Not My Daughter

‘Not really.’ Her gaze was lowered and she seemed slightly brittle, in the way she held herself, the set angle of her jaw. I was at a loss, my voice too cheerful, my manner forced. It was as if neither of us knew how to be anymore.

‘I’m so grateful—’

‘I know.’

I sat back, feeling a bit scolded. ‘Anna, is everything okay?’ I finally ventured even though I hardly wanted to form the words. ‘Are you… are you having second thoughts about it all?’

‘It would be a little late for that.’

I jerked back, but then Anna smiled a bit wearily.

‘That was meant to be a joke, Milly. I’m sorry. The whole thing just left me feeling a bit… raw, I suppose. I didn’t expect it. I’ll be fine in a few days.’

I searched her guarded expression, trying to figure out how I should respond, but my mind felt blank. What on earth did raw mean? Should I

be worried?

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there,’ I finally said. ‘I really wanted to be.’

‘I know.’

‘Was Jack…’ I didn’t know how to finish that question.

‘It was fine. Honestly, it’s all fine.’ She roused herself a little bit, eyebrows raised. ‘And tomorrow is your big day.’

‘Yes…’

‘Let’s focus on that.’ It felt like a reminder to herself as much as to me.

Now, as Matt takes my arm and leads me like an invalid from the clinic, I try to blank all the worries from my mind – Anna’s unexpected aloofness, the wretched Ofsted inspection, which resulted in another ‘Requires Improvement’, or how long the next two weeks of unknowing are going to feel.

‘You okay?’ Matt asks as we drive back home.

‘Yes. Scared to death, and feeling as if the next twelve days are going to be the longest of my life… but yes, I’m okay.’

Back home, Matt insists I go right to bed, as if I’ve had major surgery rather than a procedure akin to a cervical smear. And I obey, because I’m so frightened that I will do something that will knock my precious cargo right out of me. If I did, I know I would never be able to forgive myself. I would have failed at motherhood before I’d even started.

I say as much to Matt when he brings me a cup of tea, and his eyes crinkle in concern as he sits on the edge of the bed.

‘Milly, you’re too hard on yourself. You always have been.’

‘Maybe, but how could I not feel that way?’

‘If it doesn’t happen, perhaps it’s not meant to.’

I feel a bit stung by that pronouncement. ‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’

He sighs. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes it just feels as if we’re forcing it, you know? All this intervention…’

He’s having second thoughts now? ‘It’s not that much intervention, Matt,’ I say, trying to keep my tone reasonable. ‘And if I am pregnant, it will be worth it, don’t you think?’

He smiles tiredly. ‘Yes, of course it will be.’

But I am not entirely convinced by his tone, and that feels like something else to worry about.

Anna stops by that evening, and to my relief she seems more like herself, plumping my pillows and bringing gossip magazines and celebrity tabloids, my secret vice.

‘Don’t feel guilty for taking it easy,’ she admonishes me. ‘You have every right.’