Somehow I get through the rest of the evening, occasionally stopping to consider how I feel, questioning if my body is behaving differently in any way. I check my face for signs. There is nothing. I peel the potatoes in preparation for tomorrow night’s fish pie and pop them in a bowl of water into the fridge.
I watch the 10 o’clock news but give up halfway. It’s all too depressing. More worrying is I still haven’t heard back from my sister. I daren’t phone her again. I go to bed hoping to find solace in sleep but there is no respite. My dreams are full of babies. I leave them on buses or forget I’m cradling them and drop them from my arms.
My hormones are seriously up the creek.
It’s six o’clock in the morning and there’s no point in trying to get back to sleep. I lie there, mulling everything over, knowing I’m going to be sick, which now bothers me for a very different reason.
I dare myself to check my boobs and examine my waistline. There are no telltale signs and I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. I tell myself this is the last time I’ll do this, otherwise I’ll drive myself insane.
I check my phone for messages. There’s a text from Harry saying he loves me and is looking forward to seeing me tonight. Normally this would make my heart sing, but this morning it makes me squirm. Nothing is straightforward anymore. I have good news to tell him, I should be excited, but the phantom of pregnancy is overshadowing everything.
And still nothing from Isabelle. This doesn’t bode well. I can’t be the one to keep calling and messaging her. I wonder what’s stopping her from calling me? I sense disaster.
I sit down at the table with a notepad and make a list of everything I have to deal with.
In no particular order I write:
Isabelle ☹
Harry ☺ or ☹
Fish pie
And then I write, in tiny letters so it doesn’t seem too daunting:
book ultrasound
Why couldn’t it just be simple? Suddenly the prosaic menopause has a whole new charm.
The ring of my mobile releases me from my pondering. Isabelle, I think, at last. But a name flashes on my screen that I haven’t seen in years. It’s Emily! I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear from her quite so quickly. My letter worked. I take a deep breath and pick up.