Just a few red streaks in my knickers the next morning, which is why I’m here.
‘Hello. I’m Richard.’
From my horizontal position on the gurney, I listen to Richard explaining the procedure. His voice and gaze tell me he makes an effort to see the person behind the patient. But is he Doctor Gower? I had an appointment with Dr Gower.
Someone behind my head wheels me to the operating theatre. Upon my arrival, a hush falls on the medical team’s banter; their eyes turn to me.
I tremble. This room is cold and all these males and females, clad in green gowns, face masks pulled over chins, will see my bush.
I hate that. I hope I’ll wake up.
♥
Slowly, a familiar-looking man with a green cap on his head comes into focus.
‘Are you doctor Gower?’ I croak.
‘I am.’
‘I wasn’t sure… you said Richard.’
A look of surprise crosses his face
‘Did you see a tiny baby?’ I ask.
He shakes his head. ‘No. I just removed tissue.’
♥
You’re wedged between two plus icons that signify your growth. 8.6 mm and 7w0d the first sonogram says. Your beating heart is a white dot.
In the second image, taken two weeks later, they didn’t even bother adding your measurements anymore. But I can still see some shape to you.
‘There was probably something wrong with it,’ the nurse said with a reassuring smile.
She said it like knowing that was supposed to make me feel better.
Were you a boy or a girl? Not knowing is the worst.
The woman in the chat room keeps pictures of her lost babies in a yellow butterfly-shaped box. The symbolism comforts her, she says.
Berendsje Westra is the author of the women's fiction novel Coffee Spills & Songs.
She lives in the Netherlands and is a graduate of the Manchester Writing School.
She's currently working on her second novel.
