Walking into the community centre to do my first Carb Counters meeting as a pregnant woman is a strange experience. Although nothing is actually different – apart from finding out about the baby, that is – it feels like everything has changed. As I go through the motions of setting the tables and chairs out, I’m all too aware that I’m not strictly alone. Although the baby’s still tiny, I can’t help but notice its presence. The nausea hasn’t let up much in the last few days and, at Scott’s insistence, I’ve enlisted Emma to do tonight’s workout session.
‘Well, what do you think?’ I turn my head just in time to see her burst onto the stage in brightly coloured workout gear. She’s also crimped her hair for the occasion.
‘I think eighties Olivia Newton-John has nothing on you right now,’ I reply with a grin. ‘What have you got planned for the group tonight then?’
Emma picks up her phone and waves it at me. ‘Tonight, we’re going to have a dance workout to the best eighties playlist the internet has to offer! How does that sound?’
‘It sounds like they’re in for a treat! I’ll be sitting at the side, singing along badly to the music. Scott doesn’t think high-intensity exercise is a good idea right now.’
I heave a sad little sigh. Emma jumps down from the stage and comes over to give me a hug. ‘I know you’d love to join in, but it’s probably best you don’t since you fainted last time. When you’ve had the baby, we’ll get our leg warmers on and strut our stuff together.’
I nod and give her a squeeze. ‘I’ll hold you to that, you know. It won’t be easy taking a back seat to the exercise portion, but at least I can still do everything else. Well, until I get to be the size of a walrus that is!’
Although it’s an offhand comment, it strikes a chord of panic in me. For the first time since discovering I was pregnant, I realise how my body’s going to change. Fear begins to curl its fingers around me, clouding my judgement and filling my head with awful thoughts.
‘Are you OK?’ Emma’s voice pulls me back to the present. ‘You looked like you were a million miles away.’
I nod my head, even though I know I’m lying.
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘I’m absolutely fine.’
‘Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not. I’m going to grab Zara after the group’s finished to ask her about planning your baby shower.’
‘No!’ I yelp. ‘I … haven’t told her yet. She doesn’t know about the baby.’
Emma’s eyes widen. ‘She’s one of your best friends, how come you haven’t told her?’
I sigh. ‘She had such a hard time last year after Craig left her, and she’s had fertility problems for a long time. I don’t want to rub my news in her face, that’s all.’
My best friend nods slowly. ‘She’d be really happy for you, you know. You should tell her.’
As she slopes off to get ready for her debut, I watch Zara chatting away with some of the other group members. In the last twelve months, I’ve watched her pick herself up, dust herself off and start a new life. She’s a completely different woman to the one I met at Carb Counters. She’s put her struggles with fertility and her marriage split behind her, and is living life to the full.
Yet I know she’d kill to have what I do: a baby on the way and a man who cares about her (even if Scott and I aren’t together anymore). She’d embrace every part of pregnancy – including the not-so-nice bits – because she’s wanted it for so long.
Then there’s me: I’m terrified of what the next six months will hold, especially my body going through changes I can’t control.
Suddenly, I feel unbearably selfish.
*
The meeting goes well that night, although dark thoughts keep invading my mind. The standout slimmer is Zara, who has lost four pounds. Towards the end of the group’s sharing portion, we all stand up and give her a round of applause.
‘Thanks everyone,’ she says, wiping a couple of tears away. ‘You’re the best!’
She comes over to me as the rest of the group goes to get ready for the workout.
‘How are you?’ she asks with a sheepish grin. ‘I’m really sorry I couldn’t come to the hospital with you, and that I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch. There’s a really good reason for it, I promise.’
Part of me wants to tell Zara about the baby. She’s one of my best friends and it’s only natural that I want to tell her my news. However, I want to tread carefully; she’s struggled with her fertility for a long time, and I don’t want to come across as insensitive.
‘I’m fine,’ I reply. ‘It’s just a virus. I got some antibiotics and the doctor says I’ll be as right as rain soon.’
My guts wrench as I lie to her, but I don’t like the idea of telling her such important news in the middle of a busy slimming group. Given the turmoil she’s been through trying to have a baby, I’d much rather tell her in private.
‘Glad to hear it.’ A huge, beaming grin spreads across her pretty face and she lets out a little squeal. This is her cue that she has Big News to share. ‘So … Craig got in touch again recently.’
My heart sinks, although I try my best not to show it on my face. ‘Did he now? What did he want?’
‘He said he misses me and wants to give things another go!’ She jumps up and down on the spot, clapping her hands and looking utterly delighted.
‘Well, that’s great.’ I try to muster up some enthusiasm, but that’s easier said than done. ‘He’s said that quite a few times over the last year or so though …’
The smile falls from Zara’s face and her jumping comes to an abrupt halt. ‘Yeah, but he means it this time. He says he’s had time to think things through and he wants a future with me, with or without kids.’
My heart aches for her; it hurts to see her swallow his lies for the umpteenth time. All I want to do is put an arm round her and make her see sense, but that strategy hasn’t had a high success rate so far.
‘Well, that’s great,’ I say, swallowing the words I really want to say. ‘I hope everything works out for you two.’
I know it probably won’t and deep down, so does Zara. But she flashes me a grateful smile and goes off to join the others for Emma’s workout, which is just about to begin. I take a seat at the side, the urge to get up and join in gnawing away at me. I’ve become so used to leading the workouts that it feels odd to hand over the reins to someone else. But as Emma takes to the stage, clad in neon pink leg warmers and a leotard, I can see she’s in her element. I know she can’t do it every week and that I’ll have to talk to my boss Claudine about my pregnancy, but for this week I’m content to watch Emma light up the stage. As Waiting for a Star to Fall by Boy Meets Girl starts up, I can’t resist a smile. I really am lucky to have a best friend like her.
*
The dark thoughts strike again when I’m back at home. I’m waiting for my peanut butter chicken curry to heat up in the microwave when I look down at my stomach. Although nobody else would notice it since I’m wearing a loose black vest top, I’m pretty sure I can see a tiny bump starting to form. I press a hand to it, hoping I’m wrong, and breathe a sigh of relief when it turns out to be bunched up vest material. There’s still that awful, dark fear lurking at the back of my mind, like when you think you’re about to miss a step in the dark.
It’s only a matter of time before you go back to your old self, a voice in my head teases, you’ll be Chunky Monkey again in no time.
I hold back tears as the cruel nickname from my teenage years resurfaces. I haven’t thought about it in so long, but now the memories seem to have returned with a vengeance. Sooner or later, my body will start to change. Everything will get bigger: my bump will grow, my ankles will swell beyond belief, and even my fingers will balloon up. I’ll be unrecognisable; what if I can’t lose the weight this time?
I swat these thoughts from my mind and take my dinner through to the living room. As I sit down, I catch sight of a photo of Scott and me on the side table. We’re standing in the middle of a beautiful forest, looking like we’re in our own little bubble of bliss. He’s behind me with his arms draped lazily round my shoulders, while I’m laughing at something funny he said moments before. It’s an off-guard shot, but it’s my favourite photo of us.
And just like that, a memory from that day floats to the front of my mind.
A year and a half earlier …
‘Do you ever imagine what it’d be like, having a mini-me or mini-you running around?’ Scott asks, looking down at me with a dopey grin. ‘Not now obviously, but in the future.’
The question catches me off-guard in a pleasant way, but for a second I’m not sure how to answer.
‘Yeah, I have a couple of times,’ I admit. ‘And I think it’d be an amazing thing to do one day. Sounds like you’ve given it a lot of thought too!’
He drops my hand and puts his arm round my shoulder, drawing me closer to him. ‘Of course I have, the last few months have been amazing. Obviously we’re not ready to take that sort of step just yet, but I love the idea of us taking it together. You’d be a great mum.’
Warmth rushes through me as I briefly imagine Scott playing football with a little mini version of us.
‘What if I get to be the size of a walrus while I’m pregnant?’ I joke. ‘Will you still fancy me?’
Scott reaches down and kisses the top of my head. ‘Cleo Jones, I will ALWAYS fancy you, no matter what your size. You could be the size of ten walruses and I’d still find you bloody attractive.’
I let out a hollow chuckle as I realise that just a couple of months after this photo was taken, our relationship broke down. And now, more than a year on, I’m pregnant for real. It had all seemed like a dream for the distant future that day, something to aspire to when we were ready.
Now it’s happening whether we’re ready or not.
*
Let’s get one thing straight: I love my parents.
They gave me a great childhood that I look back on with fondness and they’re wonderfully supportive of me now. Of course, they have their moments where they get under my skin, but that’s parents for you.
However, when my mum invites Scott and I to dinner the night after my Carb Counters meeting to ‘discuss the current situation’, I’m less than thrilled.
‘What current situation?’ Scott asks when I phone to tell him about it.
I let out a frustrated groan. ‘The “us having a baby even though we’re not together anymore” situation, I think. Get ready for a lot of awkward questions, like are you going to marry me or whatever.’
I hear him give a soft chuckle. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll brace myself.’ There’s a long pause, and then he speaks again. ‘I would have, you know. Married you.’
I feel a pang of hurt and move the conversation to another topic. The less time dwelling on what could’ve been, the better.
Scott meets me at my cottage shortly before 6pm. Mum said to arrive at ‘six for six thirty’ and I know better than to go against that.
‘You look smart,’ I say, gesturing to his pale blue shirt, navy tie and dark jeans. ‘It’s just my parents’ though, we’re not going to the Ivy!’
‘Hey, I’ve knocked up their daughter, I have to make a good impression,’ he shoots back with a grin. ‘I can’t get this tie to sit right though.’
He walks over to the hall mirror and tries his best to adjust it, making it worse in the process.
I roll my eyes. ‘Come here, I’ll fix it for you.’
I join him at the mirror and undo his tie, which is now sitting at an odd angle because he’s pulled at it so much. I shake my head as I retie it, unable to believe he’s made such a mess of it. My fingers work quickly and before I know it, I’m finished.
‘There,’ I say, pulling his collar down. ‘Now you look like a respectable member of society … who’s also knocked me up.’
We giggle for a moment and I realise I’m still holding onto Scott’s collar. I clear my throat and pat his chest.
‘Shall we get going?’ I suggest, grabbing my bag and coat.
As we head out to go to my parents’ cottage, I try desperately hard to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. It’s the baby, definitely the baby. Nothing else.
*
‘This spaghetti’s delicious, Mum,’ I say after finishing another forkful. ‘Did you use fresh tomatoes in the sauce?’
She flashes me a tight smile and nods. ‘Yes I did, darling. There’s more in the pot if you want some. After all, you’re eating for two now.’
I grit my teeth and do my best to ignore the seemingly throwaway comment. It’s not the first one she’s made about my pregnancy tonight and they’re getting harder to brush off.
‘This plate’s more than enough, thanks.’ I turn my attention to my food, putting more effort than necessary into twirling spaghetti round my fork.
Mum throws her cutlery down, startling everyone and shattering the already tense atmosphere. ‘Alright, I think it’s time we discuss the elephant in the room.’
Does she mean me? I’m not that big yet, surely?
I smooth my dress down to cover any hint of a bump I might have, even though I’m only eleven weeks gone.
‘David, your daughter is pregnant by her ex-boyfriend! Don’t you think you should say something?!’
‘Mum, for God’s sake,’ I groan. ‘You’re making such a big deal out of this when you don’t have to!’
Dad looks around him, totally bewildered at the turn this evening’s taken. ‘What do you want me to do, bring out my shotgun and force him to marry her? It’s 2017 Nina, these things happen. They’re sensible, mature adults, what’s there to worry about?’
The vein in my mum’s forehead looks like it’s about to explode. Her mouth hangs open as her skin turns scarlet with rage.
‘What’s there to worry about?! Is this really what you wanted for Cleo? To be having a baby with a man she’s not even in a relationship with anymore?! He left her to bugger off to Australia; what’s to stop him from doing that again?’
Scott puts his cutlery down. I can tell he’s struggling to hold his temper. ‘Nina, if I could just say something—’
Mum’s determined to charge on with her rant. ‘You remember how broken-hearted she was, even though she tried to pretend she was fine. He could just pack his bags and up sticks again if he wanted to. I don’t know why they aren’t getting back together to try and make a proper go of things—’
‘NINA!’
Scott’s loud roar makes silence fall across the room. We all turn to look at him, waiting for him to say something else. He looks surprised that he’s managed to grab everyone’s attention and shout so loud.
‘I just wanted to say …’ He lowers his voice and looks Mum right in the eye, which I know from experience takes courage. ‘… Cleo and I are in this together. I’m not going to abandon her or run away from my responsibilities. This baby’s going to have two parents who play equal parts in their life and love them unconditionally. I know I left before, but I’m back for good this time. As for why we aren’t getting back together—’
I tap my foot against his under the table and he looks at me, frowning. Trying not to attract too much attention, I shake my head and mouth ‘don’t say anything’. If he tells her he legged it the morning after we spent the night together, neither of us will hear the end of it.
‘Well?’ Mum demands. ‘Why aren’t you getting back together? Because God knows, Cleo doesn’t tell us anything.’
‘It’s called having a private life,’ I bite back.
Scott bites his lip for a moment before continuing. ‘… The reasons aren’t important, Nina. We might not be together anymore, but I still love and respect Cleo so much. That’ll never change, no matter if we’re together or not.’
Oh.
I swallow the lump in my throat and hope my cheeks are turning as pink as I think they are.
‘Well, that’s a lovely sentiment, Scott.’ Even Mum’s impressed by his speech. ‘But what’s the plan here? How are things going to work if you’re not together? There’s a baby to think of, after all. Are you going to split custody or will the baby live with Cleo full-time? There are a lot of things to consider here!’
I feel a headache begin to develop behind my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose to contain it.
‘We’ll figure it out Mum!’ I snap. ‘We don’t have to have all the answers right now, do we?’
She raises her eyebrows and shoots me a knowing glance. ‘It’ll be your twelve-week scan soon, then the rest of the time will go so quickly If I were you, I’d get my ducks in a row now.’
I sigh and shake my head, doing my best to focus on the food. Scott flashes a supportive smile in my direction and I return it, mouthing ‘thank you’ to him. It’s not easy to get through a dinner with my parents, especially when my mum’s in Interrogation Mode.
*
We say goodnight after polishing off some sticky toffee pudding and custard. Mum makes me promise to let her take me baby shopping soon, and to show her the twelve-week scan photo when I get it.
‘I promise,’ I say, pulling her in for a hug.
‘You know I only want the best for you, don’t you?’ she whispers as she tightens her grip on me. ‘I know I can be a bit full on sometimes …’
‘Try all the time,’ I reply with a weary smile. ‘It’s lucky I’m used to you now.’
Scott and I walk down the street towards his car, which is parked near my cottage. I look back and grin to see my mum watching us from the living room window.
‘Don’t look now, but we’re being watched,’ I whisper to him.
He decides to ignore me and turns around to wave at my mum, who darts back behind her curtains.
‘She’s something else, isn’t she?’ He chuckles and shakes his head. ‘By the way, why did you tell me not to say anything about why we broke up?’
I feel my cheeks turn crimson. ‘I … I didn’t want her to think badly of you, that’s all. If she heard what happened after we spent the night together, it wouldn’t matter what the circumstances were. You’d be Satan to her!’
He doesn’t reply and digs his hands deep into his pockets. ‘Thanks. I don’t think I’d like to be on the receiving end of your mum’s wrath!’
We reach his car and stand looking at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He opens his arms and pulls me in for a quick, rather awkward hug. Just as I’m enjoying being in his arms, he lets go.
‘Twelve-week scan next week!’ I say in an attempt to diffuse the tension that’s built up between us.
He nods. ‘Can’t wait!’
We say a stilted goodbye and I watch him drive off, his words from dinner still ringing in my ears.
We might not be together anymore, but I still love and respect Cleo so much.
Wow.