Break the Child: Chapter Sixteen: He Hears You

Chapter Sixteen: He Hears You

            The shocks just keep rolling in. My parents are the most boring people in the world but just lately every day has brought a new shock, I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up just as nuts as Mum.

            They went for her scan today. I wasn’t allowed to go, which I think was really mean. I think they wanted to go alone so that they could talk to a doctor about the abortion idea. Dad says it’s good to sleep on big decisions, it helps to make them clearer, well having an abortion stinks just as much today as it did last night and it’ll still stink this time next year when it’s all too late.

            But I’m not going to get upset again because my news today is just too exciting. Guess what? Mum is nearly seven months pregnant. She is twenty-six weeks and three days gone. Wow, freaky, eh? You can’t even tell, or anything. She hasn’t got a bump, well maybe just a little one, but it’s not a great sticky out thing. They got freaked when the radio—whatsit—the scan woman, told them how far on she was. Dad was just freaked, full stop. He couldn’t believe it. We all laughed when they got home, and Mum told us what Dad’s face was like. I’m glad she remembered, see, she’s not that bad, I think they’re all over-exaggerating how many nuts she is. If they say she’s twenty peanuts, I bet she’s only ten and the squirrels have eaten the rest when nobody was looking.

Mum said she was really frightened because she hadn’t felt the baby moving.  She said she had experienced some fluttering, which was obviously it, she knows that now, but she says it’s nothing like what it was with me. I used to boot her in temper if I didn’t like the position she was in, apparently. And Dad said that sometimes, he could see my foot sticking out of Mum’s belly. And if he put his hand there, I would kick wherever his hand was.

            A doctor came to talk to Mum, they did the baby’s heartbeat on a machine and the doctor reassured her that everything is absolutely fine. He said that the baby is lying very far back in her belly and it’s all perfectly normal. He thinks he’ll (notice that bit) turn around soon and start booting for real. Mum said that she’s been getting lots of backache.  

            The great news is that Mum’s too far on to have an abortion. If you want one, you have to have it before twenty-four weeks, and Mum’s nearly twenty-seven. I looked it up on the internet, our baby can hear now and everything. I need to talk to him lots, so that he knows my voice when he’s born.

Isn’t that great? If my dad wants to kill our baby now, he’s going to have to do it with that knife right through mum’s belly, and he’d probably still miss because he’s right at the back of her—unless it was an extra very big knife, but I reckon our baby’s dead clever and he’d just move out of the way. And then he’d never, ever speak to my dad and I wouldn’t either—not even when we’re both all grown up and adulting.

            The doctor said that they can get special permission for a termination, in certain medical cases, and my mum qualifies because of the Alzheimer’s. But Mum’s seen the baby, even Dad’s blown away by him. There’s no way the abortion is still an option.  Dad says they are discussing it, but I won’t let them. He even has little fingernails now.

            When they first told me that I’m having a brother, I was a bit disappointed; I wanted it to be a girl. But once I saw him, I just fell in love. You can see his hand; he’s holding it up to his mouth. It’s so cute. His little legs look all squashed up in the space they have, and his bum’s all chubby. I asked Dad who he thinks he looks like and he laughed and said he looks like me. Mum and Dad bought me my very own scan picture of him and a little silver frame to put it in so that I can have him by my bed. But first I want to keep it in my bag so that I can show everybody at school. I don’t have to keep it a secret, anymore, but Mum said that, by the same token, I don’t have to scream it from the rooftops, either. I don’t see why not—only I’m a bit clumsy so I’d probably fall off the roof.

            I rang Sal to tell her and she screamed so loud down the phone that I think she’s burst my eardrum. We spent ages talking about names, and then, when my credit got low, she kept texting them to me. I like Ben and Logan and Jamie.

They’ve let me tell, now, so they can’t still be having an abortion, can they? That would be uber shameful. Can you imagine if I went into school and Sammi Henson, who can be like, ultra bitchy, said, ‘Hey Kate, how’s the baby?’ and I turned round and I said to her,  ‘Oh, it’s gone now, my mum had an abortion.’ Can you imagine that? Helen Bacon had an abortion and she didn’t even come back to our school afterwards. But everybody was talking about her for ages.

            I’m going to feel dead important at school on Monday, when everybody’s coming up and asking me about the baby, and all questions, and stuff. They’ll be asking to see my photo, and I can show them how cute he is. I can’t wait. I get my pocket money today, I’ve decided not to get Harry Styles, I’m going to buy something nice for my brother. I can’t stop saying that, it sounds so cool. My brother, Master Logan Bell. Logan, Ding-dong Bell MkII. My baby brother, who is going to be here in two and a half months. That sounds less than ten weeks and four days. God, that’s still forever. I want him to be here, now.

I asked Mum if I can be her birthing partner.  And she said, no. That’s so not fair. She said that only her and Dad are going to be in at the actual birthing, but I can be waiting with Aunty Linda in the waiting room and can come in as soon as Baby’s born. And she said that I can hold him. Oh my God, I’m going to hold a new-born baby, straight after he’s been birthed. I hope it’s not all messy. I might puke.

Mum promised. I made her promise, and she can’t go back on it now, even if it’s a school day, and even if she’s bonkers and forgets. I wrote it down and made her sign it. I’ve got the piece of paper and I’ve put it in my box of special things on top of my dressing table, so that if she says I can’t be there, I’ve got proof that she promised.  When me and Mum were getting all excited about when he comes, Dad gave her the warning look again. He’s still not decided that we’re keeping him, but Mum and me, are. Dad says that Mum’s going to see a consultant and have more tests on Monday, so we’ll know then. I can’t wait to hold him.

It’s the middle of the night and I’m writing this because I can’t sleep, and I’ve got the light on because I’m scared and Mum’s asleep in my bed because I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.

            After all the excitement today, about the baby, I went up to my room and I did some research about babies, on the internet.  I did searches on what our baby would be like at twenty-six weeks. And then I did some more research on late term abortions. I wish I hadn’t. It’s horrible, horrible. Think of the most horriblest thing that you can and double it. It’s much, much worse than even Alfred Hitchcock films. It’s like a big horror story, and it’s all legal. People kill their real, big, proper babies, not just a bunch of cells like what Dad said, big babies with everything there, willies, and eyes, and hearts, and brains, and everything.

If you have an abortion at twenty-four weeks, the baby is all ready to be born. It’s got everything it needs already, and it just needs to grow. It can feel pain and it’s proper alive. People, who don’t want abortions, have had premature babies at twenty weeks— and they’ve lived—they’re a bit purple and ugly though. They had to be in an incubator for a long time, but they lived and are now real growing up people. Normal people. How can you kill someone who can hear you talking to them?

            The abortion is horrible, too. Mum would have to go into hospital for two days. On the first day they give her some really strong drugs to kill the baby inside her and stretch her cervix out. I was nearly sick when I read that. My mum would have a dead baby inside her. His little heart would go thump, thump, and then just stop. It says in the bible, Thou shalt not kill. It’s not just for axe murderers and psychos, it means my dad too.

 It says on the internet: ‘On the first day you will be given drugs to stop the foetal heartbeat.’ They never call it a baby. He’s not a foetus, he’s my brother.  Then, on the second day, they take Mum down to an operating room and put her to sleep. Then they get this humongous pair of metal scissors with huge spoons on the ends, and they put them right up inside my Mum. They put them right up her laa-laa, after they’ve used some other big metal things to pull her insides open. And then they get hold of the baby’s head with those big scissors and drag him out by his head. What if the metal goes right into his skull? But that won’t matter to them, because he’s already dead. And it won’t matter to Mum, because she’s fast asleep. And it won’t matter to Dad, because he thinks he’s doing it for the best, but he isn’t.

            I went to bed and I dreamed that Mum was on a desk in our science lesson, and Mr Mason was putting those forceps things into mum, and everybody was looking and writing down notes. And my brother was still alive, but Mr Mason didn’t notice. And my brother’s crying, and he talks to me, and when his head comes out, but his body is still inside Mum, it’s all mangled. He talks in proper English and tells me to help him, but I can’t, because Mr Mason won’t believe me that he’s alive. And it’s all blood, and suddenly everybody is a skeleton, and suddenly my Brother falls onto the floor in all the blood and he crawls into the corner. And his head is all caved in, and suddenly he looks at me and his finger has turned into a skeleton. He points at me and he says, ‘It’s all your fault. I’m going to kill you.’ And then he starts crawling toward me, and his head is still caved in, and one of his eyes has popped out onto his cheek, and he’s coming to get me. And then I wake up.

            And I’m screaming and screaming. Mum comes in and tells me it was just a dream, and then she yells at Dad over my head. ‘Look what this is doing to her, Steve; it’s all too much for her.’ Dad’s standing in my room in just his pyjama bottoms, and he looks sad. He shakes his head and goes back to bed and Mum gets into bed with me, and holds me close to her, and we talk about names for the baby and all the things that we’re going to buy for it. We talk about just nice things

            She goes to sleep, but I can’t get the dream out of my head. I’m still worried that they are going to have an abortion, but it’s too late. I’m frightened. So instead of going to sleep I’m writing this because it doesn’t seem so scary when I write it all down.

            What I’m scared of most is that the baby knows that they have been talking about getting rid of him. He can hear them. He knows what they’re saying. He’s going to feel so unwanted and unloved. But I love him. What if he thinks that I hate him? What if he thinks that I want to kill him? I must tell Mum that I don’t want them to ever talk about bad things in front of him because he hears everything they say.