Pregnancy
Anne Lord
I lay in bed, mulling over the conversation my mother and I had had earlier in the day. What was she talking about? “Is there a reason for you to have missed a period?” she’d asked. What a stupid question! What reasons could there be to miss a period? I’d never missed one, regular as clockwork, that was me. But yes, I had missed a period. “Think about it,” my mother had said. So, I thought about it. Suddenly I could feel the blood rushing to my face, I felt hot and cold all at the same time. The penny had finally dropped, there was a reason, just one that I could think of, and, yes, that could be it. No! I couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it. Could I be pregnant? No. But I knew that it was possible. What on earth could I do? What should I do?
I did nothing. Except panic alone in my bed every night. Turning the problem over and over in my mind. Time passed. Then I got up one morning, and to my surprise found my mother downstairs in the kitchen. Why was she at home? “I thought I’d make you breakfast,” she said cheerily. She never made me breakfast, she had always left for work by the time I got up, and I prepared cereal for myself and my younger brother. “Here’s a nice boiled egg for you,” she announced. I ate the egg and the bread and butter provided, drank the cup of tea she placed in front of me. Nothing untoward was mentioned. I picked up my bag and left for college. There was a ten-minute walk to the bus stop, but just before I reached the shelter, the feeling of nausea caught up with me, and the contents of my stomach splattered at my feet, specially boiled egg and all. Before I could recover, my bus passed by, there was an hour until the next one. There was nothing for it, I had to return home, and face the music. And what a song and dance there was!
Harsh words and recriminations, apologies and a lot of tears. I was eventually marched back in the direction of the bus stop, but this time we visited the doctor's surgery. By the end of the morning, it was official, I was expecting a baby! “You’ll have to tell your father, when he gets home,” my mother said. That was worse than all the spiteful words she had spoken. The worst punishment that I could ever receive was my father’s disappointment in me. This was worse than failing the 11+. He’d never raised his hand to me, in all my 16 years, except on two occasions, but they were completely understandable, stories for another time. In the end my mother told him for me, without my presence, her bark was worse than her bite. I know she loved me really, though sometimes I found it hard to believe. I can’t remember what my Dad said to me, but he didn’t raise his voice, but told
me that it would be ok, and that I had to tell my boyfriend that evening.
I managed to show my usual cheery face and act as if all was normal at Youth Club, but at the end of the evening I had to break the news to my boyfriend, he took it quite well considering the enormity of the situation. Though he did mention running off to sea, he took me in his arms and said, “We’ll get married.” The next evening, there was a summit meeting consisting of Michael, myself and two sets of parents. It was decided that there would be a wedding, as soon as possible. I don’t remember the details of the conversation. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me.
I do remember my future mother-in-law asking how long had we been courting. Nine months, was the reply, “Oh, well, we’ll tell everyone a year,” she said. During all my sleepless nights, I had worried that the whole world be against me, that I would be condemned as a wicked, sinful girl, by family and friends alike. But that never happened, everyone was understanding and accepting, even my grandmother, my father’s mother, whom I had dreaded facing, just said, “You’ve got yourself into a bit of trouble then,” my mother had got to her before me. I nodded, fearing the worst, “Well, you won’t be the first, and you won’t be the last.” That was it! I was off the hook. I realise now, that I was my own worst critic, I had let myself down, I knew that I was too young to become a mother and a wife, I wasn’t ready for this. All I seemed to do was cry! I couldn’t explain why I kept bursting into tears. Looking back, I think I was grieving for my lost childhood.