Destination Parenthood

Hi, I feel a new story brewing within me but I don't quite know what it is presently. Would you like to join me on this journey till the end? Don't know what will happen next really. I'm writing it as I post. But do keep your feedback coming. And remember, this is FICTION! Here goes section one:

Destination Parenthood.

‘It’s like I have two hearts now. One that belongs to my wife, and the other belongs to her,’ he says as he holds his three-year-old close to him.

I smile vaguely. I must, I suppose or what would he think of me? Haw! A mother to be who has simply no interest in his experience of parenthood? Despicable! I really want to roll my eyes at him but I dare not.

There are so many things I want to say to him: Hey, hello, good for you but I’m not interested. And so what, everyone has a child…what’s so special about you and yours? And finally, I’m just three weeks pregnant and I don’t get any of this. Truth be told, I never wanted this … this child, anyway.

All right, hold the bus. Don’t go all judgemental on me. We thought about it. You know, about letting ‘it’ go, terminat … okay, that’s too harsh a word… but well we discussed it. And I’m not ashamed of that, even though the whole time all I heard was my mum gasping from heaven. We just weren’t ready. I still am not. But here we are, three weeks and an ultrasound later, listening to Gopi chacha’s fatherly adventures. Sigh.

‘The first few months are actually the easiest and the toughest at the same time…’ Rita chachi’s voice phases in and out. The first few months once the baby is here – out – ouch – and here we are three weeks into the pregnancy. I can’t even imagine my life once this baby comes! I’m freaking out. I try to catch Abhishek’s eye and pray that the fake telepathy we claim to have becomes real for just one second. Look at me. Look. At. Me.

His telepathy with the samosa is much stronger, as it turns out. Why am I not surprised? Okay, must find a way to change the topic on my own – I am a confident, strong, independent woman, I say to myself. Go. ‘Aur, chachi, when do you plan to join back work?’ And suddenly, I’ve got more attention than I can handle. Oops.