NEXT MORNING, Ella woke with butterflies in her stomach. The pregnancy test she’d taken had been positive; but as a midwife she knew that there were all manner of things that could go wrong over the next few weeks. One in four pregnancies ended in a miscarriage. And would the scarring in her Fallopian tubes have caused a problem with the baby?
She managed to force down a slice of toast and was sitting in the waiting room outside the ultrasound suite at five minutes to eleven, having drunk the requested one litre of water. There were Christmas cards pinned on the cork board in the reception area, and some of the tables had been moved to make way for a tree. All the couples sitting in the waiting room now were clearly looking forward to the following Christmas: the first Christmas with their new baby. Right now, Ella didn’t know if she and the baby would still be here in Cheltenham with Oliver, or whether they’d be back in Ireland with her family, and it made her feel slightly melancholy.
Would Oliver be on time for the appointment? Or would he need to be in with a patient and have to miss the scan?
She reminded herself that it didn’t matter if he couldn’t be there; she could manage this perfectly well on her own. She tried to flick through one of the magazines left on the table to distract people who were waiting, but the paper was too shiny for her to be able to read the words easily.
And that was another worry: would her baby inherit her dyslexia? Ella knew that a daughter would have a one in four chance of inheriting the condition, and a son would have a three in four chance. She hated the idea that she could’ve passed on something that would cause her child difficulties in the future; though at least she was aware of what to look out for, so if necessary she’d be able to get help for her child much earlier than she’d received help, and her child wouldn’t go through most of his or her education feeling as clumsy and stupid as Ella had.
She’d just put the magazine back on the table when she heard Oliver say, ‘Good morning.’
She looked up and her heart skipped a beat. He really was beautiful: the walking definition of tall, dark and handsome. And she’d never reacted to someone as strongly as she reacted to Oliver.
‘Good morning,’ she said, trying to sound cool and collected and hoping that he didn’t pick up how flustered he made her feel.
‘Are you all right? Is there anything I can get you?’
‘Thanks, but I’m fine. And, before you ask, yes, I’ve drunk all the water they asked me to.’
‘Let’s hope they’re running on time so you’re not uncomfortable for too long. May I?’ He gestured to the chair next to her.
‘Of course.’ And how ridiculous it was that she longed for him to take her hand, the way that the partners of the other pregnant women in the waiting room seemed to have done. She had to remember that their relationship was limited to an unplanned and inconvenient shared status as a parent: they weren’t a proper couple. They probably never would be. The best she could hope for was that Oliver would be there for the baby as he or she grew up. It would be stupid to dream that the man who’d held her yesterday afternoon when she’d cried, the man she was falling for just a little more each day, felt the same way about her. Yesterday he’d been kind, that was all.
A few minutes later, they were called into the ultrasound suite. As they walked into the dimly lit room, the sonographer said, ‘Oh, Mr Darrington! I didn’t expect to see you.’ She looked speculatively at Ella. ‘I didn’t realise—’
‘I’m supporting Ella,’ Oliver cut in, ‘as I’d support any member of my team whose family lives a long way away.’
‘Oh, of course.’ The sonographer blushed. ‘I’m sorry for—well, making assumptions.’
Ella had wanted to keep everything just between the two of them, but at the same time she felt a prickle of hurt that Oliver hadn’t acknowledged the fact that this was his baby, and had fudged it in a way so that he hadn’t lied directly but had definitely misdirected the sonographer. She knew it was contrary and ridiculous of her to feel that way, and it was probably due to all the pregnancy hormones rushing round her system. How many times had she had to comfort a pregnant woman in their department who was upset for a totally irrational reason?
Following instructions, she lay on the couch and bared her stomach. The sonographer tucked tissue paper round Ella’s clothes to stop them being covered in gel, then put radio-conductive gel on her stomach.
‘It’s warm,’ Ella said in surprise. ‘The gel is always cold if we do a scan on the ward.’
The sonographer smiled. ‘It always is warm down here because of all the machinery heating up the room. I think it makes things a bit more comfortable for the mums.’
‘I agree. We’ll have to think of a way of doing that on the ward,’ Ella said to Oliver.
The sonographer ran the head of the transceiver over Ella’s stomach. ‘Good. I can confirm there’s just one baby here.’
Ella hadn’t even considered that she might be having twins. She had no idea if twins ran in Oliver’s family, but she could hardly ask him right then—not without adding to the hospital rumour mill.
‘The baby’s growing nicely,’ the sonographer said, and took some measurements on the screen. ‘It’s about thirteen millimetres long, so I’d say you’re about seven and a half weeks.’
‘That ties in with my dates,’ Ella said.
‘You can see the baby’s head and body very clearly.’ The sonographer turned the screen round to show them a bean-shaped blob; there was a flicker which Ella knew was the baby’s heartbeat. And she was shocked by the rush of sheer emotion that burst through her at the very first sight of her baby.
‘The baby’s heart rate is one hundred and fifty beats per minute—which you’ll know as a midwife is absolutely fine. It’s too early to measure the fluid behind the neck for a Nuchal test, as we’d usually do that at about eleven weeks, but we can do a combined screening test for Down’s then,’ the sonographer said.
Ella only realised then that she’d been holding her breath, waiting to know that everything was all right and her fertility problems hadn’t also caused a problem for the baby. ‘Thank you. It’s really good to know all’s well.’
There was a knock on the door and another member of the ultrasound team put her head round the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt—can I have a quick word?’
The sonographer went over for a brief discussion. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I just need to pop next door for a moment. I’ll be back very soon.’
‘Not a problem,’ Ella said, feeling a tug of sympathy for whoever was in the other ultrasound room. For the senior sonographer to be called in, it meant the team needed a second opinion on a potential complication.
As the door closed, Oliver took her hand. ‘Our baby,’ he said in wonder, looking at the screen. ‘I’ve seen so many of these scans since I started working as an ob-gyn, and even performed a few of them myself, but this… This is special.’ His voice sounded thick with emotion.
‘I know.’ It had affected Ella in the same way, and she was amazed by how strongly she felt. She’d only known about this baby for three days and it had turned her world upside down; but at the same time it was the most precious gift anyone could’ve given her and she was already bonding
