Karen was a good five days late for her period. The pregnancy test was almost unnecessary – we weren’t in a hurry to get home and get it out of the way, not because we were scared of seeing the evidence, in blue and white (well, admittedly this was a small factor, I guess) but mainly because it wouldn’t make any difference. We knew we were pregnant.
There were no good reasons not to go ahead with the pregnancy (with the possible exception of being absolutely fucking terrified). She’ll have to stop working for a while, which is a shame because she really does enjoy her job a lot. We don’t know how it will work out financially, but we’re quite comfortable at the moment, so it shouldn’t be a nightmare.
And we’re not the first people to tread this path, either. If the majority of the world’s population can manage this whole being-a-parent thing, then I see no reason why we can’t.
My terror is subsiding, and now I’m just excited. I’ve got a whole new reason to live. For the last year or so I’ve had a permanent empty feeling in my head, as if I’m just wasting time and going nowhere. Now I realise what it meant. I’ve wanted this child for a while, but have been scared that it means giving up this nice easy life that I have right now. But I’m tired of nice and easy. All this comfort and effortlessness have made me lazy and soft, with nothing to focus on at all. And all the while I’ve known that I can’t let it continue, for if I allow my brain to turn to mush, then I’ve hit rock bottom, and significantly damaged my chances of getting back up again. It’s just been a question of what will rescue me.
It’s dizzying to acknowledge that in a year, I will be a completely different person. It’s inevitable. I’ll have to examine my life and figure out what’s necessary and what can be flushed away. I’m going to be a proper grown-up.