A Winter wonderland

Journal entry of Mark Robertson (continued)

Autumn is here again, after three long months of Summer. Winter (Should I re-phrase that? Having three seasons in a row like that just looks wrong.) is now visibly pregnant, and her mood swings and morning sickness have subsided. Her new found taste for meat remains however. (I wonder if they voted remain back home?). I often wake up to find her in the kitchen frying up some of my bacon. She also insists on claiming my supply of jerky, as she loves chewing and sucking on it like a salty sweet.

When we last went to a prenatal check-up, the doctor confirmed that she is indeed carrying twins. We already suspected as much, both from what her GP told her, and because she is about twice the size of the majority of the other mares we see in the waiting room. Winter and I have both decided that we don't want to know the sex or species of the foals, preferring to wait until they're born. Winter says that all her known ancestry is Pegasus with the sole exception of a great-great Grandmother who was a Bat Pony. According to her, Bat Ponies are a sub-species of Pegasus that mostly keep to themselves. For this reason, they're on the way to becoming a fourth race, alongside Earth Ponies, Unicorns and their Pegasi cousins. While it is rare, Pegasi can often give birth to Bat Ponies, even if they have no known Bat Pony ancestry. Winter having a fairly recent bat pony ancestor increases the chance that one or both of our foals (and any we may have in future) will be Bat Ponies.

While we don't know the sex or species of our foals, we do know that they are both ponies, and well formed ones at that. I must say I had hoped that they might have been half and half. Maybe like Satyrs or even Centaur like. But then I suppose being ponies is a blessing, as they'll fit in better. The doctor did assure me that they will have some traces of their Human half, so the fact that they're healthy and strong is more than good enough for me.

I am now living in the new apartment, and I have to admit that I like it. I always thought of them as cramped, stuffy little boxes before. These ones however take up a whole floor of quite a large building, and are very tastefully made up. Besides having room for our growing family, there's also room for more furniture than I could have ever crammed into the small room above the shop.

After expanding my shop, I did end up hiring somepony to help me out, a young colt named Inkblot. He mainly serves the customers while I do orders, but I also teach him more about the trade. I suppose you might call him my apprentice. He's friendly enough and keen to learn but he doesn't get my jokes, such as calling him my Padawan, and when I called him grasshopper, he replied that he was a Unicorn. Oh well, I guess having a decent worker is good enough.

Since winning the Calligrapher of the Year award, my business has trebled. Even with Inkblot taking care of smaller jobs and serving customers, I've had to resort to using a waiting list for the first time ever. At present I restrict myself to five commissions at any one time, and a six month “lock out” after each commission, to ensure that other ponies get a chance to get a slot. I remember know wondering what it was like for artists back on Earth to be having to work long hours to deliver what people had paid them to do. I didn't envy them then; and now know all too well the stress of having deadlines and competing demands on your time. In addition to my workload, there's a lot (and I do mean a lot!!) of work to do in preparation of the impending birth. There are the regular pre-natal health checks, the weekly, hour and a half long motherhood classes that Winter has signed up for.

'Daddy really ought to come too!' exclaimed the overly enthusiastic mare who ran the show when I made to leave after taking Winter to her first session. So every Thursday night I, and a handful of equally disgruntled stallions must endure hearing about what pregnancy does to a mares body and what childbirth involves. Worse than that are the ridiculous exercises and new age mumbo-jumbo. It's not that I don't want to support Winter through her pregnancy, God knows I do. It's just that the way the class is taught, and the gossip I overhear during group discussions and tea breaks makes pregnancy seem like an overwhelming burden – a curse almost, and I'm beginning to feel rather guilty about putting Winter in her current condition.

I spoke to Winter about this just the other night.
'Honey, do you hate me for what I've done to you?' I asked
'What did you do to me?' she asked, not understanding my meaning.
'You know.' I replied, miming a swollen belly.
'Oh you mean making me a mummy?' she laughed, 'Not at all why do you ask?'
'It's just some of the things I overhear when you're talking with the other mares, they make me feel like I'm putting you through such a terrible ordeal.'
'Oh Mark, I'm not mad at you at all. Yes, being pregnant can be unpleasant, but I'm happy that you and I are going to be parents!'
That settled my fears somewhat, but I guess I still have that good old Catholic sense of guilt, because I do feel somewhat guilty.

Last, but not least of the claims on my time is the endless shopping for baby clothes, cot, prams and toys and so forth. This last one is mostly down to Winter's mother, who is over the moon at the prospect of becoming a grandmother. She often visits us and revels in showing me baby photos of Winter, much to her embarrassment.

All in all I'd say I could do with a nice long holiday, as my nerves are getting frazzled. Unfortunately time off is a luxury I can ill-afford at the moment. I may just have to reduce my workload to spend more time with Winter before the birth.