I have a friend who has been trying to have a baby for many, many years. I've lost track of how many courses of IUI and IVF she and her husband have undertaken. She is now 3 weeks away from turning 40 and today she underwent her final IVF treatment.
Having conceived two babies by apparently just walking past my husband, I have no concept of what it must be like to have to go through the hell they've had to endure. I cannot imagine the utter despair they must feel everytime she has a period. And I can't begin to think what's it's like watching all your friends push babies out with alarming regularity while your own family stays as a couple.
There have been many times that I've envied their exotic holidays away and long lie ins on the weekend, the freedom to do the things that they want to do, the fact that she still has fashionable, lovely clothes instead of something bought in Sainsbury's (because you don't have the time or money to go anywhere else).
I've tried to explain what impact having children has on your relationship, your social life, your body and your bank balance, all in a bid to make her feel better about her lot. But it doesn't matter how hard being a parent can be, if it's something you want to experience, not being able to experience it is cruel.
Right at this very moment, two little eggs could be doing what little eggs are meant to do. Sticking in the right place, growing and turning into babies. I am hoping with every single fibre of my being that that is exactly what is happening.
If you're of a religious persuasion, have good karmic skills or just want to send positive vibes her way, please do. No-one deserves a baby more.
Showing posts with label babies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label babies. Show all posts
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
Unfinished thoughts
Since I started blogging, I've found that I've been talking to myself quite a bit more. I have random thoughts about things that I feel would make excellent blog material. And then something happens, and I forget about it, and move onto the next crisis/bottom to be wiped/meal to be made&rejected. I end up with many small floating thoughts that aren't quite finished. Sometimes I feel I need to borrow Dumbledore's pensieve and wand so that I can extract my thoughts and tuck them away safely for when I have space and time to think about them properly.
Here are some of my unfinished thoughts from the last few days:
Solution to the war in Afghanistan:
British government worried that it's going to drag on and on? The solution is simple. Send in an army of sugar-fuelled 3 year old boys. Give them all permanent markers, pirate playmobil, several yoyos, playdough (slightly hardened on the edges but overly squishy in the middle like when it's been left not properly wrapped in a plastic bag for months) and some large, hard plastic farm animals. And a scooter each. Possibly throw in a marble run too. The taliban will flee for their lives. Afghanistan will think it's just experienced the second wave of shock & awe as metered out in Iraq, it will take their country years to rebuild itself but ultimately lives will be spared and all will be well.
Darwinism vs creationsism - what to tell an almost 5 year old:
'Mummy, how did horses come to be on the earth?'
'From their mummies?'
'Well where did the mummy horses come from?'
'From long ago.'
'But how?'
Hmmm...do we go for our regular Bible story of creation or do we go with Darwin's theory of evolution?
'Well son, there are two schools of thought. The first think that the world was created by God...'
Interrupted by: 'Mummy, how do you make glass?'
And thus ends that theological debate.
The mysteries of malt loaf:
Did you know that a single slice of malt loaf contains 104 calories (that's without it being spread thickly with butter and let's not forget that one slice of malt loaf is roughly the size of one quarter of a normal slice of bread)?
How do they make it taste soooo good?
Why does it stick in your teeth for so long? (possibly so that you can keep eating it all day and thus justify the calories?)
How come it can last for weeks and weeks without getting mouldy?
Having a third baby:
A client of mine told me today that she's expecting her third baby. Besides wanting the baby, she feels that it is a good way for her to stay in touch with her target market given her business is aimed at mums with babies. Now that is dedication to the cause. I should probably do the same really. Both as business research and because there's a slim chance that I could have a girl and holding an ickle baby again would be nice. But then there's the fact that we're so close to the end of the tunnel, outside of which is freedom. Freedom to walk long distances without whinging. Freedom of all excess paraphenalia required with babies and toddlers. Freedom to sleep in later than 6am. Freedom from Cbeebies. And the joy of not being woken a billion times at night. It's a mute point as husband has, you know, been sorted out. But it's the principle of it I felt was worth contemplating. Done that. Moving on.
Wrinkles:
My smooth forehead is gone forever. No amount of roll on moisturising flash balms will dewrinkle it. It's wrinkles or botox/surgery from here on in. Wrinkles it is then.
I'm sure I had other unfinished thoughts that will come to me the minute I finish this. But bathtime awaits.
Here are some of my unfinished thoughts from the last few days:
Solution to the war in Afghanistan:
British government worried that it's going to drag on and on? The solution is simple. Send in an army of sugar-fuelled 3 year old boys. Give them all permanent markers, pirate playmobil, several yoyos, playdough (slightly hardened on the edges but overly squishy in the middle like when it's been left not properly wrapped in a plastic bag for months) and some large, hard plastic farm animals. And a scooter each. Possibly throw in a marble run too. The taliban will flee for their lives. Afghanistan will think it's just experienced the second wave of shock & awe as metered out in Iraq, it will take their country years to rebuild itself but ultimately lives will be spared and all will be well.
Darwinism vs creationsism - what to tell an almost 5 year old:
'Mummy, how did horses come to be on the earth?'
'From their mummies?'
'Well where did the mummy horses come from?'
'From long ago.'
'But how?'
Hmmm...do we go for our regular Bible story of creation or do we go with Darwin's theory of evolution?
'Well son, there are two schools of thought. The first think that the world was created by God...'
Interrupted by: 'Mummy, how do you make glass?'
And thus ends that theological debate.
The mysteries of malt loaf:
Did you know that a single slice of malt loaf contains 104 calories (that's without it being spread thickly with butter and let's not forget that one slice of malt loaf is roughly the size of one quarter of a normal slice of bread)?
How do they make it taste soooo good?
Why does it stick in your teeth for so long? (possibly so that you can keep eating it all day and thus justify the calories?)
How come it can last for weeks and weeks without getting mouldy?
Having a third baby:
A client of mine told me today that she's expecting her third baby. Besides wanting the baby, she feels that it is a good way for her to stay in touch with her target market given her business is aimed at mums with babies. Now that is dedication to the cause. I should probably do the same really. Both as business research and because there's a slim chance that I could have a girl and holding an ickle baby again would be nice. But then there's the fact that we're so close to the end of the tunnel, outside of which is freedom. Freedom to walk long distances without whinging. Freedom of all excess paraphenalia required with babies and toddlers. Freedom to sleep in later than 6am. Freedom from Cbeebies. And the joy of not being woken a billion times at night. It's a mute point as husband has, you know, been sorted out. But it's the principle of it I felt was worth contemplating. Done that. Moving on.
Wrinkles:
My smooth forehead is gone forever. No amount of roll on moisturising flash balms will dewrinkle it. It's wrinkles or botox/surgery from here on in. Wrinkles it is then.
I'm sure I had other unfinished thoughts that will come to me the minute I finish this. But bathtime awaits.
Monday, 28 July 2008
Mummy, how do you make babies?
I had just written a complete blog post all about my heady day in which my washing on my proudly erected washing line got soaked in a thunderstorm. I also wrote all about my delightful trip to the breast clinic for a cursory fondling. I moaned about British people moaning about the weather. And I pointed out that I was feeling lethargic thanks to a carb induced coma as a resulting of eating too much left over pasta salad. But for some reason, blogger decided that it wasn't worthy of posting and so failed to save it and simply deleted my post. Which was a little frustrating, given that although the subjects weren't incredibly exciting, they did have a good rant quality to them.
But I cannot be arsed to try and remember what I wrote. So I shall instead relay the conversation I had with my eldest son during bath time (luckily it just wooshed loudly over the little one's head). It went like this:
son: 'Mummy, how do you make babies?'
me: (nervously wonders whether 4.5 is too young to be telling him about the birds and the bees but not managing to think of a very good reason to lie other than that he'll be the kid telling the other kids all about it at school and I'll have several parents ringing me asking why my child was telling their child obscene stories during breaktime). So I thought I'd go for an honestish answer and said: 'You grow them from a seed.'
Cue very puzzled look from son. 'Well how does the seed get in your tummy?'
Good, so that worked well then.
Trying to postpone the inevitable I asked: 'How do you think the seed gets in my tummy?'
son: (ponders the problem for a little while and then says) 'Do you put it in through your belly button?'
I should have just said yes. I should have. And left it at that. But I decided that really, what's the use in lying. He's only going to be picked on mercilessly when he's at school and he tells someone that the way babies are made is via your belly button.
So, taking a deep breath in, I said: When you become a grown up man, your willy will be able to make a type of water that carries the seeds in it. And (even deeper breath) daddies put their willies into mummies girly bits to make the seeds go into mummy's tummy.
And the two of them fall about laughing. Me fearing the worst that this is going to now be repeated to all of their little pre-school friends, wait for the hysteria to stop. 'Water with seeds in it from our willies. Ha ha ha.' The bit about the willy and girly bits seems to have been ignored in their mirth having discovered yet another exciting thing that their willy can do.
Once the jollity had calmed down, he asked: 'But is the baby inside the seed?'
'Well sort of, but it doesn't look like a baby,' I attempt to explain, not really wanting to go into how the sperm finds an egg and then splits into a bunch of cells. Probably a bit Too Much Info. So we then discussed how our tomato seeds didn't really look like tomatoes before they were planted but now they've grown into big green plants and that babies grow the same way.
He considers all of this for some time and then says: 'So when the babies are grown, can we eat them?' I felt like saying, in some cultures they do mate, and well done them. But I didn't.
And after that, I feel I deserve wine.
But I cannot be arsed to try and remember what I wrote. So I shall instead relay the conversation I had with my eldest son during bath time (luckily it just wooshed loudly over the little one's head). It went like this:
son: 'Mummy, how do you make babies?'
me: (nervously wonders whether 4.5 is too young to be telling him about the birds and the bees but not managing to think of a very good reason to lie other than that he'll be the kid telling the other kids all about it at school and I'll have several parents ringing me asking why my child was telling their child obscene stories during breaktime). So I thought I'd go for an honestish answer and said: 'You grow them from a seed.'
Cue very puzzled look from son. 'Well how does the seed get in your tummy?'
Good, so that worked well then.
Trying to postpone the inevitable I asked: 'How do you think the seed gets in my tummy?'
son: (ponders the problem for a little while and then says) 'Do you put it in through your belly button?'
I should have just said yes. I should have. And left it at that. But I decided that really, what's the use in lying. He's only going to be picked on mercilessly when he's at school and he tells someone that the way babies are made is via your belly button.
So, taking a deep breath in, I said: When you become a grown up man, your willy will be able to make a type of water that carries the seeds in it. And (even deeper breath) daddies put their willies into mummies girly bits to make the seeds go into mummy's tummy.
And the two of them fall about laughing. Me fearing the worst that this is going to now be repeated to all of their little pre-school friends, wait for the hysteria to stop. 'Water with seeds in it from our willies. Ha ha ha.' The bit about the willy and girly bits seems to have been ignored in their mirth having discovered yet another exciting thing that their willy can do.
Once the jollity had calmed down, he asked: 'But is the baby inside the seed?'
'Well sort of, but it doesn't look like a baby,' I attempt to explain, not really wanting to go into how the sperm finds an egg and then splits into a bunch of cells. Probably a bit Too Much Info. So we then discussed how our tomato seeds didn't really look like tomatoes before they were planted but now they've grown into big green plants and that babies grow the same way.
He considers all of this for some time and then says: 'So when the babies are grown, can we eat them?' I felt like saying, in some cultures they do mate, and well done them. But I didn't.
And after that, I feel I deserve wine.
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