What is it in the universe that causes pregnant women and
babies to magically appear around you, in hordes, the minute you are either a)
trying to conceive, or b) having fertility issues? Seriously. The world is
trying to poke me in the eye. I have never even NOTICED the baby aisle at the
supermarket before…now I can’t buy any beauty products or deodorant in Coles
because it’s in that bloody aisle.
Every student that has come to me with special consideration
is either 25 and having their fourth child, or married to someone that is.
Every stinky stupid ignorant unable to pass a single subject student is
breeding. And breeding. They’ve all got odd “SOCKS”, as hub-in-boots calls them
(Acronym for Some Other C@#$’s Kids, odd socks = from several men).
There’s some good parenting choices, right there.
And the accidental pregnancies are extraordinary.
“Oops! I’m having twins”.
“Oops! My boyfriend of six months and I thought hey why not
throw out the contraception, and look, here we are, two months down the track
and up the duff! Can’t believe it’s that easy!”
“Well we didn’t really want another one, but what are you
going to do, hey?”
“I just have to look at my husband and I’m pregnant”.
Yes, thank you. I’ll take your comments under advisement. You’ve been most helpful. YOU IDIOT.
I would like to suggest international punch a smug pregnant woman day / smug parent, but it may not be politically correct. I might suggest it anyway.
I’ve had an ongoing spot the monkey baby competition in cafes all over Sydney. There’s a lot of ugly kids out there. And if it makes me feel better, so be it. There’s a few families where i’ve gone “really? You got that first, and you didn’t think to stop at ONE?”. Some would say my monkey baby spotting is the direct karmic cause of our current predicament.
We can have a punching day for them, too.
And international punching day for each person that says:
“well maybe you aren’t meant to be a parent” or
“well life has other things in store for you” Yes, like a miserable lonely old age and an empty bank account from IVF . Ta. I can’t wait.
Or possibly the most helpful observation of all:
“well at least you don’t have cancer”. Actually uttered out loud. To me. By a family member.
I get the giggles everytime I think about a relaxation exercise we did in the “managing anxiety in IVF” workshop the other week. You had to imagine yourself, walking up a
field to this tree, an enormous, old tree. And the tree was your thoughts, giant branches, reaching up to the sky of your thoughts. You sat beside the tree, and next to the tree is a stream, a beautiful stream, you can hear the water, running away, gently down the hill.
Some people lost the image at this point. I suspect they were the ones who already had a child and had weak pelvic floors. The running stream made them want to go to the toilet.
Anyway, those of us with reasonable pelvic floors were able to continue.
So as you sat there, the leaves from the tree fell, and on the leaf was written one thought. You visualised your thought, summarised, written on the leaf, then you let it go. Watched your thought float away down the stream. Another leaf, another thought, floating away. You don’t judge the thought, you don’t get caught up in the emotion, you just observe it, and then you let it go.
A lovely exercise in mindfulness, to take you out of the “heat” of getting caught up in the infertility experience.
Except I got the giggles.
Bear in mind, at this point, we are only five weeks post diagnosis. Just. We haven’t started IVF yet, we just know we’re completely fucked.
So on my leaves, I’ve beautifully rendered in my mind this tranquil scene. I can see the leaves. I can see the grassy slope, and I am walking up to this magnificent tree, like a moreton bay fig, stretching its branches up and dropping giant leaves.
Written on every leaf of mine, is swearing.
Drifting down the stream
down the stream
down the stream.
Ah the serenity. Floating down, down down the stream.