I did my first full-on, heartfelt-sobbing, complete-over-reaction-to-the-situation burst of pregnant hysteria, last night.
I’m almost embarrassed to tell the tale, but my friend, Janet, says I should be keeping notes on this kind of thing, so I can look back and laugh. Or something.
So, there I was, waiting for Kevin to get changed and go to toilet, before we sat down to pray together. Praying together is something that we think we should do every day, but don’t. So, periodically, we make a concerted effort, and try to get structured about it, and at the moment, we are making that effort straight after work, but not before Kevin’s has gotten changed, because of how his work clothes are an affront to him, and cannot be borne for ten seconds longer than necessary. Or so I hear.
So, I was ready, and I was reading my book while I waited. Not, you understand, reading my book because of a choice to spend the next hour reading, but because I was sitting on my bed, waiting, and it was there.
After some time had passed, and I realised that I’d got to the end of a chapter, and Kevin still hadn’t materialised, I called out, “Good grief, Kevin, are you still on the toilet?”
And he replied, that no, some forty minutes had elapsed since his dealings with the toilet, and that he was in fact in the study, playing with his computer.
And I flipped out. Completely. I told him that he didn’t love me any more, that it made me feel worthless that he left me just waiting, that I probably was worthless, anyway, and why did he marry me in the first place, if he hated me so much?
Then I told him that for my whole life I’d had friends who failed to live up to my expectations, that I’d spent years, over the years, waiting around for it to be convenient to them to spend time with me, being stood up, or cancelled at short notice, and generally made to feel worthless. That I’d been forced to accept being incessantly messed about, in order to have any kind of relationship at all the with individuals concerned, and that I never thought that he, the one person whom I worried about loving me MORE than I loved him, would ever do that to me.
By way of reminder, we are talking about his sitting in the next room for forty minutes, whilst I sat on my bed reading a book.
Then I sobbed bitterly, and as if my heart would break, and said, “I am so bloody pregnant, aren’t I?”
The thing is, it WAS all true. It was just utterly, utterly uncalled for.