I did not, at the age of 34, plan on getting pregnant. I was done with the bearing of children. My uterus, for all intents and purposes, was for display purposes only.
Sure, Mavrick and I had abstract conversations about maybe at some point in the future putting down our shot glasses and maybe taking our relationship to the ‘next level’, but I sort of assumed the next level was getting a hamster. Or going in on a Beer of the Month Club together. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that the ‘next level’ would be embryonic.
I had been staunchly No Marriage, No Children for ten years now. Don’t need it, don’t want it. So it really knocked me for a loop that my first thought, my first instinct, when I found out I was pregnant was “OH MY GOD A BABY SQUUEEE!”. I honestly thought that I had been invaded by aliens.
There I am, in the bathroom of Wormy’s office, positive test in one hand, jaw in the other, and a flutter of excitement in my heart. What.the.fuck. This isn’t me. I don’t even like babies that much. Sure, they are cute and their heads smell nice, but they are a lot of responsibility, responsibility that I have already had, thank you very much. Jr. was old enough now that I could see the light. I was almost home free! And then.
I decided right then and there that I wanted this little baby. A lot. And I know why. Love. Because I love Mavrick. Because love makes you do stupid things, like want to have babies that might look like them and have their eyes and maybe play football or be tall or smart, or whatever. In one moment a decade of surety came crashing to a halt, knocked down by my screaming uterus. I wanted us to mix genes in the worst way. I wanted to make a sperm-egg cocktail with Mavrick and raise it with him and love him forever. I had very obviously lost my mind.
And after a week of going back and forth with Mavrick, that was the plan. Let’s put down the drinks, and let’s fucking do this. How hard can it be? Crackheads have babies for christ’s sake. I think two very successful adults can manage this.
So now what you have are two people who have been dating for two and half months, and drunk for that entire time, deciding to start a family together. If this were a TV show, hilarity would ensue. In real life, it’s not that simple. But often that funny.
For instance, this is Mavrick’s first child. So this means that he wants to video tape everything. And I mean everything. Like our very first doctor’s appointment.
Picture if you will, two very nervous people at the doctor’s office. We were still very early into our ‘getting to know you. sober. holy shit, we are having a baby together.’ phase, so we were both pretty skittish around the other. Of course the first thing I have to do it pee in a cup. And then get weighed. Two very sexy, totally normal things that anyone would do in the course of a day with their beloved. Except for not at all.
As we walk into the exam room, it hits me. I am about to get a pelvic exam in front of Mavrick. Well, it can’t be that bad. They give you that big ol’ gown to wear. Where is my gown? OH THAT’S RIGHT! You don’t get a gown anymore. Instead, you get a paper towel two piece that looks like football shoulder pads and Sham Wow. AND! You get to strip down to nothing under the harsh, unforgiving fluorescent lights, while your boyfriend chases you around with a FlipCam.
I didn’t know whether to die or kill Mavrick. I didn’t have time to decide, because at that moment, my OBGYN, Dr. Gene Simmons (that’s not her real name, but you have to admit, there is a striking resemblance) walks in. It’s show time.
I present to you the non-vagina showing video of little Mavbling’s first doctor’s appointment. Yes, her hands are up my baby maker. Deal with it. I have to.
Till next time,