A few days ago, walking across town to do some shopping, I had to waddle my way past a small group of teenage boys in their school uniforms who had no intention of moving out of the large pregnant woman's way, forcing me onto the road to get around them. Usually this would illicit a lot of sighs, tutting and eye rolling (I'm British after all) but on this day it just produced a giggle instead...
Just after our wedding last year I was told, after many months of tests and a fair amount of pain, that I had PCOS. It was such a relief to finally find out part of what was wrong with me that the implications of what the syndrome meant in real terms wasn't of huge concern to me. I was aware it would be difficult to have more children but it seemed a problem I would deal with in the future when, and if, we decided to add to our family. So imagine my suprise when two weeks later, at the GP surgery waiting to trial some medication to rule out other problems, my GP said 'is there any chance you could be pregnant?'. I frowned and said 'No. I really don't think there is'.
After another week of several pregancy tests, some of which were postive and some negative I took myself back the surgery to try and get an answer. The general response was that nobody knew for certain and I would have to wait and see until I either produced consistent positive tests or the 12 week scan!
A part of me was so shocked I did not know how to feel. From a selfish point of view life was so good and it felt as though things were just beginning to settle down into 'proper' contented family life. I had envisaged having another child when A was much older, perhaps returning to work in the meantime, and enjoying life together as a threesome. The news we could be about to be a foursome threw me somewhat and I will admit my heart leapt into my throat a little as I thought "Really? Now?! We are NOT ready for this."
Then something happened. I had awful cramps and lost some blood. Suddenly faced with the prospect of not being pregnant after all completely changed my feelings. Coupled with A telling me she would like a little baby to play with after reading a bedtime stroy all about it, my heart was melted and I finally thought, 'We can do this. Everything will be OK'.
15-20 weeks later our sonographer told us we were expecting a baby boy. Ever since I find myself imagining him at the srangest of times. A little bit of me is pertrified about just what to do with a boy. I have nothing to link me to teenage boys for one (except for dating them and even then I was not the coolest) and find myself thinking 'WHAT ON EARTH GOES ON IN A TEENAGE BOYS HEAD!!??' My husband assures me that in fact not a lot goes on in a teenage boys head and what does, he does not want his mum to let his mum in on! Aside from that, apparently he will be a baby first, then a toddler, then a child, then a teenager so I have years to worry about adolescence!
My panic has slowly turned into contented excitement. I'm excited to be around a little boy. A little mini husband around will be fairly cool! I know nothing about them. I know nothing about what they enjoy, how their friendships work with other boys, how they change and develop into men on an emotional level, and actually thats the exciting part. I will be priviliged enough to see all of this happen in front of my very eyes. Twice. Through both of my children. After all, not only are we expecting a boy, we are also expecting another child, and considering how much love the first little one radiates around her, I cannot wait to have double the fun with both of them.