Telling Me Ma

I've done it. I've told my mother I'm pregnant. It was a terrible, horrible moment- one I hope never in this lifetime to repeat. She said do I not know what happens during sex, especially when protection is not used? I said of course I do. I may be foolish, but I am not a fool. She thinks we should have waited until William was allowed into the country permanantly and is allowed to work. Wouldn't that be ideal? It would, there is no denying it, but life does not always work the way we plan it. I heard about it everytime I talked to her over the next few days. My friend Shelley popped into my mum's office to ask her how she was doing. Was she over the shock of the announcement I guess. Does she feel an ulcer coming on perhaps? Shelley said to me that my mum said she hasn't even congragulated me yet. Which she hadn't. But did when I was talking to her later that night. I think this was day 4. She said "I do congratulate you, Emma, I just think you should have waited." She also told me that she had said to Shelley that I don't know how to keep my legs closed! Shelley apparently was to polite to repeat this, but my mother, proud Brummie that she is, had no such hesitation.

So she knows. It was a weight off my shoulders to finally tell her. And while she may not be thrilled right now, one day she will say the same thing about this wee girl that she does about Saoirse - "I'd never send her back."

Though she does say that this one had better have a decent name. "Two bloody Irish names are enough!"