at her at all—when the inevitable happened. Rowena had learned the hard way that people were much better at congratulations than they were at condolences.
‘Oh. Em. Gee!’ Brooke exclaimed. ‘Preggers?! That’s fantastic. I knew there was a thing going on between you and Lachy!’
What? Oh, dear god … ‘I never said who the father was.’
All she’d told Diana was that she was pregnant, that she hadn’t been feeling great but it shouldn’t affect her employment as she’d be out of Acacia Junction well and truly before the baby was due.
If Diana had wondered about who the baby daddy was, she didn’t voice it. Nobody asked about the father at all. Nobody but Brooke was indiscreet enough …
‘Oh, puh-lease,’ Brooke dismissed. ‘You two have been making goo-goo eyes at each other since you got here.’
‘We have not.’
Brooke made a rude, dismissive noise through pursed lips. ‘He couldn’t stop staring at you at that first trivia. And you blush every time his name is mentioned.’
‘I do not,’ Rowena denied, her traitorous cheeks heating.
‘So does this mean you’ll be staying on? In Acacia Junction?’
Rowena blinked. What? Absolutely not. Brooke more than anyone knew she was only here as a stopgap, as a job to ease her back into high-level nursing after her leave of absence. Brooke knew that Rowena had to get back to Sydney to redeem herself and her professional reputation.
She couldn’t stay.
For god’s sake. There would be no baby. This pregnancy would end soon—like all her others—so thinking that far ahead was futile.
And emotionally exhausting.
Aware that Brooke was waiting for her answer, Rowena hedged. ‘I … don’t know. It’s complicated and new and it’s … early days yet. We haven’t really talked long term. We’re just getting used to the news.’
‘Yeah, that must have been a bit of a whammy. Reggie must be over the moon.’
‘Uh huh.’ Rowena smiled noncommittally because she wasn’t privy to what Lachlan had told Reggie, but his grandmother had been very circumspect. She hadn’t even said, I told you so.
‘You should go see Shari about your dating scan. She’ll happily book it in for you.’
Another noncommittal nod from Rowena. ‘Thanks. I will.’
But she wouldn’t.
Rowena knew getting a scan was the responsible thing to do. And although Lachlan had shown admirable restraint, she knew he’d like her to get one too. Because, of course, he wanted to hear the whop, whop, whop of his baby’s heartbeat.
But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t look at a screen and see another tiny heartbeat with all its hope and promise.
Not if she was going to lose it.
*
The one good thing about her pregnancy being known at work was Diana delivering her salvation in the form of a roll of Life Savers.
Oh, the irony.
‘I swear by these for morning sickness,’ she said.
‘I practically lived on them for the first four months when I was pregnant with Alice, and they worked for all four kids. At the first inkling of nausea I’d suck on one and it would keep it at bay for a while.
Then I’d suck on another one. I’m amazed all my teeth didn’t fall out of my head. ’
Rowena laughed as she took the colourfully wrapped roll. She hadn’t had a Life Saver since she was a kid. The hard, o-shaped, fruity lollies had been a particular fave, though.
‘It might not work for you but it’s worth a try.’
‘Absolutely.’ Rowena pocketed the roll. ‘I’ll give anything a go and it sure as hell beats the cucumber and watercress smoothie one of Reggie’s CWA ladies swears by.’
Diana shuddered. ‘Just thinking about that makes me want to throw up.’
‘I know, right?’
They laughed then, but Diana quickly sobered as she eyed Rowena speculatively.
‘Look … I know this is none of my business so tell me to go jump in a lake if you want, but … have you spoken to your psychologist since you’ve found out about the baby?
It’s a big change in your life and sometimes those things can … knock you off course.’
Rowena smiled gratefully at her boss, who had just tiptoed, very elegantly, through a potential minefield.
‘Thank you for asking.’ Rowena appreciated that Diana was looking out for her. She was a really good boss. ‘I actually have a Zoom scheduled with her this afternoon.’
‘Oh.’ Diana let out a breath, her relief palpable. ‘That’s great. And any way I can help here at work to make things easier for you, just let me know.’
Rowena smiled. ‘Thank you. I will.’
*
Helena Chandra was a few years older than Rowena but looked ten years younger.
She spoke softly, wore floral-framed glasses and a large purple flower ring, and, despite appearances, was no pushover.
As a first-generation Australian from the burbs of western Sydney, she wasn’t afraid to dig in and ask the tough questions or cut to the chase.
‘You’re worried you’re going to lose the baby.’
Rowena blinked back hot tears. ‘I know I am.’
There was a long, considered pause then. ‘I understand with your history and your age you’d have those concerns.’
‘Yes.’
‘And also from our previous sessions I know that you feel like you don’t deserve a baby because of the abortion.’
Rowena swallowed against the thickness in her throat. ‘Yes,’ she murmured, her voice husky.
‘Is that why you think you’re going to lose this baby?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay.’
Waiting for her therapist to elaborate, Rowena didn’t say anything for several beats. When Helena remained silent—one of her favourite tricks—Rowena filled the space. As Helena knew she would.
‘I know it’s not … logical.’
Helena shrugged. ‘For highly complex, highly organised, highly rational beings, humans often aren’t logical.’
‘I could have had the baby.’ Deep in her heart, Rowena had always known that was an option. ‘It was only twenty years ago. Not fifty or a hundred. I was … self-centred. Selfish.’
‘Your parents wanted you to have the abortion.’
‘Yeah, but I could have refused.’ Her conservative parents had been shocked at their studious daughter’s predicament and then quickly moved into damage control, as her mother had called it, panicked about the disruption to her schooling and career trajectory.
Other options had never really been offered, but they hadn’t put a gun to her head either.
‘You were fifteen. You were a child.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I wasn’t.’
Rowena may not have been a full-blown adult but she’d been old enough to indulge in very adult activities. Old enough to understand the possible consequences of having unprotected sex when she and her first serious boyfriend had been caught short a few times.
She’d just been greedy and reckless and suffering under the impression she was bulletproof.
‘You know,’ Helena said, removing her glasses, ‘I’ve known you for six months now and you’re probably one of the most empathetic, kindest people I’ve ever met.
You gave me that gorgeous print of a rainbow bridge when my dog died.
Whenever you come here, you buy a coffee downstairs at the café and take it across to the homeless guy that lives in the park.
I watch you from my window. And you always ask my PA about her mother’s Alzheimer’s.
Once you even brought her a book you’d just read on active brains. ’
Helena leaned in on her elbows, her face almost filling the laptop screen now, her features earnest. ‘Why are you so unkind to that scared little girl?’
Rowena sucked in a breath. The enquiry had been soft and gentle but it sliced like a stiletto between her ribs. It took several long, deep breaths before she could choke out an answer. ‘I … don’t know.’
‘What would happen, do you think, if you were maybe a little bit kinder?’
‘I don’t know,’ she repeated.
They’d talked about forgiveness before, because she’d never forgiven her fifteen-year-old self. If anything, she’d been piling on the blame year after year.
But kindness?
‘Who knows,’ Helena murmured, ‘maybe it could be liberating?’
Rowena sniffled. ‘Yeah.’ Maybe it could be.
Satisfied she’d made some kind of headway, Helena nodded and said, ‘Good.’ She sat back in her chair. ‘Have your anxiety levels increased with this unexpected development?’
‘No.’ Rowena shook her head. ‘Not really. Not like before, anyway. It helps that I’m trying to not look too far ahead. To not hope. But I will. If it goes on for a while.’ Her voice wavered at the thought. ‘I know it.’
Helena paused for a moment to give Rowena a chance to compose herself. ‘You’re still taking your medication?’
‘Yes.’ It had proven tricky to keep down due to the morning sickness, but she’d mostly succeeded.
‘Some women get anxious about the effect of the medication on a pregnancy and stop.’
‘I haven’t stopped,’ Rowena said. Even though she was well versed in the safety of different drugs during pregnancy, she’d still google-fu’d the hell out of her medication. What she’d read had eased her concerns—luckily, because going off it didn’t feel like an option.
Not before going back to work on the NICU.
‘Good. I’d like to reassure you that there’s a plethora of data on serotonin reuptake inhibitors during pregnancy and they are considered safe.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Are you taking folic acid?’
Rowena nodded. ‘I’ve just started.’
It was a contradiction, for sure. If Rowena was so gosh-darned convinced the pregnancy was futile, why was she taking a prenatal vitamin supplement?
But Helena didn’t mention that—instead she chatted about strategies for coping with the influx of hormones and, at the end, sent through some links for some reading she’d mentioned during the session.
But all Rowena could think about after was kindness. Something she valued highly both in herself and in others. Treating people with courtesy, respect and compassion. But … being kind to herself?
Could it really be that simple?
*
It took a little over a week after Rowena had moved into the homestead to stumble across a morning sickness remedy that actually worked.
The Life Savers helped a little but weren’t a miracle cure.
The same went for the combined wisdom of the women of Acacia Junction’s CWA.
Their myriad suggestions had been lovingly cooked or prepared by Reggie but they all, sadly, ended up in the toilet.
In the end, it was tea that did the trick.
Yep, it was official—she was a tea drinker now.
So was Lachlan, who had crossed to the other side with her when even the aroma of brewing coffee in the kitchen made her throw up.
He took it milky and strong enough to stand a spoon in while hers was weak and black, but it, more than anything, settled her stomach, which was a godsend!
With the nausea largely controllable and more sustenance going into her system, Rowena’s colour rapidly improved. She was still exceptionally tired but, as a midwife, she knew that was par for the course in the first trimester.
And, at her age, probably for the rest of it as well.
It made her very grateful, however, for her chauffeur service, especially on a late shift. She lost count of the number of times she fell asleep as Lachlan drove her home over the next few weeks.
One moment she’d be talking to him, and the next thing she knew, Lachlan would be shaking her awake on the farm. Then she’d rouse enough to stumble into the house before crashing on her bed and falling instantly asleep, where she barely moved until Acca Dacca woke her the next morning.
Lachlan, not satisfied with just being her personal chauffeur, had appointed himself her personal alarm clock on the days she worked the early shift.
And, she had to admit, she was actually growing quite fond of waking to the primal sound of pipes, which were a hell of a lot louder here than they’d been at the bunkhouse.
No chance of sleeping through it, that was for sure.
One day, in the last week of August when she was giving Shirley—who’d never made it back to the shed—her morning bottle, Lachlan asked if she’d like to see the property.
‘I’m going to do a fence check and suss out some water levels and I thought you might like to tag along?’
Rowena, who was on day one of three long, blissful days off, jumped at the chance. She really only knew the part between the homestead and the bunkhouse, yet Lachlan came home every night from down the paddock, all dusty and dirty from doing who knew what, and she was curious.
She hadn’t even seen the shearing shed.
‘I’d love to.’
‘Be ready at four? We can watch the sun set over the billabong. It’s nice out there.’
Excited at the prospect, Rowena nodded. ‘I’ll be ready.’