The Day I Became Pregnant

The day I became pregnant, was the day I realized the party was over. As I sat watching my friend open her presents at her baby shower, a strange premonition waved over me, that I too was going to have a demon spawn of my very own. Heaves of nausea crept up my throat. Was that the nachos? It couldn't be. No one else was sick. Then it dawned on me. Oh God, I was six weeks late. How could I have flaked out like that?

My future husband came over to me and rubbed my stomach, as if he knew something I didn't. That jerk. How dare he jinx me. I wanted to leave immediately, but I sat there watching in bemused indifference. That day couldn't have taken any longer to get over with.

On the drive home I stopped by a grocery store to pick up a pregnancy test. Good Lord, how many tests were there? Didn't you only need one to find out if your life is ruined? Instead there were ten. So, I did what anyone would do in my predicament. I closed my eyes and pointed to a box. It would have to do.

As I sat on the toilet peeing onto a phenomenally small stick, I kept thinking, “Please don't let me pregnant. I'll never have sex again if I'm not pregnant.” After five minutes of repetitive praying, I looked over and saw the signs of my destruction. Oh God, why do you hate me? I dragged my feet over to George and showed him the pregnancy test. He smiled and gave me the “I knew it” look.

He came over to hug me and then said, “I have to go now. Jaret is having a birthday celebration and I promised I'd hang out with him.” I looked at him with the eyes of an animal that hadn't been fed in weeks. “I'm sorry. I just told you I was pregnant with your child and you're leaving?” And before I could lunge at him, he was out the door. The man who had planted his man chowder in my garden left me at the worst possible time.

All that night I paced back and forth, wondering what to do with the impending “joy.” While I had jobs working with kids, and I was great at what I did, becoming a mother was not on my resume. I dreaded the poop diapers, the crying, and having to get up at all hours, regardless of whether or not I was happily snuggled in bed. God how I hated George. It was all his fault. Well, partially. Why is it women lack inhibition when they've had one too many beers?

After a night of tossing on turning, and kicking George in his back as he slept, I realized that I'd have to own up and become a responsible adult. I had to grow up at some point. What better way than by having a child. While the thought terrified me, I had hoped that maybe I'd become a better person for it.

Although I was twenty-seven, I was terrified of telling my mother the news. The woman scared me. That's all there was to it. But I figured what better way to break the news than on Mother's Day. I took a picture of our daughter's sonogram and placed into a card that said Happy Mother's Day Grandma. She looked at the card in confusion, and then looked at me. “Now I know why you look so pudgy!” As she hugged me, I looked at my father in shock. My mom was actually happy for me.

The months passed, and I got big. Actually, I got huge. About seventy pounds larger to be precise. I felt like a weeble wobble, like I could topple over at any moment, but the hugeness of my tummy kept me grounded. I wanted her to come out, even if that meant I had to do jumping jacks. But in she stayed, as if to protest against her mother before she was even a teenager.

When the moment finally arrived, I was ecstatic. I would finally get my body back, at least in theory. I had prepared myself for long hours of labor because everyone I had known always seemed to be in labor for hours. Instead, I got nine. Not that I'm complaining, especially since I had an epidural. I couldn't take the pain after five centimeters. Breath they tell you. Well you know what they can do with that so-called breathing.

The moment I pushed her out I couldn't hear her crying. The room was quiet. I wondered why it was so silent. Then George cut her cord, and the most beautiful sound echoed in the room. The healthy cries of her lungs sent a wave of pride through my body. I had done it. I had brought a new life into this world. I was responsible for her safety. Oh man. I was responsible for another human being.

George handed Kaileen to me and I looked into her eyes, wondering what she could be thinking. I gave her my hand and she grasped it with her tiny fingers. She was so small. I never thought I could carry someone like her inside me. As the tears rolled down my face, I began to realize that I didn't mind the idea of becoming a mother. There couldn't be a more amazing feeling than the moment I was having with her. And so I welcomed motherhood and all that it had to offer. How little I knew of the times to come ahead.