“I love spring! Can you see how happy I am? Don’t I look happier than I have all winter? It’s the spring, I tell you!”
When I said those words to him two years ago, I had no clue that our lives were about to change. Scratch that. The clues were all there, buzzing in front of my eyes every day. My life was about to take an overhaul but I failed to recognize the signs. I complained about ageing while I also took a little pleasure in the weight loss. If someone said to me back then that I may be pregnant, I might have laughed. Maybe they did and maybe I did.
Those days the only change I could foresee was a change in my career. I could totally see that. I was working towards it. Planning, organizing, preparing. New job. Excitement. More money. I was just short of making travel plans for all the trips I would take with the extra expenses I would be able to afford. My biggest concern was whether I could swing that Europe trip after my trip to New Zealand the following February.
“Maybe you are pregnant“, he said one day. A few times actually but I finally responded that day. “You wish!”
Five days after I said those words, I was sitting at the GP’s office. I was arguing with him about my ‘illness’. It went something like this:
GP: You are pregnant
Me: No I’m not
GP: Have you had sex?
Me: Huh? Umm… yes?
GP: You are pregnant
Me: I don’t think so
GP: A blood test should confirm it.
A week later, he was writing me a referral to see an obstetrician and I was a few hundred dollars out of pocket from having done the blood test, which told me I was pregnant.
Ross was a funny guy. He said things with a straight face that made me wonder whether I ought to laugh or keep a straight face. The first thing he told me was that he offered no refunds or returns. And that there was no point calling the RSPCA because they don’t take human babies. Then he warned me not to get overweight or I’d be hard-pressed to lose the extra weight. Truer words have never been spoken.
Fast forward to the following February. New Zealand was the last thing on my mind, as I lay there telling the annoying mid-wife that I just wanted to sleep. Yeah, right, like that was happening.
No, I did not want to sit in the shower on a stupid ball!
No, I will do this without an epidural. I am fine.
Call the midwife, I want that epidural! No? Do you want to do this? Call her now! I want that epidural!
Dr. Nagy was amazing. He left saying he hoped not to have to come back and see me that night. I hoped the same.
Minutes later, Dr. Cook was saying to me, “We hoped to avoid this but we have to. Your baby is ready to come out but your body isn’t“. Words I will never forget as long as I live. I felt like an idiot. An unborn child was more prepared than I was! To this day, I feel like my child is way more prepared for this parent-child relationship than I can ever hope to be.
Five days later, we bundled the wee thing into our car and drove home.
They can’t let me take this delicate thing home! I don’t know what to do! How am I going to manage? OMG, they shouldn’t be allowed to do this!
When we got home and realized that she hadn’t been buckled in properly, I knew I was right. Poor little thing.
Fast forward another year. February 2014 was the year I was going to New Zealand. We would take a week off and celebrate her birthday there. Nope. That didn’t happen either. Maybe 2015? Do I dare hope?