10 weeks

The day of her next doctor’s appointment, she finds herself standing in front of her full-length mirror, shirt drawn up just under her s. She presses her fingers against her still-flat stomach searching for…well, she’s not quite sure. Some evidence that this is all real, that it’s not a horrible nightmare concocted by some deranged doctor. There’s no bump – it’s too early for that – but it’s with a strange sort of fascination she pokes at her stomach. It’s not soft, jiggly (as Narae would laughingly call it). It’s almost…hard, unyielding. From some half-remembered science class, she knows it’s to protect the baby inside the womb, but it’s still…odd.

It feels weird, anyway. But still, she keeps her hand on her stomach, absentmindedly wonders if the baby actually looks human yet. She could go online, read up on it, but she’s too scared. The moment she starts to read things about actually being pregnant, she’ll have to start envisioning her child as something that actually exists.

At the moment, she’s kind of convinced that somehow the baby will go away and she won’t have to actually have it. She’s not wishing for a miscarriage – Jesus, she’s not that cruel – she just…can’t see it happening. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that would happen to her. She’s never thought of herself as the kind of person who could deal with a child (she has no maternal bone in her entire body, she’s quite sure of this – she just doesn’t do children), never conceived of a life as a mother.

Because that’s what she’ll be. Instead of being Song Hyerin, a person in her own right, she’ll be someone’s mother. And that person will take over her life, transform her until she’s no longer the woman she is now. It’s happening already – she can feel it, see it in the way Narae speaks to her as a dual personage.

It’s terrifying.

***

When she told Narae she was actually going to her first antenatal appointment alone, and without being blindfolded and tossed into a car, her best friend’s mouth dropped open in shock. She has to admit she feels slightly proud of herself.

Of course, this feeling means nothing when she walks up to the hospital’s vaguely threatening glass doors (what is it about hospitals and glass doors? Do they think people want to see the sick and injured?). She’s sick, apprehensive and more than a little scared.

What if something’s wrong? Alright, so she might not be thrilled about this baby, but that doesn’t mean she wants it to be in pain or something. (Wait, can babies feel pain this early in a pregnancy? Scratch that, she doesn’t want to know)

She came alone to prove that she could do this; to show Narae that she’s on her way to acceptance and to try and convince herself she can be gung-ho about motherhood. After that fiasco (there is no other word for it, frankly) with Siwon, she really thought she’d bonded with the little horror…of course, as soon as she came home and realised she was totally alone, that fell through, but it was an improvement.

But hovering in the imposing doorway of the hospital, she knows it’s all bull. She is nowhere near to being okay with this – she almost doesn’t think she ever will be – but she can’t run away and hide under the covers anymore. She needs to know – to know exactly how far along she is, what she has to do, what this baby will do to her. Telling Siwon – telling one other person, at least – has pushed it to the forefront of her mind, and her desire to do the right thing is niggling at her.

This baby, foetus, whatever – it’s got no one but her to look out for it, and in a resigned, reluctant sort of a way, she knows she has to take care of it. After all – if she were to give it up for adoption, they’d want a healthy baby. And if she keeps it…well, how’s she supposed to look it in the face if she didn’t take care of herself while carrying it?

So she takes a deep breath, tells herself to stop being such a pathetic little and strides to the lift.

She can do this.

Really.

***

She’s slightly early – a particular trait of hers, she can’t stand being late – so there’s nothing to do but fiddle with her phone until they call her name. The receptionist doesn’t even glance at her ring-less finger. She just nods briskly when she gives her name, waves her hand in the direction of the padded chairs in front of the desk.

There are two other women waiting, but one of them is chatting excitedly to a man Hyerin presumes to be her husband, and the other is on the phone, angrily whispering about something she doesn’t care to listen to. It makes her feel more alone; perhaps she should have brought Narae along, even if she’s supposed to be being grown up about this.

But this isn’t Narae’s mess, and she can’t keep depending on her best friend to hold her up, even if Narae’d do that in a heartbeat. She’s never really had to rely on herself before – there were always people to help, people who were paid to take the responsibility, even if her mother didn’t give a damn. And even if this is all new and unwanted, she is very sure she doesn’t want to repeat her mother’s mistakes.

In fact – she makes a promise right here, right now – if she doesn’t feel that weird rush of love, or whatever the it is you’re supposed to feel when you push the thing out, she’s giving it up for adoption so it can have loving, competent parents.

She doesn’t want it to feel as unloved as she has; she wouldn’t wish that on any child, even one that has come at a very inconvenient moment (she thinks that sternly towards her stomach, hopes it understands that that is mainly the reason she can’t cope with the idea of its existence).

Is it normal to have arguments about the nature of existence with an unborn baby? Probably not, but it’s not like she’s going to mention it to anybody… Maybe it’s just bonding? You know, that mother-child thing people are supposed to develop?

Or at least, she hopes it is. Otherwise she’s just another crazy person saddled with a child she’s not ready for. That, sadly, is probably the more likely reality.

Fortunately – or unfortunately, as now she has to go discuss (she swallows nervously at the idea) her pregnancy with the midwife – her musings are cut off by the announcement of her name. The woman on the phone glances up at her for a second, giving her appraisement she’s so used to from society circles.

It’s vaguely insulting – is there some hierarchy of mommyhood she doesn’t know about? Does she not look like she’ll make a good mother? Are there cliques, like there were in high school? She gives a visible shudder – that idea doesn’t bear thinking about, not at all. She flashes a nervous smile at the midwife instead, lets her usher her into her office.

It’s pretty similar to the one Dr Son had, but then most hospital rooms have the same dour, antiseptic look to them. What’s she expecting? A profusion of colour and music? Hospitals are here to depress you, not uplift your feelings about your imminent death. Or, at least, that’s what she thinks (the midwife probably doesn’t agree with her, but she works here so her opinion is invalid, and – what the hell is she thinking?).

After a pleasant little chat in which they introduce themselves, the midwife gets down to the nitty-gritty of the situation. She asks when the first day of her last period was, a faint smile settling on her lips when Hyerin can’t tell her. “It’s okay,” she says, waving it off with a nonchalant hand. “I mean, obviously, it would be better if you knew, but that’s what the first scan is for – dating the pregnancy. We’ll discuss that later. Now, are there any hereditary conditions in your family? Something that could be passed down to the baby, hmm?”

She honestly has no idea. She doesn’t think there’s anything on her mother’s side – unless you count being maliciously sociopathic as hereditary – but she has no idea about anything on her father’s side. They haven’t talked in over a decade – what’s she supposed to do? Call up and go, ‘Hey, dad, I know we haven’t spoken in a while but I’m pregnant, and I’d kinda like to know if there’s anything you could pass down to the baby”? Yeah, that’d go down well.

She shrugs helplessly, because she hasn’t even begun to think about what either of the potential fathers could hand down, and she’s not about to start discussing that with the midwife, is she? “I don’t think so, but I can look into it?”

If the nurse is unimpressed by her uncertainty about, well, everything, she hides it well. “That would probably be a good idea.” She says soothingly. “If there’s nothing you know about, then there’s most likely nothing to worry about, but – for your own peace of mind, really – I’d advise checking up on it.”

Yay. That means surreptitiously looking into Siwon and Hyunjae’s medical history, because that’s so easy. Especially when she’s not even talking to either of them.

The midwife taps her pen on the notebook in front of her. “I’d just like to point out that these are your maternity notes, and at the end of this session, I’m going to hand it over to you. You need to bring it to every appointment, and we advise you keep it on you when you go out, in case of emergencies. It just helps us to figure out any issues or problems you may be having, to make sure your pregnancy goes as smoothly as possible, alright?”

“Yeah.” She says in a small voice, staring at the book. She’s going to have to hide it when her mother comes round, which will be hard because her mother is notoriously good at sniffing out things people would rather keep hidden. Sighing, she looks down at her lap, unable to think of anything more enthusiastic to say. She should probably assure the midwife that she’ll take the best care ever of it, but she can’t find it within herself to lie to someone who’s being so patient with her.

“Good, good,” the midwife says briskly. “Now, I’m going to need to measure your height and weight –just to calculate your BMI – and then we’re going to take your blood pressure.” She stands up, opens the door for Hyerin as she directs her to stand next to the measurements by the side of the door.

As she steps out of her shoes, and the midwife drags the plastic indicator down to her head, she is reminded of some half-remembered science lesson, where the teacher had them all line up in height order. It was meant to be about genetics, or something. Chromosomes – what parents hand down to their offspring.

For one, fleeting, subconscious moment, she wonders what she will pass down to this baby, if it will even look like her.

She never looked much like her mother, but then, how could she – her mother had been having plastic surgery even before she was born.

The midwife hums as she records her height, points to the scales apologetically. This is the part that most of the women hate; nobody likes looking at their weight, especially when they know they’re only going to get bigger. And most of them detest other people knowing their true size, but she never judges them – their bodies are their own, she’s just here to make sure they have a healthy pregnancy.

As she steps onto the scale, Hyerin closes her eyes and refuses to look down. It’s not that she has an issue with her weight – not exactly – it’s just that she’s like most women, hovers between being mostly happy in her own skin and thinking she really ought to lose a bit of weight. She doesn’t weigh herself because she doesn’t want to get obsessed; she’s seen what it can do to people. She’s seen what it did to Narae, when they were fifteen and the need to be perfectly formed socialites became more acute.

It was never a true eating disorder, she supposes – it was just under the cusp of being diagnosed – but she remembers watching Narae secret away her food in napkins, lie and say she’d eaten when she so plainly hadn’t. She remembers the moment she saw just how thin her best friend had gotten, and how she’d sworn she could never let this happen again because Narae was beautiful and always had been.

And that was why she never looked down at the scales anymore; it wasn’t worth the pain, the obsession, the desperate need for control.

The midwife seems satisfied with her BMI reading, anyway – but she wouldn’t have listened, even if she hadn’t been. Hyerin is, above all things, a very stubborn individual, and if she doesn’t want to change, she won’t.

Unless she has to. But she doesn’t, right? She thought it was better to be normal sized than overly thin when pregnant…though, what would she know, she doesn’t know the first thing about pregnancy and babies. Oh, the irony. It’s everywhere.

When she walks back into the office, she’s immediately assaulted with the blue, blood pressure cuff, something she’s not looking forward to because she doesn’t like the way it tightens on your arm.

The midwife gives her a kind smile. "So how are you feeling, you know, about all of this?" She asks, gently pulling the cuff tight. There's a scratchy sound as the Velcro knits together.

It's funny. No one's truly asked her that. "Nervous," she blurts out, because it's true and she doesn't know what else to say.

She shifts uneasily as the cuff digs into her skin. "It's alright," the midwife says cheerfully. "Most new mothers are. It's a big change!" She gives a little laugh and pauses to take the reading.

New mother. That's her, no running from it now. . The idea makes the ever-present nausea bubble up in , and she has to clamp shut to keep it down.

"It's definitely your first, isn't it?" The midwife says sympathetically. She nods. "I can always tell!" Oh, that's reassuring – she apparently looks totally out of her depth.

The cuff is pulled off, and the midwife pats her arm. "It's okay. Really." She chuckles, clearly sensing Hyerin's disbelief. "You'll do great."

Haha. Sure. She'll be the perfect mother, yeah, that's totally believable. She'd snort if she didn't feel so sick.

"Your blood pressure is a little high." The midwife clicks her tongue against her teeth. "Nothing to worry about now, but if it gets any higher we'll need to monitor you. High blood pressure can lead to a high risk pregnancy." She informs her.

It's barely been a few weeks and she's already ing the kid up? Her stomach sinks.

The midwife doesn’t seem to notice her dismay, and instead hands her another one of those little plastic jars. Her heart stops, because after last time –after that horrible moment, when she was left waiting for a pregnancy test to determine her future –she’s pretty sure she’s developed an aversion to the damn things.

“We need a urine sample, I’m afraid.” She says. “Just to check protein levels and such.” She gives her a look that is sort of sympathetic, as if she knows peeing into little plastic pots isn’t fun, but Hyerin isn’t getting out of this.

So she takes the thing and ducks into the bathroom for the second time, praying she can fill it quickly. She’s still disgusted by the idea, but she’s fast coming to terms with the fact that now she’s pregnant, the doctors are going to measure everything about her. It’s just what they do.

Once she’s finished up in the bathroom, she hands it over sheepishly and the midwife begins talking about blood tests they’ll take at the next appointment, her diet, the vitamins she should be taking – when she mentions the dreaded words ‘birthing plan’ – Hyerin’s thighs clench together of their own accord. She’s not sure she’ll ever be ready for…that. No. Not ever. (Is this what all mothers think before they go through it?)

“Well, unless you have any questions, that’s it.” The midwife looks at her expectantly, as if endless questions should be tumbling forth from her lips. They probably should be, but she’s too overwhelmed to do anything but shake her head. She’s had enough; she doesn’t want to hear anything more about what she should do, how she should act. She’s tired of the word ‘baby’ being repeated over and over, because the constant reminder that yes, she is pregnant is giving her a headache.

She feels guilty when the midwife sighs, obviously surprised she has nothing more to say. “Your next appointment is in two weeks. “ She scribbles down the date on a little card, and Hyerin is sort of grateful for this – it means she’s less likely to ‘forget’ about it. “You’ll have your first scan, so remember to drink lots of water beforehand! It pushes the uterus up, so we can see the baby more clearly.”

Hyerin isn’t sure why she needed to know this; for some reason, the idea makes her faintly nauseous.

“Don’t forget,” the midwife carries on, “your partner is welcome to come – most parents see it as a bonding experience. Or, if they’re unavailable” – does she know Hyerin’s not even sure who the baby’s father is? – “you can bring a friend or family member.”

Her stomach twists painfully, but she just nods mutely in response, shakes the midwife’s hand and takes the sheaf of paper and the notebook she hands her. Coming here was supposed to strengthen her resolve; it was supposed to prove to her that this wasn’t an unmanageable feat.

Instead, it’s only making her want to bury her head further in the sand.

***

She gets a taxi home, tells the cabbie to drop her off ten minutes from her apartment so she can duck into her favourite restaurant and order takeout. There’s no way she’s going anywhere tonight, and she’s not in the mood to cook, when all she really wants to do is burrow under the bed covers.

It shouldn’t feel like the end of the world; it’s only a baby, she keeps telling herself, but she’s finding it hard to believe, and the fact that she’s alone just compounds her own statement.

She’s tried so hard – so, so hard – not to think about the look on Siwon’s face when she told him she was pregnant, but it’s been almost two weeks and it’s still burned into the back of her eyes. She’s not sure what to feel about it – hurt, yes, but angry? Betrayed? Because all she really feels is lost.

Siwon has always been something of a rock; her male counterpart to Narae’s occasionally cloying need to know she’s okay. He’s her best friend; as Narae said, they’ve been friends since they could walk. She thought she knew him – she thought that he was a good enough man that he would be able to stand by her, to understand.

But at the same time, there’s a smaller, guiltier part of her that whispers of his right to be pissed off, his right to be shocked and confused. Maybe she overreacted; maybe she should have stayed and explained a little more, not stormed off in a broken-hearted huff.

Maybe she shouldn’t have slept with him at all, she thinks wryly. It was hardly a good idea.

It doesn’t change just how much it hurts, doesn’t take away the pain or make missing him any easier. She thought it would be okay – that because she still had Narae and Zhou Mi and Kyuhyun – and god bless him, Heechul – she wouldn’t need him in her life. But it’s not, because he’s special, always has been – he brings something else to her life that no one else does.

And so her heart feels heavy, and she feels lonelier than she should – especially as she’s never technically alone now, what with the human parasite currently taking up residence in her uterus (wow, yet another negative pet name. It’s like a talent) – and she almost wishes she could… Well, she doesn’t know. Maybe apologise?

She won’t, though. She’s too afraid of being rejected, and she knows that with how fragile she feels tonight, she won’t take it well.

She could call Narae, instead, and watch one of the sickeningly romantic comedies her best friend enjoys so much – play the cynic and pretend that her own problems are just some half imagined plot from a movie she never got round to finishing. But Narae is busy; she’s taking her little brother to dinner while their mother hosts one of her charity club meetings, and while she’d probably be welcome – she and Jongdae get on quite well, after all – she’d feel like she was intruding on a family moment.

So maybe it’s better to be with her own family, even if that really only consists of, well, Heechul. And he’s not exactly available; he left for his military service nearly a year ago, and she can’t exactly hop on over to his barracks without an appointment.

She could probably call him, though. Heechul is a obsessed with his iPhone; he sneaks it into everything, especially when he’s not supposed to have it with him. And…maybe his devil-may-care attitude would be just what she needs, a safe counterbalance to the overwhelming angst in her head. She’s never liked feeling so crappy – to be honest, most of the time she’s fairly easy-going, full of snark and stupid comments.

And after that realisation, it’s easy to make the decision, almost automatic to grab her phone and shakily press call on his number. He picks up after three rings.

"Hey, Heechul." Her voice wobbles, the tears she's fought so hard to keep back threatening to break free. "It's so nice to hear your voice."

If he hears the emotion in her voice, he doesn't comment on it. "It's nice to hear yours too, little sister,” he says easily.

"How's life as a big bad soldier?" She teases, wiping away a lone tear. She will not cry down the phone to him. She will not. "You eating okay? Is everyone nice to you?"

He snickers. "I tell you this every time, sis. I am fine. It's all good! Training's a , but then anything that requires physical exertion is." She laughs because she needed this. She needed his calm, snarky tone, his utter disinterest in taking his life seriously. "What about you, my dear?" He says, voice turning mischievous. "What kinds of high society hijinks have you been up to? I do hope you've been living up to my esteemed example."

Here it is – the perfect chance to admit she's pregnant, pass it off as all a big joke, something totally scandalous and have him talk her through it. "I –" she starts, fumbling for the words. "I, um –"

"You what?" He asks curiously.

She can't do it. She can't admit her little problem, can't tell him how scared she is. She's too afraid of being judged by the one man who might stand by her. She just can't. Not after Siwon failed her, however much she understands why he abandoned her.

So she lies, tells him everything's fine and has him recount tales of life in the army and his contraband phone until she feels secure enough to sleep. When she tells him she's off to bed, he laughs, wishes her a good night's sleep because a good socialite would never have under-eye circles.

"Love you." She reminds him, needing to hear that there's someone in her life who cares for her unconditionally (besides Narae, who is also practically her sister).

"Love you too, little sis." There's the sound of people talking in the background. "Remember – don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Like have an illegitimate baby? Whoops. She's already blown that one. Maybe she should be surprised Heechul doesn't have a love child of his own. He's slept with enough women for it to be possible, after all.

But then again, Heechul has the style to pull that off without repercussions. She – well, she doesn’t. 

I'm having entirely too much fun writing this fic and I don't know why. I really hope I can keep it up, despite the fact my exams are over and I don't have anything to procrastinate doing. >_>