Up until that time, it was just me.
Thirty long years, I watched everyone have theirs, looking at me with pitiful eyes, ‘it will be your turn one day, would you like one?’

A word of advice, never ask a woman without one that question.
As memory recollects, it was a question I never appreciated. Worse still, when it was asked by a woman with a crèche about her feet.
My answer was always, ‘some day,’ indoor voices screamed ‘of course I do!’
I always tried hard to quieten the ticking of the biological clock, but it chimed as loud as Big Ben each passing month.

When my eldest niece announced her first pregnancy, I cried for days, how cruel can nature be? In honesty, I succumbed to the belief that my fertility had cruelly skipped into the next generation and soon I would be purchasing a cat.

Over the years, I waded my way through indecision, wayward swimmers, even considered adopting a polka dot child from China. Somehow I knew it would happen one day.

So it did.

I carried around a growing belly and never enjoyed putting on weight so much in my life’s entirety. I was aglow.

At 8.14am on Friday the eighteenth day of December my angel arrived.

My turn.

A boy, the nurse shouted, ‘seven pounds, twelve ounces.’
I shouted ‘is that all?’

I was going to enjoy the feeling of a big belly for a long while after…

He nursed me, that first night, together we would make a new world. And so we did.

An Peann

Happy Birthday Gabriel. X



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