I was sitting at my computer at my shitty temp job pretending to be engaged in the mindless work I was doing and I felt a wave of nausea pass over me, not indifferent to how you’d feel after far too many drinks. There was no time to get to the bathroom so I picked up my waste-paper basket – the type with mesh sides, not designed to hold any form of liquid – and managed to contain everything within some old bunched papers. It was at that moment I realised. Oh-Shit-I’m-Pregnant.
The timing was terrible.
We’d just returned from South America, our first big backpacking trip together. After a visit to the US and a simple but sweet wedding in the Cook Islands, then an adventure around New Zealand for the Rugby World Cup we were hooked. We had to save money again fast so we could make travel our life. Forever. Dave jumped the ditch to Sydney to take up his old but well paid job while I stayed in Christchurch for another two months to finish exams. Newly wed and living in different countries – it sucked, but we had a goal – we were going to travel long term.
We knew how easy it was to save once we had a goal. After all we’d spent the previous 2 years living on one income and saving the other to eliminate consumer debt, buy investment properties and have enough cash in the bank to travel for six months.
So Dave went back to work and I got a temp job to tide me over until my exams were finished and I could return to Sydney to be with my new husband. Our savings account started to grow again and travel plans were being made. The temp job was depressing, covering reception at a law firm, but it was cycling distance from my parents house and better than sitting in watching TV all day.
When I recovered my composure I took my lunch break early and headed to the travel section of the city library, a favourite place to ponder my future life while pouring over Rough Guides and Lonely Planet volumes. As if an omen from some higher being telling me that everything was going to be OK, the first book I saw on the shelf was the Rough Guide to Travel with Babies and Young Children.
I read the book from cover to cover. It said travel with children was not only possible, but rewarding. I still hadn’t taken a test nor told my husband my hunch. I just had to be sure my life wouldn’t change so drastically if I chose to continue this pregnancy.
I booked a long weekend to visit my husband in Sydney. I packed a box of pregnancy tests (because taking one without him felt like cheating) and picked up a copy of the DVD Knocked Up. By this stage I was pretty much sure, but I still hadn’t told him anything. When I arrived at his apartment I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I handed him the DVD and told him we better study it because I think I’m pregnant. Cue husband freak out and ‘How did this happen’ and the realisation that sometimes sex equals babies and oh-fuck-we-are-having-baby. After that I peed on the stick and suspicions were confirmed. We figured the baby was conceived after Ireland won an amazing game of rugby. We were pretty stoked to be having a a World Cup baby made on the night Ireland played one of the best games we’d ever seen in a tournament that New Zealand ultimately won.