Friday, April 17, 2009

A Pregnancy Carol. Part the Second.

I rested my elbows on the bed in front of me, burying my face in my hands. “God,” I prayed earnestly, “both You and I know better than Brian. We both see his selfishness and unwillingness to be flexible about his life plans. And You know that I will never be fulfilled until I realize my purpose as a mother.

So I ask you to please help me get pregnant by mistake, so Brian won’t be able to do anything about it.”

I felt that my fervent voice was beelining it up to heaven, past the pearly gates and straight into the ear of God Himself. It wouldn’t be long before his hand moved mightily in my behalf. TAKE THAT, Brian!

I can’t say that praying for my husband’s plans to be thwarted was exactly right. But it felt right. Oh, it felt so right. Especially considering that I’d even thought about sabotaging the birth control. I figured that that might have been unforgivable. But praying – that was certainly fine.

You see, both God and I knew that I would not survive three more years of denied hope. A baby, I believed, would be the answer to all of my discontentment and despondency. Oh, the wonderful things that would accompany my pregnancy… a baby shower! A nursery to decorate! Tiny, adorable clothes to buy! Books to read! Mommy groups to join! As a pregnant woman, I’d have doors opened for me. Strangers in the street would smile at me, admiring my maternal glow.

The all-natural home birth would be a dream - slightly painful and perhaps difficult, but powerful - giving me a sense of empowerment and acceptance into the sisterhood of women who had birthed through the ages. When our squirming child was laid on my chest, Brian would look at me with new admiration. From that moment, I’d be a different woman in his eyes – strong, capable, and nurturing. New love would blossom between the two of us, all because of the child squawking lustily in my aching arms.

The baby himself would be perfect: intelligent, irresistible, perfectly behaved... and toilet trained at ten months old, using the Elimination Communication method about which I’d read so intently. In fact, after all the parenting material I’d absorbed, I’d already determined my perspective on prenatal nutrition, breastfeeding, co-sleeping, childcare, cry-it-out methods, vaccinations, discipline, education, diet, and activity schedule. I was ready to be a mother. Brian just didn’t realize it.

To top it off, everyone else I knew – literally every young married woman – was pregnant. And what better reason was there to have a baby other than EVERYONE ELSE WAS HAVING ONE, TOO?

So I waited impatiently for a missed cycle. And then, one morning, I walked into the bathroom and threw up into the sink.

To be continued. And I won't wait another week either. Sorry. ...!

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