The Ice Marathon (5 page)

Every time the café door opened, my insides spun. Or was it
the baby kicking? How soon could you feel a baby kick? I was ridiculously
unprepared. In fact, this whole situation was ridiculous. I kept expecting to
wake up and find that it was all a dream, or discover that I was the victim of
a hidden camera show. I mean sure, I’d
heard
of women who didn’t know
they were pregnant until they were spitting out a baby, but I’d never imagined
that I could be one of those. Surely a pregnancy would have exacerbated my
health problems, but I hadn’t noticed any change at all.

I could still run away, I told myself. I could sneak out the
side door and send a text reporting a change of heart. I could do this myself,
without this stranger. Yet petrified as I was, I knew that it would be
unforgivable not to tell him.

The door opened again. There he was – the father of my baby
just casually strolling in. I’ll never forget how he looked at that moment –
both completely alien and entirely familiar.

I was struck by how square he looked – square shouldered,
square jawed, even his hands looked square. Could my round, curvy body be
harbouring a square baby?

“Well, this is unexpected,” he said, with a smile.

Oh crap, he thinks this is a date.

“Sit down,” I told him, and then realised that he’d already
taken a seat.

“Are you all right?” he asked, trying to peer into my eyes,
which were fixed on the saltshaker.

I wasn’t aware that I was crying until a tear landed on the
cloth beneath me.

He placed a finger gently under my chin and tilted my head
towards him. I didn’t recognise his touch at all. If I hadn’t seen him walk in,
I’d swear that was the back of somebody else’s finger kindly pressing against
my chin. I couldn’t bear to make eye contact.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. I noticed that there was a
sympathetic quality to his voice now, which I’d never noticed before. He
sounded almost …
nice.
This troubled me even more than if he’d been
condescending – it reminded me that I didn’t know him at all.

How was I going to do it? How was I going to tell this
stranger that there was a member of his family hanging out in my womb? I knew
that ‘there is a member of your family hanging out in my womb’ was the wrong
choice of phrase, but was there a right one?

“I’m pregnant,” I whispered.

“I can’t hear you,” he said. Then he held my hand. “It’s
okay, take your time.”

I couldn’t believe he was being so patient. If a woman with
whom you’ve had a one-night stand calls you and then bursts into tears, there
are only two probable causes.

Finally, I managed to make eye contact. It was then that I
realised he was petrified. He was trying not to show it, but his eyes betrayed
him. The brows were arched and unsteady.

“It’s not an STD,” I said quickly.

“So you’re …”

“Yes.”

He breathed in suddenly, drinking in a large quantity of the
air around him. He gazed at me, his eyes widening further with every hair of a
second. He grabbed my glass of water and took a gulp, only to choke on it and
splutter.

“Are you okay?” I asked,

He nodded as he skirted drowning.

“Do you want some water?” I asked him, foolishly.

Finally, he managed to splutter, “How long ago was it since
we … It feels like
months
ago.”

“It was.”

“I’m only twenty-five.”

“I know, Nicky told me.”

“Does she know?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

“Forget what she says, what do you say?” I demanded. Then I
apologised, softly. How could I expect him to say anything? He’d known for less
than a minute. I’d known for two days and I still didn’t have a clue what to
say. “Sorry,” I said. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s a big shock.”

Suddenly, he looked annoyed. “How long have you known?” he
asked, suspiciously.

“Two days, I
swear
. I called you as soon as I could.”

“You kept my number then?”

I looked guilty. “I got it from Nicky,” I mumbled.

Simon tugged at his hair. He cupped his chin in his hand. He
kept taking in brisk breaths, but not following them with words.

“There’s more, I’m afraid.”

“Twins?” he said, sounding even more panicked. Or was he
joking? Who would joke at a time like this? You need to know a person before
you can resolve the subtleties of their humour.

“No,” I said, with the slightest hint of a laugh. “No,” I
repeated softly, in case it wasn’t a joke. “The thing is, I have a health
condition.”

He looked up. Somehow, he managed to look even more
concerned than he had done already. His eyebrows almost reached his hairline.

“It’s bipolar disorder.” I wondered if he knew what that
was.

“No,” he said. “You can’t have. You seem fine.”

“I am, most of the time. Almost all of the time.”

“I mean, you’re feisty …”

Thanks for reminding me.

“But nothing unusual, for a woman.”

“What do you mean, ‘for a woman’?” I snapped, automatically.

“I just meant …”

“Forget it; we’ve got more important things to discuss.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I just meant that you seem emotional, but not in an
unhealthy way.”

“I
am
healthy.”

“Well then …?”

“I’m well because I respond to lithium.”

“Okay … Well then, what’s the problem?”

“Lithium is dangerous to the baby.”

He didn’t have any muscles left to tense. His whole face was
already a pallet of fear and confusion. Eventually, his fingers crept across
the table, walking his hand towards mine. He placed his fingers gently on mine.
“What are the dangers?”

“It means that the baby could be … damaged.” The words
stuck in my throat like trying to regurgitate ice cubes. “For example, there is
a big risk of heart defects.”

He froze. He just stared at me. His hand went cold.

“I need to find out more, but I think there’s something
called an Ebstein anomaly …”

“Does this mean you’re going to …” he trailed off.
Beneath the heap of emotions, he suddenly looked desperately sad. “Do you want
to … Are you going to …”

“I don’t know,” I said, fighting back tears. “Maybe I
should, but it feels wrong.”

Chapter 5

I felt peculiar about Simon coming to the ultrasound –
almost irritated. I felt as though he was intruding on one of the defining
moments of my life. I reminded myself that it was also a defining moment in
his
life. We were in this together – almost strangers, yet most intimately
entwined.

Nicky was there too – a welcome tie to that which was
familiar. I felt most odd, remembering that the last time the three of us were
together; I had been bickering with Simon about the cast of
Coupling
;
now we were awaiting news about the health of our baby.

The weather was cooler today, but my brain humidity made up
for it – saturated with emotion.

The worst part was the guilt – the tug of war between the
two extremes of my feelings. It felt terrible to vocalise but I hadn’t
wanted
this baby. It was the wrong time, the wrong man, and the wrong conditions. On
the other hand, what could be worse than hearing that the little person inside
had a terminal defect? A part of me – a very dark, selfish part – hoped that I
would find out something definitive, which would take the crucial decision away
from me. I despised that part of me and repeated ‘Please don’t let my baby be
sick’ over and over in my head to neutralise the despicable thought. I tried to
remind myself that whatever happened today, there would be options.

“We’re just gathering more information,” I reminded Simon.
“Good news doesn’t necessarily mean I’m keeping it and bad news doesn’t
necessarily mean that I won’t.”

“I know, and I’ll support you whatever you decide to do,” he
said, as if reading from a textbook on how to be the perfect partner. He always
had said the right thing when it came to the baby; he had offered his
wholehearted support and emphasised that it’s my body, my choice … But I
couldn’t help thinking back to that conversation over dinner, about
how abortion felt wrong. Even though he was visibly terrified, I knew that
deep down, a part of him wanted me to have our baby.

I’d been taking lithium for twenty-three weeks. One website
estimated that the chances of a heart defect were almost one in ten, not to
mention the many other complications lithium could cause. By now my baby was
the length of a ruler from head to foot; even if he or she suffered from an
anomaly, would I be able to say goodbye to somebody I’d nurtured to the length
of a ruler? I tried to remind myself that exploring hypothetical scenarios was
a waste of emotional energy. I had to wait and find out the results of the scan
– not long now.

The ultrasonographer looked ordinary – just an ordinary
woman with mousy hair, fine facial features and grey eyes. I don’t know what I
expected but this woman had the power to find out whether my baby had a cardiac
defect – potentially whether it might live or die. In my mind, I’d expected a
God (whatever a God might look like).

“We’re particularly worried about heart defects,” I told
her. “I’ve been taking lithium.”

“All right,” she said calmly, as if the risks were
negligible. “If you could lift your shirt up …”

The coldness of the gel excited me with its promise of progress.
Yet, as she approached me with the stick, a part of me wanted to scream at her
to stop, but instead I lay there, paralysed with anticipation.

“Are you all right?” asked Nicky, from my left. I was just
about to answer when I realised that she was looking across me, and directly at
Simon.

“Am I missing something?” I asked.

They exchanged looks again. The atmosphere was familiar. I’d
experienced it once before, when Dave had mentioned a race.

“I lost somebody because of a heart defect,” Simon said, softly.

I was stunned. Poor Simon – today’s ordeal was hard enough
already, without it evoking painful memories.

Then it happened – my baby appeared on the screen. I felt an
avalanche of emotions. The little being looked so much like a person – head,
body, tiny little arms … Already he was upside down – ready to come out –
begging to be born. The thought of being parted from him now felt like having
my insides turned through a mangle.

“I’m happy to say you seem to have a healthy baby,” said
God.

“What?” I asked. I’d been so wrapped up in my fear that the
good news – the probable news – felt like a total shock. “Are you sure?” I
asked. Could I dare to believe that my worst fears had been eliminated?

“There are no obvious heart or skeletal defects. However, you
and your baby will need to be monitored throughout your pregnancy and
immediately afterwards. The obstetrician will talk you through this in more detail.”

“But there’s nothing big?”

“There’s nothing obvious at this stage.”

“So this is good news?” checked Simon.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “This is good news.”

I didn’t notice that Simon was holding my hand until he
squeezed it. For somebody who hadn’t wanted a baby, he wasn’t half smiling.

“Do you want to know the sex?” asked the lady.

Simon looked at me. I nodded.

“Yes please!” we replied, in unison.

“What would you like?” asked Nicky.

I was surprised to note that I hadn’t thought about its sex
once – I’d been so focussed on the baby’s health. I supposed that I might
prefer a girl – a baby girl would be a little version of me, and feel less like
an intruder than having a little version of Simon inside me. But then again,
watching a little boy grow up would be fascinating. I just wanted to meet him
or her.

“I don’t mind either way,” I said

“Me neither,” agreed Simon.

“It’s a boy,” the lady told us.

“Yes!” whooped Simon, punching the air. I found myself
laughing. Nicky was chuckling too.

I had been wrong – there were no options. Now that I’d seen
my baby, there was only one road ahead. He wasn’t an ‘it’ anymore, but a tiny
little boy – our tiny little boy. I wondered how Simon would take the news.
Watching him dancing with delight, I felt certain that he’d be happy with my
decision.

Three days ago, the very thought of having a baby horrified
me, but this experience – seeing my son on the screen, hearing that he looked
healthy, seeing Simon react to the news – it changed every part of me,
irrevocably.

* * *

We sat in the park enjoying the beautiful weather and our
post-scan buzz. A gentle breeze and puffy clouds thwarted the sun’s desire to
cook us alive. I was elated. I was having a beautiful baby and I felt that
nothing could burst my bubble.

“Are you all right?” asked Nicky, for the fifth time.

I smiled. “Never better.”

“You and Simon seem to be getting on all right …”

“Admittedly, he was pretty sweet in there.”

“I was fighting back tears when he started dancing!”

I remembered Dave, and how much Nicky must long to see him
dance at a scan. “It will happen for you,” I assured her.

“I hope so,” she said, looking into the distance.

Simon returned from the ice cream van carrying three fruit
juice lollies.

“Didn’t have any Magnums?” I asked. I distinctly remembered
asking for a ‘large, gooey choc ice on a stick’.

“I thought fruit juice would be better for the baby.”

What? Argh!

Suddenly I felt the urge to slap him. The realities of
having a baby with a man I didn’t know flooded back to me. True, we’d shared
something special at the scan, but Simon was still the infuriating,
self-assured plonker that I’d met at dinner. How dare he tell me what was best
for the baby growing inside
me
?