But, it turns out that there is some truth to that story. Except it had nothing to do with my baby and everything to do with my husband.
For most of my second pregnancy, I just wanted to hide away and eat all the junk food I was craving.
But my best friend Ava wanted to drag me out of the house and do things together.
“I heard about this cool pottery place,” she said, making me a strawberry milkshake while I put my swollen feet up.
“You sign up for a pottery party of sorts,” she continued.
“And we make pottery?” I asked, thinking of a hundred things I would prefer to do instead.
“Not necessarily. We could paint pottery instead. Come on, Liv, let’s do it together! We can make things for the nursery,” she smiled over the top of the blender.
“Fine,” I said. “But you’ll owe me whatever the baby craves that night.”
“Fine by me,” she said. “I’ve already told Malcolm to watch Tess for the evening while we’re out.”
Ava wasn’t the biggest fan of my husband, Malcolm, so the fact that she had already spoken to him about our evening out spoke volumes about how much she wanted me out of the house.
So, we got to the pottery place and found that fifteen women were booked for the same slot — a full-on party. Everyone just wanted to sip beverages, unwind, and have fun. Which was what Ava promised me as well. Little did we know it would turn into a nightmare.
We were all chatting about birth stories — if it weren’t the women’s own stories, then they would talk about someone close to them.
Then, one woman started to share a story about how she was on a date with her boyfriend and suddenly had to leave because his sister-in-law went into labor.
“It was the 4th of July, and we were at my flat watching a movie when he said that Olivia was in labor. I asked him why he had to go; it was almost midnight, and we were exhausted. It made no sense for him to go along, too. But he said it was a family thing — they all wanted to be there when the baby was born.”
ADVERTISEMENT
