Readers of that other little blog that I do (you know, the pink one with all the bad words) know that I've been trapped in the I WANT ANOTHER BABY NO I DON'T YES I DO MAYBE I AM PREGNANT NO I AM NOT WHEW WAIT NO SOB cycle for awhile now.
It's fun. Kinda like a hamster wheel. Or a tilt-a-whirl.
Reader Tiffany sent me a great post that she thought I'd identify with, and whaddaya know! I did!
While I was pregnant, the idea of having more than the one child I couldn't believe I already had (what?) never crossed my mind. As my new son was handed to me though, right smack bang on the tail of The Lightening Bolt of Love that came with him, was the absolute knowing that while this purple faced, screaming infant was my entire universe, I wanted more. Kind of like, in keeping with the universe theme, how it reaches to infinity but is growing. Into what? I ask, and in much the same way I ask, what kind of bull**** analogy am I trying to use anyway.
Point being! Daniel means the world to me and he is absolutely enough, and wanting more children doesn't make him any less so of those things, but I do want more children. Or more to the point, I want to know I tried.
The author (anna bee) faces a few additional challenges than I do -- besides our similarly wonky cycles (wooo! wonky cycle sistahs! let's get matching tattoos!), she's a 39-year-old single woman trying to get approval for fertility treatment in Australia. Where if you are "socially infertile" (single or a lesbian), you have to jump through hoops and ethics committees and probably wild dingos. (I promise that'll be the only Australia joke I make. I only aim for the lowest common denomoninator once per entry!)
Luckily, despite conceiving her son Danial naturally, she actually managed that little trick while preparing for an IVF cycle (the whole story is here) and her endocrinologist was on her side and took her case to the ethics committee. Who of course wondered why she didn't just try to see if she could conceive on her own again (despite being, you know, SINGLE). (Hey! It's the bureaucratic equivalent to saying "Why don't you just relax?")
Firstly and obviously, unless I start to channel Mother Mary some time soon, I need to start going out at night fuelled by loads of alcohol with only a few ancient condoms in my purse, it being the lack of mechanically actions conducive to getting knocked up that they are referring to. The drawbacks to that plan working are, one, reliable baby sitting and two, time, people, TIME! I could get in touch with my inner slutty aibee and keep getting smashed and then laid, but it'd all end up the same. Three years would pass and then I'd be back saying "See? I really DO have fertility issues, you bunch of legislative windbags. Also! Crabs. Thanks a bunch."
Anyway, the upshot of her story is that she's been accepted into an IVF program. She's going to try for another baby. Also: her first baby is adorable. Also: she's hilarious.
(Also! Crabs. HA.)