Interlude

I was in the waiting room with Apeman.  Apeman was holding my hands because they were shaking so much.  He told me not to worry and whatever will be, shall be.

I clutched onto my already damp shirt and wish I can pull it over my head and hide inside it forever.

The doctor himself came out, he has a strange look on his face.  On his hands was my destiny – a sheet of computer printout with rows and rows of hormone levels.

He began:  `Drew…’

I said: `Don’t, please don’t, I don’t want to know.  I can’t take this anymore.  I don’t want to do this anymore because my heart can’t take it.’

He said: `But Drew you are pregnant, it finally worked!  Your HCG levels are not very high but I can almost be certain they are going to keep doubling based on our calculations.  So go and celebrate sweetheart.’  He gave my shoulder a squeeze and sent me and Apeman off home.

I panicked.  Oh my God.  What have I done?  Is this for real?  They must have got my results mixed up with somebody else.  Oh that’s too cruel.

Then I figured, hell, might as well enjoy this moment.  I just hope I am not dreaming.  I need to celebrate, I want to forever freeze this moment and replay this memory for the rest of my life.  I am too happy.  I am going to have a baby and going to be a momma - finalfuckingly.

I went down to the hospital newsagency, and figured I need to buy something to celebrate.  So I bought a flag.  Of all things I could’ve bought, including my favourite New Weekly magazine, I bought a freaking flag – a medium sized one which I keep waving it back and forth as we returned to our car – our 4WD bought for our unborn child.

Then I woke up.  I started to cry because I was so disappointed that it was only a dream and it is only 11 days past ovulation.  Not testing until another week or so.  People get knocked up everyday including drug dealers and low life human beings who beat and abuse children.