Chapter Text
Shit got real quicker than I expected.
I had been prepared for the heartbreak. The Joni Mitchell CD was already in the stereo. The cupboards were already stocked with booze (not G&Ts).
As soon as I got back from the bus stop I had done a full sweep. The heart first aid kit had been cracked open. I was applying pressure and elevating. I knew how to do this.
Claire having skipped countries didn't help but I was coping.
Honestly.
Seriously.
And then.... Shit. Got. Real.
Three positive pregnancy tests laid on the side of the bath. Definitely not a false positive. I still considered buying a fourth. I didn't.
I took a bath, a lukewarm one with lots of bubbles. This was a thinking bath.
It was his.
We hadn't really thought about condoms when he appeared out of nowhere and fucked up my life. Usually I was meticulous. Not with him. There hadn't been time, I hadn't had the band width for contraception. Too much else to consider. Love, God and the Priesthood all filled the corners of my mind.
So here I was. I had options. Options that I was familiar with. Though I'd only slipped once before. With Harry. I'd been heartbroken for him, he'd always wanted a baby but it hadn't been right. He had fought me on it, offered to do just about everything for me to keep it. In the end, Harry was a feminist and fully pro choice. Sometimes having a boyfriend so principled was useful.
Sometimes it meant he left you for God but hey you win some, you lose some.
Focus.
Options.
Abortion. I liked the finality of this one, no strings attached, one and done.
Not Abortion. Much more complicated and opening a multitude of other options that I wasn't ready to contemplate. Like finding my priest and telling him. Like raising this baby alone.
Except I wouldn't be alone.
Even now I wasn't alone. In fact, keeping this baby meant never being alone again.
I thought of my mother. Eccentric and adoring as she had always been. My mum, an endless companion. The water was starting to feel cold. I could be that companion to a whole new person. A newly minted reality settled in my palm.
I would be a mother.
Before I could second guess the choice, I dried off and booked myself an appointment.
A couple of days later, I'm there in an office which feels worryingly humid.
The natal care clinic is on the 35th floor. I spend the whole lift journey wondering if the altitude change is harmful for the baby. It occurs to me that, if it was, there would be thousands of mildly damaged babies from this maternity unit pottering about. Each of them never knowing what they might have achieved had it not been for this lift. I should have taken the stairs.
Now I was in the office I felt calmer. All of this clinical formality was adding a grown-up weight to my decision. There was occasionally something comforting about structured institution. Kinky too but I tried not to think about that.
The nurses and doctors came in and out, none of them staying long enough for me to fixate too much. Just as well because I was feeling emotionally vulnerable enough to latch on to just about anyone and fuck away the dull buzzing fear within me. Suddenly the movie, Waitress was making much more sense to me. It was all endless tests. Testing pee, testing blood, blood pressure, heart rate. Test after test after test. It was strangely impersonal for an experience so universally personal.
Finally I was laid on top of hygiene paper with someone putting freezing cold gel on my tummy. I bit back a joke about needing cooling down. It didn't quite fit.
The someone was a doctor. The doctor was a woman. A woman who definitely had a sexy secretary vibe going on. She was all sleek black hair and glasses. She was gorgeous.
The doctor asked how far along I thought I was. I pretended I didn't know to the day. The doctor made small talk as her eyes scanned an inky black screen. A gloved hand pointed out some blobs of light that meant nothing to the untrained eye.
"Is there a history of multiple births in your family?"
"What?"
"Are there any twins or triplets in your immediate family?"
"My father's a twin."
"Good, then this won't be a complete shock to you."
"What are you-"
"There are three fetuses."
"Shit."
Home on the Northern line. I got a bit of pleasure from kicking a man out of his seat, saying "do you mind? It's just I'm pregnant."
This was justified because triplets very rarely made it to full term. I had to be incredibly careful, take care of myself. Which was difficult because I hadn't taken care of anyone but Hilary since Boo. Someone was sharing my body so I needed to treat it like someone else's home. I needed to make sure the dishes were clean and get a shop in once in awhile.
My flat felt impossibly small. My world felt even smaller.
Where was I going to find room for three babies?
Shouldn't think of them as babies. It was a high risk pregnancy. Important to not get too attached this early.
I couldn't help it though. I really hoped they were all almost exactly like him. More than anything, I wished I could know whether I should tell him. If I could, I would have asked Boo and she would have said something perfect. Everything would have made sense.
It was the reality of my current situation that the only person I trusted with this news was Claire. However rocky our relationship had been, I knew my sister. Claire basked in a crisis. This would suit her down to the ground.
So, I called my sister. Who immediately offered to hop on a plane and wait on me for the whole pregnancy.
"What, no, what about Klare?"
"He'll come with me, we both have a frankly absurd amount of holidays banked."
"No honestly, I don't want you to go to any trouble, I just might need a hand with the money stuff."
"Oh, now you remember I work in finance, are they his?"
I didn't have to ask what Claire meant by this. Quietly, I said, "Yes."
"How sure are you?"
"100%"
"Fuck." I could hear the elated sigh Claire expelled to hide her crisis related delight, "Are you going to tell him?"
"I don't know yet. Do you think I should?"
"I think you could use all the help you can get."
Here Claire wasn't wrong. We talked for hours, probably later than they should have but my sister was really great in a crisis. Every element of this was on her radar, from how I would maintain the cafe to the vitamins I would need. It occurred to me just before we hung up that part of this was because Claire had considered all of this before. She had done the planning of a woman who had been planning to have a baby. A wave of sorrow so powerful that it almost made me cry, hit me square in the face. I dismissed it as pregnancy hormones.
When I finally tucked myself into bed, I was formulating a plan to tell the priest. After all, he had a right to know. Even if all he could provide was the occasional birthday card, I did need all the help I could get.
The next day was a Saturday. If you happened to be a Catholic priest, Saturdays were for Weddings and youth groups and the occasional christening. It was also the only day of the week in which my priest slept in which gave me ample time to get to the vicarage before he left for work.
I used my pregnancy privileges again on the bus and got a seat at the front. The more London rushed by, the more apprehensive I felt. All I had to do was walk up to the vicarage door and all would be fine. He would be great, I knew he would be great.
As I strolled down the street however, I found myself face to face with a major spanner in the works. Namely, Pam, who was weeding the vicarage garden with fervour.
I put my best foot forward. No judgement from my priest's housekeeper was going to put me off.
"Hi Pam, is he in?"
"What's it to you if he is?"
The judgement of it stunned me, it was acid sharp. I faltered. Bitch, who was she to snap like a guard dog at me. Probably fancied him.
I shook myself. Not everything is about sex. Pam probably knew how close he had come to leaving the Priesthood behind. She was trying to keep him from temptation. I was temptation.
Self realisation froze my joints.
I was temptation.
If I told him this, my good man. He would do the honourable thing. He would give it all up for me. He would resent me forever.
This was not his burden. I thanked Pam, told her it didn't matter and walked away. No amount of fevered sleep deprivation can make me regret that.