Christmas has come and gone and we’ve just yahoo-ed in the New Year, 2012! The school holidays are in full swing and the sweet stench of summer has settled in the surrounds. I’m eagerly counting down in anticipation a holiday to Fiji. A girlfriend and I had fantasied and planned our escape during our wrap up of the school term last year. Like all teachers, we feel that our outstanding hard work has merited a tropical destination of heat, cocktails and absolute nothingness if we choose.

As I pack my bags a whole week early, I’m annoyed that my Fijian escape will be unkindly inconvenienced by my female mechanics. As a result of my apparent impatience, I hastily purchase this foreign test in the blue box… the cheapest I could find, mind you, that conveniently came in a pack of three.

Negative. Bikinis, cocktails, heat and sun are impending! Stupid dysfunctional body hindering my plans. A few days pass and my husband starts quizzing me whether they have arrived. Excuse me? None of your business! Why am I so irritable? I do another test anyway… negative.

It’s Sunday the 15^th of January 2012, the afternoon before take-off. I’m a bit agitated that my Fijian trip will inevitably be disrupted with my late arrival. I repack accordingly and make plans to meet at my girlfriends place later that night.  As I wait impatiently for the time to pass, wishing I was already sipping a Long Island, I entertain the idea to do the last test.

Wait… is that a second line? I squint thinking my eyes are playing tricks on me. My heart is thumping as if someone has jumped from behind a corner to scare me. I realise I’m holding my breath. I’m not convinced…

I tell husband I’m going for a walk and rush to my local shops. There, in the shop toilets, I use the more expensive brand that instantly appears with two undeniable pink lines. Not exactly how I ever imagined this moment to play out. I stand frozen staring in absolute disbelief and think… as the French would say, oh merde!

Lucky the expensive ones are idiot proof!

As I walk home, the summer afternoon storm clouds roll through and I find myself walking through the heavy rain unaffected…unbothered…unchanged. I’m in shock, but feel a sense of elation that I could possibly be harbouring a little life. So this is what it feels like…

On returning home, husband is amused that I’m drenched from head to toe. I’ve already decided that I won’t tell him anything until I’ve returned from my trip and ask to be dropped off to my girlfriend’s house early. On greeting her, I burst out crying confessing that I think I’m pregnant.

I know nothing about pregnancy! What do I do? What does this mean? Can I fly? We rush to the local shops and buy the book ‘Up the Duff’. Definitely not the holiday reading I was expecting, that’s for sure!

Nevertheless, we continue on our adventure and I read the entire book within a day, and read it again…and again. I was so lucky to have had my dear friend with me. She was my calm, my resolve and still continues to be an appreciated outlet. We had an amazing trip, which was only altered by the fact that alcohol was substituted with delicious mocktails. It was a week to celebrate surviving yet another year as teachers and a fleeting escape from the new reality awaiting on my return.

We’ll always have Fiji, my friend…

I’ve never really felt naturally maternal. Don’t get me wrong… I loved babies! Puppies, kittens, calves, piglets, you name it! A human baby? Cute! but only from a distance, please!

Human babies made me nervous.

“Do I want to hold your baby?”

Honestly…? No.

I’d always feel clammy and anxious about holding someone’s tiny bundle of joy. Most attempts I did have at nursing a new little life always resulted in the baby crying and myself… wanting to! They can smell the fear! Let me just say, you wouldn’t call me baby confident… or in any way baby literate! This indeed set me up to think that I was in no way naturally maternal.

I’ve always wanted children at some stage. It’s just one of those next steps in life, I guess. I did really like and enjoy children… once they were past that awkward baby stage… and not in restaurants… or cafes… or any public places for that matter. I had always assumed that after home ownership and more travelling… let’s say… when we’re in our 30s… that this magical maternal drive would kick in and we would just know we are ready!  At that time, we would all of a sudden develop and give in to the intrinsic primal instinct to fulfil our biological destiny of procreation and our lives would somehow be even more complete! In the meantime, I’m content being mummy to my furry babies, Mace & Ketut and trying my best to avoid the human kind…

My babies, Macey & Ketut.