Ovalution by Róise Nic An Bheatha

Pregnant, two hours after conception. Technology these days tried for months. Cried. Sobs woke you. On bathroom floor, lying was comforted. You asked wrong. A positive sign clutched to chest was right. Happy news you said but cried. You, loved. A Father, never a mother with equal opportunities; more a house wife? Content

being a woman.

Young we had a house. A concern of pregnancy; new procedures would take care. Happy needing nine months. A hospital visit we don’t argue. Love. For child. Stupid was dangerous? Scared you were.

Of me.

Hormones; an excuse to not understand. Hospital Hate Politetronising. Everyone is sick. Pregnant. Confused. Options. Remember, hope you don’t. She smiled strange. Birthing plans not natural anymore. Laughed at high risk. Simpler to take leaflet called Ovalution. Easier. Now turn to laugh. Out loud silly name. Embarrassed you’d done research. Start when?

You didn’t come kiss pressed to belly. Crying everything will be alright whispered to it. Take care our child you don’t hear. Taken to white room. Bright room where door and wall begun. You not there. Lay down on chair. She came with procedure our child in good hands. Lay back. Lay back. Lay back and sighed

it over.

Removed she smiling, nursing tiny egg. Placed into seconds and said your child. A reaction; a smile? Lost something forgotten thing but not quite sure. Little egg no bigger than thumb, a child inside shiny white exterior. Carry child incubator egg. No more inside nothing but wait. Pursue a career life not pregnant. Technology these days. Saving time convenient. Convenient; not real.

Egg in box, in car home placed incubator. You stroked cold hard shell child inside. Distanced stroked stomach smooth flat. A figure worth keeping bare flesh feeling no longer there.

Life went on. Waiting for you and it. Pull chair over look at white oval. Stare hard enough, the egg glare shell invoke emotion but its exterior made shiver. Mother cracked premature egg. Murderess; baby killer; Death threat trial. Mentally unstable in end mad not blamed.

Egg grew anger. Proximity. You concerned. Touch egg incubator. Relished seconds of contact. Inconvenient time till touch egg. You there held too long angry. You worried repeating ‘hormones’ and ‘normal’. Nothing normal no growth ups and downs. Proof of existence? You got scared when left alone. Could you not see distance white shell breeze block wall. First month love gone with you. Out of shell WHAT? Nine months by never pregnant.

Nine months. Hospital. Egg taken away. Waiting nine months pacing you nervousness. Nurse not worry. Egg crack with time but wasted much. You calling like bliss all these months followed your voice crying. Pain spasm back release something. Blurred white dot shell cracked by scream. Emerging from shell in distance stopped little thing up these waiting months to fix us. What is it?

RÓISE NIC AN BHEATHA was born and raised in the North of Ireland. In 2011 she moved to Edinburgh. Róise is an undergraduate at the University of Glasgow where she studies Scottish Literature. She loves to write in her spare time and has had multiple works published online and in magazines. Róise is currently on a one year study exchange at Simon Fraser University, in Vancouver.

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