It’s so hot in here, I thought. Who’s holding my hand? More so, why? What’s going on?

I looked down and found my belly swollen and my legs parted.

“Mamaaaaaaaaaa?!!!!!” I frantically screamed, scared.

“She needs that epidural now!” I heard my mother say, clasping my hand tighter. “It’s coming along now, but don’t be scared. We’re all here.”

My sisters hovered and took my other hand, squeezing it. Before I knew it, I felt something stir inside me that I just had to let out. With one heave, I pushed. A few seconds later, a cry. It wasn’t painful at all.

“Now for the next one,” my mother said.

What? It’s not over?

I heaved and pushed. And pushed. And pushed. And pushed. They just came out of me, almost slippery in fact. The room is full of cries.

“Five! And now, we’ll have the last one,” somebody’s voice said. The doctor, probably.

Without warning, I pushed.

“No! Not yet!”

The doctor must have poked around but I wouldn’t have known because I hardly felt anything. I heard a “Hmmm.”

I should be pushing now, I thought.

“Alright, push now.”

I did. Nothing. Something felt stuck.

Another poking about, but I pushed anyway. It could be stifling in there. He had to breathe somehow.

I felt it being pulled, and then nothing. Silence.

I could have had six, as if that wouldn’t have been enough. But the last one was a blue one.

Life lost.

I dreamed about this last night. I felt everything. I felt the pushing, the releasing. I heard the cries.

I’ve always known I couldn’t conceive. I was seventeen then, and because I was eager to prove my womanhood, I copulated with whomever I fancied. But I never got pregnant. It got me wondering one day, when I felt the pang of envy when my sister gave birth to her son. Ten years ago, I would have never thought I had it in me, to dream of being a mother.

I always saw myself to be unmarried, living the boheme life, acquiring several lovers along the way, and perhaps adopt. I thought I hated children, how messy and cumbersome they can be to one’s independent lifestyle. But I fell in love with Matthew, my sister’s son. How can one not be? He’s adorable as a button.

And several years later, I met someone whose eyes remind me of sunflowers during summer. Gazing into them I saw myself running after rosy-cheeked cherubs with a spoon in my hand and a bib in the other. They excitedly scream ‘Papa!’ as they run towards him and I sigh in resignation. You do the dishes, I’d say, and I’ll have to bathe them. We argue, attempt to fuck once they’re tucked in, but too tired to even undress. He snores, I moan (as my way of snoring). I wake up nuzzled in his arms and gaze at his sleeping face, so beautiful.

I never told him this, as i didn’t want to scare him away. I know it is not how he prefers things to be. He reminds me of my old self, of how I used to want things. No commitments, nothing solid. Always leaving the door half open in case I’d want an easy way out.

I simply cannot go back. I cannot go forward either. I am barren, empty. Defective. Who would want me? Where do I go?

And so I weep for that lost little soul that never even had the chance to live. I weep for my own soul for I will never have the chance to give life.

The unthinkable happened. I am pregnant.

I always thought my reproductive system was so fucked up due to abuse (tsk, tsk) that getting pregnant was way beyond me, if not highly impossible. But I found myself laying on the examination bed, with my OB-Gyn hovering above me, applying gel to my stomach before doing the ultrasound test.

“Do you want to know the sex?” she asks. Huh? I hardly heard her. I was shivering, my gelled-stomach fully exposed to the coolness of the room.

“Uhm, yes, I guess”, I mumbled.

The doctor started humming and did her thing with the machine. It was ticklish, whatever they called it. All of a sudden, I wished somebody was holding my hand.

“Ahhh, yes… Are you ready to know?”

“Oh, okay, whatever.”

She was smiling. “Oh, TBG, you would love this. It’s a girl.”

She proceeded to turn the machine off and asked the nurse to clean me up and help me change. I was still frozen in my state. A girl? A GIRL??!?!?!

Oh my gawd, that would be hard work. I was half-wishing it was a boy, but having a girl would mean raising a high-maintenance one. Like the mother/fucker isn’t enough. Oh dear, I’d have to teach her how to do make-up, how to seduce men without being trashy, how to tickle their minds, how to leave a lasting impression. How to give mind-blowing blowjobs…and sex. Oh drat, definitely hard work. Sigh. I was having all these thoughts when I was propped up and cleaned and dressed. Emerging from the dressing room, however, I felt light.

So, I’m going to be a mother now. My, my, my.

“I can’t believe you had to wait six months before you came to visit me. I would have monitored your progress and gave you proper instructions, TBG”, the doctor said.

“Actually, I didn’t know I was pregnant all this time. First, because it never occured to me that I would ever because I haven’t had sex for some time now after that angry, breakup sex, and second, because, well, after all those men I slept with, I never got pregnant after that time I screwed it up six years ago. You were there. You cleaned me up, and you told me I will never be able to do so.”

She sighed. “I know, at that time, you had so much scarring that it seemed impossible that you would conceive. But this is a pleasant surprise. Do your parents know already?”

Ditto. “No, not yet. But I’m sure they would insist that I marry Rockstar. You know dad, he would do everything to protect the family name.”

“Would you marry him?”

“Hahaha. How can I marry someone who has no idea why I’m supposed to marry him in the first place?”

“So you haven’t told him yet?”

“No, I haven’t. But I would like to keep this is a secret from him. That’s impossible though. Because dad would naturally demand that he marry me. The thing is, I don’t want to. We’d be married for all the wrong reasons, and I think he’s happy with the girl he is with now. I realize, I don’t need him anymore. Or any man for that matter. I have all the love I need, right here”, patting my stomach, the size of it making sense to me now.

“Oh dear, you need a support system now. The next few months would be crucial.”

I sighed. “I know, I know. Mom will always help me, I can count on her. Dad will be depressed at my decision of not marrying Rockstar, but he will come around, he will understand why. As for Rockstar, I’ll let him know when she’s born and see the reaction on his face, that of a fucked-up toilet. Ooooh, I can’t wait.”

She shook her head and said, “You haven’t changed. You’re pregnant and still you’re vindictive.”

“Nooo, noo, I’m not being vindictive. It will be a dilemma for him, but I won’t impose anything on him. He will offer though. He definitely will.”

“There you go! Marry him then!”

I shook my head this time. “No, no. It is over.”

After the consultation, I asked my driver to take me to the beach, a private one where I do most of my morning walks. I curled my feet and felt the powdery sand between my toes. It was still midday, and it wasn’t that hot. It was just perfect. All of a sudden, I had the habit of touching my belly every now and then as I started to walk the long shoreline.

She’s for real. Damn. I am fuckin’ pregnant. How could I have not known for six months?! No wonder my jeans wont fit. I thought it was because of all those chocolates I consumed when I got depressed. But hey, I feel good now. Surprisingly, I am happy. It all makes sense now. I have found my motivation.

The walk was long and I was tired, but I had inner peace. I know the answer to my “Why?”.

(c)Larry Dale Gordon

But I just had to wake up only to realize what it was all along. Nothing.

No wonder it all seemed surreal. I won’t bother finding out what this means, or why of all days to wake up to, Rockstar had to send me a message asking how I’m doing. I don’t care what this is all trying to tell me now. The thing is, I have that glow, that inner peace, and undeniably, elation. With or without her inside me. The only sad thing about this is that I am suddenly filled with deep yearning to make it real.

Like I said, I am the Immaculate Bitch. I’ll be damned when that happens.