She felt nauseous, but other times craved spicy foods -which was weird. She'd feel too tired or just plain sick to take her usual run.
One morning, she had to race to the bathroom to throw up.
"I wish this bug or whatever would just GO AWAY" Eliza complained, her voice rising to a shout. She began rummaging in the cabinet for something to settle her stomach. She pushed aside soap, toothpaste and cleaners, the usual detritus of that little cupboard under the sink. Her hands brushed against a little box of feminine products. Her eyes snapped to the familiar logo and time seemed to pause.
"No" Eliza proclaimed the denial of her own thoughts aloud. She looked at her watch for the date. A calendar and calculations running in her head.
"Oh no." softer this time, almost a prayer.
"Willow Creek Medical Centre, how can I help you?"
"This is... Eliza Pancakes. I, ah, need to make an appointment with Doctor Piper please."
"Sure. Doctor Piper has ten am, eleven fifteen and one pm available today. Which appointment would you like?"
"Ten o'clock thanks"
"Okay"
"I think I have a stomach virus or something" Eliza added hastily and unnecessarily
"Alright, we'll see you at ten am" the receptionist chirped reassuringly
"Okay. Bye." Eliza hung up the phone.
Her regular GP, Doctor Patricia Piper, sat Eliza down in her examination room.
"What can I do for you today?" the doctor asked politely
"I've been off colour for a week or two now" Eliza began "Tired, nauseous, this morning it progressed to full on vomiting" Eliza took a deep, clearly audible breath and continued "I'm... late... and I … think I might be pregnant." Eliza let out a sigh and hung her head, having finally voiced her fears.
Doctor Piper laid a comforting hand on Eliza's shoulder.
"Any other symptoms?"
"I've had these weird obsessions for spicy foods."
"Sore breasts?"
"Maybe, a bit?"
"Let's do some tests and get you some answers. We'll go from there" Doctor Piper stood and helped Eliza to her feet.
"First" Doctor Piper began with a small, humorous smile "We'll do a pee test."
The test came back positive. Eliza was sent home to await the final blood test results, consider her 'options' and book a follow up appointment with an appropriate service -depending on whether she wanted to continue the pregnancy or not.
She did not tell Bob right away. She knew he would want the baby and she wanted to make this decision for herself. For days, Eliza found herself drifting from activity to activity. She'd try writing a column for work, but couldn't stick to it. She'd try TV, but daytime television couldn't hold her interest. She'd try writing a letter to the pen pals she'd picked up from overseas, but she couldn't say what was really on her mind -no way would she unload to strangers!
Eliza found herself in front of her easel. What came out was two blue eyes dripping tears and a red, downturned arch for a mouth. Not at all like her normal, detailed, yet neutral landscapes. This painting was a fairly pure expression of the miserable struggle going on inside her mind.
Eliza did not truly want to become a mother. Certainly not yet. As an only child she was terrible with small children. There was her career to consider. Sure, a critic could theoretically work from home; but the key to success was networking. You had to visit the so-called hotspots, watch the latest films and schmooze with the important people if you were going to make it. And you couldn't do that with a screaming baby in tow. Also, babies were expensive.
Eliza looked out over the balcony towards the water. She watched a woman pushing a pram down the street. Enjoying the sunshine. Eliza wondered briefly whether the child belonged to the pram-pusher when the mother leaned in under the canopy to give the passenger inside a kiss. A moment of bright chit chat and the pair moved on, unaware they were being observed. Eliza stood transfixed, shaken by this picture of the mother-child bond. She might not want to be a mother, but there was a baby growing inside her. This was the incontrovertible fact that had her pacing the office by day and waking at night. Eliza watched another pair. A man and a boy walking down by the waters edge, throwing bread to some ducks swimming in the stream. A clear, high laugh rang out through the air, followed by a deeper, booming chuckle from the man. Father and son emptied their plastic bag and, holding hands, walked on out of sight. Eliza realised she was not alone in this. She was married. Bob would be supportive. Although they hadn't planned on starting a family, Bob would no doubt shoulder the responsibilities of fatherhood with ease. She would have to tell him.
Tired of the wait of handling this situation alone, Eliza barely tried to soften the blow. Instead, she cornered Bob in the ensuite almost as he got home from work. He hadn't even taken off his uniform yet.
"I need to talk with you" Eliza began "You remember that night we, well, did it for the first time in ages?"
"The night you jumped my bones you mean?" Bob asked lightly, thinking he didn't know where this was going and he still didn't know what had come over Eliza that evening.
"Well. I'm pregnant" Eliza told him, in a tone that clearly laid a lot of the blame on his doorstep.
"What?... From?..." Bob began
"Yes. From that one time Bob. Well, that one night anyway" she mused. She tried, but failed to sound stern and serious throughout. Bob gave a small and involuntary grin at the evidence of his virility. Then the full implications of what Eliza was saying started to hit him. His eyes bugged.
"You're pregnant?" he asked in strangled tones.
"That's what I said." Eliza huffed a tad impatiently "About six weeks. Congratulations. You're going to be a father." The last was said in a tone that closed the conversation for now. Eliza turned and walked through the door to the adjoining bedroom, leaving a stunned Bob to absorb the big news.
Oh dear! Now I must read on.
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