Sister Alyonushka and brother Andrey Sergeevich
In 20 years, pregnancy - this is the next stage of maturation. Just make a plan for yourself - get pregnant at 20, give birth at 21, and then at least the grass does not grow. I clearly followed this plan.
I was only 20 years old when I got up at 6.00, unpacked the whole mini-laboratory with test tubes and indicators, did everything according to the instructions and began to gather at the institute, waiting for the result. The first to learn about my pregnancy college girlfriend. Well, who else. Parents will surely be against it, but I did not have the Internet with “mother’s” forums.
A few months passed in joyful excitement. I was surprised to see changes in my body. Neither toxicosis, nor taste perversions, nor unreasonable tears. I went to work, went to college, passed exams - all as usual.
The girls gave me a colorful book about pregnancy. Everything about her was so romantic: the husband gives a massage to his pregnant wife, they walk together in the park, give birth together ... Looking through the book, I dreamed of the same. But by winter my husband was gone. Just went to work and never returned. He was found. In a hospital on the other side of town. I was also diagnosed there, in which I did not want to believe. All the more then.
I traveled to it every day by bus, train, subway and trolley. I froze at the bus stops, suffered from hunger and thirst, but still I rode, thinking that I was doing the only right thing. Then the husband was transferred to another hospital and left there for several months. Almost before my birth. And all my rainbow dreams and hopes have collapsed.
And once in the winter there was some kind of accident, and our whole city was left without electricity, water and heat for several days. In the evenings, I climbed under a warm blanket, lit candles and read books. On one of these evenings, for the first time, I felt a baby hustling in my stomach. He was not scared or cold, he just wanted to cheer up his mom. From that day I really didn’t feel so lonely.
I talked to the baby all the time, and at dawn, when I didn’t want to sleep at all, I read books for the baby, rereading half the home library with him before the birth. Then, they didn’t do ultrasounds at almost every visit to the doctor, but I didn’t do it at all, and I could only guess who was in my stomach. I really wanted a boy, and according to signs, it was the kid who left. But when on delivery the anesthesiologist on my timid indignation "Why a girl?" I offered to shove her back, I was worried about only one question: how can I call the child now, if all 9 months I turned to her Misha ...
Everything is different in 35 years. Long before ... I must say "Goodbye!" favorite whiskey and categorical "Goodbye!" more than 20 kilograms. To hand over all imaginable and inconceivable analyzes together with the accomplice. Then undergo a course of hormone therapy. And with impatience to wait for the doctor to go with enthusiasm to surrender to the process of conception.
Then buy a bunch of tests, because it's hard to believe from the first time a dull stripe on a piece of paper. And after that, start to listen to your body, which already direct text hints at pregnancy with swollen breasts, rejection of your favorite morning coffee, laughter suddenly turning into tears. And tomatoes! Many delicious red juicy tomatoes, tomato paste with a finger from a can, tomato juice straight from the package. Sorry, there was no tomato ice cream ...
And now everyone around me is aware of my pregnancy, because at work it should be clear from the very beginning that I am an inviolable person, relatives should be prepared mentally and physically for replenishment, my friends just have to rejoice, and envy enemies.
From this point on, I didn’t care anymore, except for the size of the baby, the number of fingers on his hands and feet, the movements and heartbeats. The world around simply ceased to exist. And I became the most beautiful pregnant. Bright dresses, shoes, handbags and beads to match. Even the doctor, putting me under the drip, could not resist the compliments: “Where are you going to go? I sat up, put on makeup, a goat in a sundress!” Nothing could shake my optimism. Even the fact that on the next ultrasound scan I, my husband and the doctor clearly saw the undisguised sex of my “puzozhitel”. This time I was sure of the appearance of the girl and again did not guess. Slightly upset only that for some reason people sew more and more elegantly.
The boy has repeatedly tried to discompose me. He turned his booty over to the exit, periodically calmed down for a long time, and in the end he completely wound the umbilical cord over himself and grew large. But I remained calm and confident that everything would be just fine, because this time I chose good doctors, and my husband was next. From the very beginning he went with me to the doctors. I went to the courses for "pregnant dads", where among the "koloboks" on ottomans, along with other "colleagues", I touchingly wrote down in a notebook all the recommendations of the midwife. He walked with me, drove to theaters and concerts. I went shopping in search of a dowry for the baby. And then give birth too, went with me.
Everything turned out as in the colorful book 15 years ago. Beautiful and romantic. And now our sister Alyonushka and brother Andrey Sergeevich are growing up.