Week 4 - "Family" - Laura

I've had hairy toes for long enough to know I might never be a mother. In fact the only reason I've just peed on a stick is to nip the hope Noreen gave me in work today when she insisted I was pregnant in the bud. Admittedly I had actually fallen asleep at my desk. And she doesn't even know I had cheese - which I don't even like - for lunch after passing a little shop close to the office with its smelly wares on display.

There's three minutes left until I confirm that Noreen's wrong. That there will be no little romper suits in our house in a year. No little person innocently reclaiming the word 'romp' from the front page headlines of the tabloids in those romper suits. None of the cute accoutrements that come with little people. No moses basket, no pram, no tiny little socks, no baby bath sitting in our regular-sized one, no crocheted baby blanket Nana would have begun within minutes of hearing there was another great-grandchild in the making.

Two minutes and 35 seconds. Really, I've no idea why I'm even doing this. In just over two minutes Clearblue is going to mock me, telling me I should have spent the money on a decent bottle of wine to go with the steaks Ross is making for dinner instead. It's not like I'm not aware of what's going on with my reproductive system. Or what's not going on with it rather. Having menstruated about five times in the last three years thanks to the sexily-named polycystic ovary syndrome is, I'm pretty sure, almost a fail-safe method of contraception.

Two minutes. Since when have minutes been so bloody long? I shouldn't have even entertained thoughts of moses baskets just now. I'm going to expect to see one upstairs later and feel a little crushed inside, missing something that never was in the first place.

Just over a minute and a half. Really not having a baby is a good thing. Honestly. I'm sure my friends and siblings are going to have some shortly, so I'll always have access to little people. God that sounds a bit creepy even though I don't mean it like that. But seriously, not having our own children is really a blessing. Who wants gross things like breast pads in their life? No me, no sir.

A minute and five seconds. I'm not that keen on CBeebies either now that I think about it, and God forbid that bloody dinosaur is still singing somewhere. No, best that I can keep my tv viewing to 'Location, Location, Location', 'Grand Designs' and their ilk.

Fifty seconds. Not having a kid is great for us in lots of other ways too. There's no way we'd be having steak on a Tuesday night if it wasn't just the two of us. And think of all the missed holidays! There's no way Japan would have happened if it wasn't just us, nor the long weekend in Venice we're planning next month. I know we're not minted, but it's cool having a bit of money to spend on good times like that, and having the prospect of way more holidays to come instead of paying for childcare and putting money in a college fund.

Thirty seconds. And the car. I really don't fancy trading in our Beemer for a Volvo or some other sensible thing. I don't want to swap eyebrow-raising envy from other drivers for eyeball-rolling pity. The shame! No thanks!

Twenty seconds. Our house is really only big enough for us now too. If there was anyone else there'd be nowhere for friends to stay when they came to visit. The spare room would have to be turned into the baby's room.

Ten seconds. It's cool that we're not actually tied down either. Sure, we're both in decent jobs, but if we decide to up sticks and move tomorrow we've only ourselves to take care of. Which is amazing. A baby would only drag us down, definitely.

DING.