I consider myself to have had a fairly privileged upbringing. Not over the top, trust fund baby type privileged. But I had grown up in a caring, stable home, was well educated, succeeded in my chosen career and seen a large part of the world before I turned 30. I also had a loving husband who has been by my side for half my life.
I had never really failed at anything I put my mind too, or at least that’s what I told myself and how I would spin my story. So when I decided that I wanted to have a baby and things didn’t go as planned, I saw a side of me that I have always known was there, but I kept under wraps. Negative, cynical and deeply depressed. The Prophet of Doom one friend called me. I was sad, I couldn’t stand to be around friends who were falling pregnant. I thought I didn’t deserve it, that Alex and I were not meant to have children.
So after nearly three years of trying, multiple tests, and minor surgeries you could imagine my shock when I saw a positive preg test. I took four just to be sure. My first reaction was not joy but disbelief. It took a while but excitement, nervousness and delight followed. Alex and I had been overseas in Jordan at the Dead Sea. The salty, healing waters had done the trick. He nicknamed the baby ‘Moses’. We were just getting ready to move out of my parents place and into our apartment by the beach. I was getting things back on track.
When I thought I was around 8 weeks pregnant, I requested a dating scan. I was paranoid the baby had no heartbeat and I wanted peace of mind. Again with my worry and negativity.
The scan was fine and actually showed I was two weeks off on my calculations and I was only 6 weeks.
Alex and I had decided to wait till I was 12 weeks before telling anyone, but on the way home from the scan I was turned around on the freeway because a bushfire had broken containment lines. Our house was under threat and my parents were being evacuated. Never in my life had a fire been this close. Thank goodness my brother happened to be at home that day as he was able to pack the essentials and drive my mum to a friends house. But my dad stubbornly decided he would stay and fight. I was beside myself because I wanted him to be around for his grandchild (that he didn’t know about). So I called him and told him to leave as he was going to become a ‘Papou’! He let out a cheer and left immediately.
The wind changed and the fire passed and when we all got back home they celebrated.