Free Emily Taylor - The Teenage Mum by Vi Grim Page A

ratings at the
polls are down,' pleads the President.
'Why,' I ask.
'The health care reform, the
war I inherited and the missile attack that killed Azziz, Son of
God and that girl Emily,'
'That girl Emily, that's
me!'
The President is silent for a
moment, then says, 'Oops, sorry Emily!'
'I should think so!'
'I know it's a big ask but
could you just do a little something to help, a major natural
disaster like a hurricane strike on New York would be perfect.
Sandy is forming in the Caribbean right now.'
'You're not getting any help
from me. That's cheating!'
'All is fair in love and
politics. I'll ask the other guys, just thought I'll try you
first.'
    'Well, good
luck to you Mr President,' I
say, and break the connection. The cheek of it!
What other guys?

 
     
     
11
     
When I start waddling, I try to
get up courage to ask Dr Florence along. The baby may arrive early
and we need to be prepared.
I'm scared to ask her to come.
She probably won't approve. I'm not married and not even fifteen.
Just thinking about it, I can feel her vibes. She'll probably wash
my mouth out with soap and scrub me with a scrubbing brush until
I'm pink all over and cleansed of my sins.
'What do you think?' I ask
Castor.
'Hmmm,' he answers, obviously
thinking the same as me.
'Is there anyone else?'
'Not really, there's a quack
and a witch doctor on Zwingly, but Florence is your best bet.'
I'm tempted to just have the
baby. It would probably be okay but I'd never forgive myself if
something went wrong, like the baby lived and I died. Then it would
have no mum or dad.
'I'll tell her it was an
immaculate conception, she'll understand that.'
'She just might,' says Castor,
'and it's not too far from the truth.'
'Only about a mile,' I say,
giving him a wink.
     
Jesus fetches her.
After all the worry, she's
surprisingly cool about me being pregas.
'Children are a gift from God,'
she says, and looking at my tummy adds, 'God is obviously smiling
on you.'
It's a bit of a contrast from
having Janice stay. We wash the whole house down with vinegar, eat
gruel for breakfast and say prayers three times a day. I can't
swear, not even a proxy or a piffle, and have to watch my Ps and
Qs. How badly do I want a midwife?
Luckily my baby arrives early,
he wasn't expected until after Jesus's birthday but he's dead keen
to get out and start his footballing career.
     
The baby has stopped moving so
much, he has no space to move. The only direction to go is out, and
out he comes. I won't go into all the details expect to say that
it's like giving birth to a glasshouse. I need a lot of stitches
and have to sit on a donut shaped cushion for a couple of weeks.
It's a conspiracy; they keep it secret how bad it is. No one would
have any babies otherwise. It's very messy, very painful, and very
noisy and I'm not doing it again! When he comes out, he's all
covered with white stuff.
I think he's dead, then
he cries. It must be such a shock for him to be out in the big wide
world after being cocooned in my warm, cosy insides. He's probably
half sloshed after the triple whiskey Jesus gave me when I
threatened him with death if he didn't give me painkillers. Zinny's
lovely, his head is all distorted, sort of squished.
     
He doesn't have a willy.
At first I think he does but it's just the umbilical cord. I was
right; he’s a she!
I'm sure she'll be a great
footballer with all the practice she's had!
I put her against my breast.
She searches around until she finds a nipple and latches on.
Jesus says that the natural way
of doing things is to chew through the umbilical cord and eat the
placenta. I leave things to Dr Florence who clamps and neatly snips
the cord.
     
Wow! I have a baby! That's the
easy bit done, what do I do now?
     
Zinny doesn't have a name. I
had thought of a few boys’ names but I was waiting until I saw him
to make my mind up. Daisy, no; Jennifer, no; Louise, no; Caroline,
yes, that will do nicely, and I will call her a Tuareg name for her
middle name, Nwella