Hello You!

It came as a complete surprise to everyone having been a staunch anti-babe-ite my whole life, when on my 32nd Birthday I announced to a roomful of strung out friends, that this would be the year when I started trying for a baby. I don't think anyone really paid that much attention, because being the birthday girl, I was allowed free reign of the debauchery and was coming out with lots of poignant and stupid things that felt from the heart and needed a voicing.

I looked around the room and realised that this could be my life from now on. Friday nights spent taking recreational drugs, drinking everything in sight, and singing Karaoke till 4am.

This is what my life was looking like becoming on a full time basis.

It was fun. But I also had an urge to do crafts. I'd started buying tiny little kids t-shirts at Primark with pictures of Muppets on them and hiding them in my t-shirt drawer. I was terribly afraid of anyone finding them, they might find out my dirty secret. That I kinda wanted a little kid to dress them in.

So it was at the turn of my Birthday that I told my husband that we were now trying for a baby. And when i mean trying, i mean trying. I wanted to be pregnant now. I wanted the impulse purchase pregnancy. I am one of those people who buys a penlight, a cartoon book about cats, and a decorative iPhone holder (i don't even have an iPhone) when she gets to the checkout at Waterstones because they're bright and shiny and look fun and I have to have it now. Delayed gratification and myself do not mix.

Many nights that first month of trying ended with both of us arguing and sleeping in different rooms, i wanted impregnation immediately "you'd never be getting any more sex than this in your lifetime, so get a boner and do your husbandly duty!!".... apparently men don't like being Army corralled into performing a sexual act, nor feeling like a seed delivery van.

Eventually though, we sorted it out "Massaaaaaage?" became code for "baby making time?" and I got a shit tonne of massages. win for me. I went to the library and read every book about Pregnancy they had. I stopped drinking alcohol. I stopped eating mackerel, I stopped drinking tea and coffee, eating deli meats and soft cheeses! I love soft cheeses!! I was truly making a sacrifice.

I was living the life of someone already pregnant.

One problem however is that working in the industry I do, "drinking" and "all the time" go hand in hand. There were plenty of parties and events coming up and my choices were to be seen as a leper of society who doesn't drink (no more invites for you then!) or to lie and say I had some kind of south african parasite living in my guts/a stress induced stomach ulcer/or Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

Eventually a party came where I was weakened in my resolve to be "to-be-mother-of-the-year" it was free bar, and unlimited cosmopolitans. to say I went to town would be an understatement. by the time the starters were served I was already under the table.. I guess I put the 'i'm gonna be pregnant any day now" thoughts out of my mind because we had been trying and nothing had been happening. Maybe doing all the right things just weren't the right way for me.

One day at work, I decided to call a meeting with my boss. I demanded to be promoted. I have no idea where this came from, nor why I thought I deserved a promotion, but I can be pretty scary at times and my boss caved in. I was thinking "well if I can't be a mum i'm gonna be a career girl, and i'm going straight to the top"

So there I was with my 3 day hangover, my new impressive job title, my "new job" clothing. (I couldn't be seen in Production Assistant clothing, now that I was a Production Manager!) when I realised that any day now my period would be due. I noted the date down and went to boots and brought the most techno-savvy pregnancy test they had. I woke up on the morning my period was due and rushed downstairs to use my first "urine of the day" and peed all over my hands. The test came back as 'Not Pregnant'.

I was disappointed, but then I was doing ok. New Job. New Pants. Maybe I just wasn't supposed to be a mother? maybe it was just not my time yet. I went out a LOT over the next two weeks. Dinners, Parties, Beers after work. I went to see a nude burlesque show and drink fruity martini's till we ran out of money.

I looked in my calendar and my period has still not come to pass. But I knew that a cycle can last anything between 27 -37 days for me. I noted the dates down in my diary and started counting the days back and forth over and over again to make sure I had not miscounted. Eventually it got to way past a likely late period due date, and I once again made the trip down to Boots. This time however I wasn't going to fall into the old trap of peeing all over my hands at work. So I took a plastic cup and hid away in the upstairs bathroom. I put the test in the cup, and prepared to wait my 3 minutes.

The test showed up 'Pregnant' within 30 seconds.

Pregnant.

Oh.My.God.

This is what I had wanted, but now the thought of permanently ruining my vagina, and having to find a Doula in the area loomed in front of me.

I told my husband on ichat. He couldn't believe i was telling him on ichat. What was I supposed to do? I have a big important job now, I can't even leave my desk to make a phone call, and that was not a call I was going to make with the rest of the office listening in.

After work everyone went down to the pub, and I ordered a Lemonade. They all looked at me like I had lost my mind. I guess i'm going to have to really go to town with the story of the South African Parasite living inside me. For the next 12 weeks anyway.