comfort.
“There is nothing much to tell, other
than I have left him, as I cannot stand the pain, we both blame the other for
any longer.” Elle's expression became unreadable. She was not ready to open up
fully yet. Her hormones were all over the place still. The doctor had warned her
that it might take up to two months for everything to settle down after the miscarriage.
It was four weeks so far.
“He blames you for losing the baby?”
Annette looked shocked.
Elle shook her head. “No, not exactly,
more than anything I could not talk to him about it, until it was too late.”
“But now you have started talking,
can you not work through the pain together?”
Elle shook her head again. “No, it
has become far more now. The shock of all these events, and my handling of them
have made me realise, I need to grow up more before re-entering into any relationship.”
Annette sighed, sad for the pain, her niece was evidently going through, and disappointed to see two people who so obviously were meant for each other, part ways. “Well, I am here,
if you want to talk things through further.”
“Thanks.”
Excusing herself from the room, Elle
headed to the guest room, where she always stayed. Throwing herself on the bed,
she contemplated the coming weeks, as she knew the only way to cope with the
emptiness was to bury herself into a heavy workload.
~~~
Settling into a routine of working and playing at a diligent
pace, Christmas and New Year were soon forgotten. Elle began to build a name on
the global modelling stage. The exposure of doing a campaign with a company
with Dexter Media's reputation gave her a solid foundation to build upon.
As much as Elle kept busy during the
daytime and evenings, the stark hours after midnight still dragged by slowly,
as she tossed and turned, reliving the painful memories of losing the baby, and
William in quick succession. To a lesser degree, she was also grieving her
parent’s deaths as well, but the lack of love they had shown her during her
childhood had dampened any sorrow.
As the end of January beckoned, Elle
was still living reluctantly in her relatives’ apartment, despite her earlier
idea of moving into her own place. It was not for want of looking for a new
place, but her aunt and uncle made her agree to stay for the near future, as
they were still concerned about her health, in particular, her continued sickness
in the morning.
Her London doctor had given her the
recommendation of a particular doctor in New York, in whose care she now was.
The recommended doctor was a female gynaecologist that specialised in after
care of trauma-induced miscarriages and high-risk pregnancies.
Despite reassurances that the loss
of the pregnancy was not her fault, the dark nightmares sweeping through her sleeping
mind each night, continued to thrive, leading to problems starting to appear in
her work. Her new agent knew of Elle’s reputation of always being highly
versatile in her work, but the on-going fatigue and sickness were beginning to
hinder Elle getting work. One client had said Elle was getting too fat for them
to consider.
This criticism was the final straw
in allowing her agent, and family, to convince her to see the doctor. Several days
later, a downcast Elle found herself in front of her new doctor for the first
time.
“I am going to organise another
round of blood tests, since you are still suffering from disrupted sleep and
sickness.” The doctor began after silently perusing the notes Elle’s old doctor
had faxed over. “Have you menstruated since your surgery?”
Elle shook her head.
“And that was about ten weeks ago?”
The doctor said peering down at the papers again.
“Yes.”
“Do you experience any residual pain
around the injury area?”
“Slight soreness, but not any pain
as such, but I do experience a strange fluttering at times.”
The doctor looked at her strangely
for a moment, “Flutterings?"
“Yes, not quite where the
“There is nothing much to tell, other
than I have left him, as I cannot stand the pain, we both blame the other for
any longer.” Elle's expression became unreadable. She was not ready to open up
fully yet. Her hormones were all over the place still. The doctor had warned her
that it might take up to two months for everything to settle down after the miscarriage.
It was four weeks so far.
“He blames you for losing the baby?”
Annette looked shocked.
Elle shook her head. “No, not exactly,
more than anything I could not talk to him about it, until it was too late.”
“But now you have started talking,
can you not work through the pain together?”
Elle shook her head again. “No, it
has become far more now. The shock of all these events, and my handling of them
have made me realise, I need to grow up more before re-entering into any relationship.”
Annette sighed, sad for the pain, her niece was evidently going through, and disappointed to see two people who so obviously were meant for each other, part ways. “Well, I am here,
if you want to talk things through further.”
“Thanks.”
Excusing herself from the room, Elle
headed to the guest room, where she always stayed. Throwing herself on the bed,
she contemplated the coming weeks, as she knew the only way to cope with the
emptiness was to bury herself into a heavy workload.
~~~
Settling into a routine of working and playing at a diligent
pace, Christmas and New Year were soon forgotten. Elle began to build a name on
the global modelling stage. The exposure of doing a campaign with a company
with Dexter Media's reputation gave her a solid foundation to build upon.
As much as Elle kept busy during the
daytime and evenings, the stark hours after midnight still dragged by slowly,
as she tossed and turned, reliving the painful memories of losing the baby, and
William in quick succession. To a lesser degree, she was also grieving her
parent’s deaths as well, but the lack of love they had shown her during her
childhood had dampened any sorrow.
As the end of January beckoned, Elle
was still living reluctantly in her relatives’ apartment, despite her earlier
idea of moving into her own place. It was not for want of looking for a new
place, but her aunt and uncle made her agree to stay for the near future, as
they were still concerned about her health, in particular, her continued sickness
in the morning.
Her London doctor had given her the
recommendation of a particular doctor in New York, in whose care she now was.
The recommended doctor was a female gynaecologist that specialised in after
care of trauma-induced miscarriages and high-risk pregnancies.
Despite reassurances that the loss
of the pregnancy was not her fault, the dark nightmares sweeping through her sleeping
mind each night, continued to thrive, leading to problems starting to appear in
her work. Her new agent knew of Elle’s reputation of always being highly
versatile in her work, but the on-going fatigue and sickness were beginning to
hinder Elle getting work. One client had said Elle was getting too fat for them
to consider.
This criticism was the final straw
in allowing her agent, and family, to convince her to see the doctor. Several days
later, a downcast Elle found herself in front of her new doctor for the first
time.
“I am going to organise another
round of blood tests, since you are still suffering from disrupted sleep and
sickness.” The doctor began after silently perusing the notes Elle’s old doctor
had faxed over. “Have you menstruated since your surgery?”
Elle shook her head.
“And that was about ten weeks ago?”
The doctor said peering down at the papers again.
“Yes.”
“Do you experience any residual pain
around the injury area?”
“Slight soreness, but not any pain
as such, but I do experience a strange fluttering at times.”
The doctor looked at her strangely
for a moment, “Flutterings?"
“Yes, not quite where the
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