Ode to albatrosses

The idea of me being pregnant is preposterous. Firstly because my recent celibacy means that of course I can’t be. And secondly because the idea of me being a mother is simply laughable. I wouldn’t trust me with a potted plant, never mind a developing child.

Of course, if it turns out that due to some weird biological fluke that I am, then I’ll just have to deal with it somehow. I’ll truly consider all the pros and cons of both abortion, and adoption. I’ll do some research, talk to a doctor, consult a psychiatrist. I’ll phone up and find out the privacy laws for adoptions these days, and I’ll talk to someone about benefits for single, unemployed mothers.

I’ll do everything I need to for me to make a logical, considered, decision. Then I’ll phone up UCAS and tell them I’m deferring entry to university for a year, then find out about day care for babies in Edinburgh. I already know that I would neither kill it nor give it away. If I have to have it then I’ll change Northumbria to my first choice of university, and live at home. It’s a lot to ask, but I have a hugely extended family and yes, they’d be put out, but no one is going to want to send one of ours off into some random person’s arms just because I’m an inept mother. I’ll go to uni, get a degree, get a job, and be a working single mother. I’m not exactly the first.

I’ll tell you now; this is frightening. But I work best under pressure. It’s the only time I work. But I already know it’s nearly impossible for me to be pregnant, so this is entirely hypothetical anyway. It’s barely worthy of consideration at all except that planning for every eventuality means that I won’t be unprepared.

And the father. Would I tell him? I don’t know. I guess that I would have to. It’s too small a community for me not to. But that’s only if I stick around here. Would I seriously consider just not telling him? Yes. Definitely. I’m not going to ask him for anything. What could he really give? He has many good points, and eventually he’ll make a wonderful father. But tying him to me in that way would cause him to hate me.

I disagree with the type of men who say a woman “got herself” pregnant. In 99% of cases that isn’t true. I can’t say all because occasionally a broody woman will stop taking birth control in order to become pregnant. I didn’t “get myself” pregnant, but I take responsibility for the child if it exists. As a partner I miss him, but neither of us are mature enough to look after a child, and I don’t wish to force him to try. With the right woman he’ll do great, but not with me. It doesn’t matter that I expect nothing; there will be a certain responsibility if I tell him. Whether he accepts it or not, it will still be there.

What’s the point? He’s as broke as me, he’s leaving, and I know I can cope. I have the means to survive, I have my family, and I know that whatever happens, we’ll both be fine. I may not have the future I planned for myself, and I’ll have to make a few sacrifices. But happiness is subjective. A child is worth more than whether or not I sell a novel or get into university. I’m already lucky and happy enough without that.

I don’t want to stop him from seeing his child. But I don’t want him to have regrets about us either. I think I just want to do what I always do: adapt, cope, and get on by myself.

Is that wrong?

Labels: Mistakes, Theatrics