with, my parents, the doctor and a couple of people I didn’t know. They were all telling Alison what a bad person I was and how she should finish with me for killing her baby. I woke up just as I was being told to leave by everyone in the room. It was an awful dream and has haunted me all day. I hope it’s not a premonition. I could be locked up for that sort of thing.
10.00 p.m.
Boris was sick in the kitchen today. I think he’s definitely an alcoholic. Jane says he is one of the ‘ethnics’ she needs on her books to keep the Job Centre happy. If it was me I’d just get rid of him. Mind you, it was funny seeing him projectile vomit over the sandwiches as Jane sent him away from the food in the kitchen. The only place he could run to was the open dishwasher. I wouldn’t have laughed if I’d been on washing up duty. Henry, who was, said it stunk of a mixture of burning tyres and brake fluid. I’ve no idea why he’s still got a job. I wouldn’t employ Boris.
I couldn’t get the dream out my head today. It kept coming back to haunt me. I hope I have a better one tonight to take its place. It’s just my luck, I never normally remember dreams, either.
Wednesday March 14th 2012
It was the twelve week scan today. I met with Alison outside the hospital. I had to rush from work as Jane said that I could only have two hours off. After I’d run there, which took forty-five minutes, I was close to collapse. I stopped running round the corner to try and look breezy and not like I was a complete nervous wreck when I got there. It didn’t work, but I wasn’t having a panic attack as Alison thought, I was just out of breath. It’s a good job the waiting room chairs were near the door of the maternity unit. I just flopped into one while Alison went and signed in.
Being the NHS, we had to wait the obligatory fifty minutes after our appointment was due. I was late for work before we even went into the scanning room. Once we were in there, the midwife was lovely. I couldn’t understand a word she said though, I think she just arrived from a Japanese nursing college a week ago, but I could see the little fish-looking baby on the grainy screen. It was swimming about as the midwife pushed the scanning machine over Alison’s belly. I don’t think the baby liked it as I could see the tiny hand batting away the intrusion before it darted off somewhere else to hide. The midwife would always find it, though.
Seeing the baby inside Alison for the first time was amazing. It’s strange but I didn’t feel a connection to my unborn, I felt Wow, but it wasn’t a connection, like Alison talks about. I suppose it’s different for her, though, as it is actually inside of her.
I was a bit disappointed that the midwife wouldn’t even take an educated guess at the sex of our child, though. I’m fairly sure if I was to spend all day, every day, looking at little fish babies I’d be able to tell what sort it is. She wouldn’t, though, she just kept shaking her head and saying ‘no’. She did qualify the ‘no’ with something in the end, but I’m buggered if I know what she said.
When Alison first noticed the baby on the screen I heard a tiny little squeal of delight. Mother was seeing baby for the first time. We’ve not felt any kicking yet, but I’m sure last night when I put my hand on her belly I could feel something. Like a load of tiny little popcorn was going off inside. Probably the little one going ballistic kicking the walls, telling me to stop squashing it.
I heard the nurse say the words, ‘Down’s syndrome’. Alison just jumped in before I could say anything and asked her to check. What she did then was just zoom in a bit and start taking computer generated measurements of the skull of our child.
She mumbled something about seeing no problem and Alison translated to me later that they would be sending the images off for further tests to be done; however, this was normal and we shouldn’t worry. The midwife is going to ring tomorrow or the next day and confirm what the tests say.
Alison asked the midwife lots of questions. I’d zoned out, though, and not just because I didn’t understand the answers; it was more that I was focused on the TV screen in front of me that had my now calm son or daughter on it. ‘Shim’ was just lying there, moving her hand near her face like she was looking at it, wondering when the fingers would grow. I didn’t need to wonder; I checked in my book and found out that the fingers are already there, they just need to get a bit bigger so they don’t look like stumps. In fact, almost everything is there, so why they can’t tell you if it’s a boy or a girl, I don’t know. Maybe if it’s got a penis, it’s just too tiny to tell. I hope if so and it’s a boy, the poor little blighter is more blessed than I am. If it’s a girl, then they don’t have to worry about that sort of thing.
I didn’t bother going back to work in the end. I phoned Jane from the corridor of the hospital (to get the background noise in) and said there’d been delays and that Alison had also come over all faint, so I was told by the doctor that I needed to stay with her. Jane didn’t sound very happy about it, but there’s nothing she can do, except put me on dishwasher duty and it’s Friday tomorrow so everyone’s a winner!
Thursday 15th March 2012
Something very strange happened at work today. Jane came up to me in the morning and said HR had told her that she would have to give me a warning for unauthorised absence. I reminded her that she knew I was going to the hospital and then told her that I’d gone as my wife is pregnant. This didn’t sway her from her opinion though. In fact it seemed to make things worse, she just pursed her lips and walked off.
She was probably having a bad day.
Alison has a major craving for chips. This means I’m going to have to put up with Terry and his conversations about paintballing more often. I might see if I can find something on the Internet that says fried chips are bad for pregnant women so I don’t have to get her them.
Friday March 16th 2012
I was at work when Alison called to say the Down’s syndrome test had come back. When she said the words and as she’d called rather than waited till I was home, the cold sweat that instantly appeared on my back was so sudden I thought I might pass out. ‘Yeah, so she says everything’s alright, it’s all clear,’ she said, still oblivious to the anxiety I’ve had about this moment for the last couple of months.
So it’s all OK, there is nothing to worry about, no decisions to be made. Now I’ve had a few hours to think about it, I’m glad I did all that worrying; maybe if I worry more about things, then the bad things won’t happen. It seems to have worked out this time.
Saturday March 17th 2012
I was sitting in my chair tonight having just finished my second plate of Chinese food; Alison hadn’t wanted any as it made her get acid. Anyway, Alison came striding into the room lifting her legs to her stomach and laughing. I asked what the problem was and she explained it was restless legs and it’s caused by pregnancy. I couldn’t understand why she was smiling as I remember when Keith was coming off some painkillers he used to have to take for his back, he got them and he used to be moaning all the livelong day about them.
I was thinking about it later and I have come to the conclusion that it’s a testament to the strength of women. They are naturally strong and good-natured. Alison has gone up in my estimation as not just a good person, partner and lover, but also as tower of strength. Apart from that one night when she came here drunk, all I’ve seen from her is calmness.
Seeing how she dealt with it made me realise I love her. I hope she loves me back. We haven’t said it yet.
Sunday March 18th 2012
I met Bill and Sue, Alison's parents, today. I hadn’t planned on it, but as I’ve actively avoided it for almost a month now, Alison took matters into her own hands and arranged to meet them in a local carvery. They are nice people, which, having now fully fallen in love with Alison, I’m not surprised about.
The only bit that didn’t go well was when I dropped my huge plate of unlimited veg on the way back to the table. It was my own fault for putting so much gravy and cheese sauce on the piled-high plate that it started to leak over the edge and burn my hands. I had two choices: speed up and get t
hrough the maze of tables and chairs to our table and put it down, or drop the plate there and then. I went for the former; I’m civilised, I’m not going to intentionally throw a plate of dinner over anyone. So I sped up towards our table, I was moving in between the other tables like a pro, weaving and winding. I was almost there when someone moved their chair back quickly as they were getting up – I tripped, tried to control it and slammed the plate down right at the feet of Alison’s dad. It didn’t help that I then started wiping the burning hot cheese sauce down myself. I looked like I’d been let out of somewhere for the day.
Gladly neither parent asked Alison if I was one of her patients and after I’d cleaned up as best I could in the toilet, along with her father who needed to wipe the mess off the bottom of his trousers, we were able to sit down and have a nice meal. Although people did keep staring at me and laughing when I caught their eye.
Alison's parents are OK with how things are, they’ve had time to adjust and seem much less excitable than my own parents. That might be because they’d just met me in the situation we were in.
We spoke about it like adults and they offered – like my parents – to help where they could. Alison’s