Can we try again?

Twenty-three

Samira

I first noticed it on Sunday morning.

I'd come out of the bathroom after taking a shower and as I stood naked in front of the mirror, I saw it.

The little bulge in my stomach.

How did it happen? I hadn't noticed it before now. Did it happen overnight? Or have I not been paying attention to my body.

My breath caught in my throat, as I stood there for minutes staring at it. Oh my God. There were definitely changes in my body now. Visible changes. I could see them. This was for real. It was happening. If at all, I'd had any little doubts before, with these changes, it had now been quashed.

I didn't know if I should be happy or if I should burst into tears. Although, I had now come to terms that this was my life and there was no point in me crying over it. Nothing will change about it. So move on.

So I would become fat now. Wearing crop tops to show off my flat tummy would now be a thing of the past. I guess it's the sacrifices mums have to go through. I put my hands on my abdomen and gave it a little rub.

My little baby.

It felt weird saying that out loud, or even thinking about it. I'm not so far from being a child myself, so the thought of me being a mother, gives me the jitters. But this was happening. It was my reality. Inside of me, is another being, growing every second of every minute of every day. And I would birth that child in less than 6 months.

At least, I've now accepted the situation as it is. I can think about it without bursting into tears like I used to when it had just happened.

How long would it be until everyone noticed?

How long till people begin to whisper amongst themselves?

Do I really care about that now?

I put back the dress I'd brought out to wear and choose something else. Something bigger and baggier, to mask the bump in my stomach. I'd try my best to keep this away form the eye of the public until I couldn't anymore.

But then, what's the big idea? People are going to know anyway, so why all these stress?

Whatever.

After breakfast, I sat outside in the balcony waiting for my parents and my sister to get ready. I was flicking through the pages of the magazine I held in front me when all of a sudden I felt dizzy and weak. Did I eat too much for breakfast?

I stood up and walked from one end to the verandah to the other, taking in deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

I sat down again. I definitely wasn't feeling up to it. I didn't think I could go to church in this state.

My stomach. Growling. Churning. Oh no. Not this again. Deep breaths. In. Out.

This wasn't because of what I ate for breakfast.

I sprang up quickly from the chair and dashed inside the house.

"Aisha, Samira, are you girls ready to . . ." I raced past my mum who was walking down the stairs, still trying to adjust her gele (head scarf).

"Samira, what's the matter?" I heard her call after me, but I didn't wait. I couldn't. Straight into the bathroom I went and threw up into the toilet bowl. My mum followed me. She saw me squatted over the toilet bowl, retching, but didn't say anything. She just rubbed my back in circling motions.

It was minutes until I was finished. My mum assisted me up. "Are you feeling okay now?" she asked.

I nodded. "Get some water and rinse your mouth," she said and I did so.