I had been living on a health farm in Fribourg Switzerland when i thought I could be pregnant.

At the time my partner and I were completing some building work which he had been commissioned to do. I was strong, fearless and of course very young, at 19 I felt worldly, womanly and all knowing; more so than I do now if truth were known.

A part of the house was used by an esoteric group . They followed what was probably one of the first movements in ‘Positive Thinking’. Eddie, ancient in my eyes, was a wiry, dark bearded mountain gnome of a man, [I am quite tall], and vociferous in his positivity.
Using mirrors to reflect his image, he would pace around the wood built house shouting ‘Ich bin – I am’ over and over again.

Eddies desire for positivity shook the house to its shallow foundations.
My pregnancy test showed negative. I put my thickening waist down to increased muscles caused by pushing wheel barrows of sand up the hillside and my enormous appetite due to the expenditure of energy using the same wheelbarrow, the odd tantrum and tears to the fact I lived with deranged people and as my previously buoyant breasts tingled in a world all of their own and grew, inevitably  succumbing to the earths pull; I merely felt older and that it was now about time to don a bra.
We decided to get married and so i registered in Zurich and was given three months on my tourist visa, plenty of time to organise a wedding. I scoured the  second hand stores and found a pair of brick red brocade curtains which our friend, Joe, the tailor stitched into a queenly medieval gown.
meanwhile back at the farm our work continued.  There was already an abundant supply of salads and herbs all growing in hot beds and sheltered areas in the garden and I munched my way though huge bowls of greenery every day. Breakfast was muesli brimming with fresh fruit. My mid morning snack was fusion food; a lovely lentil dhal topped with real Parmesan and tons of black pepper, lunch great steaming plates of whole meal rice or millet slathered in tahini and tamari.
I kept little heaps of dried fruit and nuts in my pockets, I grazed on raw carrots and baby fennel freshly pulled and washed in the nearby lake.
i became preoccupied with hunting and gathering, I found a herd of goats on the mountain side and was given permission to milk them by the curious  farmers who laughed and told Pierre if I could even catch them let alone milk them i was welcome. Ravenously inspired, of course I could and they were surprisingly docile once tethered. I made yogurt, kefir to drink and a soft cheese which I hung in a muslin sack on an upturned stool and then rolled in fresh chives and cracked pepper. This delicacy was devoured with great chunks of bread with the olive oil oozing down my chin as i dabbed and smacked my lips hungrily.
We returned to the villa in Zurich a few days before our big date. All our friends began baking and cooking for the party. Pierre organised his old  band of gypsy musicians for the day and we were all set.
On the eve before the wedding my girlfriends asked me if I was really sure I was not pregnant and we  marched down to the pharmacy for a new test which of course – was positive.

The wedding day was sparkling with June warmth, happily my dress was only a little tight around the bust  and so we stuffed a huge red rose, deep into the  bulging cleavage.  The city hall was splendidly stately, as I was, in my flowing vintage robe. It was a beautiful ceremony, the German precisely translated with such feeling; the moment I will always remember is the awe in the registrars eyes as I bent over to sign my vows and my breasts forced the rose to pop out and bounce, blood red, over the solemn desk.
We all screamed with laughter as we left the cool, sombre building. Outside bright shards of warmth reflected from the Lake catching the effervescent bubbles from our champagne and I felt the magic and joy that all this time, inside of me, I had been feeding my very own newly formed baby. It all made sense and on top of everything, I was starving.

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