first thing I noticed was that my breasts were really sore. I was in the shower, and they felt lumpy and hot and incredibly tender. I decided that it was because my period was coming, making my hormones go all funny. Two days later, I woke up and went into the kitchen. James had brewed a pot of coffee.
‘Want some?’ he said.
‘Yes please,’ I yawned. But when he put the cup in front of me, it smelled vile. ‘Eurgh,’ I said. ‘Is this a new brand of coffee?’
‘No, it’s the same one we always buy.’
‘It smells disgusting!’
James sniffed my cup. ‘Smells normal to me.’
I poured it down the sink and made myself tea instead. Later, on the Tube, I found myself noticing other smells. The perfume of the woman next to me was overpowering. A guy standing up near us reeked of cigarettes. Out on the street, near my office, I was hit by the diesel reek of a passing bus.
I got to work and had to rush to the loo to pee. That’d be that big mug of tea I drank. But by 11 a.m., I was off to the bathroom for the third time. Angela, who sits at the desk next to mine, never misses anything. She noticesif I buy a new skirt, or wear my hair slightly differently. I promise you, she has no life. She couldn’t resist commenting. ‘Off to the loo again? Upset tummy, is it? Or cystitis?’ She has no understanding of boundaries either.
‘No, I just seem to be peeing a lot today.’
‘Oooh!’ she shrilled. ‘Maybe you’re in the club!’
‘Yeah, right,’ I laughed, and headed for the Ladies.
As I sat on the loo, I thought about it. What a ridiculous thought. I couldn’t be. We’d only been trying for a few weeks. I had shrivelled-up old-woman ovaries. But I was showing a lot of symptoms . . . No. That’s ridiculous. It couldn’t possibly be.
But the idea wouldn’t go away, and at lunchtime I found myself wandering around Boots, and, accidentally on purpose, ended up in the pregnancy-test section. There was quite a selection, so I ended up buying three different types: a double pack of the Boots own-brand cheap ones, and two different digital ones that flashed up how many weeks you were in a little window. I wouldn’t use any of them now, of course, but I might as well have them for a few months’ time.
I left them in my handbag and tried not to think about it. I had a busy afternoon at work and a lovely, peaceful evening at home with James. But the next morning, I woke up half an hour before the alarm and lay in bed, thinking. There was no harm in trying . . . I mean . . . it would be an experience. Like most women, I’ve had the odd scare, but I’d never done a pregnancy test I actually wanted tobe positive. I got up quietly, fetched the Boots bag from my handbag in the living room and went to the bathroom. I opened one of the cheaper tests and read the instructions. It wasn’t rocket science . . . pee on the end of the stick and wait two minutes. If the test was negative, one line would come up in the window. If it was positive, two lines would form a cross.
I sat on the toilet and did the necessary. I knew it would take two minutes to register, but I looked at the test to see I’d peed on the right bit, as it were. In the window, I could see a faint blue cross. That couldn’t be right. I hadn’t waited the two minutes yet. It must be faulty. I put the test down and read through all the instructions again. It didn’t say anything about a cross coming up immediately. By then, two minutes had passed and I looked at it again. The cross was now properly dark blue. I couldn’t believe it. I sat there for quite some time. The cross had come up so quickly, it must be a mistake. There must be something wrong with the test, or I had done something wrong. I would have to do another test, but unfortunately, I was all out of pee to do it with.
I went to the kitchen and made myself an enormous mug of tea. Could I be? It seemed unbelievable. From what the doctor had said, it was a total long shot that I
‘Want some?’ he said.
‘Yes please,’ I yawned. But when he put the cup in front of me, it smelled vile. ‘Eurgh,’ I said. ‘Is this a new brand of coffee?’
‘No, it’s the same one we always buy.’
‘It smells disgusting!’
James sniffed my cup. ‘Smells normal to me.’
I poured it down the sink and made myself tea instead. Later, on the Tube, I found myself noticing other smells. The perfume of the woman next to me was overpowering. A guy standing up near us reeked of cigarettes. Out on the street, near my office, I was hit by the diesel reek of a passing bus.
I got to work and had to rush to the loo to pee. That’d be that big mug of tea I drank. But by 11 a.m., I was off to the bathroom for the third time. Angela, who sits at the desk next to mine, never misses anything. She noticesif I buy a new skirt, or wear my hair slightly differently. I promise you, she has no life. She couldn’t resist commenting. ‘Off to the loo again? Upset tummy, is it? Or cystitis?’ She has no understanding of boundaries either.
‘No, I just seem to be peeing a lot today.’
‘Oooh!’ she shrilled. ‘Maybe you’re in the club!’
‘Yeah, right,’ I laughed, and headed for the Ladies.
As I sat on the loo, I thought about it. What a ridiculous thought. I couldn’t be. We’d only been trying for a few weeks. I had shrivelled-up old-woman ovaries. But I was showing a lot of symptoms . . . No. That’s ridiculous. It couldn’t possibly be.
But the idea wouldn’t go away, and at lunchtime I found myself wandering around Boots, and, accidentally on purpose, ended up in the pregnancy-test section. There was quite a selection, so I ended up buying three different types: a double pack of the Boots own-brand cheap ones, and two different digital ones that flashed up how many weeks you were in a little window. I wouldn’t use any of them now, of course, but I might as well have them for a few months’ time.
I left them in my handbag and tried not to think about it. I had a busy afternoon at work and a lovely, peaceful evening at home with James. But the next morning, I woke up half an hour before the alarm and lay in bed, thinking. There was no harm in trying . . . I mean . . . it would be an experience. Like most women, I’ve had the odd scare, but I’d never done a pregnancy test I actually wanted tobe positive. I got up quietly, fetched the Boots bag from my handbag in the living room and went to the bathroom. I opened one of the cheaper tests and read the instructions. It wasn’t rocket science . . . pee on the end of the stick and wait two minutes. If the test was negative, one line would come up in the window. If it was positive, two lines would form a cross.
I sat on the toilet and did the necessary. I knew it would take two minutes to register, but I looked at the test to see I’d peed on the right bit, as it were. In the window, I could see a faint blue cross. That couldn’t be right. I hadn’t waited the two minutes yet. It must be faulty. I put the test down and read through all the instructions again. It didn’t say anything about a cross coming up immediately. By then, two minutes had passed and I looked at it again. The cross was now properly dark blue. I couldn’t believe it. I sat there for quite some time. The cross had come up so quickly, it must be a mistake. There must be something wrong with the test, or I had done something wrong. I would have to do another test, but unfortunately, I was all out of pee to do it with.
I went to the kitchen and made myself an enormous mug of tea. Could I be? It seemed unbelievable. From what the doctor had said, it was a total long shot that I
Similar Books
