Fetus
Crying softly she turns her head away from the machine. I haven’t even looked yet, I don’t want to, instead I sit quietly by the metallic hospital bed, comforting her. The ugly white hospital sheets are pulled right up to her arms and the sobs send shakes through her body, even though it’s a warm August evening. I don’t need the machine to tell me though; all I have to do is look at her, to see where her stomach curves upwards and the skin stretches to its limits. Without hesitation I smooth my hand over the bump and she doesn’t try to stop me. It was routine.
It’s December, there’s a light dusting of frost on the patio and fairy lights are hung on every available wall. I’m sitting in the corner of the lounge on my favourite arm chair, reading the newspaper.
“John?”
I sigh, turning over the next page.
“John??”
I look up, annoyed. Kate stands in the doorway, her figure obscured by one of my heavy angora sweaters. Her bare limbs are almost porcelain and she fiddles with her wedding ring anxiously, something she does only when she’s nervous. I know it’s serious.
“Are you alright?”
She bites her lip and looks up at me, torn between a smile and a grimace.
“Yes...and No”
“Yes and No?” I put down the newspaper and look at her properly. Her eyes are red, puffy looking, she’s been crying.
“Umm... I think you should take a look at this”
Then her left fist uncurls, revealing a small white stick. I’ve watched enough TV sitcoms to know what it means, but I’ve never had to see one before. I try to keep my voice steady and even, but I can’t help but let it jump two or three octaves higher than I intended.
“Oh, so you’re...”
“Pregnant” she breathes, holding the stick to the light where two faint blue lines become visible.
I can’t contain myself any longer. Jumping off the arm chair I make the two metre gap between us in a single stride.
“I know, I know” she laughs, as I wrap my arms around her, cradling her head so her face is inches away from mine.
“I love you” I whisper, and I know I’ve never meant it more.
She presses her lips to mine and somewhere between kissing I slip my hand down to her stomach.
I know it’s happened because there’s no movement. No slight prod against the side of my hand or the jut against Kate’s stomach when she’d kick. The absence of life chills me to the core, it seems hopeless and empty. Everything is empty.
Kate takes my hand slowly and places it against her cheek instead “She’s not in there anymore”
“I know” I whisper.
The door judders clumsily as the doctor enters.
“Mrs Kent, Mr Kent” he nods meekly, a grave look in his eye. It’s one that all the doctor’s share whenever they see us, like a code of sympathy.
“I’m so sorry for your loss”
And then suddenly I feel angry, because it wasn’t just a loss. It was a life, a whole life. It was her lilac nursery, the old rocking chair that my wife would have sung her to sleep in, the pale pink sleep suits that would have fit snugly around each of her perfectly formed limbs.
Kate turns towards the doctor “What do I have to do” she says, her voice wavering.
The doctor relaxes quickly; he’s back in an area he’s comfortable with. “Well we have two options. We can either induce labour, in which the fetus will travel naturally down the birth canal or we can perform a c-section.”
I’m about to tell him that he’s crazy, that there’s no way my wife would want to give birth naturally. I want to punch for even suggesting it. But Kate speaks before me.
“Natural, I just want to do it Naturally”
I stare at her wordlessly.
“I want to be awake John. Awake when she’s...she’s...”
She struggles for a second and then falls silent and I feel like crying, or breaking something. Because Kate can’t say that word, she can’t finish that sentence. Our daughter will never be born, she’ll remain frozen, a fetus.
“Okay, It’s fine”
She takes a shaky breath “And you’ll be there?”
I don’t want to be there. I want to be anywhere else than there but I nod reassuringly. “Of course I’ll be there”
