Finding out you are expecting your first child is a defining moment in your life. It’s not something I ever thought much about until it happened but had I given it any thought beforehand, I wouldn’t have guessed how our story would have unfolded.
It was Good Friday in 2016 and the start of our Easter break from work. Mary’s uncle Joseph was home from America and he had invited us out to dinner that evening.
Mary’s mother Linda is a sensible woman who doesn’t drink alcohol. She is a New Yorker who hasn’t lost an ounce of her accent in the 40 years she’s lived here. When the Americans come to visit she likes everyone to be on their best behaviour. Mary was never much good at obeying orders so when Joseph invited us to dinner, rather than politely accepting the invite, she accepted with the caveat that she planned to get paralytically drunk. She was only half joking too. Her mother was mortified while Joseph, only too happy to spend his time in Ireland with a stereotypical booze hound, was delighted.
We had suspected for some time that Mary might have been pregnant. We were getting ready for dinner when Mary panicked that if in fact she was, she might drown our unborn baby in the unhealthy amount of alcohol she had planned to consume. To put her mind at ease, I went out and bought a pregnancy test.
The instructions on the test were simple. Place the absorbent tip in a stream of urine for 10 seconds. Remove and wait a further thirty seconds before checking the display.
On the face of it, a very straightforward procedure. What followed however, was anything but straightforward.
Mary started the process but the second the stream made contact with the stick, the positive sign appeared.
Mayhem ensued.
She pulled it out of the flow and started screaming.
“AAAHHHHHHHHHHHH, WHAT DO I DO?” she screamed at me.
“Keep pissing on it!” I scream back.
Every second it wasn’t in the flow there was valuable piss literally being flushed down the toilet.
She was still screaming so I had to shout louder.
“PUT THE DAMN THING BACK IN AND KEEP PISSING ON IT!”
It cost me £10 and I had no intention of going back into town to buy another one.
She got it back in for another second or two before running out of steam.
She popped the lid back on to wait the required thirty seconds and we left the room in case it wouldn’t work with us watching. Thirty seconds passed and we took a look. It was definitely a plus sign.
We had been trying for a baby for some time without success, to the point where just 24 hours earlier, I stood with trousers at my ankles having my balls cupped by a junior doctor. I don’t know why it annoyed me that he was junior, it would have been no more comfortable if it was a senior doctor. Anyway, it was all for nothing, because there we were with confirmation that my testicles still worked.
Just as I was about to embrace her, she interrupted me.
“I need to do that again” she said, “I didn’t follow the process properly.”
She said it in such a way that I knew there was no point in arguing. With dinner only an hour away I had to go back into town to spend the extra £10 after all. In fact I had to spend £20 because Mary being the scientist that she is, needed a control test.
I had to piss on one myself.
I jumped in the car with an overwhelming notion that this wouldn’t be the last irrational request I would receive over the following 9 months.
I got home and we both took the test under calmer conditions. This time we were sure it is was a positive.
Marys was at least, thankfully mine was negative.
Celebrations didn’t last long when the panic kicked in again. Mary spent all day telling everyone she was going to need a wheelchair to get out of the restaurant that night and now she can’t drink. We came up with a plan to sit beside each other and I would do the honourable thing and drink both our drinks all night.
When we got to the restaurant Mary took her seat but before I could get sitting beside her, Joseph got to the seat first. Joseph has one leg so as I stood trying to figure out how to politely eject a disabled man from his seat, Mary’s dad got the next seat.
Shit!
It was a large round table so there was still a seat on her right hand side but in the absolute age it took me to figure that out, Mary’s mother and niece walked right past me into the next two seats. The only seat left now was directly opposite Mary. I couldn’t have sat further away from her if I had planned it. There was a lazy Susan in the middle too which made it all the more difficult, Mary may as well have been in another postcode.
I caught a glimpse of her looking at me. She wasn’t mad, she was disappointed. And we all know that’s way worse.
I was starting to sweat thinking of a plan B as the waiter came over to take our order.
Before we had a chance to panic he told us that, as it was Good Friday, we were unable to order alcohol, but soft drinks would be on the house.
Holy shit.
Irelands archaic licensing laws that I ridiculed since I was old enough to drink have paid me back in spades.
“Dammit” shouted Mary with a bang of her fist on the table in an exaggerated fit of rage.
Joseph offered that we leave and head North where the same law doesn’t apply but Mary and I both shouting NO! at the same time scared everyone into submission and we stayed put.
A glass of water had never tasted so good.
This was such a fun read. You write comedy really well, and the glasses of water at the end were a great touch.
This story is epic. I felt like I was there. Comedy was gold. 🤣