Forever Is Over (95 page)

“
How did you know when I
’
d be home?
”
I asked.

I normally left
the office when I was comfortable that I had a clear desk, I could 
arrive home at any time between half five and seven. That night, it was
probably nearer the latter.

“
I didn
’
t! This is the second cup! The first one went cold and I had
to throw it away!
”

“
Right!
”

If I
’
d been more in tune to women
’
s things and the workings of the female body, I
’
m sure I would have twigged what was coming, but I
’
m
a man, selfish by design and all I deduced was that Jemma was acting
differently and more attentively than usual. Normally it was,
“
Richie,
you
’
re home! Stick the kettle on!
”

That evening though, my arrival h
ad been prepared for in advance
!
Something was definitely up! Our credi
t card balance sprang to mind!

             
We headed inside. I took a seat on our sofa, an old one of my Mum
and Dad
’
s that they had passed on to us. Jemma passed me my tea, let
me take one sip and then blurted out,

“
Do you not have any idea what this piece of plastic is in my hand,
Richie?
”

“
I haven
’
t the foggiest,
”
I said,
“
it looks like a min
i
ature spirit level!
”

On closer inspection, I had concluded it was not a toothbrush.

“
No, it
’
s a home pregnancy kit!
”

I felt my bottom twitch and my shoulders sag, weighed down by a
responsibility that I w
as not sure I could cope with.

             
“
Do you think you might be pregnant, Jemma?
”

I tried to look excited but Jemm
a has said since I just looked
petrified.

“
No, no!
”
Jemma said, a tide of relief swept over me momentarily.
“
I know I
’
m pregnant!
”

Jemma sprang up and did some weird celebratory dance as if she
was Eve.

“
Look,
”
she said pointing at the plastic thing,
“
two blue lines! I rang
Amy, she said the tests can give a false negative, but they can
’
t give a false
positive! I
’
m pregnant, Richie! Can you believe it, I
’
m pregnant?
”

“
Brilliant!
”
I said, sipping my tea again, actions speaking louder
than words.

“
You don
’
t look like you think it
’
s brilliant, Richie! Where
’
s my
hug?
”

I realised I was not reacting how I sh
ould be reacting. I was in the
perfect marriage and my wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous wife was going
to have a child. My child. I stood up and hugged her. In fact, I stood
up and gripped her like she was my mother, I was ten years old and she had just announced she was leaving me and from this day forth, I would
have to fend for myself.

“
What
’
s the matter?
”
Jemma asked.

“
It
’
s my childhood,
”
I said,
“
it
’
s just ended!
”

“
You
’
re twenty eight years old, Richie!
”

“
But I
’
ve only ever been responsible for me, Jemma. What if I don
’
t
turn out to be the Dad I have always hoped I
’
ll be?
”

Jemma looked at me intently. There was love and trust in her eyes.

“
If you
’
re half as good a father as you are a husband, you
’
ll be an
amazing, Daddy!
”
she re-assured me.

Jemma didn
’
t understand though. How could she? I didn
’
t even try
to explain. I was not spontaneously questioning my parental abilities, I
was questioning my mortality. I had had testicular cancer. I had had an
orchidectomy. What if I died? How good a father would I be then?

There are a lot of myths about pregnancy, one of which is that
pregnant women
“
glow
”
! I found out first hand that you do not
“
glow
”
,
most of the time you just look and feel crap. Sympathetic people tell
you that you look
“
fantastic
”
and that
“
you are glowing
”
, because they
know you have enough on your plate, so it would be heartless for them
to be honest and tell you that you look bloody awful! I felt a bit like the
local freak show, Hucknall
’
s version of the
‘
Bearded Lady
’
, when I was
pregnant, as random people would ask if they could feel my belly. One
day, some bloke who I didn
’
t know asked if he could feel my belly and
I said,

“
Only if I can feel your dick!
”

It was a reaction meant to indicate that he was being plain rude and
crossing a line, but he just said,

“
Sounds like a good deal to me!
”

Women who enjoy being pregnant are normally women who have a
vacuum for a personality and enjoy being centre of attention for once in
their sorry lives. They normally have a dozen kids so they can develop
a fan base, as the rest of the world, outside of their gene pool, just don
’
t
like them! The whole science of pregnancy and childbirth is amazing,
but for me anyway, the nine months I went through, culminating in
the agony that is childbirth itself, is purely an unpleasant means to a
very pleasant end, when you are passed the newly born child. I am a
Christian, but I do sometimes think, if there is a God, why did he not
create women with more expandable vaginas and a less painful process
of delivery!

The first two weeks of
“
known
”
pregnancy were exciting and pain
free and it all even seemed beneficial at that point, as I skipped one of
the heavy periods I usually have. My periods had always been, from my
late teens onwards, in perfect twenty eight day cycles, so as soon as I was
a couple of days late, I nipped into Boots and bought myself a pregnancy
test. I was so excited and so convinced that I would be pregnant, that I
also bought a
“
Week by Week
”
guide to pregnancy, even before I peed
on the stick! I started reading it on the bus back to Hucknall from
Nottingham and the first thing I discovered was that you mark your
pregnancy from the first day of your last period, so as far as the books
are concerned, you are classed as two weeks pregnant by the time you
conceive! No idea who came up with that one!

Morning sickness kicked in about Week Seven. Once again, I don
’
t
know which genius decided to call it
“
morning
”
sickness, but I had a
twenty four hour a day ability to throw up. The nausea was the worst
bit, I used to speak to Amy on the phone every night, as she was
three months further along her pregnancy than I was and was also one
half of the only couple who actually knew before twelve weeks that I
was expecting. Amy was, having been through it herself, brilliantly
sympathetic and had the ability to relate to everything I was going
through. When I was worried about my almost constant nausea and
daily vomiting, Amy told me not to worry as her midwife had told her
that morning sickness was just a sign that her placenta was developing
in a healthy way.

Work wise, during my pregnancy, I
was doing a cleaning job at a
small hotel on the outskirts of Nottingham, right on the banks of the
River Trent. I worked 8am to 2pm, six days a week. I made and changed
beds, tidied rooms from top to bottom and cleaned the bathrooms.
Working in the hotel persuaded me that I wanted a baby girl rather than
a baby boy! Women would have make-up and clothing strewn around
their bedrooms, but it was the untidy toilet habits of men that put me
off them! Richie would often wee kneeling down, poo with the taps
running so I could not hear the plops, go in the garden to break wind
and clean any toilet mess up after him, but I learnt that this was by no
means the norm. A lot of businessmen who stayed at our hotel, would
look at the mess and just leave an apologetic note and a tip.

One day, I saw a pale faced, businessman in his forties leave his
room, kitted out in his suit and carrying a briefcase and when I went
in there, it absolutely stank. The bath was an inch deep in thick vomit
which he had tried unsuccessfully to wash down the plughole, the toilet
was smeared in faeces that he had barely managed to get below the seat
and in the bedroom, the bed had been stripped and it smelt like he had
been dunking the sheet in a bucket of urine. There was a note left on
the sideboard that simply said,

“
Sorry about the mess. Heavy night!
”

On top of the note, he had left a five pound note and three one
pound coins! He must have surveyed the damage in the bedroom and
in the bathroom and thought,

“
It
’
s a real mess in here! Really bad! It
’
s worse than a fiver
’
s worth
of mess, but maybe not quite a tenners worth!
”

I told the manageress and the man in question was billed for a
further night as his room was deemed unfit for occupation for the next
day. I
’
m sure if that man
’
s mother was still alive and she had heard what
he
’
d done, she
’
d have been ashamed. If Richie and I did have a boy, I
was definitely going to teach him some manners and some decent toilet
habits!

At thirty two weeks pregnant, I called it quits at the hotel and
started preparing our home for the new arrival. It was an exciting but
expensive business, as we had to buy a car seat, a
‘
Moses
’
basket in case
we decided that we didn
’
t want the child and would put it in a basket
and float it down the river, a cot, a pram, baby clothes and all this was on
top of converting our spare room to a nursery. I seemed to be pregnant
forever and the arrival of the baby felt like something that Richie and I
would talk about endlessly but would never happen. Just before I packed in work, the dreaded stretch marks came and
by the time I eventually went into labour
, they had arrived all over my
medicine ball of a belly like a hundred jelly worms tattooed under my
skin. They were gross and Richie
’
s sex li
fe died on the spot once I saw
them in the mirror. I have to feel sexy to have sex and if I feel repulsed
by my own body, its hard to get in the mood! His sex life was given a
mini-revival when I was several days overdue and Amy advised that her
and Jim had triggered Gracie
’
s labour by indulging in a sex session. I let
Richie start, but unlike Mastermind, I did not let him finish, as I had
visions of the midwife doing an
‘
internal
’
and emerging with Richie
’
s
sperm all over her gloves! His sex life flatlined again after that and I
’
m
sure Richie thinks that it was never the same again, which to an extent
is true.