Anyone who has had children remembers the day that they found out they were going to be a parent. These memories tend to take on two very specific forms: sheer shock and dread or pure exhultation that the thing that they have been trying so long for has finally come to fruition. How I found out that I was going to be a mum was neither. It was quite run of the mill actually.
I warn you now that I have a tendency to over share which I certainly won’t be shying away from in this blog. Keeping this in mind, I feel it is essential to the story that I inform you of my recent menstrual cycle. Of late it seems that my body likes to welcome the monthly purge on a Monday. Monday came and went, no excruciating cramps, no unexplained emotional turns…she was late. I have a tendency to panic and due to my obsessive compulsive nature, if I think that there is the slightest chance that I am pregnant I will do about 10 pregnancy tests just to be sure.
The week passed the same as every other; working, eating and sleeping simultaneously, and it wasn’t until Thursday that I caved and decided it was time to test if there was a bun living in my oven. Now I am very aware of how irritating it must be for someone to insist on taking a pregnancy test every time they are two days late for their period so this time I did skirt around the issue with my partner. I asked him to take me to ASDA ‘for a wander’. This is actually a thing many people will attest to enjoy and under the rouse of a late night grocery browse we hopped in the car.
Even though I am now a full grown adult I still get embarrassed buying sanitary products, condoms and pregnancy tests. If I could go in a giant trench coat with sunglasses I would (and taking into consideration my terrible memory I probably have). So shopping basket in arm we waltzed around the shop. During this trip I went a little overboard and may have bought three magazines, face masks and a bottle of Sauvignon Marlborough to down after the inevitable negative result.
As a bit of side context I had to undergo a surgical procedure as a teenager to remove ovarian cysts and endometriosis, there has therefore also been a degree of anxiety surrounding my fertility. Until now of course.
By the time we got home to our little cottage I was hyped up on the fact that I was going to spend the evening drinking wine, wearing a face mask and reading trashy magazines; I just had to quickly take this test then I could settle down for the evening.
My partner was yelling through the door asking if I had peed on the stick properly and then stuck his head around the corner. The word ‘yes’ was forming on my lips as two pink lines popped up in front of us. Silence.
“Err heerrrherr.” Was the first sound to exit my mouth, not too shortly followed by a;
”Is that..” from Daniel.
“Oh yeah.” I stammered. “I guess I won’t be having this wine for another nine months then” and in a trance like state placed it in our empty wine rack.
We both looked at each other with bemused grins and shuffled through the house like zombies. It didn’t actually sink in until 3 days later when I told a close friend and then the tears decided to promptly exit my body. It only seems like yesterday we were joking around outside of biology class, listening to American Idiot and colouring in our shoes.
Now we are going to be parents.
I’m going to be a mum.