…you know the feeling when you’re slowly beginning to realise that this time you may have made it…when the result of the pregnancy test you’d bought at the pharmacy is positive and nobody believes you anymore, but you are certain that it’s for real this time. And everything started unfolding in slow motion. As if it was happening to somebody else and I was just observing in silence. New life was shaping slowly but steadily. This time I believed, I was happy, but I tried not to say any of that out loud, just in case evil spirits were listening. My ex-partner (he became an ex in the meantime because he’d finally found the love of his life in the shape of a woman 17 years his junior, who worked for him at the time) couldn’t believe it either. My joy was subdued by the mixed feelings of disbelief and anxiety. Because his former employee, now promoted to a girlfriend, was also pregnant. And there. Our lives suddenly became very complicated. I knew about his other child. His girlfriend, though, knew nothing about mine, but she would find out, half a year later.
I didn’t quite understand at first that I would be on my own. For a while, I was hoping for a miraculous twist of fate that would somehow fix everything, but I couldn’t say what kind of miracle I was expecting. Girls are usually told tales about princes and weddings, and there is always a happy ending. This is the 21st century, but we are still far from being fully emancipated. No woman would chose to have a family of only two. Nor do we take the separations lightly. I grew up believing in the traditional family and although it took me so long to start my own, I still believed that my path wouldn’t be very thorny, despite the fact that everything was hinting at a different outcome.
And different it was.
I was pregnant with my first child. My pregnancy went impeccably well. While my friends referred to their pregnancy as “agony” and were eager for it to end, I was preparing to continue my life under new circumstances.