The Healer | Part 3: The Survivors

The Mothers

Edith

'George, can you bring me home some more Pimple Vanisher?'

I was nearly out. I had been going through it more than I ever had before, apparently pregnancy hormones were the same hormones that made me break out in spots. I had just spent the last five minutes trying to scrape enough out from the bottle for the ones that had grown overnight and accosted my husband as soon as I arrived downstairs for breakfast.

'More Pimple Vanisher?' He looked up from his bacon with a sly grin. 'You know it's very difficult to keep in stock.'

'I'm your wife!' I retorted incredulously. I shouldn't have expected any less, he loved to tease. The only trouble was that I wasn't exactly in the mood for teasing that morning.

'It is now the treatment of choice for Spattergroit,' he put down his fork and mused.

'I'm aware,' I replied.

'You wouldn't want to take away from the poor Spattergroit sufferers, would you?' He went on.

'George, it's not funny!' I said, exasperated. To my astonishment, I felt tears forming in my eyes. 'My face looks like a sausage pizza!'

'Blimey, Edith, are you crying?' He stopped grinning at once and stood to wrap me in his arms. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean any harm.'

'I know that!' I exclaimed, wiping the tears away angrily. 'I just have more hormones than I know what to do with. Crivvens, George, this isn't me. I donna even know who I am anymore.'

He said nothing but quietly backed away. He ran a hand through his hair and I sighed.

'I'm sorry,' I said softly.

'It's quite alright,' he said, clearly unsure of what he should say to me at all in my heightened emotional state. Though it didn't escape my notice that he didn't argue with my statement. 'I'll bring you some Pimple Vanisher tonight.'

'Thanks.'

I hated this. I didn't feel like myself while I was pregnant. I was tired, irritable and teary all the time, sometimes all at once. I had no energy to go for my runs anymore and some days I was functioning on very little sleep from being called out to the hospital. Which did little to improve my mood.

George had started going out with his friends or brothers after work one evening per week and I couldn't blame him. Why would he want to come home from a long day at work to a fat, grumpy wife? I wouldn't want to spend time around me either. I knew he loved me, but I wasn't the woman he married so long as I was acting this way. But there didn't seem to be much I could do about it. I knew I was acting like a shrew, but I couldn't seem to stop it.

I felt lonely and isolated again. The very things that I had been trying so desperately to avoid had found me anyway.

At least Mrs Weasley made a point to bring supper over once per week. Sometimes more, depending on how many leftovers she had. George had told me that she was worried about me. I had gone off my food a bit lately and I knew he had noticed. It was bothering me how big I was getting so quickly and my moods weren't helping anything either. I felt so lost, like my life was out of control. At least I had control over eating. I tried not to think about it. I had too much else to worry about. I knew George was worried, but I didn't know what else to do.

With a quick kiss and without another word, I left for St Mungo's.

Unexpectedly, Healer Bidelspach intercepted me on my way through the main level. Apparently, I was now twenty weeks pregnant and it was the optimal time to perform a complete anatomy assessment on both twins. She wondered if I would be agreeable to sit in on her Diagnostic Healing classes for the day. I was.