The Authentic Eclectic

Pregnant In A Third-World Country

The only doctor on the island was about to go sailing. He rang at 10pm just to check. Too late.

Photo by jens holm on Unsplash

It was never our plan to have a baby on the island, but pregnancy did take place, and it would be difficult to blame anyone other than ourselves, for that.

It was shortly after our marathon run that I felt sure I was pregnant, confirmed a week or so later by the doctor (the only one) in Arawa, our coastal part of the island.

All was great. No morning sickness, no going off particular foods, just the perfect pregnancy. Squash and running continued for a while.

That I was sharing my journey with another staff member, even better!

As the weeks passed, I loved to lie on the beach and just feel the flutter and grooving of another life inside me, as my baby fine-tuned its response to noises around, a cute and reassuring sign that all was well.

But then…

I was close to fifteen weeks on, when slight pain woke me up on a Sunday morning. I found I was bleeding.

We waited a while, hoping it would stop, and unwilling to call our doctor out so early. But eventually my husband rang him.