Sculpted in clay (1)
I am reclining on a blanket on one of those shaky wallpapering tables in Pepperwharfe Community Centre. They are all excited about the quirky movie Bel made at my last session here a few weeks ago, which I have not seen (Bel being so uncommunicative). A dozen chatty punters are sketching me.
‘Cheer up Suki, it might never happen!’
I do not even know until first break that a woman is kneeling silently at my feet, sculpting them. It feels biblical.
This morning I had the ultrasound. The sonographer called another sonographer, then the midwife, then the obstetrician. They pointed out markers. A strawberry-shaped head. An echogenic bowel. An abnormal heart.
So I let them take a sample of my womb’s fluid. The results will be there in two days, and then I have to decide.
to subscribe leave your email address