New Chapter 5

Rolling out of bed left me breathless; it was week 36 and I was roughly the size of a mini-cooper (although not as cute or peppy). As I hauled myself to my feet, I noticed that Will was watching me. He had a look on his face that some may have described as a smile, but I chose to interpret it as a smirk; therefore, I glowered at him as I pushed past to the loo. I found myself using the loo approximately every thirty to forty five minutes lately. He'd done nothing in particular to deserve the glower; I was simply feeling foul and had to take it out on someone. Will was easiest.

When I emerged from the loo, Will had disappeared. This too annoyed me, although I could not quite put my finger on why. Again, just feeling angry at the world, I suppose. I stomped into the kitchen, where I found Will looking out the window while Nate fed him scrambled eggs. "Morning, Miss." Nate said as I entered.

I grunted back at him, pulled a pint of chocolate fudge ripple ice cream from the icebox, grabbed a soupspoon out of the drawer, and dug in. Nate looked from me to Will, who raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. I eased down in the chair next to Will and set to work on my breakfast. Nate poured a glass of water from the tap and set it down beside me, along with my prenatal vitamins, half a cantaloupe, and some bread with butter. "Thanks," I grunted, rubbing my side with one hand, as I set down the ice cream and nibbled the toast.

"How are we feeling this morning, love?" asked Will.

I thought a second, then said, "Like a hung-over elephant. And you?"

Will thought a second, then said, "Quite well, thank you."

"Well," I said sourly, "isn't that spawny for you?"

"Quite," he replied, winking at me with his eyes twinkling.

I ignored him for a moment or two, but that was all I could take, "What are you so chuffed about this morning anyway?"

Will looked at the kitchen clock. "You haven't forgotten, have you? We've a doctor's appointment at 11, Clark. And it's almost time to leave."

He eyed me up and down, "Are you planning to get dressed, mum? Or going in your jim-jams?"

Looking down and then from Will to Nate, I realized I was the only one of us three not dressed for the day. Blushing at this, while also laughing a bit at myself, I said, "I'll get dressed when I'm good and bloody ready, Will Traynor!"

Nate, who was washing up Will's breakfast dish in the sink looked up at this and said, "Take all the time you need, as long as it's not too much. I'll be getting the van round once I'm finished with this and then Will and I will just meet you out there. We'll need to leave here in 15 or we'll not be on time."

I slowly rose to my feet and moved to exit.

"Yes, do hurry, Clark," Will called after me, only half teasing.

"You may not realize this, Will Traynor, but I actually am hurrying; this is me hurrying," I said as I shuffled back toward the bedroom.

As I was dressing, I had to shake my head at Will and the giddy optimism with which he greeted each of our visits to the doctor. I could not muster the same enthusiasm and certainly can't say I enjoyed the visits as Will did; on the contrary, I greeted each one with nervous anticipation and was always quite relieved when they were finished and we were back at home with no bad news. Today was no different. My head was hurting from the stress and began outright pounding as I bent down and tried to tie my trainers. Gasping for breath after a few seconds, I gave up quickly on that idea and slipped into a pair of flip-flops that I had taken to keeping next to the bed.

Shortly, I was outside and pulling myself up into the van. Feeling triumphant to have beaten the boys, I allowed myself a bit of fun by beeping the horn at Nate as he secured Will's chair in place, "Hurry up," I called, "We've not got all day!"

"Always the saucy one, Clark," said Will, with a smile. I turned and winked at him, as Nate headed around to the driver's door and hopped in. We were on our way.

Half an hour later, we were relaxing in the waiting room taking the "Great British Quiz" in the new issue of "Britain" magazine. Nate was reading the questions while Will and I answered. The quiz this month was on history, so of course, Will was trouncing me. We were all enjoying a good laugh wondering just how Will knew that Queen Victoria had been fluent not only in English and French, but also Hindustani, when the waiting room door opened and Sally, the nurse, called my name.

Will skillfully navigated the turns of the hallway as we made our way back to the ultrasound room. "Getting to be a real pro at this, aren't we, Mr. Trainor?" Sally said with a smile as Will rolled precisely through the middle of the narrow doorway into the room. As he did so, Nate deftly pulled a chair out of the way so that Will could roll up directly to the exam table upon which I was lying.

The ultrasound began normally enough, with Sally chattering away as she lubed up my belly. "36 weeks, my, you're in the homestretch now, loves."

She put the wand to my belly and started her scan. Will watched the monitor intensely as she worked and, while he watched it, I watched him. "Heartbeat looks good," said Sally.

Will's face relaxed and he exhaled the breath he'd been holding as Sally gave her report. She went through what I assume was a list of memorized questions for this point in pregnancy. Was I having any round ligament pain? (No.) Had I experienced any Braxton-Hicks contractions? (No.) Pelvic, joint or tailbone pain? (Maybe a bit stiff, nothing awful.) How about edema? (Are you joking? Have you seen my ankles?) Itchy skin? Constipation? (Yes and yes, thanks for asking.) Then, she paused.

Sally ran the wand over the same spot repeatedly, leaning in and examining the image on the monitor.

Will's face tightened. He squinted at the monitor.

My stomach contracted, "What?"

I craned my neck toward the monitor, "What is it?"

Sally shook her head, "It's alright; we're fine."

She began punching numbers into the keyboard. "I just want to run an AFI here."

Will, Nate and I all asked questions at once.

"Why?"

"What is an AFI?"

"What are you seeing?"

Sally remained calm, "An AFI is an 'amniotic fluid index;' it's a non-invasive way for me to test the level of amniotic fluid," she said.

"Why?" I asked again, struggling to sit up.

Sally looked for a moment like she might push me back down, but then she sat back on her stool and sat the wand back in its holder, explaining that we needed to check the level of my amniotic fluid in four areas so that we could assess what was going on, get a clear picture of the fluid levels, and figure out whether there was any problem. Sally continued on to explain that, if my levels were low, it could indicate a problem, but that did not mean it was a serious or dangerous situation and that, even if there was a problem, it was most likely something that could be addressed quickly and easily. I looked at Will, who looked as queasy as I suddenly felt. I slipped my hand into his and leaned back on the table and willed myself to keep breathing while Sally took her readings.

When she'd had finished, Sally wiped down my belly and pulled my shirt back down. "Doctor Wu will be in shortly to review everything with you," she said and exited.

Will and I had time only to exchange a brief look of confused apprehension before the door reopened and Dr. Wu entered with a printout, presumably of my test results. As usual, she got straight to the point, "Good morning, I see we have low amniotic fluid level."

She held up the printout and then set it on the exam table beside me, so that we could all see it. "Here is normal," she said, pointing, "and here, you are," she said, pointing again to the levels that were clearly lower.

"We call this Oliogohydramnios. Not uncommon, happens about 10% of time."

"What do we do about it?" asked Will.

Dr. Wu had moved over to the ultrasound machine and was pushing up her sleeves. "I check," she said, as she put a hand on my chest to push me down.

She pushed up my shirt and squirted lube on my belly. Moving the wand back and forth, she leaned close the monitor, watching something. She did this for quite some time before Nate asked what she was looking for. Dr. Wu just held up a hand to silence him. When she did this, I tried to sit up, but again, she held up her hand, this time to me. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity she announced, "Baby not breathing on own."

Will gasped and I lurched up to a sitting position. Before either of us could speak, Dr. Wu spoke again, "No worry. Baby okay, mama breathing for mama and for baby – both okay. Problem is, by this time, baby should breathe on own; baby should at least sometimes practice breathing on own. Baby should use lungs. Baby let mama do all work is not good."

"Is she alright?" I asked.

"Yes, I say already, baby okay," Dr. Wu said.

Will and I exchanged a look of sheer relief. We looked back to Dr. Wu, who looked like she had more to say, but didn't speak right away. We waited while she printed and reviewed the results of her exam. Finally, she spoke again, "Yes. Baby okay," she paused again, then nodded, as if she'd made up her mind. She said, "Baby okay. Mama okay. But still, now is good time for baby to come out."

I looked at her, quizzically. Will looked from the doctor to me and back to the doctor. "Come out?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Yep." Dr. Wu replied. "Come out. You go to hospital now, I meet you there, we induce labor, baby come out."

She turned to Nate, "You drive them."

Nate nodded affirmatively and then paused before he asked, "Wait, now?"

"Now." Dr. Wu said, calmly.

I was sitting, stupidly, on the table, not quite processing what I was hearing. Nate was likewise frozen in place. Thankfully, Will jolted us into action, with a calm but firm command to Nate, "Look lively, mate; you need to get the van now. It's time for us to go."

As he said this, Will moved his chair toward the door and Nate came to life. Jingling the keys, he sprung into action, pulling open the door for Will, who zipped past him. As he followed Will down the hallway, Nate called over his shoulder, "Meet us out front in five, Lou."