Charlotte Delaney has sworn off men. After one relationship disaster after another- including turning a guy gay!- Charlotte is so over the male species.
Isaac Fletcher had his heart cruelly broken. Yes, it was years ago. No, he never got over it. I...
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I haven't been to church in a while. There's something hypocritical about going when you've gone against the conventions of your religion, not that I was particularly religious in the first place. Since I found out about my pregnancy, I've curtailed my visits to only when it's absolutely necessary to attend, like Easter. I wasn't a virgin before but that wasn't something that could be proven, only now, I'm pregnant and have a growing bump as proof that I've sinned, as one member of the congregation whispered a few weeks back when I attended Mass.
This week, however, I've felt closer to my religion than ever before. But not connected in a good way, more like a sense that I'm being punished by God for my decisions. Getting pregnant out of wedlock only to then have something go wrong with my baby seems like just deserts in my eyes. I deserved what is happening to my baby because of what I'd done.
"Charlotte," Father McGuire sighed, not for the first time. I'd been at St. Patrick's almost every day, discussing my fears with the priest, to the point that even he was getting fed up of hearing the same thing on more than ten occasions. "How many times need I tell you that this has nothing to do with you having sex outside of marriage? I know I'm supposed to be one of those that think that God created all children but science is compelling and this, what's happening with your child, that's science- biology- not God or religion or punishment. Stop blaming yourself for what is happening because this isn't something that you've caused nor could you prevent."
Part of me- the rational part of me- knew that what he was saying was true but at the same time, I was plagued by the idea that it was all my fault. My actions had led to my baby being sick and I had no one else to blame but myself.
"I've been telling her this for the past two days," I hear Isaac's now overly familiar Australian accent say, his tone full of exasperation. Since he dragged me to see Dr Copeland on Wednesday, Isaac hasn't left my side; he's taken the past two days off work just so that he could keep me sane. He leans over the back of my pew from the row behind and says, "Lottie, I've never lied to you and I won't ever lie to you. I'm in a house of God, it's a sin to lie, so trust me when I say that everything will be ok ."
"What if it's not, Isaac?" I say in despair. "What if it's not going to be ok? I want to trust you but..."
No matter what anyone says to me, I can't help but think the worst. I've read up on Ventricular Septum Defects and it's not all roses in the garden. In fact, it's the opposite. Doom and gloom. Isaac keeps telling me not to look on Google because it's not reliable, but when there's something wrong with your child, you want to be as informed as possible, even if the information is the worst case scenario.
