Preparing for Baby

The personification of an uterus and the menstrual cycle. In short, a woman thinking she is going to have a baby, actually isn't, then goes on a rampage when she told she is not.

She hummed contently while she decorated the room, the vision inside her head finally coming into reality. It had been hard work, but she felt it was worth it. “Preparing for baby, preparing for baby,” she sang to herself while she worked. She stepped back to look at her work and smiled brightly. “Perfect,” she said, turning her eyes to the crib in the corner. She approached it and picked up the teddy bear propped up in the corner. “The baby will love all this, right Mister Bear?” she said in a singsong voice, swaying the bear side to side.

The man outside the room, however, looked far less happy. He could hear her moving around merrily just passed the door, putting the finishing touches on something that wasn’t going to happen. Breaking this sort of news was never easy, and he dreaded his task. He sighed heavily and turned to the door, forcing himself to place his hand on the knob. Just get it over with, he scolded himself for his hesitation. He took in a deep breath and slowly opened the door. 

She looked back at him with the smile still on her lips. “Hi there,” she said happily, making her way to the rocking chair in the corner opposite the crib. She sat down in it and cradled the bear like a baby. “Isn’t it great? I just finished!”

“Yeah… yeah, it’s great,” he mumbled, looking slowly around the room. This was going to be difficult… He sighed heavily and approached the woman in the chair, kneeling beside her. “I… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” She rocked gently in the chair, smiling warmly down at the bear in her arms.

He once again found it hard to bring forth the words he needed to say. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Just do it, like ripping off duct tape. Do it quick! “There’s… not going to be a baby.”

She froze, her face blank. She still held the bear in her eyes, but her nails were digging into the stuffed object. Her face relaxed and she began to rock again, the warm smile returning to her lips. “That’s not a nice thing to say. Of course I’m having a baby.”

He shook his head. “No… you’re not. There’s no baby.”

She stopped again, digging her nails deeper into the bear. She slowly turned her head, her wide eyes full of disbelief and a hint of rage. “I’m… having… a… baby,” she said slowly, putting emphasis on every word.

He stood up and looked down at her with sorrow, shaking his head again. “There is no baby.”

She suddenly shot to her full height, throwing the bear at the pictures hanging on the wall. The fell to the ground, breaking the glass that covered them once they collided with the wooden floor. “You’re lying!” she screeched hysterically, her shoulders heaving in her enraged breaths. “I AM having a baby! Say it!”

“You’re not,” he said calmly. 

“LIAR!” She tore across the room, throwing anything that got into her hands. “You’re lying! You lie!” She took the vase full of silk flowers and threw it at him, missing him by inches. “Get out! Get out, filthy liar!”

He sighed and did as he was asked, letting her rage inside the room. He had expected that sort of reaction; after all, this had becoming a monthly ritual for them. She lived in her delusional world where she was preparing that room for a baby that was never coming, and when he told her the truth, she destroyed it. She would roar and ruin her little vision for a week… and the cycle would continue.

After a solid week of her rampage, she awoke in the wreckage and debris of the baby room on the eighth day. She sat up slowly, looking at all the broken things, the holes in the walls, the ripped up baby books. She slowly rose to her feet and turned her head to the crib, full of torn apart stuffed animals and pillows with their stuffing ripped out. She smiled softly and approached it, emptying it of the garbage. “Preparing for baby, preparing for baby,” she sang softly to herself while she began to work.

Author's Note

Don't mind any small typos. Just let me know what you think.

Reviews

[Ink]

Ok, the only reason I find this funny at first is because it is "the cycle" we go through each month, but then it dawned on me how sad it is, in some aspects, that being a woman wanting to nurture a life but will perhaps never get the chance. Good prose poetry, maybe you can try writing short stories too? I bet they'll be imaginative

[omgtatercat]

I guess it can be viewed as sad. I've had some say it was creepy. I have another short story in the works and a couple of novels.