Celebrating difference

So many things about this baby’s arrival are different to the way I had mine. Neither way is better or worse – it’s just different. Different decade, different country, different healthcare system, different bodies. It’s so interesting to get some insight into a different approach.

For a start, I didn’t tell most people I was pregnant for a long time. Apart from the baby’s father and my closest friends - who helped me through the surprise of finding out – I kept quiet. For me, it was more complicated. I wasn’t supposed to have a baby – I was on the dole, not married – it wasn’t part of the plan, and I guessed most people would see it as shameful. It was particularly difficult to tell my parents. But mostly, I genuinely didn’t think anyone else would be interested. I imagined people yawning at the idea of my pregnancy updates. To me, nine months (well, seven – I didn’t have the test until I was two months’ gone) seemed an eternity, and I thought, I’ll tell them nearer the time.

So, hooray for L&F, who have been so excited about telling everyone the great news as soon as they dared.

Hearing the news

Don’t get me wrong – I’m looking forward to having a grandchild. But it took some time to get used to the idea. One Sunday afternoon in November, the computer began to flash with a Skype call. My son’s face appeared, shining and optimistic in the Californian sun. He cut to the chase as quickly as possible. ‘We’ve got some news for you… L’s pregnant’. What could I say? I whooped. I laughed. I clapped. He just grinned, happy as I’d ever seen him: proud, pleased, happy.

He told me they’d been fairly sure for a couple of days, and the doctor had just confirmed the news. They couldn’t wait to tell their own parents - they’d just told L’s mum and dad. It was very early days, so they wouldn’t be telling anyone else just yet.

Then we ended the call and I took a deep breath, and thought – crikey.