“I like children. I often find myself entertained by the mischief they are up to. Maybe that’s why that one time when I worked as a camp custodian during summer holiday, I failed to deliver any authority.”
“Meh. I don’t know what to make of them. Most of the time they are quite annoying.”
“Don’t you want kids some day?”
“Definitenly not any time soon.”
The Witcher and I were sitting in the tram in the capital. The seats opposite of us were occupied by two boys who were fooling around and I had jumped on the occasion of nonchalantly bringing of the topic of children. I had already suspected that kind of an answer, but had wanted to make sure.
By that time I was already far into the second month and facing problems like nausea, aversion to certain dishes and hot flashs. After I had imprudently complained on some occasions, the Witcher asked me if there was a chance of me being pregnant. I laughed it off.
In May I went abroad for some weeks to visit another institute where I would be instructed in some methods. During my time there I noticed I couldn’t close my pants anymore. Also, whenever I had time to relax the nausea got overwhelming. I knew that the time for revelation was getting close. I would have to break the news to my supervisor on the first day of my return.
However, I wanted to Witcher to know it first. That much I owed him. Doing it via Skype was uncourtly but necessary.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Yes, of course! Glad to hear from you. How’s the weather over there?”
“Gray. It’s been raining for days.”
“Listen, I have to tell you something. I fear we have to go back to being just friends. Believe me, there’s a serious reason for me to say this.”
“Please promise me you won’t break contact!”
“Though I would understand if you did.”
“I won’t, so now please just tell me what’s the matter.”
And I told him. He was understanding, as ever. Asked matter-of-fact questions, gave advice. At the end he told me he still wanted to see me next time I was at the capital. He then said good night because in his timezone it was nearly midnight.
“Good night to you too.”
“I knew I could rely on you. But if over night you still decide to get angry on me I would understand as well.”
“I am sad, but that doesn’t make me angry.”
“Sad is worse! You being sad makes me sad.”
“Well, I will leave you be for now.”
“Good night again.”
Back in my country I called my supervisor on Sunday evening and told him that I had gone to the hospital because I presumed I was ill and been told I was 11 weeks pregnant. I cried a lot, out of stress and worry about what was to come, but also out of relieve that soon I would be able to be open about it. My supervisor sighed, then he told me things will not be easy. Then he congratulated me (!) and said there are some things that cannot be planned and I should not panic because children are a wonderful thing.
The following days felt surreal. Everbody was genuinely happy for me, hugging me and wishing me well. Not once did I hear any sour comments concerning my work in the lab. By the way “You will avoid all lab work!” changed into “Well, acids and bases are only harmful to you, not your child. But you NEVER touch human material!” to “Could you please cut this tissue sample today?” within three days.
The Knight couldn’t quite believe he was about to become a father. It had been the one thing he wanted most and he didn’t dare being happy about it until he saw our daughter for the first time.