This one is based on a very sensitive subject matter. I know it was tackled by Emmerdale within the last year and that it was controversial, but I don't watch Emmerdale so I don't know the ins and outs of it - any similarities or differences are purely coincidental as well. I just want to make it clear that I am not judging anybody by their decisions whatsoever, it is impossible to understand a person's decision-making process when it comes to something like this unless you are in their shoes. Carla's reaction here is due to her previous miscarriage and instant fear that her baby could come to harm, everybody reacts differently. I will happily accept any constructive criticism, I am not a medical expert whatsoever and any information within the story is purely from what I have researched. I really hope that I have done this justice.
I would really appreciate your reviews, especially with this chapter, and as always I am so grateful for your reviews on the last chapter.
TW: mentions of pregnancy loss, abortion.
For more information, please visit downs-syndrome . org . uk (no spaces).
Glancing down at the clipboard that she clutched in her hands, Carla struggled to focus on the figures in front of her, her mind in an entirely different place. A couple of days after her scan, she'd received an ominous-sounding phone call from the hospital asking her to re-attend for a follow-up appointment. Despite their assurances that she should not be concerned, Carla had spent the weekend going completely out of her mind with worry, her brain jumping to all the worst conclusions. She had booked the earliest possible appointment slot for mid-morning Monday and had dragged herself into work to facilitate the dispatch of an order beforehand. Peter had tried to insist that she have a lie-in and rest, but Carla was adamant that Sarah would need help after being on annual leave the week prior and with Nick still absent. For her, work was a much-needed distraction.
But she quickly realised that trying to work through the worry was a mistake. Even more so when she'd had to spend the morning dodging Sarah like a bullet. She'd yet to come face-to-face with the woman who considered her a love rival since blurting out her secret to Adam less than a week ago, and she was intending to keep it that way for as long as she could. She and Peter were still keeping their news to themselves and had asked their respective families to do the same, but Carla knew that it couldn't stay a secret forever and that soon enough she would have a suspicious bump large enough to attract attention. In that moment, however, prying questions and rumors were the least of her concern, her thoughts entirely with her looming appointment.
"You call this decent stitching?" she snapped at Beth, holding up a thrown-together, garish pink garment between her fingers and waving it in her employee's face, "I'd get better if I asked Ken Barlow to knock one up for me!"
"Wouldn't be the only Barlow knocking things up," Beth replied with a snigger, before flinching under Carla's glare and quickly returning to her work. Carla glanced at the faces of the rest of the factory workers, all of whom had clearly been listening in on the conversation and were smirking behind their machines. Without saying another word, she spun around and strode through to the office, not looking at Sarah, who had been catching up on emails all morning. She slipped behind her desk and started to gather up some folders and files to take home with her, shoving some documents into her handbag.
"I'm off for the rest of the day," she announced, casually, "Doctor's appointment."
"Doctor, or midwife?" Sarah questioned, without even looking away from the screen in front of her. Carla hesitated, frozen to the spot for a second, before reminding herself that she should not feel guilty for the situation she was in and slinging her bag over her shoulder, turning to face Sarah.
"He told you, then?"
"Why wouldn't he? He's my husband, this situation affects me too," Sarah replied, pointedly, fixing a harsh gaze on Carla.
"This 'situation' is my baby," Carla shot back, "Mine and Peter's. I told Adam it's nothing to do with him."
"If you really think that Adam's just going to sit back and let you and that drunken old wreck try to raise his kid, you clearly don't know him very well," Sarah scoffed.
"Neither did you when he was out sleeping with other women behind your back," Carla muttered under her breath, though regretted saying the words aloud as Sarah's mouth dropped open and she scraped her chair back.
"I beg your pardon?!"
"Oh, Sarah, can't this wait? I've got more important things to worry about than you and loverboy."
"We need to talk about this. I've got people coming up to me in the street asking who the father is when you've not even had the decency to have a conversation with me about it!"
"Well, that's a load of crap. Me and Peter haven't told anyone."
"You and Peter might not have, but Tracy Barlow's got the mouth of a foghorn," Sarah reminded her, "You might as well have had it printed in the Gazette and plastered the clippings all over the Rovers." Carla gave a low grown and touched her fingertips to her forehead, a dull headache starting to formulate, a combination of stress and irritation. "Everybody's talking about you, Carla."
"Well, why change the habit of a lifetime?" She sighed, before starting to move towards the door of the office. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"And then are we going to have a conversation about it?" Sarah demanded to know, twisting in her seat to watch Carla as she paused in the doorway. Carla's eyelids fluttered shut in annoyance, and she took a deep breath before answering.
"If it means that much to you, Sarah, yes, we can have yet another conversation which will remind you what happened between me and Adam and you can hate me for it all over again," came Carla's sarcastic response, "Personally, I don't think there's anything more to say." She didn't wait for a reply, striding out of the office and straight to the main door of the factory, conscious that she was leaving a deathly silence behind rather than the usual chirpy voices of the factory girls. She shook her head and pulled the door open. She had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.
Carla could feel her hands trembling as she sat down across the desk from the doctor later than morning, her stomach summersaulting and the pungent taste of bile present in the back of her throat. Peter could seemingly sense her nervousness and reached into her lap, clutching one of her hands in his and squeezing it tightly. Carla shot him a very small, strained smile, before focusing her attention back on the doctor in front of her. He looked stern for an obstetrician, a person who spent their day with innocent babies and couples having the most incredible experience of their lives, and this did nothing to ease Carla's worries.
"Mrs Connor, Mr Barlow, thank you for coming in to see us at such short notice. My name is Dr Rashford, I'm the lead clinician here on the maternity ward."
"Lead clinician? Does that mean it's something serious?" Peter asked, tentatively. At his words, Carla felt her heart drop into her stomach. They had seen their baby only days before, and it had been fine.
"Not at all. I like to make sure I speak to all parents personally in these situations so that you are fully aware of your options going forward." Carla frowned. What options? Why couldn't she just have a normal pregnancy free of problems and complications like most other parents? It was as though there was some kind of jinx on herself and Peter that she didn't know about. "As you are aware, you opted to take part in a prenatal screening for Down's syndrome, Edwards' syndrome and Patau's syndrome. The reason I've asked for you to come in today is so that I can discuss the results with you."
"But we were told that we wouldn't hear about the results for at least a week…" Carla uttered, her voice croaking. She could feel her heart pounding rapidly inside her chest. Receiving results early was never a good sign. Her mind automatically replayed conversations she had had with her late friend Hayley, the fear she'd experienced when a doctor had requested to see her immediately following an ordinary health check. She had visited the doctor happy and healthy, and had left with cancer. And she had died less than a year later. Hayley had told her that as soon as she'd been asked to make an appointment in such a rush, she'd known her fate. And that gut-wrenching feeling was exactly what Carla was now experiencing.
"In some circumstances, we receive results more quickly." Dr Rashford could read the panic on the faces of the parents sat before him, and wanted to set their minds at rest before causing them any undue stress. "Mrs Connor, Mr Barlow, from the test that we have completed, you receive two results. I can reassure you now that the result of the test for Edwards' syndrome and Patau's syndrome has come back as a lower-chance result. Although this is not a guarantee that your baby will not present with either syndrome, it is very unlikely and you require no further tests in relation to those conditions, both of which have a very severe prognosis." Carla started to let out the breath that she felt like she'd been holding since she'd first entered the room, comforted to feel Peter give her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"And the other…?" he asked, urging the doctor to continue. Dr Rashford hesitated for a second. Moments like this were a part of his job that he dreaded.
"The test for Down's syndrome has come back as a higher-chance result." Carla dropped Peter's hand from hers as her entire world came crashing down around her. She was straight back there, in the room with a sonographer who was waving a wand across her lifeless stomach and telling her that she was sorry for her loss. Dr Rashford's words, like those of the sonographer, blurring in her head and losing all their meaning. She couldn't do this again. "I want to reassure you both that this does not mean that your baby has Down's syndrome. It means that from the combination of your blood test and the measurement of the fluid at the back of your baby's neck, which would have been measured at your twelve-week scan, and also taking into account your age, the chance of the baby having the condition is higher than one in one hundred and fifty. There is still a possibility that your baby does not have the syndrome." Peter glanced across at the mother of his child and, observing her stunned expression that indicated that she was no longer mentally present, he shifted his chair so that he was facing her.
"Hey…" he whispered, soothingly, placing his hand on top of her thigh and gently stroking it to comfort her, "Carla, look at me. Look at me." Reluctantly, Carla shifted her gaze to meet his eyes, and he gave her a very small, reassuring smile despite his own heart breaking into a thousand pieces at how sad and terrified she looked. "Listen to what the doctor is saying, love. Our baby is okay. There are no definite answers yet, there'll be something more we can do, more tests… Isn't that right?"
"That is correct, Mr Barlow, though I do need to make you fully aware of your options, especially because of how easily accessible incorrect information is on the Internet. In usual circumstances, we would offer a non-invasive pre-natal test, called an NIPT. It is only available on the NHS in certain areas, but-"
"We'll pay," Carla interrupted him, her eyes growing wide, almost desperate, wanting to do everything that she could for her unborn baby, "We'll go private, anything, we've got money."
"Mrs Connor, unfortunately I cannot recommend you for an NIPT due to your previous medical history. Due to the organ transplant that you received, there is the presence of another source of DNA in circulation, which could lead to inaccurate results." Her head dropped, and Carla found herself staring at Peter's hand on her leg, pent-up self-hatred seeping through her veins. She had always blamed herself and her carefree attitude to life for the need for her beloved brother to donate his kidney to her, even though she'd never been strictly told that abuse of her own body was the cause of her kidney failure. Now, the guilt and blame that she felt throbbed worse than it ever had before.
"But there has to be something?" Peter asked, giving Carla's thigh a gentle squeeze. He knew her so well, and knew exactly how much she would loathe herself in that moment.
"There are other tests that can be carried out. We can either perform something called chronic villus sampling, which involves using a needle to extract placenta tissue for testing, however, this will need to be done within the next couple of days as CVS can only be performed within the first fourteen weeks of pregnancy. After that, we offer something called amniocentesis. With this procedure, we again use a long needle, this time to remove a sample of the amniotic fluid which is around the baby to test for abnormalities." Dr Rashford kept his explanation slow and free from medical jargon, sliding leaflets on both procedures across the desk for Peter to take. Carla still hadn't raised her head. "Due to the stage of your pregnancy and to give yourself adequate time to make a decision, I would recommend amniocentesis over CVS. I don't want you to rush into a decision to be within a certain time frame."
"What is there to think about?" Carla demanded almost abruptly, her head shooting up, "We can't just not find out."
"With both procedures, there comes risk of infection or injury to the baby, as well as a small risk of miscarriage."
"How small?"
"About one in every one hundred procedures will result in the loss of the pregnancy." Carla suddenly felt sick as her brain started to spin, the doctor in front of her, who was now looking sympathetic rather than stern, blurring almost beyond recognition. She felt a sharp ringing inside her head, hurting her ears. She had felt like this before.
"So what you're saying is…" she mumbled, struggling to formulate coherent sentences, "That we're screwed either way? Because of me, because of my body, I'm going to hurt our baby?"
"Carla, love, that's not what he's saying…" Peter tried to assure her.
"It is, though, isn't it?" Carla shot back in response, glaring at the doctor, silently begging him to change his answer, "If we have this test, our baby could die. If we don't, it could be ill, that's what you said, isn't it?"
"Mrs Connor, the result of the test that has already been carried out is not a guaranteed diagnosis of Down's syndrome," Dr Rashford reminded her, remaining calm and collected under the heartbroken mother's intense stare, "If you choose not to go ahead with further tests, your baby may not be born with the condition. And if it is, Down's syndrome is completely unlike the other two conditions you were tested for, a person with Down's syndrome can live a very good quality of life. Everybody with the condition will have a learning disability, but the severity of it differs from person to person. Many people with Down's live a relatively normal life, but you will need to consider your own circumstances and what impact a child with a disability could have-"
"I'm sorry, I need to go," Carla announced, standing quickly and piercing the air with the scrape of her chair before bolting to the door of the office. Peter also jumped to his feet.
"Carla…" he called after her, but she had escaped from the room before her name had even left his mouth. He turned back to the doctor, terrified at the effect that this news could have on Carla's mental state. "I'm sorry, she's… She's been through a lot. I need to go after her."
"All reactions following results like this are normal, Mr Barlow. But I need to remind you again, we are only talking about degrees of likelihood, we cannot be certain of anything at this stage. If you have questions, please just give us a call." Peter could only nod his thanks, before shoving the leaflets into his jacket pocket and following Carla out of the doctor's office. As he stepped into the empty waiting room, he watched Carla lean back against the wall beside him and slide down it to curl herself up into a ball, tears cascading down her cheeks. His heart crumpled, and he ignored the aches of his muscles that had been getting worse since his time in hospital and crouched beside her, wrapping her sobbing form up in his arms. He held her shaking body, her cries guttural and from deep within, and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.
"Carla," he whispered, "It's going to be okay…"
Carla hadn't felt ready to face Johnny and Jenny immediately after the appointment, so Peter, knowing that his family would all be out for the afternoon, took her back to his house. The pair of them laid across Peter's bed in complete silence for what seemed like hours, Peter with his head propped up against the headboard and Carla between his legs, her head leaning back against his chest and his fingers soothingly running through her hair. His other hand gently stroked her stomach, still small to the eye of most, though he knew every curve of her body well enough to notice the slight bump that was starting to form there. Carla stared up at the ceiling, listening to the steady ticking of the clock in the next room, her mind racing yet completely numb at the same time. She didn't know what to say for a long while, and Peter didn't want to press her, but eventually she was able to phrase a question.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, softly, her eyes still fixed on the swirling pattern on the ceiling. Peter hesitated, considering his answer carefully.
"I'm worried what impact this is all going to have on you," he admitted.
"This isn't just about me," Carla reminded him, "There are other people who could be affected by this. You, Johnny, Si… The rest of your family." She swallowed hard. She couldn't bear to utter Adam's name, not now.
"I know, love. But this is our baby, no one else's."
"I suppose the question we've got to ask ourselves is… If we were to do that test, and if the baby survived but we found out that it had the condition…" Carla trailed off, a lump forming in her throat as she tried to speak the words that she didn't want to have to say out loud, "What would we do then? Would we… Would we keep it? Knowing that? Because if we would keep it anyway, then a test that could risk its' life is pointless." Again, Peter pondered for a while before telling her exactly what was on his mind.
"I keep thinking about Leanne."
"Probably the wrong time to be having thoughts about your ex-wife," Carla teased, trying to force herself to be light-hearted despite the situation.
"No, about… You know, everything that happened. With Oliver." Peter drew in a deep breath. Even though he and Leanne had been dead in the water for years, watching her go through the year that she'd had, as well as Steve, and Simon, and the rest of his family, had been a horrific experience, and no words could express how he had felt the day that Oliver's little life had slipped away so unfairly. "She would give anything to have Oliver here now. And if you asked her the question whether she'd have chosen never to have him, knowing how ill he'd have become if she had, I know exactly what her answer would be." Carla thought deeply about his words. She, too, had witnessed the devastating effect that Oliver's illness had had on the family, but she'd also seen the joy that the little boy had brought to everyone around him.
"You know what I keep thinking of?"
"Mm?"
"When I found out I was pregnant the first time. I was so scared of what was going to happen, and I didn't want it. I wished that I could undo it. I didn't want to get rid of it, but I wished it… Wished she wasn't there," she murmured, her words catching in her throat as she felt a single, vulnerable tear slip down her cheek. Now, looking back on her miscarriage, she hated herself for ever wishing that she'd never been pregnant. "But when I lost her… God, Peter, I would have done anything to get her back. This time was so different. I was still scared, even more so because I didn't have you, but… I knew I wanted this baby. Right from the start. When I lost our baby girl, I thought that was it, my chance over, but then this one happened." Peter smiled faintly, and slowly lifted Carla's t-shirt to expose her stomach before softly tracing a circle around her navel.
"Kids with Down's can live amazing lives, you know. And they have so much to give. Look at Alex."
"Alex has had an amazing, supportive family around him."
"And so would our baby," Peter assured her. He pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of her head, lost in the moment and almost forgetting that Carla was not his to love anymore, that she was the mother of his unborn baby and nothing more. Though he knew, despite refusing to admit it, that Carla would never be nothing to him. "This one will be the luckiest little thing to have you as a mum. It could have done a bit better in the dad department, but you can't have everything. And no matter what, it'll always have both of us. And my family, and yours. It's got so much already."
"What are you saying?" Carla finally asked, twisting around slightly so that she could look up at him, her heart palpitating as his deep, chocolate brown eyes met hers and she was reminded how much she loved him and wished that she could just lay on his bed in his arms every day for the rest of her life. "What do you think we should do?"
"I want to do whatever will make you happiest. But I will love this baby no matter what. I'm not going anywhere," he told her, earnestly. His eyes dropped fleetingly to her plump lips, and he toyed with the idea of showing her that he wasn't disappearing by sealing his promise with a kiss, but he couldn't. It would hurt too much in the long run. Carla nodded slowly, pressing her lips together.
"I'm scared. But I don't want to do anything that could hurt it. And whatever the result, nothing would stop me wanting our baby. So I don't want any more tests." Peter tipped his head forward slightly to rest his forehead against hers, the most affectionate gesture that he could manage without his heart collapsing at the knowledge that she wasn't his anymore. They were engulfed in a comfortable silence once again.