Читать книгу The Baby Diaries - Sam Binnie - Страница 7

A baby. Pregnant. I’m still not used to this. I don’t even know where to start. New clothes? A cot? Thom said: ‘Maybe go and see a doctor.’ I’m glad I’m not doing this on my own.

At the doctor’s today, I looked around the waiting room at the other patients with new, wiser eyes. What could they be here for? A teenage girl looks nervous, and plays with her phone the whole time. Pregnant? A woman with three young children looks exhausted and keeps putting her head in her hands. Number four on the way? Then my name was called, and I saw my new doctor for the first time: a black woman a couple of years older than me, standing in the doorway, resting her hip against the frame and rubbing her pregnant stomach. In her office, we each tried to make the other sit down first. She said, ‘On three?’ and I laughed and sat down.

Dr Bedford: So, how can I help you today?

Me: [suddenly nervous] I think I might be … [indicating her]

Dr Bedford: Black?

Me: No! No, not … no, I mean –

Dr Bedford: I’m just kidding, Katherine.

I like her.

Dr Bedford: You think you might be pregnant?

Me: Haha, ha. Yes, I think I’m pregnant.

Dr Bedford: And what makes you think that?

Me: I’ve missed two periods, I did four pregnancy tests in the end and they were all positive.

Dr Bedford: Just wanting to make sure?

Me: Exactly.

Dr Bedford: And how do you feel about this pregnancy?

Me: It wasn’t exactly planned, so I freaked out a bit to begin with – we only just got married this summer –

Dr Bedford: Congratulations!

Me: Thank you – so I wasn’t really sure how to handle it all, but I’m really happy now. I think. We both are.

Dr Bedford: OK, congratulations for this too, then. You say you’ve missed two periods – do you think that’s how far along you could be?

Me: [suddenly feeling like I’ve made an embarrassing mistake] Ye-es. Is that a problem?

Dr Bedford: [laughing] Of course it’s not a problem, Katherine! We’re not going to send you away because you’re a little later noticing than some mothers! Now, I’ll give the hospital a ring to get you booked in for your twelve-week scan – obviously these things are often booked up a while in advance, but of course we’ll find space for you. How are you feeling in yourself?

Me: Fine, thanks.

Dr Bedford: Any tiredness, or aches? Any pains around your womb area?

Me: I did feel completely wiped out about a month ago. I kept coming home from work and falling straight to sleep. But I thought that was delayed trauma from everything that’s happened this year. Do you think it was related to this?

Dr Bedford: I think it almost certainly was. So you’re getting lots of rest now? Anything else, any aches?

Me: Some aching, but I thought it was just period pains. I assume that’s why I haven’t realised. I kept getting stretching, achey pains, then forgetting that the period itself didn’t actually show up. And my appetite has gone crazy – either I’m trying to eat everything, or there’s nothing I can eat without feeling sick. I actually kept meaning to come and see you about it.

Dr Bedford: That’s quite normal, I’m afraid. And how have you been taking care of yourself, generally? Do you smoke or take drugs?

Me: [triumphant] No! Neither!

Dr Bedford: [laughing again] Well, that is something. How about drinking? What’s your weekly intake?

Me: Average?

Dr Bedford: What do you think we’re talking; a bottle of wine a night?

Me: God, no! Actually, it has been way less recently. That’s weird.

Dr Bedford: As long as you’re cutting back now, that’s all that matters. What’s done is done, yes?

Me: I suppose so.

Dr Bedford: I’ll sort out that scan, and give you this booklet [hands over giant A4 folder]. It will hopefully answer any questions you’ve got, give you some idea how to take care of yourself, and let you know all the check-ups and scans you’ll be having. You might also want to think about joining one of the antenatal groups around here, to meet some other mums.

Me: [choking sound]

Dr Bedford: Are you alright?

Me: Mums. Other mums. Other mums. Is it hot in here?

Dr Bedford: It could help you, Katherine, if you want to talk about this with people who might know what you’re going through right now. Do you have any other questions?

Me: Doctor.

Dr Bedford: Yes, Katherine.

Me: Is this all going to be OK?

Dr Bedford: I can’t tell you that, Katherine, but you’re a sensible girl. If you’re eating well and taking care of yourself, I don’t see that there should be any reason to worry. But it’s the scan that can really tell you what you’re looking for. Anything else?

Me: Can you tell my parents?

Dr Bedford: Do you think they’ll be upset?

Me: No. I think they’ll be delighted. I’m just not sure I can cope with it.

Dr Bedford: Well, Katherine, I’m always here if you need support or guidance, but do bear in mind [leaning in, conspiratorial] I’ve only two months to my maternity leave and I do have quite a few people to see before I can go. So …

Me: I see. Thanks, Doctor.

Dr Bedford: [smiling] You’ll be fine.

She is a great doctor. Maybe we’ll bond over our babies and become the best of friends, and we’ll bring our kids up together and have loads of hilarious misadventures as a gang. But maybe I won’t mention that yet. We’ll just see how it goes.

Some things that, with hindsight, were possibly caused by me being pregnant:

1 Sleeping fourteen-hour nights for two whole weeks

2 On three separate occasions, eating Thom’s portion of dinner when he was fifteen minutes late home

3 Crying uncontrollably during a debate with Thom about funding cuts hitting vulnerable women and children

4 Crying uncontrollably at an old Gilmore Girls episode

5 Crying uncontrollably at a bread advert on TV

6 Being sick in my mouth when Alice brought me coffee at work two mornings in a row, after which she stopped doing it

7 Suddenly finding none of my bras fit properly

8 Going off booze (I thought that was odd)

9 Only wanting oranges for breakfast for an entire week

10 Finding Mum even more annoying than usual

Yes, I may have been ignoring some major clues there. But in my defence: I’ve had other things on my mind. Dad’s officially recovered from his heart attack, but I still worry about him. He retired early and happily from a boring senior job at a law firm years ago, and became a Jewellery Making teacher at the local college, to our surprise, all in an attempt to slow his life down and keep himself well. But he was never in one of the high-risk groups before the heart attack, which makes it harder to predict how he’ll fare over the next five, ten or twenty years. I have to admit: every time the phone rings and it’s Mum, my hearts dips. Is something wrong? But it never is (if you discount the neighbour’s noisy driveway, Gillian from her old work’s daughter’s new house, plastic bags, the price of petrol, the shoes she only bought last summer but are already falling apart) and I should be returning to pre-heart attack levels of stress. But I’m not. Every time she reports Dad’s got a cold, headache, or – heaven forbid – episode of heartburn, my adrenaline levels go through the roof. And Mum seems worse than usual at the moment – panicking, worrying, even forgetful. So I’ve been distracted. But how were we going to tell them about this baby? Would they like it? Would they think it was too fast?

At work, before Tony did his Business Strategy Sabbatical Disappearing Act™ he’d been on my case about my new position, pushing me to bring in some money to Polka Dot with my own books. I know his mother Pamela is on my side, since she actually forced him to honour the promotion he’d offered me, but she’s barely around. And Jacki Jones, the actress/popstar whose bestselling wedding book originally got me the promotion, is busy going through a very painful divorce, but Tony had still been nagging me to find out if there’s a second book in her. She signed up for a two-book deal, as Tony obviously imagined there’d be babies soon enough, but the state she’s in at the moment, I can’t bring myself to ask. We still see each other regularly: once a month we pick a bar and spend an evening laughing at the terrible coverage her divorce is getting. Our favourite so far is the story that she’s divorcing her husband for Pedro, one of her best friends and horrific ego-ridden monster-slash-celebrity photographer who snapped our wedding at Jacki’s incredibly kind request (and God knows how much of her own money). He’s truly awful (to me, anyway, accusing me of being a social climber at Jacki’s cursed wedding), but he is just her friend, and I believe he cares about her. She laughs at these dreadful stories, and the headlines illustrated with pap-snaps of her looking ‘tired’, ‘drawn’ and ‘emotional’, but she’s so sad. The more I know Jacki, the more I love her, and it’s awful to see this funny, smart, ambitious person being crushed just a little more every day. So I don’t know where I’m going to get that money-spinner.

For now, I’ve got the Four Authors of the Apocalypse to be dealing with.

Hilary Taylor – producer of Aga sagas. I’ve had brief dealings with her before, when Tony was trying to poach her from her last publisher. He won her over with a glossy presentation and proposed rejackets for her back catalogue, but we all suspect this is going to be one of those terrible triumphs of sales figures over blind optimism: she hasn’t sold well for years, and no amount of extra laminate on the jacket is likely to change anything about that. Favourite fact: In our email correspondence, she was unbelievably bitter and rude about her then-current publisher. Can’t wait until we receive that treatment too.

Matthew Holt – a brand-new author, of truly dire Scandi-crime. I have a horrible suspicion that he’s been no nearer to north-eastern Europe than watching Eurovision, but the crowbarred-in geographical references are the least of my complaints. His book is really, truly, very bad, but my only hope is that people will assume they’re genuinely Scandinavian and blame the translator. Favourite fact: Matthew Holt believes that you can walk directly from Denmark to Norway.

Jennifer Luck – another brand-new name, this time of trashy, shopping-and-handsome-bosses fiction. Magically inspired by completely current cultural reference point Sex and the City, she’s given us four books, all of which we’ve signed up: Nude in New York, Filthy in Finland, Hot in Hong Kong, and my personal favourite, Bonking in Brazil. Favourite fact: These books make me wish I’d never learnt to read.

Stuart Winton – a complete unknown. The manuscript I have is a very ropy erotica novel set in the eighties, under the pseudonym Tara Towne. But I can’t find any details on our systems to even contact Stuart, nor can I find any evidence of the contract. Favourite fact: This may be an elaborate prank Carol is playing on the rest of the office. I can’t even begin to say how unlikely this is.

And all of these I’m responsible for making sure they’re insanely successful.

TO DO:

Find out if it’s possible to change my career before the baby is born

Also: Eat some fruit

Don’t take up horse-riding, cross-country skiing or trampolining

Stop looking up ‘dangerous pregnancy activities’ online