Thursday, December 19, 2013

Maybe Baby!




Seriously, I'm a natural, right?



Every time I set eyes upon a squishy, beaming little infant, I am instantaneously possessed by a primal urge to procreate.  A deep, aching longing sets in such that it’s all I can do not to grab the thing and run.  Friends, upon witnessing what must resemble a junkie greedily eyeing off someone else’s smack, will take my hand and wordlessly steer me away, my head swivelling on its axis like Linda Blair from the exorcist as the bundle disappears from sight.  There’s clucky.  And then there’s me.    
 
For years I have been waiting impatiently to reach that magical point at which maturity, age and financial security combine sufficiently to justify producing my own squishy infant.  That time is not yet upon me.  So I placate myself with the secret hope that maybe, just maybe, it will happen by accident.  Who am I to question the gods of conception if they decide that the time has come to bestow upon me a foetus, despite being utterly, desperately unprepared? 
   
It was with this secret hope in mind that I stared at the inside of my undies the other day.  There was nothing, not a speck.  I had missed my period.  You’ve been stressed, I told myself.  There’s a perfectly good explanation for it.  But nothing could stop my pounding heart.  Maybe it was time! 

As one day passed, then another, I couldn’t help but analyse every twinge.  Was that a slight burning in my right ovary?  Must be an early pregnancy symptom!  What about that dull ache in my lower back?  I rushed to consult doctor Google.  Yes!  Pregnancy symptom!  No matter that a back ache is also symptomatic of precisely five thousand other afflictions.  When combined with the ovary burning and the sweaty left foot, there was simply no other explanation!

Quietly, I became a pregnancy forum addict.  At every opportunity I would pull out my phone, an exhilarating sense of curiosity and stealth spurring me on.  I would devour the stories of my cyber peers like delicious morsels of hope.  Mary from Toronto had also experienced slight cramping in her left side before getting her BFP (Big fat Positive); Stella from Liverpool described being too tired to get out of bed.  It all sounded just like me!  Convinced of my state as mother-to-be, I looked up baby names, pregnancy diets, the relative merits of the controversial but effective bedtime technique controlled crying. 

I dared not tell Tom about my secret pleasure, for the exact same reason that I dared not piss on a stick.  I was having so much fun conspiring to be a mother, I was wary of anything that might burst my bubble.  I did, after a few days, give in to the urge to interrogate my mother. 

‘When did you first know you were pregnant?’  I asked in the most casual tone I could muster as Mum watered her vegetables.

‘Well, the first thing I noticed was my boobs were sort of tingly.  And I would have waves of nausea but I didn’t actually vomit.  The biggest thing was feeling like I had the flu, all hot and bothered, especially in the morning.’  Mum paused.  ‘Katie?  What’s wrong?’     

I had stopped short and was staring at my mother, immobile, a weed that I had plucked from a pot plant dangling limp from my clenched fist.  I WAS PREGNANT!  I rushed inside the house and grabbed the pregnancy test I had been carrying around in my bag.  Wrestling it frantically from its plastic casing, my mind was a cyclone of fears.  Where would we live?  How would I afford not to work?  Did Tom really want to call it John?  That name was so dated!  Anxiety threatened to consume me as I waited breathlessly for the three minutes it takes the test to work.

I turned it over.  One line.  Relief poured over me.  A tiny, tingly bit of disappointment lurked amongst the feels, but mainly, I was relieved.

I want a baby.  And some day soon I’ll be ready for one.  Until then, I’m happy to get by on my fantasising and forum-trolling.   


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