Melbourne’s weather has definitely changed into winter. Even though it’s been going for a month already, the cold hasn’t been too bad so far. But now, as the days get shorter and the temperature gauge takes a dive, I really miss my central heating. The gas heater in the lounge room does a great job, but a lot of my time is spent in the kitchen, and apart from the oven, there’s no heating in there.
Mum’s letter sits tucked away in the dresser, out of sight, out of mind. As long as it lives in that dark drawer, it doesn’t live in my mind. Whether that is a good or bad thing, I’m not sure. But the time is not right, yet. Like Gran said, there’s no hurry.
Lily and I are working in my kitchen while Cal plays in his room.
“Jules, when was the last time you had a period?” Lily asks.
A period? It’s so easy not to think about the curse.
“Ummm, it was…back in, sometime, last… not too long ago. Why do you ask?”
Jesus, when was it?
“We used to get it at almost the same time, and you haven’t mentioned it lately, that’s all. Anyway, we need to go faster if we want to get these veggies blanched, packaged and frozen before dinner.”
We prepare our fresh veggies from the garden and freeze them together. It’s a boring job and the time goes much faster when we chat our way through it. My mind is now in a spin trying to remember my last period. Have I had a period here? It’s the first of June, so it’s been two months exactly since my arrival, and those elephant-sized pads are still sitting in the corner of the bathroom cabinet, exactly where they were in early April. Oh shiiiiiiit!
“I’ve finished the broccoli, what’s next?” I say, trying to change the subject.
Oh my God! Is it possible? No! No way. No freaking way! What on Earth would that mean in regards to going home once Will has his scholarship? Would being pregnant here mean that there is no going back? Is going back still a possibility? Has Anya already claimed her win? There are no answers.
“You’re trying to remember when your last period was, aren’t you?” Lily asks.
“Yes. Shit, Lily, I can’t remember! I can’t remember!”
Chris and I have had loads of sex; like newlyweds, we can’t keep our hands off each other. It’s true what they say about the lack of quality programs on television, you know. It’s sex-inducing. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s a fantastic way to pass the time, except when it leads to pregnancy.
“Calm down, it’s OK. Let’s just think for a moment,” Lily says.
“When were you due last?” I ask, hoping that her response will be “yesterday”.
“I had it two weeks ago.” She looks at me.
Like a cartoon character, I gulp loudly. My mind starts racing. It’s impossible to stay on one train of thought for more than a couple of seconds. This must be how goldfish live.
“I have been a bit tired lately.”
“Hmmm”
“And a bit emotional.”
“Hmmmm.”
“And a bit hungry.”
“Hmmm”
“And a bit vomitty.”
“Hmmm. And your boobs are huge, look at them! You’ve got Marilyn Monroe cleavage.”
No longer do I have to look down at my boobs; lately they’ve been looking up at me.
“My clothes are a bit tight, but it’s probably all that winter food.” All that good, yummy, home-cooked food that has been shoveled into my mouth with great gusto.
“I just can’t remember getting my period since….oh Jesus, maybe March or February? Lily, shit! I need a pregnancy test. We have to go to the chemist.” My external nervous breakdown now meets my internal breakdown and the result is a quivering, mumbling, fumbling, gibbering mess of a woman. “Lily, what if there is a baby growing in there?” We both look at my tummy, protruding out of my corduroy pants because my top button no longer does up.
“Calm down, lovey, it’s going to be alright. Chemists don’t do pregnancy tests, so we’ll go to the doctors, OK?” She is trying to be soothing and calming, but I am in such a tizz that nothing short of an elephant-sized tranquiliser gun will soothe or calm me now.
I’m pregnant. Shit. The doctor confirmed it. Four months along and due in mid-November. Shit. I am at a complete and utter loss for words or thought. Shit.
Chris was shocked but very excited at the prospect of another baby, as were all the family and everyone in the street. The pregnancy still hasn’t settled with me — it’s hard to believe. But, much like travelling here, there’s nothing I can do about it, so the best move is just to go with the flow as much as possible and try to freak out in private.
Everyone made casseroles so that I could put my feet up a bit, which was very nice. After much begging, Anne decided to teach me how to make her famous lamb casserole and it turned out pretty well, I’m proud to say. My family no longer say their prayers at dinnertime; they don’t have to anymore.
I’ve been here for over three months now, and I still don’t see any sign of returning. I fluctuate between despair and pure happiness. Despair at what is happening in my own life, if anything is happening at all. I miss work outside the house. I’ve always worked. It’s part of me — a big part of me — and when I had managed it properly, a healthy part of me. I miss the adrenaline rush, the chaos, the feeling of achievement at the end of each day. Some people need to work and others can fulfil themselves in other ways. So far, it appears that I fall into the former category.
But then, happiness at my strong, perfect marriage to a man who has captured my heart all over again. Happiness at spending time with my beautiful children and getting to know them, at sharing my life with them every day (although it would be nice to have a chance to miss them a little). Happiness with my best friend and extended family, who love me just the way I am.
Will is still to sit his scholarship exams, and as for me returning to my own life afterwards…who knows? Perhaps there is no going back now. Part of me is OK with that thought. This is not something that I wished for, but it is something the universe saw fit to throw at me; a different life as a different person, a better person. Charles Darwin always said that the species most likely to survive is not the strongest or the smartest, but the one that is most adaptable to change.