Nine Months

"My only hope is that maybe, just miraculously maybe one day you’ll think of your true mother who called you baby from the start, and carried you for the first nine months of your life."

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1. One and only

Month 1: Dear Baby,

 

That’s what I’ve decided to do now; change the name of my diary to baby, because from now on everything is going to be about you. You – a stupid little annoying thing that isn’t even born yet, and still I already know that you’re going to be a big part of my life for the next 9 months. Do you how know big that is? That something so small and non-existent can have such a sudden grip on my life? Do you know how that makes me feel baby? Course not, you don’t have any feelings yet, you have nothing. I would get rid of you in the next fifteen minutes if I could, but you see that ship has sort of sailed. It was my fault really. I should have been more careful, clubbing with Jen is always dangerous. But when she asked me out that night, yes me, little unpopular Amy who never gets the hot guy and is always last to be picked in sports. And it was a Friday night; I mean who stays at home on a Friday night? You have no idea baby, what it feels like to be a no body. Jen made me feel like someone, when she did my hair, lent me her black mini and killer heels, even the tall dark guy who played in the club made me feel like I was important. He looked dead straight at me throughout the whole song as he strummed his guitar. I swear baby, I literally melted on the spot. Jen saw it too and she practically shoved me into him after the song, which was okay because after one look from his mesmerizing green eyes I was hooked. He made me feel like a princess, stroking my hair, offering me a glass of something which made me hiccup and slightly dizzy after a good couple refills. Well it must have been a very strong something, because the next thing I knew I was lying in some bed in someone’s apartment with only a few foggy memories of a guy who made me feel special and talked me into coming home with him.

Only later would it occur to me that I didn’t know his name that he didn’t know my age and that I just had the stupidest thing a sixteen year old could. I wanted to hit Jen for making me go clubbing, I wanted to slap the guy who’d me fall for him. But the hardest thing was knowing that it was only all my fault and the only person I should be punishing was myself. So I didn’t cry, baby, I just picked myself up, found my clothes and made the best brisk walk I could back home.

And why, am I boring you with the whole sad story you might ask, baby? Truthfully I don’t know, I’ll never let you read my diary, which will be easy cos you’ll never know me. When you turn sixteen and will be wanting all the things in the world money can’t buy, you’ll have two sets of loving parents to willingly give them to you.

 

Month 2: Dear Baby,

I met your parents today. After my mother found the positive pregnancy test under my bed (yes I know, stupid place to hide it), she gave me such a vicious slap I almost asked her to maybe hit me across my middle instead, at least then there’d be a better chance of getting rid of you. But she near fainted at that suggestion.

“How could you be so stupid Amy?” she yelled and then cried in my face as her anger slowly turned into sadness, “You’ve ruined everything! Don’t you get that Amy? Say something!” she’d spat in my face, taking me by the shoulders to shake me like some rag doll. I’d only stared pathetically back, wondering when her little tantrum would end. Honestly why was she getting so upset? She wasn’t the one who had to puke every morning, go to the toilet every fifteen minutes, or even run the girls’ short marathon with a 8 week old fetus in her stomach. I don’t know why everyone wants me to start crying and throwing a fit. No doctor, I still feel fine, and yes mum I still don’t want to talk about the big lump that’s going to grow out of me.

Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?

 

Month 6: Dear baby,

Today was scary. Your new parents really want you baby. They care so much about you already, and you haven’t even been born yet! It’s kinda scary; every time your mother looks at me I can tell she’s plotting to see if she can rip you out of me herself. And that happens a lot, they seem to think it’s okay to come over to my house now. The amount of questions I’ve had to answer from her, no I don’t smoke. No I haven’t been drinking any alcohol and yes, this is my first baby! Jeez Louise, if they weren’t offering so much money, I’d find another pair of baby less parents like that. You don’t want a nagging mother, or a father that smells like paint all the time, do you baby?

Anyway, so the other day she came over with these bunches of weird, ‘pregnancy’ DVDs. And baby, they scared the crap out of me. Will I really look like that, all red and sweaty, and so desperately in pain that I don’t care what pervy male is looking between my legs? Will it really hurt that much? Turns out your mother only wanted me to watch them so that I might be convinced to have a home pregnancy without any, and I quote here, ‘unnecessary hospital drugs’! Well I can tell you baby, you won’t just have a nagging mother, but you’ll have a crazy one too. After seeing the movie I know I’m going to need all the drugs I can get. But still promise me baby, that you won’t rip your way out of me yelling and kicking as you go? You know how sensitive I am, and I’d kinda like to think you owe me one for carrying you around everywhere these past few months. It’s like we’ve almost become pals, I didn’t kill you, and well you’ve not been too much trouble yourself. So I think that we can make a pretty fair deal, don’t you baby?

 

Month 9: Dear baby,

How could you have done this to me? I thought we had an agreement! You weren’t due for another two weeks so I had no idea why you were causing me so much pain already. Mum even had to drive me to hospital and just my like I got stuck with some old male doctor. I soon wiped the smile of his face when he heard I was selling you.

“Are you completely sure about this Amy?” he’d asked looking at me with nothing but pity and shame. But he didn’t get it. He hasn’t met your lovely parents, and he doesn’t know what a crazy unstable sixteen year old I am.

I still smiled though when he told me everything was fine, “So the baby’s still healthy, and I’m still wealthy,” was my reply. And then just like that you decided you’d had enough of my cozy warm womb and wanted out. And you broke our promise. It was the worst hour of my life, and yet I don’t remember much of it, or want to for that matter. I thought I was dead when finally the pain stopped and like a rainbow lighting up the sky after a storm you were handed to me.

You weren’t nothing, you were a somebody; you were a beautiful, little, precious baby girl, with tiny wrinkly green eyes which (unfortunately came from your father) and tiny hands that gripped my finger. You were so warm and pretty I could have held you forever. I even surprised myself when the tears finally began to roll down my cheeks. I started to howl when you mother came to grab you from me. She looked so determined; I’ll never forget that shameful glare she gave me as with one more step she was out of the room carrying with her the one good thing in my life. I cried and cried for you little baby, but I know I’ll never see you again.

The irony of this sad story is that I’ll never be able to have children again. When you were born, the umbilical cord wrapped itself around your neck, strangling you. The doctors and their ‘useless drugs’ saved you and me. But that doesn’t matter anymore, nothing does. My only hope is that maybe, just miraculously maybe one day you’ll think of your true mother who called you baby from the start, and carried you for the first nine months of your life.

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