Conversations with my nearly 6 year old

"I grew in your tummy didn't I Mummy ?"

"Yes you did baby. "

"And I came out and I was born ?"

"Yes."

"Blue Bear was in someone else's tummy wasn't he ? "

"He was."

"He came to us because he couldn't stay with his family didn't he ?"

"That's right. It was to keep him safe. Just like me and Daddy have always kept you safe."

"Was it difficult having me ?"

I pause.

What I want to say is:

"It was harder than you know. I didn't meet Daddy until I was already older than most women are when they have their first baby. I spent too many years on crappy dates and meeting men who weren't Daddy - including a failed marriage to a man who told me he didn't want children. He now has two of them, so I guess he changed his mind. Then when I did meet Daddy it wasn't plain sailing, but we knew we wanted to be together. We both wished we'd met years earlier and wasted no time in trying to have a baby. Then it didn't happen. It was very difficult to hear that we couldn't have a baby. We cried and cried. More than I ever knew I could.

So much happened in between that I want to tell you about when you are older, but for now I want you to know this. I went to the Royal Court Theatre with friends one evening in January 2010. The play was terrible and the meal afterwards involved some creative accounting from the restaurant. Having sorted out the bill (I didn't drink wine so I was able to do the basic maths) I came home to Daddy and we agreed to do a pregnancy test. Just in case. It was positive. I cried. A lot.

I loved being pregnant and you were a joy. Even when I had morning sickness it meant you were growing and developing inside me. As you grew and my body changed I said goodbye to the slim body I had worked so hard to achieve with exercise and diet - and I didn't mind at all.

When you were ready to be born it was a long drawn out labour. It went from relaxed and beautiful with you and me in harmony to an emergency which they told Daddy could have cost us both our lives. Your Nani-Mummy - my Mummy - was in India and I couldn't even see her or talk to her. Daddy was brave and amazing, taking calls from my family asking how we were doing while keeping from me the news that as you were being born my Grandmother had passed away.

Then there you were. A blessing. My miracle baby. A beautiful unexpected 40th birthday present."

But I don't say any of that. I say,

"Well, it wasn't easy."

You smile.

"But it was worth it"

I say.

"For every moment you wriggled when I tried to sleep. When you had hiccups inside my tummy. When you hid from the sonographer and she had to coax you into turning round so she could tell us you were a boy. I used to sing to you all the time. - songs with the word baby in them."

"That's funny Mummy." 

"Well you were a cheeky monkey even inside my tummy."

"Blue Bear is a cheeky monkey too isn't he ?"

"He has the best teacher."

"I love you Mummy."

"I love you Baby."

Babysteps scratch off calendar - a review

I took they boys to meet their new baby cousin last week and they were fascinated by him. He is - and I accept I may be biased here - absolutely gorgeous. I was talking to my sister about how she is managing and I remembered random facts that had helped me when I was expecting Big Boy. I asked everyone questions all the time about everything. I read lots of books and checked the internet all the time. Anything I wasn't sure about I would check then ask someone who had children already to confirm what I'd found out was correct.

It's difficult enough when you're having your first baby with myriad things you don't know you don't know. I would have loved something that gave me bite sized chunks of information before he'd arrived. That way I wouldn't have been in permanent panic mode about any little thing that someone mentioned in passing.

Splash Brands have created the Babysteps calendar to help explain the stages of pregnancy in daily facts that you scratch off as pregnancy processes. I would have given this to my sis if I'd known about it in time. Now I do know it's going to be a gift for the next friend who tells me they are pregnant. It's presented beautifully in a hexagonal box and has some really nice (gender neutral) images on it. Starting from 5 weeks and with scratch off panels starting at 9 weeks the calendar contains 236 facts, tips and trivia about the different stages of pregnancy. It's pretty large so you won't forget it's there !

You can find out more about Splash Brands here

and you can buy it on Amazon: Amazon

Disclosure: We were sent a Babysteps scratch-off calendar to review 

The road less travelled: for those of us who really had to work at becoming a Mum.

Mothers Day is one of the biggest days of the year for florists and restaurants do pretty well out of it too. We've always made a big deal about it for my Mother and Hubbie's Mum too. Then after we had our son it took a while for me to realise that it was my day now too. I recall how hard it was before then when we were trying for so long and being reminded of what we didn't have was just so painful. A card from the cat is lovely, but the feeling that you will always be congratulating everyone else on their pregnancy and never celebrating your own can become very wearing.

When people know you're trying to conceive it is amazing what they say to be helpful. I was told to try hypnotherapy, acupuncture, reflexology and my personal favourite Shamanic healing. We did actually try yoga, hypnotherapy and reflexology and when I did finally fall pregnant with our son I called him the baby that yoga built.

In trying again I did the same things I had before. Stopped eating rubbish food, cut back on alcohol increased my fitness and made time to look after myself better. The hardest part was trying not to be upset at everyone else becoming pregnant easily while we struggled month after month. A friend suggested trying an ovulation monitoring kit and I was already using an app to track ovulation. When it still didn't happen I figured we were probably just unlucky. Then the lovely folks at Ovusense asked if we'd try their new fertility monitor. It's completely different from the kit I'd used before and is new to the UK. Here is what OvuSense say about the system.

"OvuSense is a new, highly accurate fertility monitor.  OvuSense consists of a personal sensor and a data reader. The sensor is placed in the vagina (similar to a tampon) overnight – the only place where accurate readings of core body temperature can be made.  OvuSense uses patented technology to measure core body temperature every 5 minutes, inside the vagina, while you sleep, providing you a complete picture of your personal cycle. OvuSense predicts ovulation in real time in each cycle, and detects the exact day of ovulation with 99% accuracy.  In just two weeks, OvuSense can tell you when you are going to ovulate, and then calculate the exact day for you with 99% accuracy. Only OvuSense can calculate this much personal information about your cycle with this much accuracy."

It does take some getting used to and the first couple of months the system is getting baseline readings on which to base future predictions. You do get a reading daily and it does say when your fertile window is coming up which is similar to the existing systems I've used before. Where this differs is that you will then get a much more accurate reading telling you when you actually did ovulate and all the information is recorded so that you can compare one month with another.

I found out that I ovulate later than I thought I did and that is really helpful to know. It is also really good for women who have PCOS or unpredictable cycles so they have no way of working out when they are ovulating. If you have an accurate window for ovulation you have a better chance of succeeding in becoming pregnant. The great thing about Ovusense is there is an online support community on Facebook that is a great place to ask questions and to find out more.

The hardest part of trying to conceive for me was the feeling of being alone and not being able to talk to anyone about it. When those around you can just decide to have another baby and it happens for them and you're trying month after month without success it's pretty disheartening. Ovusense answer questions and offer online support as well as sharing success stories from women who have used the system. For a woman who has no idea why she's not conceiving it's a good way to feel a bit more in control of at least part of the process.

I would definitely recommend using the Ovusense fertility monitor as it's really been an eye opener for me. It is not the cheapest fertility monitoring kit, but it's a lot more scientific than anything I've tried before and the data it collects is far more accurate. The online support is a great resource and for anyone trying to conceive it makes what can be a lonely and long road feel less so.

Disclosure: We were sent the Ovusense fertility monitor to review and to give honest opinions.
You can find out more about the product here: www.ovusense.com

Siblings wanted - preferably twins (a wish from my son)

Will you be my brother ?

This afternoon my boy said he wanted another swing. He has one in the garden already that Grandma gave him when he was little. It's one of those that adjusts to suit a growing child and he loves it. He wasn't asking me to replace it, but to get an additional one, "for my sister or brother." I smiled and said we'd see. Later at bedtime I asked him about his request and he said he'd like a sister called Topsy - he is obsessed with twins and especially Topsy and Tim from Cbeebies. He also said we could get bunk beds like the ones we had on holiday at Coombe Mill in the summer. I gave him an extra big squeeze and said goodnight.

When I went downstairs I was not in a good way. I get clumsy when I'm upset or angry and I was dropping things and just a bit disoriented. You see he is not an only child out of choice. We would love to have more children. It is our sincerest wish for him to have a sibling if not more than one. We tried from when he was a few months old. I fell pregnant when he was two, but it was not to be. Then we decided to go ahead with our second attempt at adoption. As he is almost 4 he was also involved in this process and the social worker talked to him about his expectations. He became excited at all this talk of a brother or sister - not a baby, but another playmate and someone to even the odds in the house. If he had an ally he'd stand a better chance of outwitting his parents. The cat is a great pal, but he's no good in an argument.

Then it all went quiet. He hasn't seen the social worker for months and there has been no further news about a brother or sister. He's at a new nursery where his classmates have older siblings and baby siblings and he notices. His teacher has said - more than once - that his inability to share may be because he doesn't have anyone to share with at home. It's not exactly subtle. It's not his fault - he does try and he is lovely with younger children. When we went for a swimming lesson the other day one of the other children had their baby sibling there too. While he waited for all the other children to get dressed my boy stood at the side of the pram looking at the baby inside. He caught me watching him and I smiled at him, he didn't smile back.

It's ok little buddy, I'll be your brother

I feel sad for my boy because he would dearly love not to be an only child. He has no cousins and is always around adults - apart from at school of course. His speech is amazing, he is entertaining and amusing, but he really wants some company from his own peer group. I wish there was a simple way to make this all better. To say. "yes son, you will have a sister and she will be here soon." It may not happen, but I do hope it does.

My boy will be a great big brother. He's already told me he will share his toys, look after the new family member and show them how to take care of the cat. If these aren't great reason to join us, I can't think of any better ones.

The power of talking

This morning I was helping at a playgroup I used to take my boy to. It reminded me how valuable my mummy friends are as we talked honestly and openly about the difficulties we all face at times. They were the first non family I left my boy with when he was still a tiny baby. They were the ones I've talked to about our infertility issues and how sometimes I think I am slowly going mad. They reassure me I'm not alone and give me a hug and a cup of tea and I feel better. 

And yet I didn't talk to any of them about my miscarriage. I'm not sure if it was embarrassment or shame. After all, the medical professionals had made it clear that it was nothing, something so common it was undeserving of anything beyond cursory acknowledgement. When doctors and nurses and specialists tell you it's nothing why would you think any different ? It's being daft to make a big deal about something that happens to so many women isn't it ? To think you'd be entitled to any kind of support or counselling to get through something so minor. 

It happens to so many of us and yet the experience of miscarriage is marked by the silence required by not having a space in which to share it. That and the personal emotions linked to something so personal and yet so common.

We found out on a Sunday morning that I was pregnant - we had been trying for over a year so it was a pretty big deal and we agreed that as it was early December we'd see how it was going before deciding if we'd tell our families at Christmas or not. We were so delighted that we were already thinking about what to tell our 2 year old son and if he would understand what it meant.

A short while later I was at the doctor's surgery with my son for something else and I mentioned that I was pregnant and something wasn't right. The doctor dismissed me with a "let's wait and see what happens" and sent me on my way.  He didn't ask what was wrong. The following day I knew something was badly wrong and took a test and it said I was not pregnant. I was distraught and phoned Hubbie at work to tell him what had happened. I punished myself for not waiting for Hubbie to be at home with me when I took the test. Then I made call after call for help. I called the surgery to see if I could see someone. I couldn't. I called the hospital infertility unit to see if they would see me for an early scan and left message after message - most were unintelligible from the tears as I tried to explain what was happening to my much longed for pregnancy.

Then I took my son to playgroup and talked to a complete stranger who told me she had miscarried a few times and she hoped it wasn't happening to me. I thanked her and called my neighbour to see if she could watch the boy while I went for a scan as a walk-in. She kindly agreed and didn't ask too many questions about why.

At the hospital I sat surrounded by pregnant women and waited. I felt increasingly scared and upset as I kept being asked what I was there for. Then I finally got called into a side room that was adjacent to the one where the scan was to take place. As I got undressed and waited to get called I heard one  woman after another expressing joy at the sight of her precious baby as I waited and prayed that  they would find something in my womb. The last time I'd been for a scan it was with Hubbie and it was to check how our son was doing. It was a joyful and exciting time. 

When I was finally called in the woman didn't look up, she just asked, "was it you who left all those messages in tears ?" I nodded that I had and apologised for being upset. She got on with the business of applying gel and had a prod around before doing the scan and telling me - very matter of fact, "nope, there's nothing there." Big fat tears rolled down my face against my will. I ached. I wanted to howl with the pain. She asked my age, I told her I was 42 and she said, " Oh well it happens at your age." We were done. I asked if there was anything I had to do and she said no and left me to get dressed.

• I didn't tell my family -  most of them still don't know and won't unless they read this. I told one friend the day after I had the scan that confirmed it and even then I dismissed it as 'nothing really.'

• Hubbie and I agreed to treat it as thought nothing had happened and we did.

• I felt stupid for making a fuss, so I didn't. It was nothing, the doctor and sonographer had said as much.

• I was annoyed with myself for doing the test, because if I hadn't I would never have known and we wouldn't have been so uplifted by the false promise of a baby that wasn't to be.

• I hated my body for failing to keep the baby, for being so useless.

• I was angry that I hadn't seen the signs when all the websites I was looking at kept talking about miscarriage. If I hadn't read them I wouldn't have cursed it and made it happen. Yes, I really did believe this.

I felt alone. As though it was just me and no one else - after all it happened so early on it didn't count did it ? Everyone else was entitled to feel pain and upset and anger as they had a 'real pregnancy' and a 'real miscarriage.'

It was ungrateful of me to be so hurt wasn't it ? I have one son already, surely another is just being greedy ? After all some women can't even have one child and I want to have another ?

Without support services women drive themselves crazy with self-loathing, punishment and judgment about something that frankly we have no influence over at all. The medical profession sees miscarriage as a perfectly normal thing to happen. Miscarriage isn't a medical or chemical process to me. It's the loss of a real person. The end of a baby that might have been.

I am grateful and blessed that I have my son and I give thanks for him every day. It isn't ok to tell me that I'm ungrateful for wanting another. Genuine and heartfelt empathy from other women has been my greatest support. It's not a competition to see who has suffered the most, but a shared experience that far too many of us have had. 

Mumsnet conducted a survey of the support services provided to women who have experienced miscarriage - this post is part of the campaign to illustrate and address the shortfall in appropriate counselling and care. Read here about the Mumsnet miscarriage care campaign.

International Blog Swap Day: Guest post by Twinkle in the eye

As part of International Blog Swap Day I am delighted to host a guest post by fellow blogger Bree Katsamangos. I am blown away that she has found time to take part considering she gave birth so recently and she is also kindly hosting a guest post by me over on her fabulous blog Twinkle in the eye. Pop over and have a look :)

There are few television shows I am committed to. Actually, there is just one. It is the UK series of One Born Every Minute. Come Wednesday evening at 8.30pm I head to the bedroom and set myself up to watch an hour of what my husband calls 'exploding vaginas'. Seeing his children born is enough for him, for me I'm addicted. There is something primal and powerful about women giving birth and without fail I shed a tear as each piece of humanity enters the world full of light and potential.

Having given birth a week ago to this little piece of perfection and still bearing the scars, the aches and pains I think I will watch this week with mixed emotions and possibly a sweaty brow. It was not an easy birth, it took twice as long as my first and the word 'harrowing' keeps coming to mind. The women in my family don't birth well, but we do make gorgeous babies.

Women are tremendous creatures, our bodies are miracle makers, built to give life, to feed and nurture. Our bodies tell a story, each in their own unique way. The challenge and triumph of this birth taught me not to resent my body, but to celebrate it. I am not looking at its new softness as something to be conquered but as something to cherish. It is a reminder, that I and all womanhood possess a unique power, that not only applies to pregnancy and birth, but to all of life and its challenges. If we can do this, we can do anything, our potential is limitless.

How do you conceptualise birth? Is the experience or idea of birth empowering or does it evoke something different in you?

Bree blogs at Twinkle in the Eye. Bree is a compulsive dabbler, she is generally well grounded but is prone to flights of fancy. Bree blogs about motherhood, food, politics and whatever strikes her as amusing. You can read more of Bree's blog here.

My imaginary family (and other first world problems)

I have a lot more than this 

Talk to anyone who has known me for a few years and they will tell you about my compulsive shoe and handbag habit. Neil will tell you how at Uni I was invited to most concerts because I was the only one who had a credit card to pay for gig tickets. This is the only explanation I can (or will) offer for having been to see Clannad. Bee will tell you how I own more coats than it is possible to wear - I know this because when we were watching Buffy once I mentioned that she had a different coat on every night and Bee said the words, "Pot, Kettle, Black." SJ will tell you I have accessories ranging from belts and bangles to perky hats and pashminas. I might not remember what day it is, but I will be damned if I'm going out uncoordinated.

I mention these oddities as my evil capitalist ways have been curbed in recent years, due to a combination of reduction in income and changed priorities. Yes I know being a stay at home parent is reward enough - blah, blah, blah - and I genuinely do prefer to buy things for my son and Hubbie. However I appear to have swapped one overindulgent habit for another. It became apparent to me as I found myself picking up far too many Easter gifts yesterday - I can't say any more than that as Hubbie does read this and I don't want to spoil the surprise.

Hot Cross buns a-go-go

You see there are three of us and yet I grocery shop like the apocalypse is imminent. At Christmas I bought 4 Christmas puddings - 4 !! Our boy doesn't even eat Christmas pudding and we still have two of them. I've just stopped myself from buying a bumper pack of Easter eggs from Thorntons - I've already bought enough for all of us and all our siblings. In the supermarket the other day I bought up one of every type of Easter cake for a 'special Easter afternoon tea' and we currently have four flavours of hot cross buns at home. I reiterate, there are three of us.

Don't panic though, I think I've worked it out. I'm shopping for my imaginary family. I know, I know. Bear with me here. I'm one of four siblings, my father is too and my mother is one of five. Hubbie has one brother and we have one son. I always thought I'd have a pretty big family. I wanted to have four and Hubbie was kind of ok with two. Before we had our boy we were approved to adopt two children and at one point were asked to consider three children - a toddler and younger twins - so we would have been a pretty big family overnight.

As it is we have one child and he is gorgeous and we adore him. However, we had thought we'd have more and part of me clearly hasn't let that go. In my head I was supposed to have a brood of kids and I'm clearly shopping for them. That's why I have enough cakes to sink a small fleet, a freezer filled with mini twister lollies and enough straws to build a replica Eiffel Tower.

I saw someone this afternoon who I haven't seen for a few years. She asked me if I'd had any luck in falling pregnant again and I told her I had been and it hadn't worked out. She said, "Oh well at least you've got little one." Of course I have and he's not a consolation prize. She's not the only one to remind me that our family is incomplete. It's a regular question and I dread any family event where I'll see someone who's onto their second or third or more pregnancy. It reminds me what I don't have and it prompts them or others to ask if we want to have more children.

Of course we do.

I'm not ungrateful for my small family. I love how close we all are. I just have to get real about how much chocolate, cake and biscuits we can get through.

It's like invasion of the body snatchers

About a month ago I decided to get my hair cut shorter. It's been quite long since before I had my boy and I fancied a change so I had more than half of it chopped off. I love it, it's much handier to style and I've now got the hang of using far less shampoo and conditioner so I'm not left rinsing it out for hours. The strange thing was that only two people noticed and commented. It made me paranoid as I was convinced that meant that it looked terrible.

I don't mean I was fishing for compliments. I mean I was surprised that no one seemed to notice. If someone has changed their hair I will mention it, but I might say, "you've had your hair cut shorter, it suits you" rather than, "your hair looks lovely" if it doesn't - after all if you think someone looks rotten you won't say so will you ?

At university I had quite bad acne that I was sure people stared at. I was convinced that if someone was looking at me it was that they were staring at my blemishes. If you ask anyone I knew then if they recall my appearance they normally mention my very long hair and obsession with shoes rather than my (mostly imagined) hideousness. I've realised that a lot of people don't notice at all - they just don't look at faces or features. I notice things about people. I look at their appearance when I talk to them, but you have to choose when to tell someone they look tired - it's just not polite, so I'd err on the side of never.

I rarely look in mirrors these days so I have no idea what I look like. I manage to go whole days without looking at myself and use either the small mirror in the back of the sun visor of the car or a handheld mirror that is smaller than my lipstick to apply eyeliner and lippy. It isn't because I don't care, I just don't prioritise myself any more. I also have quite a low opinion of my appearance so I'd rather not have it confirmed by looking.

Once upon a time I used to go to the gym every day - sometimes twice a day. Admittedly I was single then and could only access the internet at the gym so I spent hours there and would go to kill time and being able to swim and exercise was a bonus. I was a lot fitter and took part in charity runs, did the Moonwalk one year and could walk up stairs without groaning about my knees. I trained to teach yoga and all the others on my course were slimmer and fitter than me so I dieted and lost weight and was the slimmest I've been as an adult.

Then I fell pregnant and my body changed. That was fine and I was delighted with my growing body as I was pretty sure I had the capacity to get my shape back, maybe not at my thinnest, but certainly slimmer than I am now. I tried everything that I was told, breastfeeding didn't make me slim, walking everywhere with my boy in a pram helped, but it didn't make me thin. And now my boy is three years old and I'm still avoiding mirrors as I don't want to see what I already know. That I am still not a 'yummy Mummy' and while others snap back into shape after making many babies I'm morphing into my aunties after having just the one.

My sister cursed me when I was pregnant by saying that I'd get fat and not be able to lose the weight - I laughed it off as I was sure she was wrong - she was right. All the women in my family are big and I spent my youth trying to keep fit to avoid the inevitable. Now I have creaky knees, a persistent shoulder injury and while I still exercise every day it's through gritted teeth. I do 100 stomach crunches every morning (VB does many more than that), but I'm not about to show off a washboard stomach any time soon.

Victoria Wood made a joke years ago about walking into the Body Shop and saying, "I'd like mine in a size ten please." I hear that.

Does anyone know where my body has gone and how I can get it back please ?  Mine appears to have been snatched !

My eighties retro baby boy

Not a week goes by without some hokey research study into something that is either startlingly obvious: "Scientists reveal that not sleeping enough makes you tired" or deeply patronising: "Doctors reveal their concerns that pregnant women are not stopping work early enough to protect their babies." Don't bother looking for either of these studies as I made them up. It doesn't mean that someone hasn't done them though. I don't think there has been any scientific research into the effect of maternal behaviour or music tastes in utero though. Well beyond the whole, 'play soothing music to the foetus and it will respond when it's a baby' type thing of course.

The reason I wonder this is because I'm convinced that my son has developed music preferences based purely on what I like to listen to. I went to a lot of gigs when I was pregnant with our boy. We went to Ben & Jerry's Big Sundae on Clapham Common and the boy bopped along to Billy Bragg. He also enjoyed the mellow tones of Norah Jones and even managed to keep up with the Primitives. I am delighted that he loves music now and he seems to have a wide ranging taste (as I've said before on this blog). What I wasn't prepared for is his love of music that is so outside his experience I'm fascinated to know how it's come into his consciousness.

For weeks now he has been singing. "Let's do the Timewarp again," and "Monster Mash." I'm a massive fan of Rocky Horror so I can see why he'd like that although I can't recall ever having watched it or listened to the music in his presence. He's also been saying "Go Flustered," which we've spent weeks trying to work out - while also hushing him in case it's something rude. After some questioning and not a little head scratching we finally realised he's been singing, "Ghostbusters." Seems startlingly obvious doesn't it ? Except he's never watched it and as far as I know it's not been on the TV lately. It was one of my favourite films as a child though so I can only conclude one thing - he's inherited my tastes from the eighties !

Once we'd finally worked it out I tracked down the cartoon series on Lovefilm and he watched it this afternoon fascinated and enraptured. I was never that keen on the cartoon if I'm honest, but his concentration levels don't extend to the movie yet. Unlike his friend Attie who regularly watches "Starhorses" (Star Wars) starring "Threesweepio" (C3PO). Mind you she also used to regularly watch "Hamadations"(101 Dalmations).

I'm wondering if all this talk of an eighties revival is also revealing itself in the DNA of our toddlers. What can we expect next ? Will they all turn their baseball caps backwards and fight for the right to party ? Maybe they will start doing the MC Hammer dance - well my boy already does that if he needs the loo and doesn't want to admit it. Maybe they'll go all shoulder paddy and big haired too. Oh wait that's just pageant toddlers isn't it ?

Whatever it is that's happening I'm a bit freaked out by it.

There is something strange in my neighbourhood. All I can say is, "Go Flustered !"

Don't make me angry, you wouldn't like me when I'm angry

It's the first of June so it's officially the start of Summer today. In a few weeks it will be the longest day then the slow descent into the winter months again. Maybe it's the lack of proper sunshine that has left most of us feeling distinctly deflated. There have been a few good days and I've managed to get into the garden to do some weeding and hopefully tomorrow I can even plant some things that have been hanging around waiting, a few bulbs, some seeds and some plants that have been kindly given to me by a fellow Freegler. Just this week I noticed that the strawberry plants from last year are growing again so hopefully we'll get to them before the thieving squirrels this year !

The theme of growing has also added to my sense of low-lying discontent though. You see in a parallel universe I'd be struggling to garden and weed and plant. I'd be a little uncomfortable with the hotter days and probably have an even shorter temper with my toddler who is fully embracing the terrible twos right now. Twice recently Hubbie has asked me "when is your anger management course starting again ?" when I've lost it over something entirely unwarranted (a chipped plate was the most recent cause of consternation).

What he's missing is the thing that I'm missing. In the parallel universe I'd be seven months pregnant right now. The talk about Kate Middleton's pregnancy would bring a rolling of the eyes as I'd pity my poor little one for being due just after the royal progeny. I'd be planning for a second child and talking to my son about the younger brother or sister he'd be having soon. Instead I'm marking time when I would have been having a scan, would have been avoiding runny eggs, changing my yoga routine to be more baby friendly. It's not that I think about it every single moment of every single day, but it is there and I can't pretend it's not.

On a Sunday morning last December I found out I was pregnant. Hubbie and I were delighted and immediately excited about when to tell our parents they were to have another grandchild. We talked about how and what to tell our son. We were generally grateful and overjoyed. The next day the news broke that Kate Middleton was pregnant and we joked that our big news had been hi-jacked by the royal baby. Not that we were about to tell anyone just yet of course.

I made an appointment to see the doctor and updated my iphone apps from conception to pregnancy ones. Only something wasn't right. I couldn't recall exactly how I felt the time I was pregnant before - mostly complete disbelief and joy - but there was something not right. The doctor was dismissive and said "let's just see what happens," and everywhere I looked there were references to miscarriage. I mean everywhere.

Then it was gone. Completely. No drama, no cinematic moment, just gone. Now, I'm aware that this happens all the time and has happened to a lot of people I know. We were devastated, but made a decision to just treat it as if nothing had happened, after all it was so early if I hadn't tested I wouldn't even have known. So we made a deal to 'keep calm and carry on." I told a few close friends and left it at that.

We had Christmas and didn't tell our families. It was tough and it was sad, but we are so blessed to have our son already and he is wonderful (when he's not yelling or demanding or spilling or… you get the idea). We looked forward to a new year and new adventures and it looked like we'd really be able to put it behind us. Only I haven't really.

I know I'm not unique. I know it happens very often. It just haunts me. When I see women who are as pregnant as I'd be right now. The almost constant focus on pregnancy in the media. My inability to go a day without bursting into tears.

And in case he asks again the anger management course starts in two weeks.

It can't come soon enough.

Project parent: the sequel.

I've mentioned before that sometimes Hubbie knows me better than I know myself. He diagnosed I was having a migraine (and not dying as I thought I was) and he often tells me to drink water when I'm feeling a bit flat. He is also able to pinpoint more serious concerns in a way that previously only my friend Neil could. It was Neil who pointed out that I was so discombobulated in my new flat because I was surrounded by boxes and this disorganisation offended my sense of order. He knew this because we had lived in shared accommodation at university so he is familiar with my insane OCD tendencies. Also, his housewarming gift to me was a step stool for my kitchen and a can of flea spray - before you wonder why we are still friends I'd asked for both of those things. 

Anyway, I digress. Recently I asked Hubbie - yet again - if he minded me not having a 'proper job' (my words not his) and he said he didn't. Then he had a genius idea. Our new house (of over a year now) has a garage that is riddled with asbestos so he suggested that I project manage the rebuild. I have no experience of building projects so I looked at him sideways. Then I realised that actually what I need is something to keep me busy - other than a toddler and a cat that is. 

Having a project keeps me out of trouble and stops me from pondering and falling into depressive moods. Since we've been together my projects have included; training to be a yoga teacher, moving house, (twice), planning our wedding and the assessment process for our first adoption application. As you probably know I became pregnant with our beloved son so that adoption process came to a halt while we celebrated our new family member. 

Not having a project has left me feeling a bit empty and pointless. While I was pregnant I watched the entire box set of the West Wing and when my son was taking his time to be born I was getting a bit bored so we went out shopping for a car - which we were going to do anyway, but later. Of course having a baby kept me occupied and since then we've also been trying for another with little success and more than a little failure. 

It has left me feeling like my body isn't good enough or that my temperament isn't positive enough to make a baby or that I just don't deserve it enough. All of which is self-defeating. Now that Hubbie has given me a project it's injected some fresh enthusiasm into my well planned routine days. The new routine includes waking up earlier than I have in months to practise yoga - helped by the lighter mornings. This means I'm cheerier when the boy wakes up rather than being as tired and grumpy as he is. 

Being able to take on one new thing means feeling strong enough to take on more. Hence the biggest decision that we've made to get through this phase. We're going back to adoption to complete our family. This means we can look forward to an initial assessment to check we meet the criteria, hopefully further interviews and then the long process of preparing our F1 form for the adoption panel.

We have been here before. It won't be quick and it won't be simple. It will, however, be very different this time. This time we have a young son and he will be part of the assessment process and his interests will be taken into account. This time we have experience of parenting and of preparing for an adoption panel - although not at the same time admittedly. 

So here we go again. 

It's back, it's Adoption: the sequel.  

The Seven Year Stitch

Hubbie and I present a radio show together that we joke is the only time we actually talk to each other. While that's not strictly true it has reminded us how much we enjoy each other's company. Today he made me laugh so much I had to turn my mic down and let him carry on introducing my song. It was a ridiculous comment about a horse called Hoof Hearted and it had me in stitches and crying with laughter, silly I know.

We've been married for seven years this year - having both had starter marriages as practice - which in celebrity marriage terms is a lifetime. I always forget the date we got married, but I remember birthdays and other celebration days so I don't feel too bad. In fact we kid around that we have reversed the traditional roles as he irons his own shirts and I refuse to read instructions. It works for us.

In our early dating days we went on holiday to California and took a road trip from San Francisco to Las Vegas (via Los Angeles). We spent 24 hours a day together and a lot of time in a car driving. Well he drove, I mostly handed him sweets and pointed at the ocean. At no point did we argue or fall out and we always managed to agree on where to eat and what to do with a minimum of fuss. I put this down to him being easy going more than any positive qualities on my part.

When we were told it was unlikely that we would be able to have a baby we sat and cried for what felt like hours on chairs in the fertility clinic feeling bereft and empty. Every day after that I would phone him at work with some new plan I'd concocted to enable us to have the family we so desperately wanted. One day I called him while I was sitting under a dryer at the hairdressers to tell him I wanted to adopt one of the 11 million abandoned baby girls from India that I'd just read about. He said "Ok."

I asked him if we could go ahead and adopt in this country and he said "yes." We were assessed and verbally prodded and poked for months until we were approved by a panel of 13 strangers as suitable to be parents. Then we waited, and waited, and waited a bit more. It occurred to me that we had given up trying to get pregnant and it had to be worth a try. I suggested that in addition to all the dietary changes we'd made and the weight loss and the yoga we should also try acupuncture or reflexology. He is terrified of needles, but he said "Yes."

On a plane to India I watched Juno and cried and cried and cried. Then he watched it and he cried too. We watched Gavin & Stacey struggle to have a family and cried and cried and cried. We tried to get used to the idea that we would neither adopt, nor have a baby of our own. We went on holiday and remembered why we were together in the first place. Then on the day that I found out I was pregnant he responded joyfully "My balls work !"

As I type this Hubbie is out watching My Bloody Valentine with a friend. He loves their music, I don't. On Sunday I will be taking a flying lesson that he bought me as a present - I am terrified, but you have to love the thought. The other day he told me I looked hot in my skinny jeans - unprompted !

So for all the times that Hubbie has said, "yes" or "ok" or "if you like" to make me happy I am posting this as I know it will make him happy.

There is superstition

Of course the big story this week was the news of a royal pregnancy announced before the traditional 'safe window' of 12 weeks. It became public because the family knew that there would be speculation about Katherine being admitted to hospital. This made me think about the superstition of waiting for the end of the first trimester before telling people. There are exceptions to this rule (family, nosy people, the ones who have to know) and some famous folks can't stop themselves telling everyone early on, but most people I know wait. This idea of 'not jinxing it' doesn't stop things happening, but it is the idea that once you've passed this 'safe' date things are less likely to go wrong and if they do it's more 'real.'

Other baby related superstitions I found out when I was pregnant with my son included the one that says you can't have a pram in the house before the baby is born. In my family this extends to anything for the baby which makes planning and shopping in advance really difficult. We got special dispensation from my Mum to have some baby things otherwise our son would have spent his first 24 hours naked and with no means to travel home.

My family have some odd superstitions that I can't explain with any certainty - all I can admit is that I continue to follow them even though no one is checking.

Washing (clothes and hair) cannot be done on a Thursday. I used to avoid Tuesday as well and some Indian families include Saturdays in the ruling, but I have no idea why. I mostly observe the rule for Thursday, except when my son has vomited all over his sheets and clothes on a Wednesday night and I'm afraid needs must.

Another household chores related ruling is the no hoovering after dark. This may be a common sense reason like you can't see the dirt so well, but I suspect it's far more voodoo than that.

One my Naniji told me that is pretty specialist is you can't store a handbrush handle side down against a wall. the long sweeping brushes they use to clean houses in India don't stand that well so it may be a common sense one again or it might be something to do with dirty side facing down.

My Dad is adamant about this one - if you sneeze as someone is leaving the house they have to come back home and wait a few minutes before they can leave. He is also deadly serious about not calling someone by name as they are leaving and properly loses his temper if you do this to him.

Most people know the superstition about magpies and living as I do on a road with so many trees we see magpies pretty much every day. I still don't know if you can add up the ones you see consecutively or if you have to start counting again each time you see them. If it's the latter my day can go something like: Joy - sorrow - letter - joy - girl - sorrow - kiss - boy - joy.

I once bumped into a lad from school holding his collar and he told me he'd just seen a hearse and he had to hold his collar until he saw a cat or something. I don't do this one, but I still remember it.

My point is don't tell me a superstition - I have enough of them to worry about already and frankly they take up far too much room in my brain.


Thank you :o)