Last week, one of my best girls found out she was pregnant. She told me of her escapade with the pink lines, and the moment of revelation and drama. The sonography gave the further nod, and there she was, officially hosting another life.
Funny how two lines can change your life forever. How the universe puts you in charge of another life, however infinitesimally small it may start out being. When you are suddenly concerned about how frequently you eat, whether you are packing in all the nutrients, whether you are sleeping enough, resting enough, whether you are exercising too little, or too much.
She was being bombarded with the usual advice—eat this, don’t do that, get rid of the dogs, don’t take autos, the works. People don’t realise how overwhelming all this can be for someone who has just come to terms with the fact that there is a real person growing inside her.
A friend’s pregnancy can often send you on a nostalgia trip of your own. Especially when she is a bit like you. I was happy, protective, concerned and excited, all at once. There was so much I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t. Instead I asked her to follow her body. Because it always knows what to do, and it always gives you the signs. Because it is going to be your best friend, and you are going to talk to it a lot in the coming months. Because for the one time in her life, every woman will love her body unconditionally, however fat, thin, tall or short she may be. Because it will be the only thing you can count on, for a long, long time.
It reminded me of the way I was during my pregnancy, and how feminine and sexy I felt (and believed, truly, madly, deeply, that it was because a little girl was growing inside me, who was getting me in touch with my womanhood.)
It was a boy. But Re and me have come such a long way, that I have almost forgotten how I called him Tia till the very last minute. Until he reads this blog, he will never find out. Don’t tell him.