There are two halves to most women’s lives, clearly divided: BC (Before Children) and AD (After Delivery). As was the case with Jesus (should you be religiously inclined), welcoming a child into your life causes time to start all over again. Such is the significance. For most, as soon as that second faint blue line appears on the pregnancy test, there comes a complete mental shift in attitude, long before any physical changes are apparent. The carefree, party-til-dawn kinda girl is immediately replaced by a responsible vision of virtue, much like the revered Virgin Mary herself.<\/p>\n
Whether the newly-discovered foetus in her womb was the result of a drunken quickie or carefully-planned conception, it makes little difference once the nurturing instinct kicks in. No sooner has the pee dried on the plastic stick than she’s tossing that half-empty bottle of Malbec in the wheelie bin and snapping up the Marlboro Lights in disgust. The devil’s horns of yesterday’s vices are discarded along with the duck liver pate in the fridge, cast aside with the blue cheese and the sushi. Out comes the halo and the wholesome holistic lifestyle. Mung-beans and muesli are on the mummy-to-be menu. For now she is about to enter Life: Part 2.
\nShit’s about to get real.<\/p>\n
Of course, she always knew this day would come. Usually, it’s a welcome relief. As much as she loved the clubbing circuit and hectic social scene, she was secretly growing a little tired of the accompanying hangovers, the wasted Sundays (in both senses of the word). Now she can decline the invites with a simple sage pat of the tum, without the insistence that “you simply MUST come!”<\/p>\n