Free Play With You (Loneliness) by Alison Cole Page A

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.