The Heartbreak Factor - Part Three

Chapter Fifty-Seven.

As I put the finishing touches to my make-up and scrunched my hair so it fell down with messy waves, there was a knock at the front door. “George,” I called as I put some lip gloss on.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he ran out of the en-suite and out the bedroom. “I got it.”

I could hear voices in the hallway so I finished getting ready and then grabbed my jacket off the bed. “Are you ready?” mum grinned to me as she stood in the hallway, looking at me as I walked out of the bedroom.

“Nearly,” I smiled, rushing into the lounge to grab my bag.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” George asked as I came back into the hallway where he was stood with mum.

I nodded.

“Trust me, George,” mum laughed. “You don’t want to be there. She’s gonna be freaked out enough without you getting freaked out too.”

“I don’t mind though,” George smiled to me, taking hold of my hand as I went to open the front door. “You know I said I’ll be there through all the appointments – and I meant it.”

“I’ll tell you all about it when we meet up after,” I smiled as I leant in to kiss him. “I promise.”

“She’ll be fine,” mum smiled to George as I opened the front door.

*

“Sammy Jones,” the receptionist called out as me and mum sat in the waiting room at the hospital.

I looked up from the pregnancy magazine to see the midwife stood by the reception desk, waiting for me.

“Come on, honey,” mum smiled to me as she stood up and helped me up.

Reluctantly, I followed her towards the midwife and the midwife then led us into a consultant room down the corridor. Sat nervously on the seat, I played with my nails, waiting for mum to say something.

“So Sammy,” the midwife smiled to me as she sat down on her chair behind the desk. “If your records are right, you’re planning to have the birth in your hometown.”

I nodded.

The midwife continued to look at me. “You’re really nervous, aren’t you?” she asked.

I nodded again.

“Don’t be,” the midwife smiled to me reassuringly. “All first time parents are scared, which is completely understandable as you are bringing a baby into the world.”

“You know me and Michael are here for you,” mum smiled to me, putting her hand on my arm as she sat down on the chair next to me. “George’s family are here for you both too.”

“I’m not scared as such,” I explained. “I’m just scared that I’m not ready.”

“You’re not alone though,” the midwife said as she flicked through a file.

“When I was pregnant with you, me and your father were absolutely terrified – and don’t forget, we were even younger than you,” mum laughed to me. “But look how you turned out.”

*

After half an hour or so of discussing all the gory details of the birth, there was a knock at the door. “Come on in,” the midwife called, stopping in mid-conversation.

“Okay,” a familiar voice said from behind me once the door had creaked opened. “I know you said not to come but I couldn’t not come.”

I turned around to see George stood in the doorway.