So when we left you last time we were standing in our bathroom holding a urine soaked stick with 2 lines indicating that unless there was a second shooter on the grassy knoll, my weaponry while ageing was still functional and surprisingly accurate.
It’s amazing what runs through your head as that realisation first hits. For me the first thing was a realisation that the next year was going to be the most amazing year of my life – a time filled with wonderful events and milestones that I would cherish and celebrate whole heartedly and completely unfettered. The happiness was so intense that tears involuntarity squeezed from my eyes and started to dribble down my cheeks. Thankfully Krys put my reaction down to the joys of pending fatherhood, when really I was reacting to the joyous realisation that I had just locked down a designated driver for a year, and was facing 12 glorious months of unrestricted dancing with the Bundy Bear. I didn’t have the heart to correct Krys’ slightly askew conclusion.
So now how to celebrate? It’s not like we can tell anyone, or do our usual celebratory method, where we go to our favourite restaurant and drink until Krys finds my company tolerable (which is normally 2-3 bottles in) and I get to a point where I think it’s appropriate to swim in my undies in the ocean rock pool. Not only can Krys not drink now, but all I had left in the cupboard were white boxer shorts – and these when combined with an extended break between manscapes and salt water would give the effect of an unkempt baby squirrel trying to hide under a clump of wet toilet paper. And no one should be subjected to that. So instead we had to make do with a high 5, a slap on the arse (I really wish she wouldn’t hit me so hard) and a trip to the supermarket for a new packet of Weetbix (which were $1.20 off. Imagine that – two big events to celebrate in one day!).
One benefit of early pregnancy has been a level of affection from Krys that I haven’t experienced since our days of ‘courtship’. The fact that I was getting repeated requests for kisses was even more remarkable for the fact that these requests came when she was sober and the lights were on. But any illusions that the sprouting of my first grey chest hair had Krys confusing me for a budget Bon Jovi quickly fell away when I put together the timing of the affection requests – they always came after my morning coffee or the evening glass of wine. Basically the affection had nothing to do with me, and was more about Krys trying to satisfy her coffee and wine cravings by trying to extract any remaining remnants from the inside of my mouth. I haven’t seen that much tongue action since the only chocolate left in the house was a clump of Milo stuck right in the bottom of the tin, and all the spoons were in the dishwasher. Not that I cared though – I’m happy to take what’s on offer regardless of the underlying motivation.
Getting through to the 12 week scan without anyone finding out was proving difficult though. First of all, Krys was getting some morning sickness. Although for this she had created a cover story that was imminently believable. She’d alternate between telling people that she was just visualising our conception experience, or that she had stumbled into the bedroom while I was naked and trying to retrieve something from the bottom of the washing basket (man that basket is deep). The other potential giveaway was that Krys had given up drinking. The looks on people’s faces as Krys asked for mineral water was a mix of surprise and concern – they knew full well that alcohol had played a large part in getting Krys to lower her standards enough for us to become a match, and that it had also provided her with the much needed tolerance to remain here. In their eyes, the thought that she had suddenly and needlessly turned away from it brought the whole viability of our relationship into question.
But after a few too many dinners of Krys staring at me with glazed eyes (my regular dinner story routine doesn’t quite cut it without a semi intoxicated partner) we were finally off to our 12 week scan. In preparation, Krys had to drink lots of water and hold it for hours. So by the time we set off for the drive Krys was jiggling along in the front seat like an overfilled water balloon. She was so full I think if we strapped her to the back of a ute and tilted her at the right angle she could be used to hose down the Great Wall of China. But we arrived with a dry car floor and were ushered into a room with a reclining chair and fancy machines that made lots of beeps and bings. First step was the external scan, and up on the black and white screen, there it was – a little shape that proved that I did indeed have a live round in the chamber. Then came the internal scan, and the sonographer reached behind the machine and produced something that looked like a mixmaster capable of blending a celebration meal for the Biggest Loser House (pre the commencement of workouts). This thing was monstrous – and it was meant to go on the ‘inside’. I had no idea that the scan involved checking whether the baby had lodged somewhere up near the back of Krys’s throat.
Krys looked a little apprehensive – but I’m still not sure if it was a smirk or a grimace on her face. All I know is that nothing that size had been anywhere near her for at least 4yrs. After seeing the fear / admiration on our faces, the sonographer tried to comfort us by saying ‘don’t worry – only the tip goes in’. The last time I heard that it was Ray J at the start of his ‘home movie’ with Kim Kardashian. I hope our sonographer was going to be truer to her word than he was. But after a quick widening of Krys’ eyes, the scan was underway and up there up on the screen again was what looked like a little wallaby. Unless Krys had been sneaking into bushland and making out with Skippy, I assume what looked like a little tail will eventually disappear. Our visit finished up with a discussion with the geneticist, whose concerns regarding genetic difficiencies strangely seemed to focus on me rather than the unborn child we were meant to be discussing. Obviously the sonographer had passed on my enquiries as to whether a woman can conceive with a kangaroo. But we were left with the clear inference that we should hope that our child took almost exclusively after its mother.
So now we can tell people! I can see the reactions now; Krys will get half smiles that show a mix of excitement for her that she is having a child, but genuine concern that her choice of partner in this exercise is me. For me, I will get knowing nods from my friends acknowledging that I have managed to get Krys pregnant before she had time to come to her senses. Everybody wins (just some more than others)…..
smallthoughts 