Me and babies.

The topic of having children have come up multiple times during my almost decade-old relationship with Gareth. Very early on, we decided that we would put off having children for as long as possible for a few reasons – too expensive, too inconvenient, too much work, too painful etc etc etc.

Our beliefs were further reinforced after we got Charlie, our dog. It was quite tough having Charlie at first. As a puppy, he pooped and peed everywhere, he vomited after every meal due to his fish allergy and he howled or barked the entire time he’s left alone at home. So many times I toyed with the idea of giving him away! Thanks to Charlie, we just naturally figured that having a human child would entail all those problems, times a million.

# – Wanted to throw this furry ball away when he was a puppy.

I was never good with babies or young children anyway. I didn’t find them particularly endearing. Sure, there had been kids who were just adorable and had managed to occupy my attention for more than 10 minutes, but I’d eventually lose interest. I actually dreaded going to baby full moon parties because I fear that the parents would expect me to carry their precious newborns!

If I saw a friend pushing a baby stroller in a mall or something, I would deliberate walk the opposite direction to avoid having conversations about babies.

Gareth, on the other hand, is far more accepting of having children. I knew very early on that despite my reservations, I will want to have babies for his sake, but on the condition that I get to cut it out of my belly while I was 100% knocked out. Yeap, “cut it out”. Verbatim.

I also accidentally exclaimed to a then-acquaintance-now-friend, that I will only go for c-sections because I do not want a mangled vagina. This friend, upon hearing those words that came out of my mouth, told me, very stoically, that she does not have a mangled vagina after giving birth naturally to 4 beautiful kids. I felt like a twat.

Honestly, I really didn’t think my perceptions of having children would change but….

Recently, I’ve been strangely drawn to reading mother forums. I get excited when I see expensive used designer strollers being sold for cheap on Facebook. I think about children’s names a lot. I tell Gareth things like we’re going to eschew formula and feed our babies with my milk/cow’s milk. I rack my brains over how to mosquito-proof babies. I look forward to seeing my colleague’s baby girl’s pictures on her Facebook. I get fascinated by stories of different parenting methods.

No, no, no. I’m not pregnant. We haven’t even started trying. Although I would really love to.

# – With a friend’s adorable son at our wedding.

From years of not wanting to have babies to suddenly feeling like I need to be pregnant, now. Of course, I get unusually worried about my chances of getting pregnant. I wish I had taken care of my body better. I get very sad when my period gets really painful (which it does every damn month) because I fear it’s a sign that something’s wrong with me. Gareth told me to stop being so negative and let nature takes its course. Besides, should things get difficult, there’s always IVF.

While writing this blog post, Gareth suddenly messaged me and gave me the link to this adorable video of a kid’s stick figure halloween costume.

I can’t even!!! I want to buy a lot of LED lights.

The hand

I had just gotten back from Bangkok – 5 days away from the hubby.

So when we were in bed, I was particularly tender and loving; cradling his arm while I was slowly dozing off.

Then he held my hand and funnily, I thought his hand felt unusually smaller than usual. So, I asked him what’s up with his hand.

He was like, what?

“Didn’t you just hold me? I’m asking about your hand”.


“You didn’t hold my hand?”, I asked again.

“No. Go to sleep”.

At this point I swear I was on the verge of tears. I was like, don’t fuck with me!!

“I swear a hand held my hand!!!”

There was silence.

Longest fucking silence in my life.

Then he laughed.

My scumbag husband laughed.

The subject of divorce

Even after almost a decade together, I still find myself learning things about my better half.

The day we stop learning about each other is the day we stop caring and that would be the end of our marriage. Just the thought of it is both heartbreaking and inconceivable.

I guess that too would be the day I die.


We had a huge fight recently and broached the subject of D. Before I continue, obviously we have sorted both our grievances out.

Anyway, after we made up, the hubs mentioned that he read something about men earning 17% more after divorce while women 11% less after divorce.

Then he smiled like a troll.

I told him if we ever split up, he better be earning 300% more to spite me because I’d land a stud that would put his net worth to shame.

He asked me how in hell would I be able to do that.

“Well, first I’d get fitter. Then I’d get a subtle nose job. Possibly growing my hair long again cause men love that sort of thing. A new wardrobe of course. All with the money I got from our hypothetical divorce and some extra aiding by my awesome personality.”