Seventeen Years Ago
Eleven and a bit weeks pregnant.
It’s Wednesday morning, a school day, and Mum and I are going to my antenatal appointment.
I’m grateful she’s letting me go in my own clothes, black leggings and a loose maroon sweatshirt that hides my slowly changing shape.
I’ve tried hard to straighten my hair and do my make-up in an attempt to look older than I am, but I’m drowning in anxiety.
‘Why aren’t you in school uniform?’ Dad barks at me as we’re about to leave.
I don’t have an answer, but Mum thinks quicker than I do.
‘We’re off to the doctor’s, John. Women’s problems.’
‘Ugh. Go.’ Dad waves his hands at us as if he’s shooing away pigeons.
If that’s his reaction to talking about periods, I dread to think how he’d react to the real reason we’re leaving.
We pull into the hospital grounds, and I pleat the bottom of my sweatshirt between my fingers.
‘Jackson’s here,’ says Mum and my head snaps up.
His tall skinny frame, clad in dark jeans and a black jacket zipped up to his chin, is leaning against a lamp post at the entrance to the car park. Our eyes lock as we drive past him and my tummy does a forwards roll. I haven’t seen him since our row, and I’ve missed him.
Mum seems as nervous as me and by the time she’s faffed around going backwards and forwards to make sure her small Fiat is parked exactly in between the white lines, Jackson is loitering at the back of the neighbouring car.
Mum heads off to get a ticket and Jackson and I stand about two metres apart facing each other, ready to do battle.
‘You look nice,’ he says, his hands deep in his jeans pockets, his shoulders up around his ears.
My stubborn streak sets in and I refuse his eye contact. I stare straight past him at a bin overflowing with takeaway coffee cups and sticky ice lolly papers that flutter in the breeze.
‘I didn’t mean any of it.’ He shuffles his feet awkwardly. ‘I said it all wrong. I’m sorry.’
I stare stubbornly at several wasps as they hover around the rubbish.
‘Ellie, look at me.’ His voice is needy and it needles at my heart. He runs a hand through his hair self-consciously. ‘Please?’
I swipe at my nose, trying to get rid of the prickly feeling stabbing it, then swing my eyes to meet his. Mine still wary, his pleading. ‘What?’ The word is harsh.
He takes a visible breath. Tension stretches across my body and shoulders, scared to hear his words, but at the same time glad he’s here, talking to me.
‘I didn’t mean that this won’t affect me, sure my body won’t change, my hormones won’t go haywire, I won’t feel like shit for months and I won’t feel like throwing up all the time or desperate to eat earth,’ he spits it out all at once.
I frown at him.
He gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘I told Mum. She gave me a talking-to.’
‘Eating earth?’ I give a faint smile.
‘Her craving apparently when she was pregnant with Milo.’
‘Oh.’ We’re silent for a moment, my hostility beginning to ebb away.
‘You’re not doing this on your own. Whatever you decide to do. I want you to know I’ll support any decision you make.’
The vice grip on my heart tightens again. ‘That’s just it. I don’t want it to only be my decision.’ My voice drops to a croak. ‘It’s too big to make on my own and I might make the wrong one.’
‘Shit. I’m crap at this,’ Jackson says more to himself than me, before taking in another prolonged lungful of air. ‘This is our decision, I get that. But whether we like it or not, more things will happen to you. But I’m not abandoning you. We’ll make this decision together. You and me.’
Before I can reply, Mum is back.
‘Everyone ready to go in?’ she says, putting the ticket on the dashboard.
‘Can I come in too? Is that OK?’ Jackson says hesitantly.
I nod, as Mum says, ‘Come on. Let’s get this done.’
‘Hop up on the bed, Ellie.’ The lady in a white tunic top and trousers, who introduced herself as Jenny, smiles kindly at me.
The paper covering the bed rips as I climb up onto it and I shuffle it together and shove it under my bottom as I lie down.
The room is dim and Jackson and Mum are sitting on two grubby light grey plastic chairs at my side.
A large complicated-looking machine with knobs and buttons and a blank screen is on the other side of me.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit excited except it’s mixed in with a rather large dose of fear.
Jackson reaches up and takes my hand and I squeeze it tight.
‘Shifty your leggings down a bit more,’ says Jenny, coming over to us.
I wiggle my bottom and awkwardly move my leggings and knickers to around my hips.
She tucks a piece of blue paper towel around the front of my pants and pushes them down even further revealing the top of my pubic hair.
I can feel the tips of my ears begin to burn, but no one in the room seems to give one hoot about me lying here with my underwear half off so I lay my head back to try in vain to relax.
‘This’ll be a bit cold, lovie.’
Jenny sits down and flips the top open on a white tube. There’s a farty squelchy sound and clear jelly hits my skin. She’s right, it’s freezing, and I suck my breath in through my teeth.
‘Sorry about that,’ she says, not sounding sorry at all. She switches on the machine which whirrs into life and then presses a wand into my lower tummy.
I lift my head to try to see the monitor she is staring at, but it’s angled away from me so is impossible to see. The wand is slid and twisted and pressed hard on my abdomen and I grimace. All the while she clicks buttons and twists knobs as she studies the screen in silence.
‘Right lovie. Everything looks good.’
I had no idea how I would feel about any of this, but relief floods through me like a dam’s been broken.
‘I guess you’re eager to have a look.’ She swings the monitor sideways so I can see by turning my head, and Jackson and Mum lean forwards.
I don’t know what I’m looking for because the screen looks like a mass of black-and-white static.
‘Where is it?’ asks Jackson. ‘What are we looking at?’
Jenny slides the wand across my stomach and presses down again then points at the screen with her other hand.
‘They look a bit like aliens at this point, but – whoops – he or she is full of beans today.’
The tiny blob she’s pointing at is shifting its shape constantly on the screen, at times looking like its limbs aren’t attached to its body.
‘It won’t stay still,’ says Jackson, his eyes fixed to the screen like mine.
‘Look at it stretching and kicking.’ A giggle spills from my mouth. ‘Oh, it’s so cute. Look how long its legs are.’
Jenny wiggles the wand across my tummy. ‘Do you see that?’ She’s now pointing to a little flickering blip in the centre of the blob. ‘Listen.’
The room floods with the sound of the baby’s drumming heartbeat.
‘Ohh.’ Jackson’s exclamation is low but unmissable. ‘Is that the heart? Is it actually beating?’
Jenny gives a tinkling laugh. ‘Of course it’s beating, lovie. Nice and strong and even it is too.’
I grasp Jackson’s hand hard. ‘Wow.’ A surge of pride flashes through me. We did this. That’s our baby.
Jenny has clicked the machine so it’s a still picture and she’s writing into my pregnancy notes that I brought with me. ‘By my reckoning in another twenty-nine weeks, you’ll be holding that little bundle in your arms.’
‘Wow,’ I say again. It all feels a little surreal, but now I’ve seen her, because she feels like a her, it feels real for the first time.
It feels a bit more like a dream than a nightmare and I have the urge to reach out and touch the still image.
I smile across at Jackson. He’s beaming, still transfixed by the image on the screen.
‘It’s incredible. He’s so tiny,’ he whispers to me.
‘Or she. I know. Mum …’ I turn to look at her expecting the same joyful expression, but her mouth is in a straight line and her expression guarded. She’s hard to read.
We get some more info and a printed picture which Jackson carries like it’s a fragile package and Jenny hands me back my notes.
I bounce out of the room into the bright light of the corridor and excitedly link my arm through Jackson’s. He still seems a bit stunned and he’s holding the scan picture where he can continue to look at it.
‘Wasn’t that amazing?’ My hand goes under my oversized sweatshirt to cradle my tiny baby bump.
The nurse on reception calls me over as we leave and puts her hand out for my notes.
‘All OK? Now we’d normally see you at sixteen weeks, but with you being a little younger you’ll get an appointment sooner to keep an eye on you and baby.
But for now …’ she takes a quick squiz at my notes, ‘… everything looks great so keep doing what you’re doing and any problems give your midwife or us a ring. Nothing is too silly to ask about.’
Once we’re out in the fresh air and away from the hospital, Mum speaks. ‘Have you two decided what you’re doing yet?’
I stop walking. ‘With what?’ My head is still full of the magical heartbeat that had filled the room.
‘If you’re just over eleven weeks gone, you don’t have a lot of time to decide.’
Her words deflate my mood as if it’s been popped with a pin.
I look sideways at Jackson who is hanging back, staying out of the conversation.
I’d been so swept away with the excitement of watching our tiny blob on the screen that I’d managed to bury the fact that there were still options on the table that didn’t include keeping it.
‘I think I know what I want to do.’ My hand creeps back to my belly and forms a protective shield around it.
‘All I’m saying is you need to be sure before we tell your dad.’ Mum is twisting the ball of her foot into the gravel of the pavement. ‘I mean, where do you stand on all this, Jackson? Are you standing by Ellie? Is this what you want?’
Jackson coughs and sounds like he’s choking. He takes a step forwards so he’s standing directly behind me. ‘Yes, of course I am.’ He nudges me subtly.
I need to get away from Mum and find out what Jackson really thinks.
I tilt my head up towards him and catch the golden tones shining in his eyes. ‘Actually, Mum, would you take my notes home?’ I hand her the slim green folder. ‘Jackson and I are going to the beach.’