Getting Preggas - Romantic Comedy Novella


Andy and Sara have been trying to have a baby going on two years now. At first they really didn’t notice that it was taking that long — after all, the pleasure is in the trying and chores such as vacuuming doesn’t really compare to the ‘chore’ of becoming pregnant. But when they start to notice their friends’ expanding families, one-sided invitations to christenings, baptisms and first birthday parties, things start to get desperate.


And desperate times call for desperate measures.


When Sara puts all of her faith into their doctor’s recommendation that perhaps they are just trying too hard, Sara sticks to her goal. One whole month without special cuddles, much to Andy’s consternation. After all, Sara needs to build up those little wrigglers. They have a serious job to do!


A fun novella of Children Gifted Friends — CGF’s, a Collins Street Specialist — CSS, cats with stray claws, a case of not-so-sexy Arachnophobia and of course, trying to get pregnant.

Andy and I have been trying to have a baby going on two years now. At first, we didn’t really notice the months slip past. We thought it was just taking us a little longer than normal to conceive. Then we noticed the increase of baby showers, baptisms, naming days, christenings. Even first birthday parties. Our friends would only speak of breastfeeding issues, nappies, vomit, various bodily functions and sleep deprivation.


We weren’t even pregnant yet for me to start complaining about back pain, stretch marks and morning sickness. We were exiled to the ‘Outer Circle’, relegated to listening to conversations we couldn’t take part in because we had no idea what our friends were on about.


There wasn’t even a hint of a phantom pregnancy. Other women tumbled into the esteemed state of pregnancy without difficulty, ditching birth control for only one or two cycles before creating new life. My friend Susan only had to iron her husband’s shorts before she became pregnant.

Our Children-Gifted Friends — CGF’s — began looking upon us with pity. Their eyes would scream, ‘You too can be as happy as we are with our beautiful bundles of dribble and joy. Keep trying. It will happen.’


They wore their babies like accessories, packed into slings and pouches, or propped in space-age strollers while they strode along the footpaths in an array of the latest fashion colors, matching shoes and nappy bags. Didn’t you know that babies are the new Prada, dah-link!


In my frustration I would imagine the CGF’s standing by our bedside coaching us, ‘A little more to the left. No. The right. Quickly now, her temperature is peaking, she’ll be ovulating in three point oh seconds. The stars are aligned, an eclipse is due at four thirty in the morning. One more thrust. That’s it! Good on you, we’ll be expecting a new arrival in approximately nine months, will we?’


The team would then high-five each other and pat each other on the back. Meanwhile the men would slip out into the kitchen for a beer and the women would help me keep my legs in the air so the wrigglers would reach their target.