The cool winter sunlight barely lit up the room, its rays penetrated through the tiny gap of the blinds, providing her with just enough light to skilfully, progress through the heaps of maternity clothing that shrouded the floor. After careful footwork manipulation she reached the light switch, and with a gentle placing of her now slightly large fingers, she flicked it on. It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the artificial light, but after several moments she moved herself to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. The debris of yesterdays mascara lingered under her eyes, and the formation of a small spot threatened her 'glowing' complexion. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ear, and gently stroked the scar which ran down the left side of her face. This daily action, of which always threatened tearful consequences, made her think of the unpleasant things that had happened at Holby City. The many heartbreaks she had endured; Owen, Ed, Sam and most recently Stuart. The unfair cards that had been dealt to her; the cancer and death of her mother, the death of her new born daughter Amanda, the slashing of her face and the recent miscarriage. She shut her eyes, tight, as if trying to erase the memories.
She slowly stroked her stomach, at eight months pregnant, she was considerably happy despite this misshaped life she had led. She lifted her head and took another glance in the mirror. She had always wanted children and despite the very embarrassing circumstances that surrounded this child's conception she was happy. Very happy!
Nurse scrubs, extremely unflattering for an eight month pregnant women she thought, as she heaved herself through the doors to AAU, it's known that frequent and hormone based mood swings occurred on AAU- especially when Chrissie was working. She thundered down the airy corridor towards the nurses' station. She glanced up; the other nurses rolled their eyes, they were used to these mood swings and many of them now gave her a wide berth in the morning. This was until she has received a strong black coffee from some unfortunate person of whom the chore had fallen upon. Chrissie was aware of the nurses' sudden urge to do the tedious tasks when she arrived, but thought nothing of it; she carried on in her stride, a fixed expression of both annoyance and satisfaction on her face. In her mind, the morning has gotten off to a very successful start. After doing the duty of the time consuming ward rounds she placed herself upon a chair behind the nurses' desk. A sudden feeling of extreme nausea and fatigue consumed her. She paused, not sure if she even had the energy to type, then hovered her hands over the large bump which for the past eight months had been her child's home, she stopped there for a good five minutes, she was painfully aware of the impertinent gazes she was getting from the other young nurses but remained seated. Undoubtedly the feeling she has just possessed was out of character, but she put it down to a night of highly disrupted sleep and an unsatisfactory cup of coffee that very morning.