WAITING

In my Ben Lee haze driving to work today, all I wanted to do was talk to Nugget.

I don't know what I wanted to say just that I was desperate to say it.

Up until now I've done what I can to keep my distance (as much as you can when something's inside you) because of all the things that could have gone wrong. There was this dark fear in me that I was putting too much stock into my pregnancy running smoothly. I simply didn't want to get too excited in case something went wrong.

But today, for the first time, I'm allowing myself to let go of that fear. Today, Nugget became more real to me than it ever has before.

We're only half-way there. Everyone keeps telling me how quickly the first five months have gone and I can't help but ask them what drugs they're on.

They weren't there every single morning when I threw up. They weren't there when I spent three months living on toast. They weren't there at 2 in the morning when I was peeing for the eighth time.

It's gone quickly for them because they weren't there.

Now I have the pleasure of this dragging on a further four months when all I desperately want to do is see my child. All I want to do is dance with Nugget in the lounge room and start telling it stories.

Still, the last thing I want is for Nugget to come early too. I want Nugget to take all the time it needs to take full shape before entering this world.

I just wish that the next four months could slip by like the past five months have for all the people who weren't there.

But then for that to happen I would have to be somewhere else and since everything is finally beginning to go smoothly - I wouldn't wish that for a second.

It's the connundrum of anticipation. To want something so badly and at the same time to want it to not happen before it's time.

WHY BOTHER?

The question is why do I bother?

I come in to work, without fail, whether I'm sick or well. When I do take sick days it's as a last resort and more often than not those sick days are half days because even when I'm at my worst I drag myself in. On the odd occasion when I can't drag myself into work I will call and explain that and still state "but if you really need me I can come in." and when they've asked I have done just that.

When I'm at work I have to admit I'm not perfect. My scores rise and fall, as any human's would, depending on how tired or distracted I was. But I can honestly say that I have always given my best - although it may not have been up to my high standards.

Now though, I wonder why.

I have survived on promise after promise after promise.

I was promised we could begin a course in October last year but were asked to wait because "everyone" would be doing the course in January. In January we were promised in April. In April were were promised "soon".

Now, in August, apparently that promise was just for some.

The company has just allocated the course for 3 people only. 2 of the three have been here less than half the time I have, barely even bother to turn up for work and are your garden variety slackers.

I'm ropable. I'm so angry my chest is hurting. I have been fighting for the course for so long and made my determination clearly known and then I'm not even considered. I want to scream discrimination but I wasn't the only worthy candidate overlooked.

I'm just really really tired and wondering if I shouldn't do what everyone else here does and gets rewarded for - go home because I've got a headache.

Indirect discrimination.... The implementation of a policy that indirectly discriminates eg: holding a course on a Friday night which means Orthodox Jew could not attend and would miss out on valuable skills.
Or perhaps, delaying the start of a promised course until it's impossible for a pregnant member of a company to take part.

Should I play that card? Am I going to have to?

Do I really still want this course that desperately? After two-years I really do love this job but is this enough to make me stop caring about this place?

How can you respect people who aren't true to their word? If you can't respect your supervisors then what motivates you to do a good job?

There's a bit part of me that's just given up. With maternity leave pending I honestly don't give a damn anymore. I've been fighting for so long and it's just not worth it anymore.

I'm leaving here in four months for a 12 month break. 12 months is long enough to decide if this is a job worth fighting for.

I don't want to leave - I don't want to be adrift again - but they're not really giving me any reason to stay.

THE AMNIO

I've never been very good at forgetting what I know.

I got the amniocentesis results. There are 46 chromosomes. Or as my doctor told me there are 46 "insert sex of baby here" chromosomes.

I am nothing short ecstatictic that everything is fine (part of my already knew and it's odd that when something's wrong we trust our instincts but when something's right we always second guess them) and just can't stop grinning.

But the results have opened up a new can of worms.

Tom does not want to know the sex. He wants to be surprised. So did I but the doctor's delivery of the results made me more knowledgeable than I wished to be.

It has always been incredibly hard for me to hold my tongue when IÂ’m excited. My resolve not to tell him that I even knew only lasted an hour.

This is important. It's important that I not tell this one secret.

I need to hold it tight to my chest and do the only thing that will make the next 20 weeks bearable.

I have to go back to seeing Nugget as this undefined bundle rather than foreseeing the child Nugget will become.

Now that people know I know. Will they assume that my use of "he" means that it's a boy - regardless of the fact I've used "he" long before I knew. I guess I'll have to consciously alternate sexes now - or I'll simply have to avoid all references to sex and just say "baby".

Mind you, I'm thinking too much. Tom's the only one who knows I know so no one else will make those assumptions.

It's a tough call and if I over think the way I behave it will only increase my chances of accidentally showing my hand.

I have to forget.

For the sake of peace over the next 20 weeks I have to bury this fact from even myself.

MOVEMENT – 17 WEEKS

I had thought about what this moment might feel like.

For some reason I thought I would jump for joy but instead I felt only calmer. I curled into myself and held onto the moment. Instead of telling anyone it was my little secret.

Nugget moved.

At first it wasn’t anything pronounced. Actually, it never did become anything pronounced. Just a light fluttering only I could feel.

No one around me knew what was going on. Even if I’d said something the rush of hands probably wouldn’t have felt it from the outside anyway.

I didn’t want to waste it on any one else.

And in a rush I realise what has been until this moment the chance I was going to have a baby has become I will be having a baby.

There’s so much to do. So much to organise. In that one flutter of movement I realised there are still walls to be painted, carpets to be cleaned, clothes to be bought, nursery’s to be filled and rooms to be repaired.

Time is quickly running out.

Last week it seemed like an eternity to go but at 17 weeks I realise that I only have a few months before my belly will stop me from doing anything drastic.

I have four months to go (allowing for the last month of my pregnancy to incapacitate me). That’s 16 weekends. We have the kids for half of that time so it leaves us with 8 weekends to get everything done.

Only 16 clear days until nugget is born.

Knowing that number. Knowing that Nugget is now a reality. Knowing that there is so much to do and I’m at half-strength at best. Knowing Tom doesn’t see the same urgency that I do in making sure the preparations are done.

All this had me a little over-wrought.

In response, five hours after the fluttering experience of Nugget’s first movements, I stood in the middle of the lounge room and cried. Tom was mystified as any man would be. My attempt to explain the panic failed and only made him more confused.

Once the sobbing was done I was exhausted and fell asleep to the rhythm of Nuggets kicking.

WRONG

Perhaps it’s the hormones. Perhaps not.

Either way I’ve reached my asshole threshold.

I can stand it no more.

Every day they call and carry on as though I owe them something. They huff and puff and make demands. Snide remarks about my competence and my skills as though I were responsible for the actions of the entire company.

The more it’s their fault the more they abuse you.

What’s worse than the assholes are the idiots. People completely incapable of understanding basic instructions or simple premises. No matter how long you talk or how hard you try their tiny brains can’t follow what you’re talking about.

The more basic the instruction the more confusing they find it.

Parents calling on behalf of their lazy ass kids; employers who haven’t bothered to make payments for their employees; members who have filled in forms incorrectly; bitter disputes over the estate of a family member; members spelling every letter of their name and address at such a slow speed you would think I was a 3-year-old.

I hear the tone in my voice and know that I’m not helping the situation. I cut people off, tell them to wait until I’m finished and correct them while implying that they’re stupid or incompetent.

I have made them re-read forms until the obvious information they had previously missed is read and understood clearly.

“Well no one told me I had to send identification,” one client huffs at me.

“Do you have the form there?” I’m curt and cold. “Can you see the very first paragraph under personal information? Read that to me…”

Then I huff back at them. “We didn’t tell you because it’s there on the form.”

It’s two weeks until I have a holiday and it seems a long way off. Still, I’m determined to hold off until that time. Mind you it’s not easy. I wonder, each day, whether or not that final buttons going to be pushed and I’ll snap.

I’m struggling to bite my tongue and keep my job.

But surely even the highest ranked manager must understand that at time, when dealing with the sheer quantity of assholery, that we are only human and the customer is not always right.