Mother of an Eleven Year Old.

I'm not sure how I got to this place. I was in my third marriage, he was eight years my junior. I was in my upper forties and never imagined I could get pregnant. Until the little stick said I was. I was joyful for him. He had a daughter and I wanted to give him a son. I was very much in love, that's the thing about love you want to give everything you possibly can to your loved one.

On my long monotonous ride to work everyday my mind wandered and one day just like the song from Carousel when Billy Bigelow said:
"Wait a minute!
Could it be?
What the hell!
What if he is a girl?" 
Tears filled my eyes. Until that moment I had not allowed myself to think about having a girl.
I had never thought of having a child who may be like me, some who could be an extension of myself.
I had an abortion at 21. I was sure I would or should be punished for that.

At my age my pregnancy was considered "high risk", which means the Doctors watched me like a hawk.
It got to the point where I was no longer embarrassed carrying my 24 hour jug of urine into the clinic. I found out it was a girl after my Amniocenteses. Tests, tests and more tests. Shortly after my third
month I was tested for gestational diabetes. I drank the glucose in the early morning before work, by the time I was finishing lunch I had an appointment arranged for me at three pm that day to see an endocrinologist, By four pm I was being taught how to use the insulin and give myself a needle. It was an awful lot to take in within less than a twenty four hour period. But I just kept my mind on a healthy little girl. 

After awhile I became very las a faire about giving myself needles and pricking myself. I would usually go into the bathroom stall. I was always discrete, and able to get the whole ordeal over with pretty quickly. I was recently out in public and I saw an old women taking up the entire sink area and grossing everyone out by doing it in public. 

I felt bad for the women that just wanted to apply her lipstick, and primp her hair. After all who's to know if she had not just spent five minutes in the stall, with her own diabetic paraphernalia.