by Hodge, Sibel
She clapped her hands together and grinned like a loved-up teenager. Then she held out her left hand so we could inspect the huge rock on her ring finger. ‘He proposed.’
‘Bloody hell!’ I said as Amelia and I stared at it with appreciation. ‘Omigod! I’m so happy for you.’
‘That’s fantastic,’ Amelia said. ‘Come on, we want all the juicy gossip. What happened when we left?’
‘He said it was a big shock for him. That he did want to settle down and have kids in the future, but this was a bit sudden, and it had taken him completely by surprise, which is why he had to think about it for a while.’ She paused for breath. ‘I mean that’s understandable. But he said he knew I was the girl for him, even though we’d only been together for three months. Under normal circumstances he would’ve waited longer to propose, but now this has happened, he said what was the point in wasting any more time when he knew it was right, and...’ She glanced down at her ring, a goofy smile plastered all over her face. ‘He wanted to make a commitment to me and show how much he loved me, and that he was going to be there to support me.’
I stared at the happiness radiating from her face. OK, so it was sudden and unexpected, but who was to say it wouldn’t work out between them? If they loved each other enough, and I suspected they did, that was all that mattered. I had a good feeling that everything would be fine, and I was genuinely happy for her. But, deep down, the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head. I stared at her still-small stomach and felt a knife of jealousy stab me in mine.
‘When’s the wedding?’ Amelia asked. ‘I hope we’re both going to be bridesmaids. Then she pulled a face. ‘As long as you don’t make me wear a ginormous puffy dress that makes me look about twenty stone.’ She grinned.
‘You two are definitely going to be bridesmaids. And we thought we’d wait until after the baby is born to tie the knot. I don’t really want to be pregnant in my wedding pictures, and I think we need a bit of time living together before we get married. He’s moving the first of his stuff in tomorrow,’ Kerry said.
‘Wow, it’s so exciting,’ Amelia cried.
‘Now I just have to tell my mum. She’ll freak. She didn’t even know I was seeing anyone, let alone that I’m pregnant and engaged.’ Kerry grimaced at the thought.
‘And how are you feeling?’ I nodded at Kerry’s stomach. ‘Any morning sickness yet?’
‘Nope. Nothing. I just feel full of energy. It’s amazing. Now, enough about me.’ She smiled at me. ‘What’s on your feng shui shopping list?’ She squeezed my hand to let me know she knew how hard it must be to deal with all her pregnancy stuff.
I pulled my list out of my bag. ‘A pair of elephants, a pair of dragons, a wind chime, two pictures of pomegranates, a fruit tree, and candles.’
Amelia downed the last of her latte. ‘Aren’t you drinking that?’ She tilted her head towards my wee tea.
I scowled at it. ‘It’s yuck.’
‘Come on, then, let’s go and get your stuff.’ Kerry stood up and gave me a hug.
****
Five department stores, one DIY store, and about a million other stores later, I only had one thing left to get: The pair of elephants. Everyone must’ve been on a wild elephant-buying spree lately because there were none anywhere.
‘This is the last shop we can try.’ Amelia stood outside a knick-knack shop at the far edge of town.
Inside, we browsed the Indian wood carvings, glass candle holders, and furniture, trying to ignore a gigantic woman (who could’ve been Hulk Hogan in drag, I wasn’t entirely sure) shouting at her two kids.
‘Pack that in, or I’ll give you a smack round the head,’ she said to a snotty-nosed boy of about six who had picked up a carving of a snake. ‘You stupid little brat,’ she said to a sweet-looking girl of about four, whose hair was matted and dirty.
‘But I’m not doing anything, Mummy,’ the girl said, then tried to hug her mother’s legs.
Hulkess pushed the girl away. ‘Get off! I’m getting bleeding sick of you both.’
Distressed, the girl stood in the shop and burst into tears, looking at her mum with longing.
‘Can I have this?’ the boy held up the snake to his mum.
‘No. You’re not getting anything. You got something for your birthday. You’ll have to wait until Christmas to get more. And stop asking me for stuff all the time.’ Hulkess roughly pulled the boy away from the snake and then promptly ignored him.
I glared at her.
The little girl’s sobs were getting louder. ‘Can I have a cuddle, Mummy?’ She looked up at her mum with huge, dark eyes that were so sad they made me want to scoop her up and run off with her.
Hulkess didn’t even look up from examining the tea light holder she had in her giant hands. ‘No. You can have a smack if you carry on. Stop your sodding whinging, the pair of you. I’ve had enough.’
I quickly scoured the shelves, wanting to get out of there before I did something I’d regret, like smack the horrible woman over the head with a heavy wooden lion. How could she be so nasty to her children? And why was it some people who weren’t fit to be parents, and didn’t seem to care about their children, managed to be lucky enough to conceive? It just wasn’t fair.
I was just about to give up hope of ever finding any elephants when I spied a plastic box that held two beautifully carved wooden ones.
As I reached out and grabbed the box with excitement, I saw someone else’s hand appear in my line of vision and grab it at the same time.
I glanced up and saw Hulkess’s fat sausage fingers holding onto the box.
‘Er…excuse me, but I saw them first,’ I said, tightening my own grip on the box. There was no way I was letting these babies go.
‘No you didn’t,’ she said in a gruff voice.
‘Yes, I did.’ I pulled it towards me, but she didn’t let go.
‘Nah. I did.’ She pulled it back towards her, almost popping my arm out of its socket.
‘Give it back,’ I said.
‘No.’ She glared at me. ‘You gonna make me?’
‘Mummy,’ the little girl wailed. ‘I need to go to toilet.’
‘Shut up!’ she snapped at her daughter without looking around.
‘These are my elephants.’ I pulled them back towards me and narrowed my eyes at her, hoping there wouldn’t be a full-on elephant fight. Hulkess would probably get me in a headlock or do a big body drop on me and I’d be a goner. But I was knackered from shopping, pissed off that everyone else in the world seemed to be able to get pregnant except me, and my hormones were going through the roof. Plus, the woman seemed like a complete bitch who didn’t give a shit about her kids, and clearly wasn’t fit to be a parent. I needed a fertility elephant more than she did.
‘Oh, yeah? And who says so?’ She stepped closer, her face menacingly close to mine as her top lip curled up.
I stuck my chin up in the air and straightened my back, hoping to appear taller than my five foot five. It didn’t do much good, since she was still towering over me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kerry, Amelia, and the tiny Asian woman who was serving at the counter, staring at me open-mouthed.
‘I say so,’ I insisted, my voice getting louder as I wondered what I could do to get them off her. Elbow her in the ribs? No, she probably wouldn’t even feel it with all the meat on her.
‘Mummy,’ the little girl wailed. ‘I need to go wee wee.’
‘Shut up, you little bugger,’ Hulkess snapped.
That just did it for me. I saw red, and a whole lot of other colours, too. I stamped on her fat foot as hard as I could with my high-heeled boots, grinding my heel in. Yes, I know, I know. That was a really horrible thing to do, especially in front of her poor children, but she deserved it.
She let out a scream and let go of the elephants, bending down to rub her foot. ‘You fuckin’ bitch.’
‘Don’t swear in front of your kids,’ I hissed. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are to have them!’ I stamped on her
other foot just for using the F-word in front of them.
Before she could punch me in the face, or do a Hulk Hogan special on me, I ran past the Asian woman, threw twenty pounds on the counter, and legged it out of there.
Will I Ever Get Pregnant?
Another two periods later, I’d given up hope of the feng shui working. Karl didn’t actually come out and say, “It was a ridiculous idea, and I told you so,” but I knew that’s what he was thinking. And it was pretty stupid. I mean, how could planting a fruit tree or buying a ridiculous pomegranate picture get you pregnant?
Poppy was regularly going on about Spirit and Destiny magazine that she bought, which had lots of horoscopes and feel-good articles about holistic health. Apparently, it had inspirational stories each month that covered guardian angels, mind and body well-being, white magic, spiritual healing, and experts in psychic phenomena. I did wonder, if it was written by psychics, then why couldn’t they just telepathically send it to you, instead of printing up a whole magazine each month, but I was desperate, and maybe something in there would help me find answers about myself that could help. Was I really self-sabotaging? Was my fufu chakra blocked? Could I find a guardian angel to help me conceive?
After reading “How to unlock your intuition”, “Open your spiritual cash converter”, “Guardian Angels are all around you”, “Natural ways to win the cold war”, and “The new moon and you”, I was none the wiser. I did, however, find some pages at the back with numbers for psychic hotlines that promised “Genuine psychic readings by proven and gifted mediums, psychics, and Tarot card readers.” Yes, it was probably equally ridiculous but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Will I get pregnant?” I quickly fired off a text to ANGEL111.
I tapped my foot, waiting for a reply, wondering if I’d completely lost it this time.
“My magic ball of 6 says YES!” came the reply.
“Will I have more than one?” I fired back.
“My divination rod is aquiver with YES!” the text said.
“When?” I asked.
“The answer is YES! But keep it a big secret!” it read.
I glared at the phone. OK, maybe it was just a technical hitch. Maybe the mobile phone signals messed up their psychic vibes or something.
I tried another number.
“Will I get pregnant?” I rattled off.
“You will achieve your dreams,” was the reply.
“When?”
“When the full moon is in the sky.”
Which bloody full moon?
“Which month and year?” I texted, sighing with impatience.
“Yes.”
Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
I should’ve given up then, but I needed to get an answer. I turned to the text Tarot card reading numbers next. All I had to do was concentrate on my question, then text them, and I’d receive three tarot cards with the answer.
Five minutes later, I got a bunch of pinging text messages back.
The first one said: “Seven of Swords – Plans may fail. Success will not be complete.”
The second one said: “The Chariot – Victory and success in your world.”
The third one said: “The Knight of Cups – Look for a message or sign.”
What did they mean? Would I fail or succeed? And why did I have to look for a message? That’s why I was bloody texting them!
I clenched my eyes shut, concentrating on my question, then texted another tarot line, waiting with bated breath for the reply.
“The Two of Swords: Relationships are rife with tension.”
“The Ten of Cups reversed: Betrayal and failure. The loss of love and friendships.”
“The Ace of Swords reversed: Loss and infertility are likely.”
NO! No, no, no! I didn’t like the sound of that one at all.
Maybe if I just tried another one…
Ooh, what’s that? My eye caught a website in the back of the magazine that advertised spells. I quickly went online and looked up a fertility spell. What did I have to lose? I just wouldn’t mention it to Karl, who thought my behaviour lately was bordering on insane.
I jotted everything down that I’d need:
A white candle
A green candle
Frankincense incense
A drawstring pouch
A rose quartz crystal
Sprig of fresh rosemary
A fresh egg
A fresh fig
A glass bowl
A sharp knife
A pen
A shovel
A symbol of your desire to have a baby (baby clothes, rattle, etc)
It was dark outside by the time I’d had a trip to the supermarket, New Age shop, and the shed. Finally, I was good to go.
I decided to do it in the bedroom, since that seemed more like a good place to magically enhance my fertility. After lugging everything upstairs, I read the instructions through carefully five times before beginning.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, placed the candles in front of me with a gap in the middle, and lit them. Then I worried that maybe I shouldn’t have the bedroom light on in case the electricity interfered with the magic energy so I leapt up to turn it off, which then made it a bit difficult to see the instructions I’d written down.
OK, what next?
Put the egg on the left of you, the fig on the right, and the bowl in the middle. Then place the symbol of your desire to have a baby in front of the bowl.
Since I couldn’t decide on only one appropriate symbol for my baby, I’d bought several: a gorgeous, soft pink teddy bear, two pairs of teensy pink socks, a pink dummy, and the cutest little pink baby booties ever. OK, so if it was a boy, it might have a few gender issues with all the pink going on, but I couldn’t resist them.
I arranged everything carefully and looked at the next instructions.
Put a rose quartz crystal and some fresh rosemary in the drawstring bag and place it in front of the bowl.
Check.
Draw a fertility symbol or a symbol of your child on the egg.
Damn. What should I draw? It could be crucial to the whole thing. A dummy? A pram? What was the symbol of fertility? Was it one of those weird circles with a plus sign in it, or was I getting mixed up with something else? Should I draw a pregnant woman?
I tapped my lips with the pen. A willy! That was it. Didn’t all those fertility gods have humongous willies? Yes, I distinctly remembered going to Dorset one summer with Karl and finding that chalk fertility symbol of a naked man on the hillside. His was huge!
I drew a big willy on the side of the egg, then sat back and studied it. Was that a clear enough message? Just in case the spell got lost in translation and gave Karl a penis extension or genital warts instead, I drew a baby. Because drawing had never been my strong point it ended up looking more like a cross between a kid with a square head and an elephant.
Break the egg into the bowl and place the empty shell on the left.
I made sure I didn’t spill a drop down the side of it as I cracked the egg.
Make a small cut in the fig and carefully scrape the seeds into the bowl.
Hmm…this bit was a little messy. Fig juice ran down my hands and plopped onto the white carpet.
Crap! I rubbed at it with my finger, turning it into a blobby mess. I didn’t want to stop the spell and get a cloth. If I interrupted it, who knows what might happen? I’d probably end up ruining it completely and being granted a lifetime supply of dishcloths by the magic kitchen fairy. I ignored the stain and carried on. I’d just move a plant pot over it if it didn’t come out and hope Karl never noticed.
Place the rest of the fig into the egg shell. This represents the presence of your baby in the womb. Then put it on your left side.
I gouged out the flesh from the fig and patted it into the shell, being careful not to break the delicate egg.
With your finger, stir the contents of the bowl three times clockwise.
Did it matter w
hich finger?
I used the gouging finger since that one was already dirty.
Repeat these words:
With this spell I call upon all good powers!
I call to the Goddess of life and ask you to hear me.
May the Goddess bless me with a child.
I bring love to start my family,
I bring energy to start my family.
Accept my small token of fertility as the commitment to my child.
Then I had to leave the candles to burn down while silently chanting, I am ready to love my child, over and over again.
After I smelt the burnt wicks sizzling out, I looked at the next instructions.
Take the bowl and eggshells into the garden with the symbol of your baby and bury them.
I dug a hole at the far end of the garden so Karl wouldn’t notice it, then put the baby stuff and eggshells in and poured the contents of the bowl on top of them. I covered it up saying, ‘Mother Earth, please accept my symbol of fertility in return for your gift of joy.’
I looked at the final instructions.
Place the drawstring bag with quartz and rosemary under your pillow and await a child to grow inside you without anxiety.
Without anxiety? Hello?
The Taliban Torturer
Next up in my arsenal of relaxation and fertility was yoga. I checked out the classes at our local gym and booked myself in for a beginner to intermediate class at 10 a.m. the next day. As I got dressed in some comfy leggings and a T-shirt I started to look forward to it. Poppy was always going on about how good yoga made her feel. Yep, this would definitely calm me down and stop all the anxiety.
When I arrived, the class was packed full of the blue-rinse brigade. About thirty men and women over the age of sixty-five were standing around chatting like they’d known each other for years. I must’ve been the youngest one there. Was this OAPs’ discount day? Still, they looked a pretty supple bunch.
The teacher, who was about a hundred years old himself, walked to the front of the class. His posture was amazing, straight back, elongated neck, not a slouchy bit in sight. I took note of my own slightly rounded shoulders and pulled them back.