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An Emergency Scan with Baby Winter - Meet the Wildes
Six weeks. I find myself on an unfamiliar table; my legs are shaking in metal stirrups. I can hear the blood whooshing in my head; it reminds me of seaside holidays when I was small, of licking rum and raisin cones whilst the waves crashed over my feet. My adult life often feels so much simpler than my childhood but today I would give anything to be back at Brighton beach with my grandparents again. I would give anything to be anywhere but here. The sonographer is a trainee; she looks at me as though she wants to immortalise my face, as though my story matters. She asks me if I mind if she consults with her colleague during my scan, and laughs nervously when I tell her that I don’t mind at all, that I look forward to eavesdropping. My voice sounds like somebody else’s; I am having trouble…