Let’s set the scene:

Imagine a beautiful, big house in the leafy suburbs of Southern Brisbane, Australia.  Two married couples and a high school student reside within, living in blissful harmony.  Shiny, happy, good white Christian folk with straight teeth and clean shoes.  Rent in this beautiful area is pretty high, but it’s ok.  That’s why they share – everybody saves money, everybody wins!

So, here we are in this fantasy like wonderland, when I start to feel sick.  Really sick.  And tired.  And you can guess the rest.

One minute I’m a self-employed wedding florist, celebrating her husband’s first day at his new full-time IT job only two suburbs away, the next, I’m staring at the incriminating stripe on a positive pregnancy test strip.

I’m bewildered.  I’m not unhappy – just shocked.  Rather unintelligent really considering my husband and I hadn’t used contraception in over 16 months, but still stupidly shocked.

Ok, so we had been trying to fall pregnant, but we kinda figured one of us might be “broken”.  We weren’t really that concerned, we still had another two years before we would have become worried.  Also, we’d recently figured it wasn’t going to happen yet, and I refocused my energies on more work.  We’d also just signed another 12 month lease on the house, what would our housemates think?  Also, while my husband was very keen to become a Dad, I didn’t really know if I wanted to be a Mum – I just trusted I’d be happy if it happened.

But enough of that – there’s the really important concern:  What if it’s ugly?  I mean, really ugly?  Everyone says “Oh don’t worry, every mother thinks her baby is beautiful”.  That’s exactly what scares me!  What if I had the most hideous child known to man, and was proudly crowing over it’s adorableness while polite strangers choked out half-hearted responses?  What sort of life would my child have?

I’ve experienced High School – baby if you’re not good looking, you got no chance!  Even employers (sub-consciously or otherwise) judge employees upon appearance.  And whilst I personally think Dave is the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on, I’m not really sure what he sees in me.  I mean, sure, I had something for a few years.  Most of my childhood and teenage years were spent in front of a mirror, finding every flaw I could from my “nose that spread halfway across my face” (my personal belief) to my jaw that made me “look like a man” (as observed by two different friends).  After leaving school, and discovering by the rows of drooling boys falling at my feet, that I was quite gorgeous, I proceeded to settle down, and become fat and frumpy, so heaven help the child who takes after me.

As for Dave, despite being quite lean, he has the long, sinewy physique that really pushes my buttons.  His full, luscious lips beg to be kissed, and his rich, chocolatey eyes are fringed with the darkest, lushest eyelashes I’ve ever seen.  He’s the absolute epitomy of the phrase “tall, dark, and handsome” but there’s one teensy, tiny problem – Dave is covered in hair.  Lots of it.  Thick, dark, long, wiry hair.  Shaving needs to be done daily, and a full beard can be achieved in a week.  We’re both awaiting the moment when the baby is born, and the doctor cries “Congratulations!  You have a beautiful, baby wombat!”