It was hard to take Sam seriously sometimes. When I first met him, he was your stereotypical brat that you were sure to hate on first sight. Honestly, the way he smirked whenever he looked at you was enough to make you want to punch him and let's not even discuss those horrible one-liners he'd greet you with that he thought were utterly charming. They weren't and he wasn't. 

Isn't it wonderful what a few months can do to a person and your perceptions of them? Nowadays, I couldn't imagine not having Sam around, especially as I move into a new chapter of my life and needed someone just like him around. He was fun and he didn't take himself too seriously but at the same time, he was level-headed and wise beyond his years which is exactly what I needed as I sat in the doctor's waiting room. 

"Stop that," Sam said, his hand going to my knee and holding it down to stop the nervous twitches. I offer him a smile but we both know that it's weak and feeble. "It's going to be fine, Char. I promise. Plus, you've got me for moral support. Doesn't get much better than this."

I've been a wreck since last week. After Isaac stormed out of the flat, I threw up a few times more, slouched down on the bathroom floor and sobbed until Sam returned and found me like that about three hours later. He demanded to know what was going on and to his credit, he stayed unnervingly calm as I recounted the night to him.

Isaac had come over, we'd been getting along smoothly, I'd entertained the idea of telling him of my pregnancy, then I had another wave of all-day sickness, and as I threw up, Isaac had found the discarded Clearblue box that gave away the surprise news. And what a surprise it turned out to be for Isaac. No less than a minute after I confirmed his worst nightmare- that I was up the duff- he was out the door quicker than you could say, 'Wham, Bam, Thank you, Ma'am!' 

Sam was furious that Isaac had acted that way and he was swearing all colours under the sun, determined to march over to Isaac's place and give him a piece of his mind. Thankfully, I convinced Sam that it wasn't necessary. Perhaps Isaac just needed a few days to come around and then we'd be able to have a mature conversation and sort it all out. What an idealistic idea that turned out to be. Isaac never called, never text, never showed up at the door to profess his deepest regrets. I suppose that told me all I needed to know about where I stood and where he stood. He wasn't interested and so, I was going to be a single mother. 

"How about, after this, you come back to the gallery with me, huh?" Sam offered. He shot me a bright smile, probably hoping that his happiness was infectious and that I would break out into a grin, too. "We've just taken delivery of some new pieces and I need to go through them with the curator. It's always good to have someone else's perspective when it comes to choosing items."

"Mm, maybe," I offer, turning my attention back to the pamphlet in my hands. It was one that I had picked up from the displays, talking about the importance of taking various vitamins throughout the nine months. I didn't read any of the words on the front but simply stared at the diagram that was dominating the front cover. It showed how all my internal organs would displace thanks to the baby growing in my uterus, and it was quite frankly, scary. "Is that really where my stomach is going to end up?"

Sam peered over at the diagram and laughed. "Ah, the joys of reproduction. Where did the bladder go?"

"There," I point to the very thin looking pink organ just under the uterus. It was squished. "No wonder pregnant people need to pee so often. There's a sumo wrestler pressing down on your bladder."

A few minutes passed and I started to look over some of the other literature that had been left around the doctor's waiting room. At one week's pregnancy, my baby's sex has been decided and its growth is at it's fastest. By the second week, the major organs are being formed, even though at three weeks, it was still just a bundle of cells. The size of a sesame seed by four weeks, the brain and heart are developing, as well as the central nervous system and the circulatory system. By week five, the baby's heartbeat can be detected on the ultrasound and it starts to look a little like a tadpole as its limbs develop. Week six sees that all the vital organs are in place and week seven- where I am now- means that the brain is developed and over a hundred brain cells are formed every minute. The human body is so cool, if a little freaky. 

"Charlotte Delaney!" The receptionist called out loud, earning not only my attention but everyone else's too. "Dr Steele will see you now!"

With a supportive smile from Sam, I stand up and make my way to Dr Steele's office. I can hear Sam's footsteps behind me as Dr Steele looks up from her computer and gives me a warm, inviting smile. She stands and reaches out her hand for me to shake before moving to Sam and shaking his hand, too. 

"Hi, Charlotte," she smiles at me and motions for me to sit in the chair opposite her desk. "Congratulations! Are you ready to get started on the road to becoming a mama?"

I shrug. "I suppose so," I say with very little excitement in my voice. I think the doctor sense how uneasy I feel as she quickly clears her throat and sits upright in her chair. Sam, meanwhile, kicks my foot and scowls at me. "I, uh... I mean, yes! Sign me up!"

"Smooth, Char," Sam mutters. Turning to the woman opposite us, Sam begins to explain my attitude. "It was unexpected, that's all. She's thrilled on the inside. She simply hides it well."

The doctor laughs at Sam's words and says that it's perfectly normal to be feeling nervous when it's your first pregnancy. With that, she instructs me to jump up on the examining bed and to lift my top so that she can feel my abdomen. Dr Steele asks if it's ok for Dad to stay and watch, which caused Sam to scoff and announce that he wasn't the baby-daddy.

"Moral support, my arse, Sam," I mumbled as I shake my head at Sam's wildly overdramatic denial. "The father is, uh... busy? He couldn't make it today. Maybe next time."

After a little more prodding around my belly, Dr Steele gives me a definitive nod. "Ok, Charlotte, up you get." She washes her hands, just as she did before my examination, and retakes her seat at her desk, typing away as she updates that notes. When I rejoin her and Sam at the table, she gives me another of her warm smiles. "I just have some questions for you and then we can get the ball rolling. This is your first pregnancy?"

"Yes," I nod. Silently, in my mind I say, And last, no doubt.

"From your notes, I can see that you haven't received treatment for high blood pressure or diabetes. Is that still the case?" She asks. Once again, I nod and the doctor types furiously on her keyboard. "Has anyone in your family had a baby with abnormalities, or do you know of any inherited diseases in your family?"

I shuffle uncomfortably. "My brother has Cystic Fibrosis," I explain. Looking away from Sam, I add, "I'm a carrier. My sisters and I were all tested a few years ago. Other than that, there are no abnormalities or inherited diseases."

"Thank you," Dr Steele nods. "Do you drink or smoke, Charlotte?"

I shake my head. "I haven't drunk since the night I got pregnant and I don't smoke. I don't do drugs, either, if that's your next question."

Dr Steele laughs at my narrowed eyed stare. "Noted. Ok, that's all I need to know for today but when you meet your midwife for the first time, you're going to need to give your family's medical history in full as well as the father's medical history. Will that be a problem?"

"No, that'll be fine," I say, although I'm not entirely sure how accurate my words are. "So, that's it? We're done?"

Dr Steele gives me a bundle of literature to read, including information about folic acid, nutrition, diet, and food hygiene. She makes another appointment for me for Tuesday of next week so that I can have a blood test to screen for Sickle Cell and Thalassaemia and gives me a card for a 'booking appointment' with the midwife, which will be a marathon session of two hours. In the meantime, I'm told that if I have any concerns to call Dr Steele, who will stay on my 'case' as the Obstetrician. 

"I'll see you again in a few weeks," Dr Steele grins. "It was lovely meeting you, Charlotte. Sam."

Armed with more leaflets than I know what to do with, Sam and I casually make our way to Courtenay Galleries, the art gallery that Sam had inherited from his father. He'd been running it alongside his sister, Evelyn, for the better part of six months and to better understand the ins and outs of the company, Sam had enrolled on a Business Management degree. He figured that Evelyn knew all about art, so he could focus on the business side of everything. 

Today, however, Evelyn was in Milan. My sister, Sophie, had dragged her sister-in-law to some fashion show there and that meant that it was up to Sam and their resident curator to sift through the newly arrived art pieces in order to decide what would be displayed. 

Entering the gallery via the front entrance, I was greeted by a gigantic statue that dominated the double storey high foyer. I wasn't sure what it was supposed to be but I'm guessing that's what made it captivating. It was terrifically bonkers. 

"Sam, finally!" A blonde woman dressed in a navy, form-fitting dress threw up her arms as she neared us. Her eyes fell on me and it was impossible to ignore the way she frowned as her eyes grazed over my clothes. There was nothing wrong with skinny jeans and an oversized sweater but this woman seemed to take offence by it. "May I help you?"

"Ros," Sam's voice held a threat within it as he shot her a warning look. "Rosamund Aldridge, this is my best friend Charlotte Delaney. Char, meet Ros, the curator."

"Pleasure," Ros spoke with a nod of her head. Peeling her eyes from me, she looked to Sam and said, "You're late and we need to curate our next show. God knows why that sister-in-law of yours decided to fly Evelyn to Italy this week. It's not like I'm in desperate need of her expertise, or anything! I suppose you'll have to do. Now, hurry. I'm meeting a buyer in twenty minutes and if you've ever seen him, you'll understand that this is not something I want to miss."

From the way Sam's shoulders rolled back and how he bit down on his lower lip, I tink he was trying as hard as I was to stop myself from snapping at Ros. Firstly, she insulted my sister. Not on, lady. Secondly, she completely dismissed Sam and spoke about him like he was dirt on the bottom of her shoe. Definitely not on! 

"Rise above it," Sam muttered to himself. "Kill the bitch with kindness."

Sam led me to a large storage room at the rear of the gallery and I was awed to see hundreds of paintings either hanging on walls or stacked together in large, ornate frames. They varied in size, colour, and media but each item was magnificent. It was impossible to see how Ros and Sam would be able to choose only a handful to display. 

Still, in the limited timeframe that they had, that's exactly what the duo managed to do. Every so often, Sam would look to me to give an opinion on a painting that he was unsure of but ultimately, he and Ros chose the best fifteen from their collection. When the two were finalising up their paperwork, I took a stroll around the storage space, looking through some illustration paintings by an artist named Kaytlynn Jayceson. There was one that particularly stood out to me- a giraffe watercolour illustration that used flowers as the pattern of the animal. 

"You like that one?" Sam asked as he approached me. I look at him, the first genuine smile of the day on my face, and nod. "In that case, it's yours."

"Sam, no, I can't-"

"Wait!" He said, holding up a hand to quieten me. "It's for the baby. You can put it up in the nursery."

"I don't have a nursery," I tell him. "You're in my spare room, remember?"

Sam's smile dropped slightly. "Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about that," he says, choosing his words carefully. "I think it's time for me to go back to my own house. Not now," he quickly adds when he notices my eyes filling with tears. "I'm not going anywhere that soon but in a few months."

"What if I don't want you to move out?" I try.

"Well, it'll be a huge turn around from what you've been telling me since November," Sam jokes.

I hit his arm for trying to make light of the situation. "It's not funny, Sam. What if I moved? I mean, a two bedroom flat isn't a great home for a kid and the baby will need a garden, so I can always look at moving. Three bedrooms should be enough space for me, the baby and for you, too."

Sam shakes his head and gives me a sad smile. I've lost the battle in trying to keep Sam with me for as long as possible but I haven't lost the war. Not yet. I've still got a few more months to think about moving, getting a bigger place, and to persuade Sam that he doesn't need to move out. 

Are you missing Isaac?

So, I've deliberately not disclosed a lot about Isaac because I want to emphasise that Charlotte doesn't know that much about him! They were a one-night thing and she has her own preconceptions about what he'll be like. So, here's a few questions to get you thinking:

1. What is Isaac's job? 

2. Where does he live? (dwelling type, not location)

3. How many siblings does he have in total? CatastrophicAura cannot answer this as she's the one that's come up with Isaac's family tree

4. He had his heart broken many years ago. Why/How?

5. Would Isaac want a son or a daughter?

I'll see you all next weekend. Hope you have an awesome week!

Sarah, xx