Passion, Pregnancy and the Promise of the Rapture

  • The service having id "propeller" is missing, reactivate its module or save again the list of services.
  • The service having id "buzz" is missing, reactivate its module or save again the list of services.
Passion, Pregnancy and the Promise of the Rapture

Long before I got knocked up, or more accurately, as soon as I paid all that money to get myself knocked up at the Batzofin Fertility Clinic, people told me how amazing my sex life would be when I did get pregnant. I was sure to be a ball of sexual tension with all those pregnant hormones racing through my already passionate blood. Strangers and friends alike would go on and on in hushed and breathy tones about the multiple orgasms, the lack of inhibitions, the sexy monster that would come with the certain rise in libido. I was a bit apprehensive about what new heights of daring this rabid sexual awakening would bring for this already liberated lesbian. In short, I was a bit worried about what it would make me do. I imagined myself, gigantic belly and breasts heaving, barely balanced on the sink of some dirty bathroom in Brooklyn, pinning my then lover to the wall, begging her to "Please, please, baby, touch me on the inside," while she squirmed to avoid falling onto the pee-stained toilet seat, trying not to hurt my hormonal feelings, lest she be left dealing with the wrath of a pregnant woman scorned.

But to be completely candid, I was also looking forward to it.

As I get older, I find myself less inclined to run my hands up my lover's skirt if there's a chance someone else might see. I remember with such giddy pleasure, when a roomful of preachers (or poets in Chicago) could not stop my girlfriend from doing the sort of things I cannot write about here. We were young and had no qualms pretending to listen to the angst of some earnest performer reading from a tattered journal about some lost love or unrequited fervor. The only ingredients we required to cross these lines of impropriety were desire and poor lighting. These days I am so much tamer. I'm actually almost boring myself. I don't know if it's just the years, or the series of failed relationships behind me, but against my will, I am acquiring a sense of respectability. So this impending period of wild abandon, this era of uncontained eroticism was something I was really looking forward to experiencing.

Then the week before I got pregnant my relationship ended.

And when did I find out I was pregnant all the joy and relief and expectation for the child to come