“Doctor?” Theo spoke first, parking Imogen beside the bed and then turning to face the older man.
“Call me Colin,” the man nodded as he moved to a computer. He switched it on and then turned to Imogen. “I’m going to check your blood pressure first.”
He unhooked the cuff Imogen was now intimately familiar with and wrapped it around her upper arm.
“Take a deep breath and relax,” he encouraged, fitting it with Velcro around her upper arm then squeezing a balloon until the cuff was tight. Imogen watched the dials flicker in front of her with no concept of what they meant.
Colin didn’t enlighten her. He unhooked the cuff with a small nod. “Can you tell me a bit about what’s going on?”
Imogen bit down on her lip. “I just had the strangest twinging sensation today.”
“Where abouts?”
She pointed low in her stomach but then lifted it higher, to the right of her chest. “And here. And my shoulder a bit too. It just feels strange. Different. I feel all tight in my chest like I can’t breathe. I thought it was just the baby pressing on my lungs because I’ve read about that kind of thing but …”
“You did the right thing to come in. Can you hop up onto the bed?”
“Uh huh.” She nodded, telling herself as she stood that everything was going to be okay. She was here now, and this bespectacled man with his fop of wiry grey hair seemed calm enough. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
“Here.” Theo’s voice croaked as he bent down and wrapped an arm around her waist, giving her the support of his strength, his eyes locked to hers encouragingly.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, in an attempt to reassure them both.
“I know that.” His smile made her stomach flip – in a good way.
The moment she stood she felt another twinge and grabbed his arm, her face pale. She moved onto the bed, lying down with relief and impatience. She needed to know what was going on.
“You’re a painter?” Colin asked, moving to stand over Imogen, his eyes assessing her face.
“No, why?”
“You have bits of paint in your hair and down your shirt.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t realized. “I work with children.”
“Well, that explains it. They’re messy little beasts. Imogen, I’m going to have a feel of your stomach, okay?”
She nodded but she was too anxious now to speak. She waited as his hands moved over her stomach with clinical detachment, but then, he gave her a smile. “Good,” he murmured. “Can you feel this?” He pressed his hands down on her stomach a little firmer and she nodded. “That’s your baby’s bottom. He’s got his feet curled over here,” he ran his finger over her stomach and pressed harder once more. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Is he going to be okay?”
Colin’s smile was non-committal.
“What is it?” Theo asked, moving closer, a hand curling protectively over Imogen’s thigh.
“I’ll need to do some tests before I know.”
“But what do you suspect?” Theo pushed.
Colin frowned, his body angled away from Imogen so she couldn’t immediately see his reaction. “Imogen presents with the classic signs of pregnancy toxemia. Pre-eclampsia. Have you heard of it?” He directed the question to Imogen and she shook her head.
“I mean, yes, I have heard the word, but I don’t have the faintest idea what it means for me or the baby.”
“There are varying degrees of severity. Mild cases can be managed with medication. We need to bring your blood pressure down, essentially. You’ll need regular doctor visits to monitor the situation, but so long as we keep things under control, it shouldn’t have a huge impact,” he said softly.
“And if we can’t?” Imogen pushed thickly.
“Then we’ll bring the baby out,” the doctor said.