Month One, Day Two

I decided the time had come to turn my attention to baby making when my last packet
of pills ran out and I didn’t get round to picking up more. Possibly, this was too a passive approach to motherhood, and I should have discussed it sensibly with Jack, and together we would have planned and waited for the Right Time. (NB. We have, often, discussed it, but it has been left to me to make the final decision about when to go for it.)

Now, of course, is nothing like the right time. There are at least a million reasons why we shouldn’t have a baby: I have no steady, reliable job and no paid maternity leave; Jack is scared of children; our house has stone floors that a baby would kill itself on; children are expensive and we aren’t rich; our family trees are both blighted with mad people, which means there is a high chance that our child will be born bonkers. . .

But equally, there is one very good reason why we should have a baby, which is, quite simply, that I will die if we don’t.