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Excerpt
{Clare}
I was
lying in bed in my bloodstained nightie. I didn’t feel as if I was being particularly
helpful, but everyone was telling me in no uncertain terms that I needed to
relax. Are they serious? I remember
thinking. Relax was not justifiable in my mind. I was trying to process what
the doctor had just said to me, to us. Labour?
I thought dismissively. What is this
woman talking about? I had seen the films, the documentaries of birthing
and what was required, and even though I hadn’t at that point completed the
pre-natal course, I was certain that labour pains felt different to
constipation. When was the last time I
had gone to the toilet? I thought logically to myself. Surely, I’m just constipated?
Really,
this must be a big misunderstanding that was turning into a three-ring circus, a
charade of embarrassment at my expense that would eventually amount to nothing.
Plus, when I checked again, I could see the bleeding had begun to subside. I
was sure that it was just a false alarm.
‘It’s
okay,’ Jeff said levelly. ‘You just need to rest and make sure the baby is safe.’
I
didn’t have a choice, so I did as I was being told, knowing that for that
moment it was most certainly the best thing for me, and for that matter the
baby. I would do whatever it took to ensure a positive outcome. As numb as I
was, I would have to muster all of my natural resolve and do exactly what was
necessary for the survival of my child. It was terribly hard, and somewhere in
the back of my mind I knew tragic things happened when you least expected them.
I also
knew worrying would not help or change that. At that point, there simply was no
knowing what would happen; either the baby had already miscarried, or it was
going to be delivered whenever and wherever it decided to enter the world.
I could
see phone calls being made and a plan was put into motion to expedite my move
to the best possible place to deliver or remove the miscarried baby. I wouldn’t
class myself as a particularly religious person, but I lay there hoping, even
praying, that my
baby was still alive inside me. The not knowing was terrifying. I felt
nauseous.
{Jeff}
Poised
but concerned, out of Clare’s earshot, I spoke to the doctor. ‘How are we going
to move her?’ The weather is horrendous. ‘Surely we’ll have to wait until it
clears?’ I reasoned with the doctor, as much as to try to convince myself as
her, but to no avail with either.
‘Sir, we
have no facilities to deliver a premature baby here on this tiny island.
Especially a baby that is in a breech position; it’s just too dangerous.’
I came
to my senses, but I just stared at her, my mind churning like the monstrous
waves on the storm-ridden sea outside, searching for any alternative solution.
About the Author
Jeff Curtis has lived with his wife, Clare, in the Middle East for close to 14 years and is a true entrepreneur in every sense of the word. A former oil trader who has a little more time on his hands these days has experimented with a number of hobbies, in which he can now boast being a trained barista, racing driver, pilot and even a certified Reiki practitioner. Jeff is now first and foremost a family man who has immersed himself in the diversity of life in the Middle East and used his geographic location as a steppingstone to travel to many countries of the world and experience a host of cultures far removed from his European heritage.
Jeff discovered his writing talents when a real-life drama rocked the family that threw him and Clare into a life and death scenario. Jeff has managed to turn a life changing event into a gripping thriller as the couple take you on their personal journey in which they discover their true inner strengths, as well as a world that we sometimes fear has been lost, a kind one. Jeff writes with the emotion and drama, which the story demands, whilst sharing his own dry humor which helped them get through what was an unfathomable event.
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