... But first matters of a more pressing nature, (for those who can't wait skip below...)
As a single mother of a 12-year-old son, I always kept my private life, private. The language of 'we' had a tendency to set my stomach a-churn and curdle thoughts of compromise. Basically there was no need or desire to look for a replacement father figure, as my son had his own. Thus no weird uncles trespassed into Boy Wonder's life (unless you count the bone fide ones). I suspect to many acquaintances and work colleagues I presented a very singular state, most being unaware of my relationship status.
So... when news of my pregnancy broke, it travelled fast. Relations rang, friends were told and a barrage of questions hit home.
Are you crazy?
Who's the father?
Are you two even together?
How are you going to afford it?
Did you want this to happen?
Is this a happy pregnancy?
Remember the scandal of your first?
Well at least this time the father will be present...
I nearly choked when this was said to me; Boy Wonder's father has always been present in our lives.
Your parents must be so upset?
It's interesting how people reveal themselves in their responses and reactions, how their own insecurities, prejudices, fears suddenly become visible. Why is it I wonder the non-conventional computes as worse or wrong or just incomprehensible?
Good parenting has nothing to do with one's social or marital status though I concede it is more practical for two people to share the job of child rearing. However, a conventional status does not necessarily deign parenting attributes on anyone. If you don't believe me just go see, 'We Need to Talk About Kevin.' That said I strongly believe a child needs both a mother and a father. I just don't necessarily believe they have to live under the same roof.
The Glam Rocker was congratulated. He said he did not feel judged by anyone's comments as I had. Maybe it was my own insecurity. Maybe I was interpreting the above reactions in a negative light. It's just that single parenthood seems to get such a bad press, (a topic on which you don't want to get me started)
On the other hand, there were those who threw their arms round me, kissed, hugged and congratulated me. How wonderful, how amazing, you must be so happy, excited, delighted, and best reaction of all, 'You are the luckiest woman I know...'
I am lucky. Following another round of hospital tests the good news arrived. I didn't have diabetes, I was HIV negative, syphilitic free and most importantly, low risk.
'You're low risk,' the midwife announced, 'One in 560,'
'Not bad,' I thought. 'Not bad for this 'medically considered' geriatric primgravida.'
And now the bit you have all been waiting for...
All sources of information concur that whatever feels to be personally 'right' regarding this matter is right. That said, we are talking about sex here and it usually goes that whatever feels 'wrong' is most likely to be ding dong, off the scale 'right'.
Some women may find their sex drive dwindles akin to a go-slow trundle in a 15-mile residential zone (Careful children ahead), in which case never a truer word said, or worse conceivable (!) scenario; one's va-va voom will be all but impounded. Your other half may well have to pay a hefty fine to get it on the road again. So, carpe diem, now's the time to ask for that bag, shoes, holiday, future tummy tuck, etc. you may have lusted over.
Alternatively... other women may be zooming down the motorway in a convertible wearing an Audrey Hepburn scarf and little else, toot toot...
TO BE CONTINUED
The Interloper Says Waste Not Want Not
Thirteen weeks into pregnancy and the kidneys are given the green light and the intestines have moved from the umbilical cord to the fetus' abdomen. From now on urine is discharged into the amniotic fluid. Size wise 8mm (on average) of life is stretching, kicking and turning, although it's still far too small to feel.