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A “Short” Trip to France Became an Adventure Into Motherhood
But first, I had to learn the French word for ‘pregnancy’
Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you have been forced to learn to communicate in a foreign language fast?
This happened to me when I took a trip to France for a two-month break and my entire life changed.
It was February 2002 and I had just arrived back from spending a blissful ten days in rural central France with some friends.
At the time, I was temporarily shacking up in a village in Somerset with my…I don’t know what…had-been-boyfriend…
…now loosely hanging out together, living under the same roof, and finding ourselves in the same bed rather a lot, despite having one each.
It was all a bit messy. I wanted everything to be okay but he preferred to be officially separate.
Besides, he liked to spend time with other women — one in particular.
I was feeling like my head and heart were in a mess and the time spent away with close friends was medicine for my soul. I made the decision that I was going to return to that little corner of France for a couple of months in the Spring, and have a good amount of time, and distance, to return to my full emotional strength.
On arrival from this 10-day trip, my was-boyfriend-now-who-knows-what announced that he had been given notice by the landlord and that he was planning on renting a room in a shared house…and that it would be without me.
Okay, the message received was loud and clear. Got it.
One thing led to another. I bought a car, and then I bought a little touring caravan. I had a tow-bar fitted onto my car and the next thing I knew, I had made the decision to shoot off out of the grey, heartbreaking land of England and over to France for 2, maybe 3 months.
And then…
