Page 10 of Unexpecting

″I’m trying to make sure you know what you’re doing,” Libby corrected, speaking as though I were no older than Maddy. “If you’re going to go have a kid, I don’t want you to go off half-cocked and then start yelling at me that I never told you anything. So I’m telling you—your vagina will never be the same. Sex will never be the same. Jumping up and down on a trampoline will never be the same, because you’ll be too afraid of accidentally peeing yourself because you didn’t do enough Kegel exerciseswhile you were pregnant and you’ll be freaked out you’re going to be incontinent when you’re old.”

″Oh.” What was I supposed to say to that? “Really?”

″I haven’t even started on the labour yet, let alone what it really feels like to grow to the size of a small humpback whale.”

″So you don’t think it’s a good idea?” I prompted. As much as Libby and I argue and get on each other’s nerves, there’s not a lot we won’t support each other with.

″I think you’re nuts,” Libby said reluctantly, pulling out a weed with a little too much vehemence and spraying dirt over her smooth tanned legs. “But it might be nice for Maddy and Max to have a cousin to play with.”

″What do you think of the insemination thing?” I asked.

″I’m not keen on having a niece or nephew and not knowing who the father is.”

″It’s not about you, Lib, you know,” I told her quietly. “It’s not my first choice, but what other options do I have?”

Libby looked seriously at me. “Isn’t there someone you know who could donate and then step back and let you take over? What about one of your friends? An ex-boyfriend?”

″It’s funny. Emma asked the same thing and all I could think of was David Mason.”

″Oh,” she said wistfully. “I remember him. I liked him. You were really stupid back then.”

″Thanks. It’s always nice to be reminded.”

″Well, you were. So, is there anyone else you could get to do it?”

″Most of them are already involved with someone, and it seems strange to ask. It sort of crosses the line of friendship, you know? I thought it all through, and I don’t see any other way.”

″Well, there’s always the not having a baby right now option,” Libby reminded me, echoing J.B.

″That’s what J.B. said,” I told her. “But I don’t think that’s an option right now.”

″You’ve made up your mind then?” Libby asked, crawling along on her knees to another part of the flower bed. No wonder her knees need serious help. “About this donor stuff?”

″Pretty much. Unless you have a better idea.”

″I don’t,” she sighed. “So go for it, I guess. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Chapter Six

“The expectant young mother should cherish every engagement with her friends, since the arrival of the baby will drastically change those relationships, perhaps beyond repair.”

A Young Woman’s Guide to the Joy of Impending Motherhood

Dr. Francine Pascal Reid (1941)

Every Monday night, Imeet my two best girlfriends for drinks, dinner or a movie. We’ve done it for years, and it’s a way we can make sure to stay connected with each other. A girl needs her friends. Despite the not-so-positive reactions I was getting, I was still looking forward to running my idea of having a baby past them.

″I can’t believe I found the perfect shoes for my wedding dress!” Brit shrieked as we settled in at one of the high round tables surrounding the bar. Tonight we were meeting for drinks at an upscale martini bar close to Brit’s office, and it was already quite crowded. I’m sure the adjoining tables were just as excited to hear about Brit’s shoe purchase as I was.

Brit and I have been friends since grade nine when we realized that discussing painful menstrual cramps in a loud voice could get us out of participating in Mr. McDonald’s gym class. Unfortunately for Brit, her last name is Spears. She dropped the “ney” in 1999, when the “imposter,” as Brit still calls her, became famous. The two of us have both weathered some storms over the years—Brit’s parents’ divorce, my mother’s lifestyle, living in different cities during university, and a disastrous attempt at being roommates after graduation—but the thing that’s always remainedconstant in our lives is our friendship. Brit at thirty-five may be a totally different person than she was at fifteen and we might not see eye to eye about everything like we used to, but she’s still my best friend and we do have a ton of history together.

I also know that underneath all the me-me-me talk, my old friend Brit is still there somewhere. She’ll return someday. It’s like how I keep hoping someone will make a sequel to The Wedding Singer.

I think Brit, more than anyone, will understand my desire to have a baby since she shares an equal obsession with getting married. She’s been doodling hearts and Mrs. So-and-So in her notebooks since she was twelve. Her little fixation extended out of high school, into and past university, and well into her thirties. Like me wanting to find the perfect guy for baby-making, every time Brit dates a new guy, she’s mentally measuring him for the dove-grey morning coat and keeps slipping in comments over drinks about how “Wind Beneath My Wings” is her favourite song. I’m sure it’s pretty frightening for a guy only looking to get laid.

Lucky for Brit, she finally met Tom Smith, who fully indulges her obsession. He good-naturedly tolerates her five-foot-high stack of Today’s Bride magazines and even sits through endless sessions with Brit’s three scrapbooks filled with wedding ideas. And to top it off, he even proposed last year. I guess he is perfect for her since every other candidate turned tail and ran when confronted with the scrapbooks. They’re getting married on Labour Day weekend.

″…five-inch heels, which I know will make my feet ache by the end of the night, but they look so sexy, and you know, Tom is a good six inches taller than me so we’ll be a little more equal. Just think how good we’ll look standing together saying our vows! It’ll be perfect!”

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