Last night he stayed over and neither of us got much sleep.
“Did you just smell my wee? You just smelt my wee!”
“You showed me the stick; I had to smell it!”
We laugh. Everything’s going to be okay.
Sitting on this chair for the Tuesday Morning Management Meeting feels surreal. I am not there. I am inside myself, in a different dimension. What am I supposed to do next, see my GP?
“I need to see a doctor today”
“What is it about?”
“It’s urgent; I just found out that I am pregnant”
“Congratulations! You don’t need to do anything right now; you will need to book an appointment with our midwives for your 12-week scan unless you experience any issue”
I need to practice my vocabulary. Unplanned. Unwanted. I am given the number for NHS Abortion helpline. The tough mission of getting an appointment with a doctor eventually leads me to a nervous breakdown at the health centre, to which the receptionist replies, “bear with me, I’ll see if I can find an emergency slot”.
GP says 5 weeks pregnant; nobody can make the decision but yourself; you have a few weeks to think things through; you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last.
Nice one doc.