Loneliness Trilogy Bundle Boxset (9 page)

This is easily the high point of our U.S. tour. I return to normal as we finish out the tour - except for that lingering nausea and sickness that occasionally strikes me.

One night, in our room, Marcus looks at me seriously.

“Johanna, I think you’re pregnant,” he says.

His words shock me. Pregnant? Then I begin totting up my various symptoms. My breasts have been very tender and my favorite slim jeans no longer fit me properly. I look at Marcus, wondering if he could be right.

“But…we’ve used…”

“All but that one time, remember? Back in England, we made love without protection. I think it happened then - if you are…you know.” A wide grin spreads across Marcus’ face.

I collapse onto the bed next to him. Lord! I think he’s right! A grin slowly makes its way to my face, too. “Oh, my God! I think you might be right! Can we stop at an apothecary shop and get one of those pregnancy tests?”

“A pharmacy, you mean? I think we’d better! If you are, you need to be taking care of yourself, my love,” Marcus says.

I look at my watch. “Practice isn’t for another hour and a half. Can you Google the closest pharmacy so we can buy a test?”

Twenty minutes later, we’re standing in the checkout line, a test in hand. Marcus bolts for the testing aisle again and comes back with a second test.

I crook an eyebrow at him. “Two tests? One is sufficient,” I say.

“I want to be doubly sure,” he says. “Once we know, you’ll need to get the best prenatal care and, when we return to England, you’re going to start seeing a doctor or midwife,” he says.

I goggle at him. He’s really looking forward to papa-hood! Back in our room, we read the instructions. Marcus grabbed a different brand from what I had grabbed, so we read both sets of instructions. Following the instructions, I pee on both sticks and we wait for the specified amounts of time. Marcus tells me when each test should show the results and we peer at both. Both have strong pink or blue lines, indicating that I am definitely pregnant! I collapse onto the closed toilet lid. Well, no wonder! I think to my older sister’s symptoms and realize that I should have caught on much earlier. I thought I was so emotional and sick because of Marcus!

Marcus looks at me with joy brimming from his eyes. Gathering me tenderly into his arms, he says, “I love you, you know. I love our little baby, tiny as he - or she - is.”

I begin to cry out of joy and fear.

“Oh, my God! Marcus, what if my depression hurt the baby?”

Marcus is struck silent.

“The only way we’ll know is if we find a clinic and have you and our little one checked out,” he tells me.

“I don’t want to say anything to the guys yet. Let’s see what a doctor says, then we can break the happy news to them,” I decide.

“Good idea. I’ll Google clinics.”

We’re in Norfolk, Virginia, and it is bloody hot. We take a taxi to the clinic Marcus identified online. By the time we get there, the cigarette smoke and body odors in the cab, as well as the heat, get to me. As soon as we walk into the clinic, I’m seeking out a bathroom. Spotting the now-familiar women’s toilets, I bolt as Marcus signs us in. Forty-five minutes later, we’re discussing my symptoms and the pregnancy test results with the young, Hispanic doctor. She gives us a friendly smile and orders urine and blood tests for me. When she comes back with my chart, she smiles again.

“Congratulations, mom and dad! You are definitely pregnant. I’ll need to conduct a pelvic exam so I can estimate your baby’s approximate conception date.”

I give Dr. Martinez the date of my last menstrual period. I am obsessive about that, so I know it very well. With that and the uncomfortable pelvic exam, she tells me that I am about four months pregnant. My eyes widen. How could I have gone so long without knowing? I tell her about my sadness and difficulty adjusting when Marcus was still in England.

“Will that hurt my baby?”

“Not likely. How did you eat? Did you drink alcohol? Use drugs?”

“I ate. I’ve always loved food. No booze or drugs - although, before we left England, we did visit a pub a few times.”

“As long as drinking isn’t a daily occurrence and you’re abstaining now, your little one is very likely to be just fine. But, because of the link between alcohol and fetal alcohol syndrome, you’ll want to stay completely away from any kind of liquor. No illicit drugs, either.”

“Oh, definitely not. I’m a member of a The Lonely Lovers and we have a strict zero tolerance policy on drugs.”

“I’m going to your concert tonight, actually! My fiance and I bought tickets as soon as we heard you had set up a tour here in the U.S.,” says Dr. Martinez.

“Oh, bless you! You are going totally going to enjoy some of our new music!”

“Thank you! Now, you need to start putting weight on. Your baby needs all the nutrients he or she can get, so whatever your stomach tolerates, eat it. Spicy and greasy foods, as well as caffeine are out.”

I thank her and even call in a favor to get her a couple VIP passes for the show. After giving me a list of the foods I could eat, as well as prenatal vitamins, the doctor congratulates us once again and Marcus and I return to our room. We have ten minutes to make it downstairs to meet the rest of the band to go to practice.

“Can we stop for some snacks?” I ask Tim.

“Sure. I’ll let the driver know,” he says, not thinking anything of my question.

Every couple hours, I stop, making sure to keep myself hydrated. I realize that I really do feel better, keeping food in my belly. I make it through the practice and we go back to the hotel. I need to nap, so I have a lie-down for several hours. When I wake up, we venture out into the humidity to find a restaurant - I am suddenly craving salads. After we order, Marcus calls Tim, letting him know where we are. I shake my head at him slightly, letting him know that I don’t want to say anything to the band yet about my pregnancy.

“Marcus, we need crackers. And some fruit so I can snack,” I tell him.

“We’ll stop in a store on the way back to the hotel. Just make sure you take some food with you to the concert,” he reminds me.

That night, even though I keep food on my belly, as soon as the intermission begins, I bolt backstage and lose my dinner in the bathroom. The band realizes what happened and they look at me in concern. It’s time. I look at Marcus and we communicate silently with each other.

“Tim, Laslow, Linny…we need to talk,” I start. We sit in the green room, where I carefully eat an apple and drink some warm tea. “I’m pregnant. I got the diagnosis today.”

Laslow looks at his older brother and lets out a raucous whoop! Tim and Linny let out a laugh of relief.

“Oh, my God, thank God it’s nothing more serious,” says Tim. “I honestly thought you had some deadly illness. How far along are you?”

“Four months. Meaning my dresses won’t fit me much longer,” I say, carefully stretching the delicate fabric.

“We’re nearly done with our tour and we’ll be flying back to England in two weeks,” Tim says.

As excited as I am about our band’s success, the early part of my pregnancy wears on me and I am beginning to feel exhausted. Even though I’m careful to keep food in my stomach and stay well-hydrated, this leads to some pretty harrowing moments of sickness. One day is especially bad. I just cannot stop vomiting and Marcus takes me to the emergency room of the city we’re in for that day - Denver, Colorado. When the doctor comes in to examine me, he’s concerned because I am so dehydrated. He wants to admit me to hospital! When I panic and tell him that I have to sing that night, he gives me a glare and tells me that he’s going to re-hydrate me and give me a medication to stop my stomach from acting so badly. Then, he tells me to rest as much as I can. As it turns out, it’s not just morning or all-day sickness. I am having trouble adjusting to the high altitude, something he calls “altitude sickness.”

Great. So now, I have two reasons to be drinking lots and lots of water. Instead of being admitted to hospital, the doctor opts to hook me up to a couple of I.V.s so I can start to feel human again. The second I.V. has the medication in it, which knocks me for an absolute loop. I fall into a heavy sleep, which lasts until about two hours before we have to get to the concert venue. When I wake up, the doctor is there. He’s in a better mood now, thankfully. He tells Marcus and me that, whenever I’m not practicing or performing, I’m to be resting or napping for at least the first trimester - preferably prone. I ask the doctor how long I’ll feel sick and he tells me it should be ending any time soon.

When we get back to the concert hall, Marcus tells everyone what the doctor ordered.

“Then, that’s it. Johanna, you’re on bed rest except for practices and performances,” says Tim.

The next day, we fly to Phoenix, Arizona. The lower altitude is much easier on me - too bad the heat’s so intense! When I’m not sitting in front of air conditioning, I’m spread out in bed, trying to keep cool. Ice water - whoever came up with it, should have won the Nobel Prize. I guzzle the stuff like it’s going out of fashion until I realize the coldness of the water will affect my vocal cords - then I switch to room-temperature water. Thankfully, the water helps me keep the nausea from hitting me. Both the practice and performance go very well - our band is very well received in this awfully hot city.

Next, we fly to Los Angeles and prepare to perform there - the big one, says Tim. After our practice, we go to the beach and walk on the hard, wet sand. Marcus has added his own prescription to those of my doctors - relaxation and lots of it. As a result, when we get to the concert hall that evening, I am lightly sun tanned and feeling very good. As we perform, I glance over at Marcus, to see him smiling and enjoying our music.

Over the next few days, I realize that my nausea is starting to retreat a little more every day. Even if I smell a strong scent, I’m better able to handle it than I was earlier in my pregnancy. Of course, I have to work to get my clothes around my slowly growing belly. Marcus sees me struggling to fasten my pants one morning. After I give up, he tells me, “It’s time for maternity wear for you, mum.”

He calls Tim and lets him know we have to find a maternity shop so I can buy a few things. Practice is postponed until late morning and we find a cute little maternity store in downtown Eugene, Oregon. When I see the prices, I’m floored. Even with the conversion factor, they are not very expensive. I buy tops, pants and, when I see the perfect formal, I buy that as well. The shop assistant recommends that I start stocking up on maternity bras and underthings, so I follow her recommendation. When we leave, Marcus is loaded down with several bags. In our room, I immediately change to a new maternity outfit. Oh, so much more comfortable! After I show the formal to Tim, he approves of it for our performance that evening.

“If you find a few more, you may as well stock up on more formal gowns, because I’m hoping you’ll be able to stay with us through as much of your pregnancy as possible,” he tells me.

“Well, I’d love to go back and check on other formal dresses they have in stock. What time do we have to be at the airport tomorrow?” I ask Tim.

“Not until noon for a one p.m. flight,” he tells me.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll stop at the shop tomorrow morning, first thing. If I find anything, I’ll buy it. And, yes, I’d love to continue with the group for as long as my pregnancy allows me - and after the baby is born,” I tell him.

In return, I get a big hug. That night, I wear my new, much more comfortable maternity formal dress. While it gives my growing belly more room, it doesn’t look like a maternity dress. I simply look like I chose to wear a loose dress. It makes singing so much easier. Now, I can expand my diaphragm much more easily and I don’t get dizzy during the longer notes. This performance is one of my best since we arrived stateside. After we perform, we stop at a late-night diner and order snacks. I am starving, so I order an omelet, toast and some iced tea. The guys all order these huge sandwiches. Once we’ve eaten, we go back to our hotel, where we all go to bed.

The next morning, I return to the maternity shop, The Little Oregon Boutique, and buy two more formal dresses. I pack them and we leave for the airport. We have two more cities in which to perform, then we fly back home! I still haven’t told my mum, dad and sister that we’re expecting a baby. I want to tell them in person. Dad will want me to marry Marcus right away - but we haven’t talked about this. In truth, that part makes me worry. I know Marcus loves me and our little one, but does he want to get married? I know I do. Twelve years separates us, but that’s not much. What’s more is my worry that I’ll be a single mum on the dole in England. I don’t want that.