Oh YES! How could I forget? Food cravings, specifically meat. If it's meaty, I want it. Yeah, baby.
(oo-er)
I had gastroenteritis in the week. It's got to be related to that and absolutely nothing to do with pregnancy.
An open letter to our mythical third child. Will he or she ever exist?
Sunday 2 October 2011
The Two Week Wait
14 days.
336 hours.
20,160 minutes.
1,209,600 seconds.
It doesn't sounds a lot written down, does it? But, to quote Madonna, time goes by so slowly. Dear child, I don't have the option of hanging up on you. Nor do I look like that in a leotard (thankfully.)
I am going slowly mad. I'm 9 days past ovulation. I have ultra sensitive pregnancy tests. Chances are, if I tested now, I could conjure up something akin to a line, if, of course, I am pregnant. But I know of old, that if I do test now, then all I will conjure up is a wishy-washy half line, that may be evaporation or may be something else. Now, that hell is even worse than this one. So close and yet so far. Alternatively I may get a big fat negative. But will that stop me wondering if I am pregnant? Of course not. I will tell myself that it's too early to test. So I'm trying to hold on until next Saturday. It will be a miracle if I get there.
Twice before Papa and I have conceived on month two. Twice before on month one. There is a reasonable chance that we might have hit the jackpot this cycle. But then we weren't old and fat and knackered before. Yes, I still ovulate, but that doesn't guarantee the quality of my eggs, or his sperm. Will they meet successfully? Did they?
To pass the never ending time, I have done what millions of other women trapped in the two week wait do: I've Googled. Everything from how early can I test, to how should I tell Papa if I do conceive. He wants us to test together. It's a moment too raw, too full of hope and fear, for me to share. Besides which, he will make me wait until my period is actually late. Which is sensible, of course, but hell on a stick. I haven't yet decided how I should test.
I am having all sorts of pregnancy symptoms, naturally. I have spots, which I don't normally have, but the weather is unseasonably warm. I have a sense of my own uterus. I know this sounds weird. It's like a clenched muscle in my abdomen, or as though someone has started to inflate a balloon in my womb. Like period pain without the pain. I can just feel it. I've woken myself up in the night feeling it. It's psychological, obviously. Even if something was in there, it's not big enough to cause any bloating. A bunch of cells the size of a grain of sand can't make one's insides feel like this. But still, it's there. And I wish it would bugger off, because it makes concentrating on everyday life jolly tough.
I really need to get a grip on myself. I wonder if you're already here, dear child, floating darkly in my tubes. But you won't be floating. You'll be dividing furiously, and that makes me excited, and terrified, in equal measure...
I hope pregnancy is less emotionally charged than this.
Mama x
336 hours.
20,160 minutes.
1,209,600 seconds.
It doesn't sounds a lot written down, does it? But, to quote Madonna, time goes by so slowly. Dear child, I don't have the option of hanging up on you. Nor do I look like that in a leotard (thankfully.)
I am going slowly mad. I'm 9 days past ovulation. I have ultra sensitive pregnancy tests. Chances are, if I tested now, I could conjure up something akin to a line, if, of course, I am pregnant. But I know of old, that if I do test now, then all I will conjure up is a wishy-washy half line, that may be evaporation or may be something else. Now, that hell is even worse than this one. So close and yet so far. Alternatively I may get a big fat negative. But will that stop me wondering if I am pregnant? Of course not. I will tell myself that it's too early to test. So I'm trying to hold on until next Saturday. It will be a miracle if I get there.
Twice before Papa and I have conceived on month two. Twice before on month one. There is a reasonable chance that we might have hit the jackpot this cycle. But then we weren't old and fat and knackered before. Yes, I still ovulate, but that doesn't guarantee the quality of my eggs, or his sperm. Will they meet successfully? Did they?
To pass the never ending time, I have done what millions of other women trapped in the two week wait do: I've Googled. Everything from how early can I test, to how should I tell Papa if I do conceive. He wants us to test together. It's a moment too raw, too full of hope and fear, for me to share. Besides which, he will make me wait until my period is actually late. Which is sensible, of course, but hell on a stick. I haven't yet decided how I should test.
I am having all sorts of pregnancy symptoms, naturally. I have spots, which I don't normally have, but the weather is unseasonably warm. I have a sense of my own uterus. I know this sounds weird. It's like a clenched muscle in my abdomen, or as though someone has started to inflate a balloon in my womb. Like period pain without the pain. I can just feel it. I've woken myself up in the night feeling it. It's psychological, obviously. Even if something was in there, it's not big enough to cause any bloating. A bunch of cells the size of a grain of sand can't make one's insides feel like this. But still, it's there. And I wish it would bugger off, because it makes concentrating on everyday life jolly tough.
I really need to get a grip on myself. I wonder if you're already here, dear child, floating darkly in my tubes. But you won't be floating. You'll be dividing furiously, and that makes me excited, and terrified, in equal measure...
I hope pregnancy is less emotionally charged than this.
Mama x
Sunday 25 September 2011
Wibble, Wobble
Dear Child of Mine,
I ovulated on Friday; it's rather odd to think that you might be floating inside me already, multiplying hourly and drifting on down to the comfort of my womb. It's sweet - but, forgive me - it's also a bit creepy. Pregnancy is a wonderful and magical time, but I have to say it's been a bit weird to find out that someone else is inhabiting one's body, even though I've pushed that thought to the back of my mind. I must confess, that the first time at least, I may have even coughed out the word parasite. Don't worry, though, I'll get over it. It's a bit like finding out someone's been wearing your knickers.
Papa and I are not really going for sex every 2-3 days throughout my cycle, as is the current guidance. You probably don't want to know this, but I'm guessing that anyone reading a blog about TTC is probably interested. Thankfully - THANK THE LORD! - I am actually ovulating. I *thought* I was, as I have mittelschmertz (crampy pain on ovulation), but it was a great relief to have it confirmed with the ovulation prediction kits. That's one thing less to worry about, with me being almost 40 and all.
Sex every 2-3 days seems rather a lot, especially as one approaches 40. Papa would say he disagrees - but to be honest, there were moments even in the "week of passion" that he looked at me as though I was a mad woman who was only interested in harvesting his sperm. Truth is, he's was pretty much spot on. I did manage to hold off suggesting that he do the deed himself and I hop on at the last moment. But there's always new depths to be plundered next month...
Actually, it was sweet. We made a little nest in our room and retreated to bed around 8.30pm each night. It started off being rather romantic, with candlelight and drinks and cuddling. By the end of the week when we were mainly both knackered and fantasising about our comfy nest for sleep only, then we had to dig deep and pull and few tricks out of the bag (fnar). But we did it. We managed sex four times in my seven days, which seems somewhat lacklustre written down, I'll be honest, although we both felt as though we deserved a sticker at the time. Maybe we'll be able to achieve the golden seven next month. After ovulation, we've decided to practise baby making strictly for fun. We average at about twice per week. Anymore over exertion than that will surely result in injury?
We looked after a 10 week old baby yesterday, and blimey, that was a shock. I'd forgotten how much jiggling, walking about, rocking and "sshh"ing small babies need. Baby Ruth was an absolute joy, and I was really thrilled to be trusted to look after her. I needed the instruction manual though, crikey. She bawled for about 20 minutes, and I tried everything - shhing, jiggling, feeding, winding, rocking, dummy, bottom changing. At this point I could feel the panic rising. Eventually she looked a bit tired and I managed to cuddle her up just right and rock her off to sleep. She then slept on my lap for three hours!
I'll be honest, at one point I looked at Papa and asked what we had done. He just looked pale and grim and agreed with me. He actually buggered off to the shop at one point to get some crisps for the older children. Then she settled and we had the conversation again. She did cry, and it was a bit scary, but she stopped pretty quickly. David never seemed to stop. It was quite a revelation to look after a "normal" baby. The older children were being a pain though - charging about everywhere, shouting and jumping on me and the baby and kissing her. That added to the stress no end, as each time I'd settled her she'd wake again.I'm not sure whether the experience has left me shocked and scared, or reassured. The rest of the time was lovely baby cuddles, and I know those feel a million times nicer when the baby is actually yours.
Papa is out at a beekeeping event today, so I've plenty of time to reflect on it alone. I'm afraid of those baby days, but we want a third child, so we have to put up with it to get to the size and shape family that we want. I'm feeling a bit anxious about everything. We seem to have so many changes on the horizon: the possibility of a new family member, wondering whether we'll cope, Papa will need to get a new job, we may need to move house as a consequence. It's all a bit overwhelming. If it wasn't for my age I know we wouldn't be planning to have a baby right now, but if we want one then we have to take the gamble...
I'm not really sure what my role in life is right now. I'm trying not to fret and to simply let the breezes of fate blow me wherever I need to go. I'm finding it really, REALLY tough to relax and let this happen. It'll all be OK - won't it?
With love
Mama x
I ovulated on Friday; it's rather odd to think that you might be floating inside me already, multiplying hourly and drifting on down to the comfort of my womb. It's sweet - but, forgive me - it's also a bit creepy. Pregnancy is a wonderful and magical time, but I have to say it's been a bit weird to find out that someone else is inhabiting one's body, even though I've pushed that thought to the back of my mind. I must confess, that the first time at least, I may have even coughed out the word parasite. Don't worry, though, I'll get over it. It's a bit like finding out someone's been wearing your knickers.
Papa and I are not really going for sex every 2-3 days throughout my cycle, as is the current guidance. You probably don't want to know this, but I'm guessing that anyone reading a blog about TTC is probably interested. Thankfully - THANK THE LORD! - I am actually ovulating. I *thought* I was, as I have mittelschmertz (crampy pain on ovulation), but it was a great relief to have it confirmed with the ovulation prediction kits. That's one thing less to worry about, with me being almost 40 and all.
Sex every 2-3 days seems rather a lot, especially as one approaches 40. Papa would say he disagrees - but to be honest, there were moments even in the "week of passion" that he looked at me as though I was a mad woman who was only interested in harvesting his sperm. Truth is, he's was pretty much spot on. I did manage to hold off suggesting that he do the deed himself and I hop on at the last moment. But there's always new depths to be plundered next month...
Actually, it was sweet. We made a little nest in our room and retreated to bed around 8.30pm each night. It started off being rather romantic, with candlelight and drinks and cuddling. By the end of the week when we were mainly both knackered and fantasising about our comfy nest for sleep only, then we had to dig deep and pull and few tricks out of the bag (fnar). But we did it. We managed sex four times in my seven days, which seems somewhat lacklustre written down, I'll be honest, although we both felt as though we deserved a sticker at the time. Maybe we'll be able to achieve the golden seven next month. After ovulation, we've decided to practise baby making strictly for fun. We average at about twice per week. Anymore over exertion than that will surely result in injury?
We looked after a 10 week old baby yesterday, and blimey, that was a shock. I'd forgotten how much jiggling, walking about, rocking and "sshh"ing small babies need. Baby Ruth was an absolute joy, and I was really thrilled to be trusted to look after her. I needed the instruction manual though, crikey. She bawled for about 20 minutes, and I tried everything - shhing, jiggling, feeding, winding, rocking, dummy, bottom changing. At this point I could feel the panic rising. Eventually she looked a bit tired and I managed to cuddle her up just right and rock her off to sleep. She then slept on my lap for three hours!
I'll be honest, at one point I looked at Papa and asked what we had done. He just looked pale and grim and agreed with me. He actually buggered off to the shop at one point to get some crisps for the older children. Then she settled and we had the conversation again. She did cry, and it was a bit scary, but she stopped pretty quickly. David never seemed to stop. It was quite a revelation to look after a "normal" baby. The older children were being a pain though - charging about everywhere, shouting and jumping on me and the baby and kissing her. That added to the stress no end, as each time I'd settled her she'd wake again.I'm not sure whether the experience has left me shocked and scared, or reassured. The rest of the time was lovely baby cuddles, and I know those feel a million times nicer when the baby is actually yours.
Papa is out at a beekeeping event today, so I've plenty of time to reflect on it alone. I'm afraid of those baby days, but we want a third child, so we have to put up with it to get to the size and shape family that we want. I'm feeling a bit anxious about everything. We seem to have so many changes on the horizon: the possibility of a new family member, wondering whether we'll cope, Papa will need to get a new job, we may need to move house as a consequence. It's all a bit overwhelming. If it wasn't for my age I know we wouldn't be planning to have a baby right now, but if we want one then we have to take the gamble...
I'm not really sure what my role in life is right now. I'm trying not to fret and to simply let the breezes of fate blow me wherever I need to go. I'm finding it really, REALLY tough to relax and let this happen. It'll all be OK - won't it?
With love
Mama x
Wednesday 21 September 2011
Not getting obsessed
This is me, not becoming obsessed with TTC. Ha!
I promised Papa that we'd "just stop using contraception and see what happened." I meant it when I said it, I really did. I just started off reading a few things, mainly about nutrition, which was fine - sensible, even. I was getting my head around the idea. We talk about names, how we'd parent differently this time, how we'd tell our families... But it was dreaming, and we were going to be so cool about this we'd be sub-zero.
Now, it's month two. I'm going to ovulate at some point in the next couple of days. I have an app tracking my cycle, which, to be fair, I've had for six months. Now it's highly tuned in to fertility symptoms as well as periods. I'm proud to report that my cervix is high, soft and open and I have egg white cervical mucus (if you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about, Google Toni Weschler, Taking Charge of Your Fertility, which I read before we starting trying to conceive David.)
I encouraged Papa to move a television up to our bedroom, and may even have spent time making us a lovely little nest to retire to each night at 8pm. Papa didn't mind that bit too much. It has lovely clean linen, fresh towels in the en-suite and scented candles. Lovely. Except that I've developed the motherload of all colds, and have spent the last couple of nights bunged up and sore. But that's not got in the way too much. Nudge-nudge, wink-wink.
Today I took receipt of seven ovulation prediction kits. I did one, and it did not detect my Luteinising Hormone. Panic. What's going on down there? Is it an anovulatory cycle? Or maybe it's because I could hold my wee in for the required four hours? Is it possible I will ovulate on day 15, not 14? I gazed at the faint second line many times, fantasising that it was a positive pregnancy test... I have an ingrown toenail. Last time I had one was the very month that I conceived David. Is it a sign?
What am I doing? What am I DOING? This all feels so lovely, so important, so gripping. I know it's a sort of madness. Today I've been Googling good positions for conception and thinking of ways to keep the sex interesting. I'm also a bit unsure about whether we should make love tonight, because we did it last night, and they say it should be every 2-3 days, but I ovulate on Friday, and what if we miss the egg? Maybe a quickie would be good? But then there's the issue of work, and tiredness and football practice tonight, and children and life getting in the way. It's not sexy if I start with the charts and basal body temperatures, is it?
It's a kind of lunacy. I'm trying very hard to not share my fever with Papa. I'm trying to be nonchalant. If only getting pregnant could happen as a result of the knowing, intelligent part of your brain. It's too much like a lottery, and much too important to leave to chance.
I'm trying not to kill the magic, but dear Lord, it's hard. Let me trail an air of sparkle and mystery about me, not desperation...
I promised Papa that we'd "just stop using contraception and see what happened." I meant it when I said it, I really did. I just started off reading a few things, mainly about nutrition, which was fine - sensible, even. I was getting my head around the idea. We talk about names, how we'd parent differently this time, how we'd tell our families... But it was dreaming, and we were going to be so cool about this we'd be sub-zero.
Now, it's month two. I'm going to ovulate at some point in the next couple of days. I have an app tracking my cycle, which, to be fair, I've had for six months. Now it's highly tuned in to fertility symptoms as well as periods. I'm proud to report that my cervix is high, soft and open and I have egg white cervical mucus (if you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about, Google Toni Weschler, Taking Charge of Your Fertility, which I read before we starting trying to conceive David.)
I encouraged Papa to move a television up to our bedroom, and may even have spent time making us a lovely little nest to retire to each night at 8pm. Papa didn't mind that bit too much. It has lovely clean linen, fresh towels in the en-suite and scented candles. Lovely. Except that I've developed the motherload of all colds, and have spent the last couple of nights bunged up and sore. But that's not got in the way too much. Nudge-nudge, wink-wink.
Today I took receipt of seven ovulation prediction kits. I did one, and it did not detect my Luteinising Hormone. Panic. What's going on down there? Is it an anovulatory cycle? Or maybe it's because I could hold my wee in for the required four hours? Is it possible I will ovulate on day 15, not 14? I gazed at the faint second line many times, fantasising that it was a positive pregnancy test... I have an ingrown toenail. Last time I had one was the very month that I conceived David. Is it a sign?
What am I doing? What am I DOING? This all feels so lovely, so important, so gripping. I know it's a sort of madness. Today I've been Googling good positions for conception and thinking of ways to keep the sex interesting. I'm also a bit unsure about whether we should make love tonight, because we did it last night, and they say it should be every 2-3 days, but I ovulate on Friday, and what if we miss the egg? Maybe a quickie would be good? But then there's the issue of work, and tiredness and football practice tonight, and children and life getting in the way. It's not sexy if I start with the charts and basal body temperatures, is it?
It's a kind of lunacy. I'm trying very hard to not share my fever with Papa. I'm trying to be nonchalant. If only getting pregnant could happen as a result of the knowing, intelligent part of your brain. It's too much like a lottery, and much too important to leave to chance.
I'm trying not to kill the magic, but dear Lord, it's hard. Let me trail an air of sparkle and mystery about me, not desperation...
Friday 16 September 2011
Tough Day
Dear Child of Mine,
I'm having a *really* tough day. I'm blogging about it in the hope that I'll sort my head out.
I've had a couple of real concerns about pregnancy recently. Firstly, I have very short labours and I live rurally. If your birth is as fast as David's, then I won't make it to the hospital on time. I want to have a home birth, but I have a high BMI, so I know it's contra-indicated. I've tried hard to find out the information I need about how I will be treated, but it seems that no-one will discuss this with me seriously until I get pregnant. Which seems like madness.
Secondly, I am really concerned about my ME. I've been good recently - I still get tired, but if I am sensible then I can manage a "normal" day of work and family with no problems. I've been trying to raise my stamina since July and, to be honest, it is making a difference. Part of me thinks that if I just start living a normal life. then this ruddy illness will go. However. What if it doesn't? What if, unlike most people with CFS, it doesn't abate during pregnancy. What if it gets worse? This doesn't worry me as much, but what scares me is this: what if I get sick when you are a baby? How will I look after you?
Yesterday I asked the advice of a good friend who had CFS and, since her diagnosis, has had two pregnancies and is training to be a midwife. She gave me some good advice. She felt better in both her pregnancies, and has clearly gone on to not only look after her babies, but also train to be a midwife. This is reassuring. She also told me that, with my doctor's agreement, I'll more than likely be able to continue with my CFS medication. This is a great relief. However, she ended up saying that she worries that I'm taking on too much.
This freaks me out. How can I get better if I don't take on more? On the other hand, I am taking on a lot after a period of illness, and I can't bear the thought of giving any of it up. I am really motivated by the things I am doing. Specifically these are: my sewing work and professional writing / the OU degree I've just started. Things I can't change that I need to manage are: my marriage, my older children and our wider families.
I am angry with our wider families. They never help us out or look after the children, and this makes me really cross. Yet they are demanding of our time and attention, and all feel as though we should be looking after them. This makes my piss fizz. It's unreasonable of me, though, I know. If they decided that they were going to make a life change, but they needed me once a week / month whatever, then I'd be cross. Would I feel this way about helping out with my Grandchildren? Hmm, I don't know. I'd like to think that I would be happy to help out. I don't expect them to help with the childcare, but to take the kids out, or even to make it look as though they're looking forward to their company is not too much to ask, is it? Our mothers especially cause us a lot of stress. I can't see this going away as they get older, either. In fact, I think their expectation of us and our time is going to increase significantly. It makes me incandescent that they expect us to look after them when they've not offered us any support as a family. However, this is unfair of me, and really, I can refuse, can't I? When they are actually old and infirm, which may not be for another 20 or so years, then it will be up to us - and whoever else is left - to decide on the appropriate course of action. Which probably will not be them living in our home. Both Papa and I have siblings who don't help out - if we became less available, then this might force them into helping out more.
It makes me cross that I may have to think about curtailing my family because our families are unsupportive. Papa and I have talked many times about what their reactions to a possible pregnancy will be. At no time have we imagined them saying anything nice. I think that just about sums things up. I *really* don't want to have to adjust my plans because of their lack of support - but I do need to be practical, and it's possible I'll be sick after you are born.
Which brings me on to Papa. I adore him, I hope you can tell. He is a loving, faithful, kind man and a good father to Peter and David. However, he's a man of limited energy and he gets very stressed when he's tired. He won't get up in the night with you, under pretty much any circumstances. He's also not great with the demands of small babies. He's very process driven and wants everything to be as efficient as possible. Life has taught me that babies are anything but efficient. He's not especially patient. I don't doubt that he will love you, and support you, me and the boys. But he is not the sort of man who will be happy to pick up the childcare that I can't manage, and to be fair to him, his job is very demanding and will not allow him to do this. I tried to talk to him about my feelings and doubts last night. I wanted him to reassure me that he was looking forward to having another baby together. Instead he said "I'm worried about these things too, you know how I feel." I asked him if he still wanted to go ahead and try, and he said "yes, but it's complicated." Yes, yes it is.
Yet again, I am facing the likelihood of a pregnancy that my parents will moan about and my husband will dread. I feel very resentful that they've never supported me. When I hear of parents who burst into spontaneous tears of joy upon hearing the news of a pregnancy, I actually feel very jealous. Similarly with husbands: I know Papa wants another baby, he would not have agreed to try to conceive if he did not. He often talks quite enthusiastically about you. But he's pessimistic by nature, a bit doom and gloom, and would prefer to say "oh shit, we've fucked everything up" upon hearing of a BFP, than "that's wonderful, darling." Of course, he's a good man and he will make sure we have a good life. He will provide for us and love us. But his love is a slow burn, and he's not going to rush to be supportive of me when things are tough. His first thought will always be for himself.
And so, because of the people around me, I have to decide whether or not I can continue down this road. It really, really fucks me off that it's the 21st century and the burden of childcare still falls pretty much solely on the mother. Is it wrong to feel resentful? Should I expect support? Am I just being unrealistic, or ungrateful? Is it sensible to assume that the CFS symptoms will go away with pregnancy and not return afterwards? What worries me is that it will be Peter and David and I who end up doing all the hard work.
As for me, well I will have to give up my business pursuits, but possibly not my degree. It's possible that I can do enough work during naps and evenings to make sure that I pass my course. Will we have enough money though?
Money is tight right now. We manage month to month, but we don't save enough. We're just about to remortgage, so there is an opportunity for us to relieve this a little by extending our mortgage terms by a year or two, which would make things easier. But I won't be able to work properly with a small baby, and we won't be able to afford childcare this time, unless I get a well paid, regular job. Would that be a bad thing?
- - - BUT - - -
Then, there's me thinking that a baby will ruin my life forever. But the other perspective is that this is for three years. Three short years. Then the baby will be at school, part time at least, and I will have time to build my business again, taking on more professional writing again, and finish my degree. Assuming I get pregnant in the next few months, it will be 2015 when I start to get some help with the childcare. I will be 41. Is it going to be any harder starting my career at 41 than it is at 37?! In seven years, I'll be in the same situation as I am now: I'll have a six year old, a 13 year old and a 21 year old. I'll be 44. Is 44 too old?! No, of course not.
This is not forever. Having a son or daughter, with all the love and pleasure that brings, is.
Maybe we can scrape by financially. We're likely to have to work 5 years longer at least than we were when we started our careers. Maybe the advantage of that is making things easier at this time in our lives. Maybe my career can be turned down a notch whilst things change in the short term. Maybe it gives me time to do my degree, so that when the baby starts school I will be finished and ready for a new challenge. My degree takes 5 years to complete, part time. I must, however, ring-fence the finances to make this happen. I must make it clear to Papa that I expect to have the time to do this too, over the years.
We're not going to be able to rely on our families for practical support, and that remains a bummer. But, maybe a baby gives us an excuse to not be available quite so much. Maybe we can have that chat that says "look, much as we love you, we're really struggling with our own lives and, unless you can be more positive, then you've got to stop moaning." And really, if they're not going to help, they've vetoed their right to have any say in how we run our lives.
I can't bear the idea that my baby making days are over. I'd so love another baby, dear child. You would be loved and adored, by all of us. I've just lost my confidence that I can rely on myself. Six years ago I felt as though I could take on the world. Now I'm not even sure I can live a normal life. Is that confidence rather than fact? I'm so cross that I'm even having to have these thoughts.
I wish there was some sort of guarantee. I think, though, that in the process of getting all this out and written down, I've realised what I'm prepared to sacrifice. Marriage and older children - no, no way. Degree - no, it's my future. It's going to be expensive, and I'm going to have to be creative to find the time to get it done, but I'm not giving it up. I've got 10 years to complete it, so even if I must postpone, it doesn't mean I will give up. Also, God willing, if I have a pregnancy full of energy (or at least with more energy than I've had recently), I really need to use that time finding paid jobs, to build up a little fund that I can put towards my degree.
As for how I'll cope in the first few months - I'm really scared. Absolutely crapping myself. But I'm not going to know until the time is upon us. And I have two wonderful sons that we've brought up rather well, if I do say so myself. There's no real reason, that I can see, that we're not going to be able to do that again. I just need to be brave. Or accept that I'll only ever be Mama to two.
With much, much love,
Mama x
UPDATE: Papa and I went for a walk when he came home from work, and I talked him through the things I mentioned here. He was kind, encouraging and positive. I love him so much it hurts.
I'm having a *really* tough day. I'm blogging about it in the hope that I'll sort my head out.
I've had a couple of real concerns about pregnancy recently. Firstly, I have very short labours and I live rurally. If your birth is as fast as David's, then I won't make it to the hospital on time. I want to have a home birth, but I have a high BMI, so I know it's contra-indicated. I've tried hard to find out the information I need about how I will be treated, but it seems that no-one will discuss this with me seriously until I get pregnant. Which seems like madness.
Secondly, I am really concerned about my ME. I've been good recently - I still get tired, but if I am sensible then I can manage a "normal" day of work and family with no problems. I've been trying to raise my stamina since July and, to be honest, it is making a difference. Part of me thinks that if I just start living a normal life. then this ruddy illness will go. However. What if it doesn't? What if, unlike most people with CFS, it doesn't abate during pregnancy. What if it gets worse? This doesn't worry me as much, but what scares me is this: what if I get sick when you are a baby? How will I look after you?
Yesterday I asked the advice of a good friend who had CFS and, since her diagnosis, has had two pregnancies and is training to be a midwife. She gave me some good advice. She felt better in both her pregnancies, and has clearly gone on to not only look after her babies, but also train to be a midwife. This is reassuring. She also told me that, with my doctor's agreement, I'll more than likely be able to continue with my CFS medication. This is a great relief. However, she ended up saying that she worries that I'm taking on too much.
This freaks me out. How can I get better if I don't take on more? On the other hand, I am taking on a lot after a period of illness, and I can't bear the thought of giving any of it up. I am really motivated by the things I am doing. Specifically these are: my sewing work and professional writing / the OU degree I've just started. Things I can't change that I need to manage are: my marriage, my older children and our wider families.
I am angry with our wider families. They never help us out or look after the children, and this makes me really cross. Yet they are demanding of our time and attention, and all feel as though we should be looking after them. This makes my piss fizz. It's unreasonable of me, though, I know. If they decided that they were going to make a life change, but they needed me once a week / month whatever, then I'd be cross. Would I feel this way about helping out with my Grandchildren? Hmm, I don't know. I'd like to think that I would be happy to help out. I don't expect them to help with the childcare, but to take the kids out, or even to make it look as though they're looking forward to their company is not too much to ask, is it? Our mothers especially cause us a lot of stress. I can't see this going away as they get older, either. In fact, I think their expectation of us and our time is going to increase significantly. It makes me incandescent that they expect us to look after them when they've not offered us any support as a family. However, this is unfair of me, and really, I can refuse, can't I? When they are actually old and infirm, which may not be for another 20 or so years, then it will be up to us - and whoever else is left - to decide on the appropriate course of action. Which probably will not be them living in our home. Both Papa and I have siblings who don't help out - if we became less available, then this might force them into helping out more.
It makes me cross that I may have to think about curtailing my family because our families are unsupportive. Papa and I have talked many times about what their reactions to a possible pregnancy will be. At no time have we imagined them saying anything nice. I think that just about sums things up. I *really* don't want to have to adjust my plans because of their lack of support - but I do need to be practical, and it's possible I'll be sick after you are born.
Which brings me on to Papa. I adore him, I hope you can tell. He is a loving, faithful, kind man and a good father to Peter and David. However, he's a man of limited energy and he gets very stressed when he's tired. He won't get up in the night with you, under pretty much any circumstances. He's also not great with the demands of small babies. He's very process driven and wants everything to be as efficient as possible. Life has taught me that babies are anything but efficient. He's not especially patient. I don't doubt that he will love you, and support you, me and the boys. But he is not the sort of man who will be happy to pick up the childcare that I can't manage, and to be fair to him, his job is very demanding and will not allow him to do this. I tried to talk to him about my feelings and doubts last night. I wanted him to reassure me that he was looking forward to having another baby together. Instead he said "I'm worried about these things too, you know how I feel." I asked him if he still wanted to go ahead and try, and he said "yes, but it's complicated." Yes, yes it is.
Yet again, I am facing the likelihood of a pregnancy that my parents will moan about and my husband will dread. I feel very resentful that they've never supported me. When I hear of parents who burst into spontaneous tears of joy upon hearing the news of a pregnancy, I actually feel very jealous. Similarly with husbands: I know Papa wants another baby, he would not have agreed to try to conceive if he did not. He often talks quite enthusiastically about you. But he's pessimistic by nature, a bit doom and gloom, and would prefer to say "oh shit, we've fucked everything up" upon hearing of a BFP, than "that's wonderful, darling." Of course, he's a good man and he will make sure we have a good life. He will provide for us and love us. But his love is a slow burn, and he's not going to rush to be supportive of me when things are tough. His first thought will always be for himself.
And so, because of the people around me, I have to decide whether or not I can continue down this road. It really, really fucks me off that it's the 21st century and the burden of childcare still falls pretty much solely on the mother. Is it wrong to feel resentful? Should I expect support? Am I just being unrealistic, or ungrateful? Is it sensible to assume that the CFS symptoms will go away with pregnancy and not return afterwards? What worries me is that it will be Peter and David and I who end up doing all the hard work.
As for me, well I will have to give up my business pursuits, but possibly not my degree. It's possible that I can do enough work during naps and evenings to make sure that I pass my course. Will we have enough money though?
Money is tight right now. We manage month to month, but we don't save enough. We're just about to remortgage, so there is an opportunity for us to relieve this a little by extending our mortgage terms by a year or two, which would make things easier. But I won't be able to work properly with a small baby, and we won't be able to afford childcare this time, unless I get a well paid, regular job. Would that be a bad thing?
- - - BUT - - -
Then, there's me thinking that a baby will ruin my life forever. But the other perspective is that this is for three years. Three short years. Then the baby will be at school, part time at least, and I will have time to build my business again, taking on more professional writing again, and finish my degree. Assuming I get pregnant in the next few months, it will be 2015 when I start to get some help with the childcare. I will be 41. Is it going to be any harder starting my career at 41 than it is at 37?! In seven years, I'll be in the same situation as I am now: I'll have a six year old, a 13 year old and a 21 year old. I'll be 44. Is 44 too old?! No, of course not.
This is not forever. Having a son or daughter, with all the love and pleasure that brings, is.
Maybe we can scrape by financially. We're likely to have to work 5 years longer at least than we were when we started our careers. Maybe the advantage of that is making things easier at this time in our lives. Maybe my career can be turned down a notch whilst things change in the short term. Maybe it gives me time to do my degree, so that when the baby starts school I will be finished and ready for a new challenge. My degree takes 5 years to complete, part time. I must, however, ring-fence the finances to make this happen. I must make it clear to Papa that I expect to have the time to do this too, over the years.
We're not going to be able to rely on our families for practical support, and that remains a bummer. But, maybe a baby gives us an excuse to not be available quite so much. Maybe we can have that chat that says "look, much as we love you, we're really struggling with our own lives and, unless you can be more positive, then you've got to stop moaning." And really, if they're not going to help, they've vetoed their right to have any say in how we run our lives.
I can't bear the idea that my baby making days are over. I'd so love another baby, dear child. You would be loved and adored, by all of us. I've just lost my confidence that I can rely on myself. Six years ago I felt as though I could take on the world. Now I'm not even sure I can live a normal life. Is that confidence rather than fact? I'm so cross that I'm even having to have these thoughts.
I wish there was some sort of guarantee. I think, though, that in the process of getting all this out and written down, I've realised what I'm prepared to sacrifice. Marriage and older children - no, no way. Degree - no, it's my future. It's going to be expensive, and I'm going to have to be creative to find the time to get it done, but I'm not giving it up. I've got 10 years to complete it, so even if I must postpone, it doesn't mean I will give up. Also, God willing, if I have a pregnancy full of energy (or at least with more energy than I've had recently), I really need to use that time finding paid jobs, to build up a little fund that I can put towards my degree.
As for how I'll cope in the first few months - I'm really scared. Absolutely crapping myself. But I'm not going to know until the time is upon us. And I have two wonderful sons that we've brought up rather well, if I do say so myself. There's no real reason, that I can see, that we're not going to be able to do that again. I just need to be brave. Or accept that I'll only ever be Mama to two.
With much, much love,
Mama x
UPDATE: Papa and I went for a walk when he came home from work, and I talked him through the things I mentioned here. He was kind, encouraging and positive. I love him so much it hurts.
Friday 9 September 2011
Not Pregnant
Dear Child of Mine,
Not pregnant. I'd didn't expect to be really, as expecting to get pregnant in your first month of trying seems a bit obscene. It happened to me before and I felt quite embarrassed. I'm still a bit sad though, and hormonal, and wasn't able to think of much else for the past week. Papa seems more upset than I expected too; both his friends seemed to magically produce babies the first month of calling and I wonder if this makes him feel bad.
It does get easier, doesn't it?
Mama.
Not pregnant. I'd didn't expect to be really, as expecting to get pregnant in your first month of trying seems a bit obscene. It happened to me before and I felt quite embarrassed. I'm still a bit sad though, and hormonal, and wasn't able to think of much else for the past week. Papa seems more upset than I expected too; both his friends seemed to magically produce babies the first month of calling and I wonder if this makes him feel bad.
It does get easier, doesn't it?
Mama.
Friday 2 September 2011
Grumpy
Dear Child of Mine,
I'm feeling a bit fed up today. Papa and the boys are going back to school in the next couple of days, and I always find the anticipation of change rather problematic. It's rarely as bad as it feels once the moment is upon us, so I'm willing away the last few days of the holiday.
Your Grandpa and Grandma have just gone home from a three day stay with us. It was rather fraught. They are good people and I love them, but they have strange ways and I always end up feeling very worried for them, and usually rather offended by somethings they have said and done whilst here. I don't think they mean badly, they're just not very tactful. And they seem to think that anything we do that is different to what they do or did is an implied criticism. It's not, and it's very wearing.
We have the child from hell staying over tonight. He's one of Peter's friends and is so boisterous we limit his visits to yearly. I'm not sure we could get away with less. His parents are lovely, and they often have Peter to stay at theirs, so really we're lucky that they tolerate once per year. As I type I can hear this child charging about upstairs and knocking stuff over and whipping up David into a state of over excitement. Fingers crossed they go to bed soon, and he grows out of it by next year. He'll be 15 after all. Maybe we will have a good excuse for putting off his visit once you are here.
I'm trying to eat more healthily in order to prepare my body for conception. I've enjoyed smoothies and porridge for breakfast and have packed the freezer with bags full of prepped healthy meals for when term starts once more. I'm making a big effort to eat fruit and cut down on drink. It's a bit boring. My wee is still yellow.
Yours grumpily,
Mama x
I'm feeling a bit fed up today. Papa and the boys are going back to school in the next couple of days, and I always find the anticipation of change rather problematic. It's rarely as bad as it feels once the moment is upon us, so I'm willing away the last few days of the holiday.
Your Grandpa and Grandma have just gone home from a three day stay with us. It was rather fraught. They are good people and I love them, but they have strange ways and I always end up feeling very worried for them, and usually rather offended by somethings they have said and done whilst here. I don't think they mean badly, they're just not very tactful. And they seem to think that anything we do that is different to what they do or did is an implied criticism. It's not, and it's very wearing.
We have the child from hell staying over tonight. He's one of Peter's friends and is so boisterous we limit his visits to yearly. I'm not sure we could get away with less. His parents are lovely, and they often have Peter to stay at theirs, so really we're lucky that they tolerate once per year. As I type I can hear this child charging about upstairs and knocking stuff over and whipping up David into a state of over excitement. Fingers crossed they go to bed soon, and he grows out of it by next year. He'll be 15 after all. Maybe we will have a good excuse for putting off his visit once you are here.
I'm trying to eat more healthily in order to prepare my body for conception. I've enjoyed smoothies and porridge for breakfast and have packed the freezer with bags full of prepped healthy meals for when term starts once more. I'm making a big effort to eat fruit and cut down on drink. It's a bit boring. My wee is still yellow.
Yours grumpily,
Mama x
Thursday 1 September 2011
Pregnancy Planning
Dear Child of Mine,
First off: WOOOHOOO!
Yes, I still haven't got out of that mood. I can't believe we've turned that corner. Things have moved up a gear here, and Papa is quite happily chatting about your arrival. Blooming heck. Yes, there's the whole business of getting pregnant, and actually having a healthy pregnancy, labour and delivery, but first thing's first. I am now actively trying to conceive (hereafter known as TTC). Bloody hell. Woohoo!
I'll be honest, there is only one way that I deal with new challenges in life: I read. And so, true to form, I am spending my days browsing websites and downloading sample books to my Kindle. I've read about pregnancy in the over 35s, pregnancy in women with ME / CFS / CFIDS, pregnancy in general, how to conceive and how to boost your fertility. I've looked for information about successfully adding a third baby to one's little brood, and have been unsuccessful in finding anything good. I'm currently reading something about acupuncture for fertility. I have not yet felt the need to read anything in its entirety, I'm hopping about like a bunny on speed. But I am gaining and filing away information - most of it probably completely irrelevant and unusable, but it helps me to feel in control. And I am starting to get used to the idea. I still have moments when I feel like going SQUEEEEEEE! and others when I am scared. I still wake up first thing and my second or third thought of the day is "fucking hell, I'm actually likely to have another baby soon." Then I think "hooray" and "bollocks" in equal measure...
Today I started taking pre-conception multivitamins. Folic acid is very important. I had intended to only buy FA supplements, and be very cool about the whole thing. Then I read somewhere that overweight women need to take more than skinny women. I can't find any real evidence about this, so I started to look at other supplements to be on the safe side. That was the start of a slippery slope.
My head said "women get pregnant all the time without taking pre-conception supplements. You even know several of them. Their babies have been perfectly OK. Just take folic acid." Suddenly, before I knew it, I was looking at the Gold Star of pregnancy vitamins, lovingly handcrafted* by Zita West. OK, maybe not handcrafted, but one assumes she does something special to justify the extortionate prices.
By now, however, my middle class Spidey senses were tingling. So these pre-conception vitamins are the most refined, nutritious of all pre-conception vitamins, are they? So what if it costs £35.00 for a month's worth of those suckers, who am I to deny my precious baby-in-waiting the goodness that you need to make your way into the world? Surely, if I am going to bother at all, these lovingly packaged little beauties are the way to go? With their sophisticated bottles, their easy-to-understand process of changing micro-refined nutrients to suit whichever stage of pregnancy I am at, and those grinning pictures of mums, dads and newborns, these pre-pregnancy vitamins weren't just pre-pregnancy vitamins. They are truly seductive. Bring on the armour plated semen, and mitochondrially-reinforced ova, boosted by the seven new fruit extracts.
I am a sap. I bought them. I now have fluorescent yellow wee. Let's face it, I am a fat, almost 40 year old woman with a chronic illness. I need all the help I can get.
Mama x
First off: WOOOHOOO!
Yes, I still haven't got out of that mood. I can't believe we've turned that corner. Things have moved up a gear here, and Papa is quite happily chatting about your arrival. Blooming heck. Yes, there's the whole business of getting pregnant, and actually having a healthy pregnancy, labour and delivery, but first thing's first. I am now actively trying to conceive (hereafter known as TTC). Bloody hell. Woohoo!
I'll be honest, there is only one way that I deal with new challenges in life: I read. And so, true to form, I am spending my days browsing websites and downloading sample books to my Kindle. I've read about pregnancy in the over 35s, pregnancy in women with ME / CFS / CFIDS, pregnancy in general, how to conceive and how to boost your fertility. I've looked for information about successfully adding a third baby to one's little brood, and have been unsuccessful in finding anything good. I'm currently reading something about acupuncture for fertility. I have not yet felt the need to read anything in its entirety, I'm hopping about like a bunny on speed. But I am gaining and filing away information - most of it probably completely irrelevant and unusable, but it helps me to feel in control. And I am starting to get used to the idea. I still have moments when I feel like going SQUEEEEEEE! and others when I am scared. I still wake up first thing and my second or third thought of the day is "fucking hell, I'm actually likely to have another baby soon." Then I think "hooray" and "bollocks" in equal measure...
Today I started taking pre-conception multivitamins. Folic acid is very important. I had intended to only buy FA supplements, and be very cool about the whole thing. Then I read somewhere that overweight women need to take more than skinny women. I can't find any real evidence about this, so I started to look at other supplements to be on the safe side. That was the start of a slippery slope.
My head said "women get pregnant all the time without taking pre-conception supplements. You even know several of them. Their babies have been perfectly OK. Just take folic acid." Suddenly, before I knew it, I was looking at the Gold Star of pregnancy vitamins, lovingly handcrafted* by Zita West. OK, maybe not handcrafted, but one assumes she does something special to justify the extortionate prices.
By now, however, my middle class Spidey senses were tingling. So these pre-conception vitamins are the most refined, nutritious of all pre-conception vitamins, are they? So what if it costs £35.00 for a month's worth of those suckers, who am I to deny my precious baby-in-waiting the goodness that you need to make your way into the world? Surely, if I am going to bother at all, these lovingly packaged little beauties are the way to go? With their sophisticated bottles, their easy-to-understand process of changing micro-refined nutrients to suit whichever stage of pregnancy I am at, and those grinning pictures of mums, dads and newborns, these pre-pregnancy vitamins weren't just pre-pregnancy vitamins. They are truly seductive. Bring on the armour plated semen, and mitochondrially-reinforced ova, boosted by the seven new fruit extracts.
I am a sap. I bought them. I now have fluorescent yellow wee. Let's face it, I am a fat, almost 40 year old woman with a chronic illness. I need all the help I can get.
Mama x
Saturday 27 August 2011
Woo! Wheee! Hooray! And OMFG.
Dear Child of Mine,
Papa wants to start trying for a baby!
WOOOOHOOO!
WHEEEEEEEEE!
HOOOORAAAHHH!
POM POMS
OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.
BOLLOCKS.
This is what I have waited for for six whole months. Well, if you're a bit loose about the details, six whole years. I am going to be a Mama again!
This is quite a long tale, so forgive me if it takes a while.
I hadn't posted for a long time because I was feeling very glum about the prospect of never having another baby. Actually, glum doesn't do it justice. I was experiencing flashes of real grief. Papa and I had three very serious conversations about it. We concluded that it would be nice, but it's a massive risk and there's no way we could mitigate it. We either jump in with both feet and to hell with the consequences, or we walk away. I understood Papa's point of view. There are lots of other reasons, smaller, practical, what-have-you, but the big problem for Papa was the risk taking. And, if I was honest with myself, I was just as scared too.
Our best friends, Mary and Brian, have recently had a baby themselves. I was looking forward to meeting this new little bundle for the first time, and also dreading it, in a way that I have found is common in women with complicated fertility and ideas about family. Papa decided we should wait until we'd spent the day with baby Ruth. She was ten days old. Then we'd see.
Baby Ruth was what you'd expect - tiny, pink, suedey-headed and perfect. Papa came home and said he was broody, expecting hearts and flowers and joyous bonding. Rather awkwardly, I was not broody. She was lovely, I admired her and I enjoyed spending time with her, but I did not feel slapped by my ovaries in the way that I expected. This was a shock to the system. Maybe I wasn't broody at all? Maybe this was a natural ageing thing - an accepting that my family is already complete and I am moving on from the active childbearing years?
We talked again. Papa was confused about my lack of enthusiasm. Maybe I should not have shared my feelings with him, but I was shocked by them too. What did this mean?
Rather confusingly, I still felt the sharp pangs of longing for the baby I would never have. Each time I say a newborn I felt hurt. I forced myself to dwell on the positives in my life as it is, but I told him how I felt each time, and I even cried myself to sleep a few times. Then something odd happened:
Papa and I had row. A big, serious row.
I'll make no bones about it, I said I was leaving and, for about two hours, I meant it. I'd searched the internet for places to live and everything. In the cold light of day, I can't actually remember what the row was about. However, within a couple of hours, we'd calmed down, reconnected and both cried tears of relief, establishing we actually loved each other very much, really loved each other, and we wanted to be together no matter what. I can't explain how wonderful that reconnecting felt, or what a shock the blow out was.
We talked again about the baby thing, and decided it was the wrong time. If we were rowing, we couldn't have another baby, could we? I said that I needed to get on with my life in a more focussed way than I have in recent months. And we properly talked through a few big issues that had come up in our relationship, mainly relating to how my illness had changed our relationship and our family. We got a lot out in the open.
I did a lot of research and decided to sign up for an OU type module. Very exciting. Then, out of the blue, my book contract came through. I'd become a student again and was writing a book - hoorah! All sorted in my head. Sad, at times, but taking the long view.
Last week, this is where I thought this post would end.
On Sunday we were lazing about in bed (post coitally, actually, unless that's TMI.) I asked Papa again to consider having a vasectomy. I had asked at the beginning of the year, after five and a half years of his not wanting to commit to another baby. He said he'd prefer not to, in case we felt broody. I BECAME broody, partly because he had taken this point of view.
However, six long months had proved that he still had such reservations that he did not want to try again, which was what prompted me to re-request a vasectomy. He was extremely reluctant. I pointed out that he did not want to use condoms, he was unhappy when hormonal contraception reduced my libido, and that he neither wanted a baby, nor to remove the possibility of me becoming pregnant. I explained that this was a bit of a head-fuck and something I wanted addressing. His response? After a (pregnant, ha ha) pause?
"I think we should try for a baby. I think we should set a limit of, say Christmas, when we review how we feel and either stop or carry on if we want to. I don't think we should get too worried, I think we should stop using contraception, have more sex and wait and see what happens."
Fucking hell.
My response was: "are you sure? Do you want a few days to think about this?"
He responded no, he'd been thinking it through for some time, but wanted to be sure of his feelings before he talked to me. Oooo-kay, then. And, within an hour, he'd been online to buy folic acid, and had clipped out coupons for buying Pampers.
I don't know how I feel about this. I am delighted, over the moon, giddy with happiness. I am shocked. I am scared shitless. I am wondering what I have let myself in for. I am worrying how we will cope, and whether our respective ages will cause pregnancy problems or complications. I am happy. Papa just seems happy about the prospect of regular sex.
So THERE, dear child of mine. Wherever you are, I hope you're celebrating. We might meet soon. Papa and I have already started discussing what Christmas might be like if I am pregnant by then, what we might call you and what baby accoutrements we'd need to buy.
Of course I have to conceive you, and carry you without problems and deliver you. I know a whole world of potential difficulty lies therein, but for now, I am your slightly shellshocked, but very happy
Mama x
PS It's a secret.
Papa wants to start trying for a baby!
WOOOOHOOO!
WHEEEEEEEEE!
HOOOORAAAHHH!
POM POMS
OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.
BOLLOCKS.
This is what I have waited for for six whole months. Well, if you're a bit loose about the details, six whole years. I am going to be a Mama again!
This is quite a long tale, so forgive me if it takes a while.
I hadn't posted for a long time because I was feeling very glum about the prospect of never having another baby. Actually, glum doesn't do it justice. I was experiencing flashes of real grief. Papa and I had three very serious conversations about it. We concluded that it would be nice, but it's a massive risk and there's no way we could mitigate it. We either jump in with both feet and to hell with the consequences, or we walk away. I understood Papa's point of view. There are lots of other reasons, smaller, practical, what-have-you, but the big problem for Papa was the risk taking. And, if I was honest with myself, I was just as scared too.
Our best friends, Mary and Brian, have recently had a baby themselves. I was looking forward to meeting this new little bundle for the first time, and also dreading it, in a way that I have found is common in women with complicated fertility and ideas about family. Papa decided we should wait until we'd spent the day with baby Ruth. She was ten days old. Then we'd see.
Baby Ruth was what you'd expect - tiny, pink, suedey-headed and perfect. Papa came home and said he was broody, expecting hearts and flowers and joyous bonding. Rather awkwardly, I was not broody. She was lovely, I admired her and I enjoyed spending time with her, but I did not feel slapped by my ovaries in the way that I expected. This was a shock to the system. Maybe I wasn't broody at all? Maybe this was a natural ageing thing - an accepting that my family is already complete and I am moving on from the active childbearing years?
We talked again. Papa was confused about my lack of enthusiasm. Maybe I should not have shared my feelings with him, but I was shocked by them too. What did this mean?
Rather confusingly, I still felt the sharp pangs of longing for the baby I would never have. Each time I say a newborn I felt hurt. I forced myself to dwell on the positives in my life as it is, but I told him how I felt each time, and I even cried myself to sleep a few times. Then something odd happened:
Papa and I had row. A big, serious row.
I'll make no bones about it, I said I was leaving and, for about two hours, I meant it. I'd searched the internet for places to live and everything. In the cold light of day, I can't actually remember what the row was about. However, within a couple of hours, we'd calmed down, reconnected and both cried tears of relief, establishing we actually loved each other very much, really loved each other, and we wanted to be together no matter what. I can't explain how wonderful that reconnecting felt, or what a shock the blow out was.
We talked again about the baby thing, and decided it was the wrong time. If we were rowing, we couldn't have another baby, could we? I said that I needed to get on with my life in a more focussed way than I have in recent months. And we properly talked through a few big issues that had come up in our relationship, mainly relating to how my illness had changed our relationship and our family. We got a lot out in the open.
I did a lot of research and decided to sign up for an OU type module. Very exciting. Then, out of the blue, my book contract came through. I'd become a student again and was writing a book - hoorah! All sorted in my head. Sad, at times, but taking the long view.
Last week, this is where I thought this post would end.
On Sunday we were lazing about in bed (post coitally, actually, unless that's TMI.) I asked Papa again to consider having a vasectomy. I had asked at the beginning of the year, after five and a half years of his not wanting to commit to another baby. He said he'd prefer not to, in case we felt broody. I BECAME broody, partly because he had taken this point of view.
However, six long months had proved that he still had such reservations that he did not want to try again, which was what prompted me to re-request a vasectomy. He was extremely reluctant. I pointed out that he did not want to use condoms, he was unhappy when hormonal contraception reduced my libido, and that he neither wanted a baby, nor to remove the possibility of me becoming pregnant. I explained that this was a bit of a head-fuck and something I wanted addressing. His response? After a (pregnant, ha ha) pause?
"I think we should try for a baby. I think we should set a limit of, say Christmas, when we review how we feel and either stop or carry on if we want to. I don't think we should get too worried, I think we should stop using contraception, have more sex and wait and see what happens."
Fucking hell.
My response was: "are you sure? Do you want a few days to think about this?"
He responded no, he'd been thinking it through for some time, but wanted to be sure of his feelings before he talked to me. Oooo-kay, then. And, within an hour, he'd been online to buy folic acid, and had clipped out coupons for buying Pampers.
I don't know how I feel about this. I am delighted, over the moon, giddy with happiness. I am shocked. I am scared shitless. I am wondering what I have let myself in for. I am worrying how we will cope, and whether our respective ages will cause pregnancy problems or complications. I am happy. Papa just seems happy about the prospect of regular sex.
So THERE, dear child of mine. Wherever you are, I hope you're celebrating. We might meet soon. Papa and I have already started discussing what Christmas might be like if I am pregnant by then, what we might call you and what baby accoutrements we'd need to buy.
Of course I have to conceive you, and carry you without problems and deliver you. I know a whole world of potential difficulty lies therein, but for now, I am your slightly shellshocked, but very happy
Mama x
PS It's a secret.
Sunday 17 July 2011
Lost
Dear Child of Mine,
Oh darling, you're further away than ever. This week three of my friends have given birth to baby girls, and one has had her positive pregnancy test.
Papa, it seems, has been humouring me all this time. He's quite smugly admitted that he never wants another child.
I feel very alone.
Mama x
Oh darling, you're further away than ever. This week three of my friends have given birth to baby girls, and one has had her positive pregnancy test.
Papa, it seems, has been humouring me all this time. He's quite smugly admitted that he never wants another child.
I feel very alone.
Mama x
Tuesday 5 July 2011
Dear Betty Herbert,
So, Betty, I've been finding the format of this blog a little constrictive. I'm happy to be a Mama, and I want to be a Mama again, but I am also the wife of the incorrigible Papa, whom I adore to distraction. My life with him should not be discussed in all its multicolour detail with any of our children, even unborn ones. But it is still highly relevant to family life as I experience it, and especially to baby making. So, in this instance, I am changing the order of things.
I received your book, The 52 Seductions, with great excitement, not least because it touches on a sore spot in my relationship with Papa (I hope you will forgive the twee pseudonyms, but they seemed at once affectionate and anonymous at the inception of this blog.) We have been together for eleven years. In some ways this feels like no time at all, but in others we have settled into a comfortable rut. Especially sexually.
I should say, to start with, that we always prided ourselves on being sexually adventurous. If it was to be tried, we tried it, with the exception of a few mutually agreed rules. And we enjoyed it enormously. But after a while it kind of merged into a sameness, even though it might not be the sort of "vanilla" sex that other people had. Surprise, surprise, even porn sex gets dull.
I suspect, for my husband, that his main stimuli is visual, and context does not matter. For me it's about communication; I even like my porn to be communicative. Not necessarily to have a story, as Papa interprets this, or to be less explicit, as is often assumed about women. I need to like and/or appreciate the characters involved. How I like my porn is also how I like my sex. It may also be why I am so crap at one night stands.
The 52 Seductions wasn't porn-y in the slightest, but the same principles applied. Betty, I found the unburdening of your soul as thought provoking, intimate and warming as the sex. There was something about the dual storyline of your sexual discovery and your gynaecological issues that was very humbling. You can across as vulnerable. What a refreshing bloody change. I could completely relate to you.
At times I found myself feeling sad that my relationship was not like yours. For a while it felt as though I was doing it wrong. After much thought, I realised that this was because if my relationship WAS like yours, then all the answers to my problems would be there for me to passively ingest. And that's really, incredibly lazy of me, isn't it? It may possibly be a reason that my relationship has settled into this gentle tide, compared to the brooding storminess of its early days.
My relationship with Papa has, like your relationship with Herbert, always been based on equality. Papa is a fair, yet lustful, modern man. We have danced around each others views and put barriers in the way of our desires because we were afraid of one another's political views. Like you, I consider myself feminist and studied feminist writing at university. For a long time I carried guilt at being a complicated sexual being and felt as though this was at odds with my internal beliefs. Papa has always respected this, and has never asked me to do anything that I have felt compromised me. I wonder how much these barriers have got in the way of our lust? I have read Nancy Friday backwards, forwards and every which way and am highly accomplished at my feminist, solo sex life. But how do I reconcile this guiltless sexual freedom with my husbands, which is different from my own? His animal lust has not read the feminist textbooks. In the safeness and security of our marriage, should this matter?
For a long while, I carried a silent badge of pride about our sex life. Whilst others would lament how irregular theirs had become, Papa and I quietly maintained a twice-a-week average of satisfying shags. We connected emotionally, and sex became about communicating, soothing one another and emotional connection, as well as the obvious physical satisfaction. We could only wait for ten days after the birth of David before our hands were all over each other again - it was our way of congratulating ourselves, dealing with change, reconnecting, growing, even commiserating. In sex we had each other, liberated by the absence of words.
I - somewhat smugly - thought this would always be the case. The last couple of years have really tested this. I have been ill - housebound at times - and up to my eyeballs on differing drugs of varying strengths. My body let me down, and became medicalised and faulty, rather than sexual. I put on weight and stopped bothering with my appearance. And so, our sex life dwindled. We gazed at one another over this no man's land of health issues, pain and excessive weight. No matter how much I tried, I could not motivate myself to make love just to please my husband, and when I did it was not enough. He seemed to want swinging-from-the-chandeliers best sex every time, and this completely alienated me. Could he not see the sacrifice I was making in order to keep him happy?
Thankfully things are starting to change. My health has been steadily improving since winter. Instead of making love in our usual venue (downstairs, on the bed settee, with porn in glorious 48") we've retreated back to the bedroom. We've ditched the accoutrements that Papa was so fond of, temporarily at least, and gone back to simple sex and really connecting with one another. And guess what? We're having some of the best sex that I remember, and we're physically and emotionally closer than we have been in months.
The 52 Seductions, then, is rather timely for us. Papa does not read much, but I suspect he may read this. I am heartily sure that he will declare that you and Herbert are "sweet," as he responds to people on a genuinely emotional level that always surprises me. I am also sure that he'll mull over your seductions and think about how they apply to our lives.
What I expected was a tick list of every increasingly daring sexual acts (anal sex? tick! S&M? Golden showers? Threesomes?) What I got was an entirely more feminine, intelligent response to sex. I absolutely agree with you that good sex is about good communication. I hope that we can grow into ourselves and our relationship and at last properly believe that our sexual relationship is far more important than the sum total of its parts, and it's far more than a checklist of things that FHM or Cosmopolitan suggest we might do. The 52 Seductions was really, genuinely grown up, in a way that's made me buzzy and sympathetic and motivated and full of love and lust for my own husband, who is just down the road doing the job he's always done. I was looking for more things we could do, when actually what I think we need is to do things better. We need to be more vulnerable together.
Our challenges are different to yours. We have a young child who's up early, and a teenager who's up late and no family support. Finding special time alone is not as easy as it might be, and we are somewhat limited as to our location as a consequence. But the things that made our relationship dizzyingly exciting in the early days were not a bag with a multitude of sex toys in and a copy of the Karma Sutra. It was the ebb and flow and emotional anxiety and heady reassurance that love is returned. I'm really hoping that we can make this happen again.
Thanks - genuinely thanks - for being brave enough to share.
Mama x
I received your book, The 52 Seductions, with great excitement, not least because it touches on a sore spot in my relationship with Papa (I hope you will forgive the twee pseudonyms, but they seemed at once affectionate and anonymous at the inception of this blog.) We have been together for eleven years. In some ways this feels like no time at all, but in others we have settled into a comfortable rut. Especially sexually.
I should say, to start with, that we always prided ourselves on being sexually adventurous. If it was to be tried, we tried it, with the exception of a few mutually agreed rules. And we enjoyed it enormously. But after a while it kind of merged into a sameness, even though it might not be the sort of "vanilla" sex that other people had. Surprise, surprise, even porn sex gets dull.
I suspect, for my husband, that his main stimuli is visual, and context does not matter. For me it's about communication; I even like my porn to be communicative. Not necessarily to have a story, as Papa interprets this, or to be less explicit, as is often assumed about women. I need to like and/or appreciate the characters involved. How I like my porn is also how I like my sex. It may also be why I am so crap at one night stands.
The 52 Seductions wasn't porn-y in the slightest, but the same principles applied. Betty, I found the unburdening of your soul as thought provoking, intimate and warming as the sex. There was something about the dual storyline of your sexual discovery and your gynaecological issues that was very humbling. You can across as vulnerable. What a refreshing bloody change. I could completely relate to you.
At times I found myself feeling sad that my relationship was not like yours. For a while it felt as though I was doing it wrong. After much thought, I realised that this was because if my relationship WAS like yours, then all the answers to my problems would be there for me to passively ingest. And that's really, incredibly lazy of me, isn't it? It may possibly be a reason that my relationship has settled into this gentle tide, compared to the brooding storminess of its early days.
My relationship with Papa has, like your relationship with Herbert, always been based on equality. Papa is a fair, yet lustful, modern man. We have danced around each others views and put barriers in the way of our desires because we were afraid of one another's political views. Like you, I consider myself feminist and studied feminist writing at university. For a long time I carried guilt at being a complicated sexual being and felt as though this was at odds with my internal beliefs. Papa has always respected this, and has never asked me to do anything that I have felt compromised me. I wonder how much these barriers have got in the way of our lust? I have read Nancy Friday backwards, forwards and every which way and am highly accomplished at my feminist, solo sex life. But how do I reconcile this guiltless sexual freedom with my husbands, which is different from my own? His animal lust has not read the feminist textbooks. In the safeness and security of our marriage, should this matter?
For a long while, I carried a silent badge of pride about our sex life. Whilst others would lament how irregular theirs had become, Papa and I quietly maintained a twice-a-week average of satisfying shags. We connected emotionally, and sex became about communicating, soothing one another and emotional connection, as well as the obvious physical satisfaction. We could only wait for ten days after the birth of David before our hands were all over each other again - it was our way of congratulating ourselves, dealing with change, reconnecting, growing, even commiserating. In sex we had each other, liberated by the absence of words.
I - somewhat smugly - thought this would always be the case. The last couple of years have really tested this. I have been ill - housebound at times - and up to my eyeballs on differing drugs of varying strengths. My body let me down, and became medicalised and faulty, rather than sexual. I put on weight and stopped bothering with my appearance. And so, our sex life dwindled. We gazed at one another over this no man's land of health issues, pain and excessive weight. No matter how much I tried, I could not motivate myself to make love just to please my husband, and when I did it was not enough. He seemed to want swinging-from-the-chandeliers best sex every time, and this completely alienated me. Could he not see the sacrifice I was making in order to keep him happy?
Thankfully things are starting to change. My health has been steadily improving since winter. Instead of making love in our usual venue (downstairs, on the bed settee, with porn in glorious 48") we've retreated back to the bedroom. We've ditched the accoutrements that Papa was so fond of, temporarily at least, and gone back to simple sex and really connecting with one another. And guess what? We're having some of the best sex that I remember, and we're physically and emotionally closer than we have been in months.
The 52 Seductions, then, is rather timely for us. Papa does not read much, but I suspect he may read this. I am heartily sure that he will declare that you and Herbert are "sweet," as he responds to people on a genuinely emotional level that always surprises me. I am also sure that he'll mull over your seductions and think about how they apply to our lives.
What I expected was a tick list of every increasingly daring sexual acts (anal sex? tick! S&M? Golden showers? Threesomes?) What I got was an entirely more feminine, intelligent response to sex. I absolutely agree with you that good sex is about good communication. I hope that we can grow into ourselves and our relationship and at last properly believe that our sexual relationship is far more important than the sum total of its parts, and it's far more than a checklist of things that FHM or Cosmopolitan suggest we might do. The 52 Seductions was really, genuinely grown up, in a way that's made me buzzy and sympathetic and motivated and full of love and lust for my own husband, who is just down the road doing the job he's always done. I was looking for more things we could do, when actually what I think we need is to do things better. We need to be more vulnerable together.
Our challenges are different to yours. We have a young child who's up early, and a teenager who's up late and no family support. Finding special time alone is not as easy as it might be, and we are somewhat limited as to our location as a consequence. But the things that made our relationship dizzyingly exciting in the early days were not a bag with a multitude of sex toys in and a copy of the Karma Sutra. It was the ebb and flow and emotional anxiety and heady reassurance that love is returned. I'm really hoping that we can make this happen again.
Thanks - genuinely thanks - for being brave enough to share.
Mama x
Monday 4 July 2011
Oh, Lord. BONKERS ways to convince your husband to have another baby.
Let me just say, right now, that I'm not going to be putting holes in any condoms. I'm not going to lie about when I'm ovulating either; these are just disrespectful. In light of my last post I have been Googling "how to convince your husband to have a baby" and I am astonished by how many women seem to think it's OK to lie to their other halves. Not cool, dudes.
Here are some suggestions that have amused me and largely left me thinking "wtf?"
1) At church let him catch you staring at little kids.
2) Turn the tables. Completely deny you want children. He'll be curious as to why you're rejecting him and suddenly want them.
3) Get a dog. When he falls in love with it, give it away. Then suggest you have a baby.
4) Don't talk about having another baby
5) Watch a family film with fun interaction between the parents and children
6) Act depressed, and maybe cry from time to time.
7) Just get mad at him and tell him to go and get snipped
Here are some suggestions that have amused me and largely left me thinking "wtf?"
1) At church let him catch you staring at little kids.
2) Turn the tables. Completely deny you want children. He'll be curious as to why you're rejecting him and suddenly want them.
3) Get a dog. When he falls in love with it, give it away. Then suggest you have a baby.
4) Don't talk about having another baby
5) Watch a family film with fun interaction between the parents and children
6) Act depressed, and maybe cry from time to time.
7) Just get mad at him and tell him to go and get snipped
Empty Arms
Dear Child of Mine,
Today is one of those days that my arms really ache for you. I feel as though I'll drive myself mad with grief if I think about you too much. Most days I can be more philosophical, but today not so much.
I ovulated over the weekend. Papa has been jollying me along with my broodiness, trying not to cause a row. I misinterpreted this as him approving of the idea. He's still indulging me in my conversations about what our lives would be like with a new little one. However, despite starting off what I thought was a baby making session without contraception, he suddenly whipped out a condom at the crucial moment. I was more than a bit gutted, but I put on my brave face and called him a spoilsport instead.
Writing it down, it seems as though he's treating me very unfairly. I don't think this is his intention. Papa has very good reasons for not being enthusiastic about baby making at this moment in time - and I am sure that he has good emotional reasons. If he doesn't want another baby, then I have no right to question this veto really, do I? In the same way that I would expect to be able to say no should he want another, and would shout loudly about brood-mares and the like if he were to try to impose his will onto me. However, I don't even know that that is his reason for saying no.
The thing is, David was very hard work and this has made Papa wary of small children. Also - and this should not be overestimated - Papa's place of work is closing down within the next three years. He's very good at his job and, chances are, he'll get a new job within this time. I'm 99% sure this is the case, as is his boss, who is a good and fair man. But it's a risk, and there are no certainties, and it makes Papa very nervous. I can understand his worry, and I am reassured by it - after all, I should not like to be with a man who makes babies willy nilly with no concern for how they might be supported.
The problem is that I will be 41 in three years time. The chances of my conceiving then will be much smaller. Peter will be 17, and that feels too old. I'd like him to feel part of a family of five, rather than that his parents had a new family around the time he left home. David will be nine. Again, that's a heck of a big age gap. Strategically, it feels much better to consider conceiving again right now.
The problem with deciding to conceive another baby is that it's rare for both people to be at the same place emotionally at the same time. It has not yet happened before to me. But one person does not really have the right to decide whether the other person should become a parent again. Looking at my friends' relationships, I think it takes one partner to be very laid back about the whole thing and leave the decision up to the other. In my experience it's usually the woman who decides when the family will be added to, or it's an accident. Genuine accidents seem like a real gift from my current position. Gone are the weeks and months of negotiating, wrangling and pleading. Genuine accidents must be quite rare, though - an accident implies that one partner was rather relaxed with contraception. Which Papa will never be.
I sometimes struggle not to be angry with him, because his veto is taking away my choice. I long to hold another of my babies in my arms. But I also appreciate his responsibility, and I love him. I don't want to have babies with anyone else. I feel out of control, and that is never a pleasant experience. But, ironically, I love him all the more for being sensible, and committed enough to me and the children to ensure that we are properly looked after.
Papa is not a bad man. If he could give me my heart's desire then he would. It's just not at any price.
He does not want to cause an argument or any bad feeling between us, so he listens to and indulges my discussions about you, dear child. He knows my feelings clearly. I wonder whether it'd be easier if he refused to discuss the issue and listen to what I had to say? That would be more disrespectful, and it would make me angry. However, his response would be clear. As it is, he listens patiently, and sometimes interjects with his own hopes and dreams. It could well be that he's taking his time and mulling things over. That's how it worked with David, after all. It took me six months of negotiations before we started trying to conceive a child. But this time? He says no but not never. He rolls his eyes and metaphorically pats me on the head when I talk to him about having another baby. I think he finds it endearing and irritating in equal measure. When - if ever - do I give up?
Mama x
Today is one of those days that my arms really ache for you. I feel as though I'll drive myself mad with grief if I think about you too much. Most days I can be more philosophical, but today not so much.
I ovulated over the weekend. Papa has been jollying me along with my broodiness, trying not to cause a row. I misinterpreted this as him approving of the idea. He's still indulging me in my conversations about what our lives would be like with a new little one. However, despite starting off what I thought was a baby making session without contraception, he suddenly whipped out a condom at the crucial moment. I was more than a bit gutted, but I put on my brave face and called him a spoilsport instead.
Writing it down, it seems as though he's treating me very unfairly. I don't think this is his intention. Papa has very good reasons for not being enthusiastic about baby making at this moment in time - and I am sure that he has good emotional reasons. If he doesn't want another baby, then I have no right to question this veto really, do I? In the same way that I would expect to be able to say no should he want another, and would shout loudly about brood-mares and the like if he were to try to impose his will onto me. However, I don't even know that that is his reason for saying no.
The thing is, David was very hard work and this has made Papa wary of small children. Also - and this should not be overestimated - Papa's place of work is closing down within the next three years. He's very good at his job and, chances are, he'll get a new job within this time. I'm 99% sure this is the case, as is his boss, who is a good and fair man. But it's a risk, and there are no certainties, and it makes Papa very nervous. I can understand his worry, and I am reassured by it - after all, I should not like to be with a man who makes babies willy nilly with no concern for how they might be supported.
The problem is that I will be 41 in three years time. The chances of my conceiving then will be much smaller. Peter will be 17, and that feels too old. I'd like him to feel part of a family of five, rather than that his parents had a new family around the time he left home. David will be nine. Again, that's a heck of a big age gap. Strategically, it feels much better to consider conceiving again right now.
The problem with deciding to conceive another baby is that it's rare for both people to be at the same place emotionally at the same time. It has not yet happened before to me. But one person does not really have the right to decide whether the other person should become a parent again. Looking at my friends' relationships, I think it takes one partner to be very laid back about the whole thing and leave the decision up to the other. In my experience it's usually the woman who decides when the family will be added to, or it's an accident. Genuine accidents seem like a real gift from my current position. Gone are the weeks and months of negotiating, wrangling and pleading. Genuine accidents must be quite rare, though - an accident implies that one partner was rather relaxed with contraception. Which Papa will never be.
I sometimes struggle not to be angry with him, because his veto is taking away my choice. I long to hold another of my babies in my arms. But I also appreciate his responsibility, and I love him. I don't want to have babies with anyone else. I feel out of control, and that is never a pleasant experience. But, ironically, I love him all the more for being sensible, and committed enough to me and the children to ensure that we are properly looked after.
Papa is not a bad man. If he could give me my heart's desire then he would. It's just not at any price.
He does not want to cause an argument or any bad feeling between us, so he listens to and indulges my discussions about you, dear child. He knows my feelings clearly. I wonder whether it'd be easier if he refused to discuss the issue and listen to what I had to say? That would be more disrespectful, and it would make me angry. However, his response would be clear. As it is, he listens patiently, and sometimes interjects with his own hopes and dreams. It could well be that he's taking his time and mulling things over. That's how it worked with David, after all. It took me six months of negotiations before we started trying to conceive a child. But this time? He says no but not never. He rolls his eyes and metaphorically pats me on the head when I talk to him about having another baby. I think he finds it endearing and irritating in equal measure. When - if ever - do I give up?
Mama x
Friday 24 June 2011
20 Reasons to be cheerful...
Dear Child of Mine,
Yesterday Papa and I talked about you. I try not to talk to Papa too often because I want him to decide for himself that he wants us to have another baby, rather than be hectored into it. On the other hand, if I never mention you at all he would quite happily never give the matter another thought. It's a tricky balance to get right.
Anyway, he knows how I feel. I can't remember how the conversation came about, but he asked me the reasons why I want another baby. These are some of the reasons I gave. I wanted to write them down for prosperity.
1) Because I love Papa very much, and I would love to have another of his babies.
2) Because I would love to see how another baby of ours would turn out. Would you be dark haired or fair? Quiet and content, or stroppy and bolshy? Musical or sporty, or something else?
3) Because I love Peter and David very much. Yes, I have found motherhood challenging, but they are the most important things in my life by far. Surely another child would just add new love and joy, long term?
4) Because Peter is almost 14 and I assume he'll leave home to go to university in four years' time. I would like him to feel part of the bigger family, rather than him feel that we had another family once he had left.
5) I think Peter would be a great help. He might not be great with a tiny baby, but before long he could babysit for the odd hour or two, taking the pressure off Papa and I somewhat.
6) Because we'll only be a family of five for a few short years. After Peter leaves, it'll be the same as having two children.
7) I think David would be an amazing older brother. I think he'd find it tough, but I think having a baby brother or sister would be good for him long term.
8) Because right now my career would not be too disrupted. I could still write and bring home the same salary. I could restart my career properly once and for all once the child raising years are over.
9) We now have well established routines and a baby would fit into those. They're not unchangeable; more that I am at home, I do the school run, I make dinner at the same time each day, etc. We are settled.
10) I could write the book whilst pregnant, and receive the royalties when the baby is small.
11) We have a nice, large bedroom that would fit a crib very easily.
12) We have a spare room that could easily be a nursery. It even has a king size bed in, so on nights when you cried a lot, dear child, I could sleep with you and Papa could sleep undisturbed.
13) We have a seven seater car. You children could all fit on the back seat, or David could go in seat behind.
14) We have all the baby equipment from last time, so it'd cost very little. The only real outlay would be if you were a girl, dear child, then we would need to buy you clothes. However, with the unisex ones we already have, the gifts you are inevitably given when a baby is born, and what I can make I don't think this would be very costly.
15) I'd REALLY love to have a daughter. I wouldn't be at all disappointed if you are a boy, I have two sons and I know what to expect with boys.
16) We have names picked out for you already. If you are a boy you will be called Harry. If you are a girl you will be called Lottie.
17) Raising David was bloody tough. However, we know a lot more with the benefit of hindsight than we did at the time. Any slight hint of a lactose intolerance and we'd be down to the doctors quick-smart. The same situation wouldn't repeat itself.
18) I had post natal depression with David. Again, I know the signs and will be down to the docs to take anti-depressants at the first sign of trouble. Realistically, even if the worse were to happen, we have new knowledge and new coping strategies.
19) Peter was a wonderfully easy baby. I'd like to experience motherhood again so that I can feel less guilty about David's babyhood. I'd like to be able to conclude that the problems we faced were because it was a tough time for all of us, rather than because *I* couldn't cope.
20) Although we don't have a lot of support from our families, we're that much more confident at ignoring all their well intended advice. We have an excellent nursery and an excellent primary school nearby.
And there you have it. 20 reasons why we should have another baby right now - and I haven't even mentioned my age.
Papa didn't seem browbeaten, and he didn't offer opposing arguments too much. He nodded and smiled, and engaged with the reasons. He did say "oh, I don't know" once or twice, and he did say "but it's a gamble."
Yes, it is. Papa, I understand your concerns completely. I wish it were an easier decision.
Sleep tight, little one,
Mama x
Yesterday Papa and I talked about you. I try not to talk to Papa too often because I want him to decide for himself that he wants us to have another baby, rather than be hectored into it. On the other hand, if I never mention you at all he would quite happily never give the matter another thought. It's a tricky balance to get right.
Anyway, he knows how I feel. I can't remember how the conversation came about, but he asked me the reasons why I want another baby. These are some of the reasons I gave. I wanted to write them down for prosperity.
1) Because I love Papa very much, and I would love to have another of his babies.
2) Because I would love to see how another baby of ours would turn out. Would you be dark haired or fair? Quiet and content, or stroppy and bolshy? Musical or sporty, or something else?
3) Because I love Peter and David very much. Yes, I have found motherhood challenging, but they are the most important things in my life by far. Surely another child would just add new love and joy, long term?
4) Because Peter is almost 14 and I assume he'll leave home to go to university in four years' time. I would like him to feel part of the bigger family, rather than him feel that we had another family once he had left.
5) I think Peter would be a great help. He might not be great with a tiny baby, but before long he could babysit for the odd hour or two, taking the pressure off Papa and I somewhat.
6) Because we'll only be a family of five for a few short years. After Peter leaves, it'll be the same as having two children.
7) I think David would be an amazing older brother. I think he'd find it tough, but I think having a baby brother or sister would be good for him long term.
8) Because right now my career would not be too disrupted. I could still write and bring home the same salary. I could restart my career properly once and for all once the child raising years are over.
9) We now have well established routines and a baby would fit into those. They're not unchangeable; more that I am at home, I do the school run, I make dinner at the same time each day, etc. We are settled.
10) I could write the book whilst pregnant, and receive the royalties when the baby is small.
11) We have a nice, large bedroom that would fit a crib very easily.
12) We have a spare room that could easily be a nursery. It even has a king size bed in, so on nights when you cried a lot, dear child, I could sleep with you and Papa could sleep undisturbed.
13) We have a seven seater car. You children could all fit on the back seat, or David could go in seat behind.
14) We have all the baby equipment from last time, so it'd cost very little. The only real outlay would be if you were a girl, dear child, then we would need to buy you clothes. However, with the unisex ones we already have, the gifts you are inevitably given when a baby is born, and what I can make I don't think this would be very costly.
15) I'd REALLY love to have a daughter. I wouldn't be at all disappointed if you are a boy, I have two sons and I know what to expect with boys.
16) We have names picked out for you already. If you are a boy you will be called Harry. If you are a girl you will be called Lottie.
17) Raising David was bloody tough. However, we know a lot more with the benefit of hindsight than we did at the time. Any slight hint of a lactose intolerance and we'd be down to the doctors quick-smart. The same situation wouldn't repeat itself.
18) I had post natal depression with David. Again, I know the signs and will be down to the docs to take anti-depressants at the first sign of trouble. Realistically, even if the worse were to happen, we have new knowledge and new coping strategies.
19) Peter was a wonderfully easy baby. I'd like to experience motherhood again so that I can feel less guilty about David's babyhood. I'd like to be able to conclude that the problems we faced were because it was a tough time for all of us, rather than because *I* couldn't cope.
20) Although we don't have a lot of support from our families, we're that much more confident at ignoring all their well intended advice. We have an excellent nursery and an excellent primary school nearby.
And there you have it. 20 reasons why we should have another baby right now - and I haven't even mentioned my age.
Papa didn't seem browbeaten, and he didn't offer opposing arguments too much. He nodded and smiled, and engaged with the reasons. He did say "oh, I don't know" once or twice, and he did say "but it's a gamble."
Yes, it is. Papa, I understand your concerns completely. I wish it were an easier decision.
Sleep tight, little one,
Mama x
Thursday 23 June 2011
50 things about me
Dear Child of Mine,
I don't really have any strong religious views - none that I'm happy to share publicly anyway. However, the very premise of this blog is suggestive of a religious viewpoint as I'm talking to you about life before birth. I kinda wanted to point out that haven't got a drum to bang though.
When David was a baby, he was very unhappy. He cried, screamed, grumped and whinged his way through the first year of his life. Lord, he was so wanted, but he was so hard to live with. In the depths of the night, one of the only ways that I could feel good about the situation was to believe that Papa and I had been picked as his parents because we would not give up on him, and we would love him no matter how hard it was to do so. It was a wise thought because now he is bright, friendly, chatty and confident. You will love him, but he will also drive you a bit mad. That's just how David is.
The idea that someone - maybe you - can choose us as parents is reassuring. It's also interesting as David has long been so insistent about life before birth. These days he's convinced he was a monkey, but he's a bit muddled about evolution. He used to tell me he was happy in the days before he was born. I will write my letters to you in this spirit.
Anyway, on the off chance that it's you that gets to pick us, I suppose you want to know some facts about me. So here are 50.
1) I am 37 years old. I am continually surprised at my mother's view of how this makes me unsuitable for parenthood. To her, being an "older mother" is a thing of great shame.
2) I love Papa more than I can even begin to articulate. He can be a right grump, and he can be very bossy. But he's a good, decent, kind man and every day I am amazed that I managed to find such a wonderful man.
3) A couple of years ago I had a nervous breakdown. I had pushed myself too hard for too long. My business went bust, having worked for 60+ hours a week for two years. It took me a long time to forgive myself, because I felt criminally guilty for a very long time. However, I have seen the therapist and taken all the tablets, and have been drug and therapy free for a long time now. My secret is this: I am not quite sure who I am anymore.
4) My favourite thing to do is to stay at home. I have lots of lovely hobbies, interests and pursuits here, and I could quite happily not see anybody. I am not sure whether this is a good or a bad thing.
5) Despite winning the school high jump championship when I was 11, I am about the most un-sporty person I know.
6) I really rather enjoy grisly crime dramas and am not squeamish in the slightest.
7) except when it comes to vomit. I can steel myself when my children are sick, but I hate it. When I am sick myself I turn into the world's biggest baby.
8) I used to be a secondary school teacher, and then an advisor. I earned more money than I ever dreamed I would. These days I work for peanuts.
9) I loved work. I don't know whether I'll ever be well enough to go back to full time work as I know it, but I should like to.
10) I am learning to play the piano.
11) I have always wanted to visit Japan, especially Tokyo.
12) I love to sing. HOW I love to sing! Sadly, I am rubbish at singing. However, when Papa and I have had a drink and everyone else has gone to bed, we very often have a sing around the piano. Papa also sings badly.
13) People used to tell me I was pretty, but I am a faded, Bagpuss-esque version of my old self. Baggy and a bit loose at the seams. But I actually prefer myself this way.
14) I've got out of the habit of daily grooming. I shower, and I wear clean clothes, but I don't wear make up or do my hair. I don't shave my legs very often either. The thrill of not doing it is deeply enjoyable, and I love to just be myself. When I do make the effort, I feel beautiful. A lot of the mums in the playground think I'm a bit odd, but to me it feels like a win-win situation!
15) I love pretty magazines, especially interiors magazines. There's something lovely about nice pictures.
16) I love the smell and feel of soft cotton. Getting into a freshly made bed is one of the biggest pleasures in my life.
17) I drink too much wine and I eat too much chocolate. I need to lose weight. I should really make more effort to do this.
18) I LOVE to make things. I can knit, crochet, sew, paint, quilt - all sorts of things. I am at my happiest when I am making something.
19) I need 8 hours sleep a night in order to function. This is incompatible with early parenthood.
20) I have started knitting baby clothes for you. This is a secret because, frankly, it's a bit weird and fits into the arena of the unhinged. However, it makes me feel good. I found a group of women on Ravelry who are knitting for children and grandchildren they hope to have in the future. They each have something called a Hope Chest. Essentially it's a container for the handmade items they have made in advance. I probably should not have read this, however, it's an idea that has given me much pleasure. I am knitting my third little knitted jacket for you. Should you not appear, then I shall give them as gifts to other babies. I am rather enjoying my little secret.
21) Being a mother doesn't come naturally to me. This does not seem to reduce the yawning, gaping void I feel.
22) I like to paint my toenails. They are currently bright red.
23) I am very generous with cuddles and tell my boys that I love them several times a day. Peter does not like this as he's 14.
24) I am currently writing a book, which has been properly commissioned. This makes me very excited and proud of myself.
25) I'm hiding this one in the middle because it properly, seriously worries me. I have ME/CFS. It started about 18 months ago. Most of the time I am well these days, but I do get off days every month or so. There is no evidence that ME is genetic or can be passed to a baby. There is some evidence to suggest ME improves in pregnancy. Having another baby is a huge gamble. I know it is something that worries Papa a lot.
26) I should like to study textiles, music and psychology in the future, ideally to degree level. I have no idea how I will fund this.
27) I like rock music.
28) You know you're getting old when you prefer a nice meal in a quiet pub to a wild night clubbing. I am definitely in this category now.
29) I don't watch soap operas or reality TV, except The Apprentice.
30) I listen to Radio 4.
31) I LOVE driving. It's one of the great joys of my life.
32) My favourite chocolate bar is a Twirl.
33) I am currently loving the colours pale blue and dark red. Or pink and red.
34) I am quite untidy, but a bit anal about cleanliness.
35) I love audiobooks, especially the classics.
36) I really enjoy reading Ladybird books with Charlie. We have quite a collection of old children's stories that I can share with you. I adore the artwork.
37) I used to have my nose pierced. I'd quite like to have it done again.
38) I have never had an operation: when I was at school I dislocated a finger, and whist at university I broke a metatarsal. Apart from two pregnancies, these are my most significant medical events.
39) All being well, I should like a home birth and I shall exclusively breastfeed. I planned both these things with David but they didn't work out. I've not felt too upset by that. I hope to remain as pragmatic.
40) As a family we rarely go abroad on holiday because we just can't afford it. However, we all love camping.
41) I take criticism rather too personally and get upset about things that other people wouldn't even notice. I try REALLY hard not to do this.
42) I love good food; good pub food is something that makes me very excited. I love traditional British food best of all.
43) I used to play the cello when I was at school. When I've mastered the piano, I intend to take it up again.
44) I learned to swim when I was 14. Although I'm not a strong swimmer, I really enjoy being in the water.
45) I can't bear raw tomatoes; they make me heave. But I don't mind them cooked!
46) My favourite perfume is Eden. It comes in a green bottle. I haven't had any for about 3 years and I live in fear that they'll stop making it. It's not especially expensive or desirable, but it's very me.
47) I covet a FB friend's baby, and sometimes imagine that it's you I'm looking at. Her baby reminds me of Peter and David when they were babies. I realise this makes me sound like a nutter. I keep my thoughts to myself.
48) I'm ready to be a mama again EVEN THOUGH I know all about nits! No-one can say that first time round!
49) If I sit really still, I can almost smell your fuzzy little head.
50) I'm not very good at taking risks. Papa and I both like to make sensible decisions. This is why it's so hard to choose to have another baby.
So, now you know some more about me. I'll tell you about the rest of the clan another time.
Sleep tight, little one
Mama x
I don't really have any strong religious views - none that I'm happy to share publicly anyway. However, the very premise of this blog is suggestive of a religious viewpoint as I'm talking to you about life before birth. I kinda wanted to point out that haven't got a drum to bang though.
When David was a baby, he was very unhappy. He cried, screamed, grumped and whinged his way through the first year of his life. Lord, he was so wanted, but he was so hard to live with. In the depths of the night, one of the only ways that I could feel good about the situation was to believe that Papa and I had been picked as his parents because we would not give up on him, and we would love him no matter how hard it was to do so. It was a wise thought because now he is bright, friendly, chatty and confident. You will love him, but he will also drive you a bit mad. That's just how David is.
The idea that someone - maybe you - can choose us as parents is reassuring. It's also interesting as David has long been so insistent about life before birth. These days he's convinced he was a monkey, but he's a bit muddled about evolution. He used to tell me he was happy in the days before he was born. I will write my letters to you in this spirit.
Anyway, on the off chance that it's you that gets to pick us, I suppose you want to know some facts about me. So here are 50.
1) I am 37 years old. I am continually surprised at my mother's view of how this makes me unsuitable for parenthood. To her, being an "older mother" is a thing of great shame.
2) I love Papa more than I can even begin to articulate. He can be a right grump, and he can be very bossy. But he's a good, decent, kind man and every day I am amazed that I managed to find such a wonderful man.
3) A couple of years ago I had a nervous breakdown. I had pushed myself too hard for too long. My business went bust, having worked for 60+ hours a week for two years. It took me a long time to forgive myself, because I felt criminally guilty for a very long time. However, I have seen the therapist and taken all the tablets, and have been drug and therapy free for a long time now. My secret is this: I am not quite sure who I am anymore.
4) My favourite thing to do is to stay at home. I have lots of lovely hobbies, interests and pursuits here, and I could quite happily not see anybody. I am not sure whether this is a good or a bad thing.
5) Despite winning the school high jump championship when I was 11, I am about the most un-sporty person I know.
6) I really rather enjoy grisly crime dramas and am not squeamish in the slightest.
7) except when it comes to vomit. I can steel myself when my children are sick, but I hate it. When I am sick myself I turn into the world's biggest baby.
8) I used to be a secondary school teacher, and then an advisor. I earned more money than I ever dreamed I would. These days I work for peanuts.
9) I loved work. I don't know whether I'll ever be well enough to go back to full time work as I know it, but I should like to.
10) I am learning to play the piano.
11) I have always wanted to visit Japan, especially Tokyo.
12) I love to sing. HOW I love to sing! Sadly, I am rubbish at singing. However, when Papa and I have had a drink and everyone else has gone to bed, we very often have a sing around the piano. Papa also sings badly.
13) People used to tell me I was pretty, but I am a faded, Bagpuss-esque version of my old self. Baggy and a bit loose at the seams. But I actually prefer myself this way.
14) I've got out of the habit of daily grooming. I shower, and I wear clean clothes, but I don't wear make up or do my hair. I don't shave my legs very often either. The thrill of not doing it is deeply enjoyable, and I love to just be myself. When I do make the effort, I feel beautiful. A lot of the mums in the playground think I'm a bit odd, but to me it feels like a win-win situation!
15) I love pretty magazines, especially interiors magazines. There's something lovely about nice pictures.
16) I love the smell and feel of soft cotton. Getting into a freshly made bed is one of the biggest pleasures in my life.
17) I drink too much wine and I eat too much chocolate. I need to lose weight. I should really make more effort to do this.
18) I LOVE to make things. I can knit, crochet, sew, paint, quilt - all sorts of things. I am at my happiest when I am making something.
19) I need 8 hours sleep a night in order to function. This is incompatible with early parenthood.
20) I have started knitting baby clothes for you. This is a secret because, frankly, it's a bit weird and fits into the arena of the unhinged. However, it makes me feel good. I found a group of women on Ravelry who are knitting for children and grandchildren they hope to have in the future. They each have something called a Hope Chest. Essentially it's a container for the handmade items they have made in advance. I probably should not have read this, however, it's an idea that has given me much pleasure. I am knitting my third little knitted jacket for you. Should you not appear, then I shall give them as gifts to other babies. I am rather enjoying my little secret.
21) Being a mother doesn't come naturally to me. This does not seem to reduce the yawning, gaping void I feel.
22) I like to paint my toenails. They are currently bright red.
23) I am very generous with cuddles and tell my boys that I love them several times a day. Peter does not like this as he's 14.
24) I am currently writing a book, which has been properly commissioned. This makes me very excited and proud of myself.
25) I'm hiding this one in the middle because it properly, seriously worries me. I have ME/CFS. It started about 18 months ago. Most of the time I am well these days, but I do get off days every month or so. There is no evidence that ME is genetic or can be passed to a baby. There is some evidence to suggest ME improves in pregnancy. Having another baby is a huge gamble. I know it is something that worries Papa a lot.
26) I should like to study textiles, music and psychology in the future, ideally to degree level. I have no idea how I will fund this.
27) I like rock music.
28) You know you're getting old when you prefer a nice meal in a quiet pub to a wild night clubbing. I am definitely in this category now.
29) I don't watch soap operas or reality TV, except The Apprentice.
30) I listen to Radio 4.
31) I LOVE driving. It's one of the great joys of my life.
32) My favourite chocolate bar is a Twirl.
33) I am currently loving the colours pale blue and dark red. Or pink and red.
34) I am quite untidy, but a bit anal about cleanliness.
35) I love audiobooks, especially the classics.
36) I really enjoy reading Ladybird books with Charlie. We have quite a collection of old children's stories that I can share with you. I adore the artwork.
37) I used to have my nose pierced. I'd quite like to have it done again.
38) I have never had an operation: when I was at school I dislocated a finger, and whist at university I broke a metatarsal. Apart from two pregnancies, these are my most significant medical events.
39) All being well, I should like a home birth and I shall exclusively breastfeed. I planned both these things with David but they didn't work out. I've not felt too upset by that. I hope to remain as pragmatic.
40) As a family we rarely go abroad on holiday because we just can't afford it. However, we all love camping.
41) I take criticism rather too personally and get upset about things that other people wouldn't even notice. I try REALLY hard not to do this.
42) I love good food; good pub food is something that makes me very excited. I love traditional British food best of all.
43) I used to play the cello when I was at school. When I've mastered the piano, I intend to take it up again.
44) I learned to swim when I was 14. Although I'm not a strong swimmer, I really enjoy being in the water.
45) I can't bear raw tomatoes; they make me heave. But I don't mind them cooked!
46) My favourite perfume is Eden. It comes in a green bottle. I haven't had any for about 3 years and I live in fear that they'll stop making it. It's not especially expensive or desirable, but it's very me.
47) I covet a FB friend's baby, and sometimes imagine that it's you I'm looking at. Her baby reminds me of Peter and David when they were babies. I realise this makes me sound like a nutter. I keep my thoughts to myself.
48) I'm ready to be a mama again EVEN THOUGH I know all about nits! No-one can say that first time round!
49) If I sit really still, I can almost smell your fuzzy little head.
50) I'm not very good at taking risks. Papa and I both like to make sensible decisions. This is why it's so hard to choose to have another baby.
So, now you know some more about me. I'll tell you about the rest of the clan another time.
Sleep tight, little one
Mama x
Wednesday 22 June 2011
Well hello there, future child of mine.
I don't yet know whether you will ever exist, mythical child. I have a deep, yawning longing inside me that you will - sometimes it's so big that I'm surprised other people can't see it. But they can't. And I hide it because, well, it's not a very sensible desire. Nobody *needs* three children. There are a million reasons why we should not have another baby, but just one longing, lonely heart that won't go away.
I may as well be honest with you from the start, because one day you may exist and, heck, one day you may be a mama or papa yourself. It's my job to teach you truthfulness and reality. My truth is this: I am already a mama of two big boys and I know first hand just how tough motherhood can be. So this big, yawning void confuses me as much as anyone. I can't tell you why I need you to be in my life, I can just tell you that I feel it, and sometimes I am overwhelmed by it.
Sensible people have their babies, thank God that they're healthy, and then privately thank their lucky stars that all that pregnancy and birth business is over. Then they get on with raising those babies, knowing that each little step the babe takes towards independence is a step closer to getting their old lives back.
I can see the logic in this argument very clearly. I admire it. I enjoy my own space and hobbies. But I don't feel it. My boys are now 14 and and 6, they're big rough and tumble lads with increasingly adult problems. But I don't feel done. There is a gap in my life, a child shaped gap. A gap shaped like you, dear child. My brain knows that it's going to be really, really tough while you're small. That there will never be enough sleep or enough money; I will cry and despair and wonder why I decided to embark on parenthood again. I'll worry about my marriage, and I'll worry that my boys are making too many sacrifices, and that it's effecting them too much. My heart knows that I need you in my life, but it won't give up its secret. Why? Why would I do that to myself again when we're past the dirty nappies and the blood, sweat and tears? I don't know, dear child, really I don't. But I miss you.
However, yours is the birth that I have always anticipated the most, odd as that sounds. I always imagined myself with three children. Two is good; well balanced. I'm happy with two, but deep down I yearn for three. I know this may seem selfish and greedy to some, especially those who struggle to have one child. My heart goes out to those people and I wish I could do something to change the course of fate. But just because X hurts, it doesn't mean that Y doesn't.
I lost a baby when I was quite young, 21, and I grieved alone for a long time. In those lonely and dark hours, I imagined that my pain would allow me to have an extra baby, my youngest, to cherish at a time when I was able to make the most of it. Well, I'm 37 now. Not that many baby making years left. I'm saggy and tired, but I'm settled and more patient and full of love. My hands are now papery, but I'm soft and full of love. I will probably be one of those mamas who moves slowly and scolds gently - unlike the active, strident mother I was to your oldest brother. That's another thing I've learned, dear child. That you're never the same mama twice.
I know this will be the last chance of motherhood that I have. I know that the experience will be so physically and mentally challenging that it might break me or my marriage. And there, dear child, is the dilemma.
Your younger brother, David, often talks to me about life before birth. He's very intrigued about what he did before he was in my tummy. He's talked about this for some years now - maybe three? Which is pretty impressive, and a big concept for a three year old to consider. I'll be honest: I have no idea what life is like before you are born. However, David seems to think it's rather nice. So I'll comfort myself with that thought: that wherever you are, dear child, it's peaceful and comfortable.
Sleep tight, little one
love
Mama x
I may as well be honest with you from the start, because one day you may exist and, heck, one day you may be a mama or papa yourself. It's my job to teach you truthfulness and reality. My truth is this: I am already a mama of two big boys and I know first hand just how tough motherhood can be. So this big, yawning void confuses me as much as anyone. I can't tell you why I need you to be in my life, I can just tell you that I feel it, and sometimes I am overwhelmed by it.
Sensible people have their babies, thank God that they're healthy, and then privately thank their lucky stars that all that pregnancy and birth business is over. Then they get on with raising those babies, knowing that each little step the babe takes towards independence is a step closer to getting their old lives back.
I can see the logic in this argument very clearly. I admire it. I enjoy my own space and hobbies. But I don't feel it. My boys are now 14 and and 6, they're big rough and tumble lads with increasingly adult problems. But I don't feel done. There is a gap in my life, a child shaped gap. A gap shaped like you, dear child. My brain knows that it's going to be really, really tough while you're small. That there will never be enough sleep or enough money; I will cry and despair and wonder why I decided to embark on parenthood again. I'll worry about my marriage, and I'll worry that my boys are making too many sacrifices, and that it's effecting them too much. My heart knows that I need you in my life, but it won't give up its secret. Why? Why would I do that to myself again when we're past the dirty nappies and the blood, sweat and tears? I don't know, dear child, really I don't. But I miss you.
However, yours is the birth that I have always anticipated the most, odd as that sounds. I always imagined myself with three children. Two is good; well balanced. I'm happy with two, but deep down I yearn for three. I know this may seem selfish and greedy to some, especially those who struggle to have one child. My heart goes out to those people and I wish I could do something to change the course of fate. But just because X hurts, it doesn't mean that Y doesn't.
I lost a baby when I was quite young, 21, and I grieved alone for a long time. In those lonely and dark hours, I imagined that my pain would allow me to have an extra baby, my youngest, to cherish at a time when I was able to make the most of it. Well, I'm 37 now. Not that many baby making years left. I'm saggy and tired, but I'm settled and more patient and full of love. My hands are now papery, but I'm soft and full of love. I will probably be one of those mamas who moves slowly and scolds gently - unlike the active, strident mother I was to your oldest brother. That's another thing I've learned, dear child. That you're never the same mama twice.
I know this will be the last chance of motherhood that I have. I know that the experience will be so physically and mentally challenging that it might break me or my marriage. And there, dear child, is the dilemma.
Your younger brother, David, often talks to me about life before birth. He's very intrigued about what he did before he was in my tummy. He's talked about this for some years now - maybe three? Which is pretty impressive, and a big concept for a three year old to consider. I'll be honest: I have no idea what life is like before you are born. However, David seems to think it's rather nice. So I'll comfort myself with that thought: that wherever you are, dear child, it's peaceful and comfortable.
Sleep tight, little one
love
Mama x
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