Posts Tagged ‘honesty’

Boston.

April 17, 2013

My kids listen to everything. ‘What are you talking about?’ is a question anyone who has hung out with us will have heard.

And Tuesday morning I heard it, ‘What are you talking about, Mama?’

So I said it. ‘There was a bomb in a city called Boston. Some people got hurt when it exploded.’

Silence.

‘What?’

‘Some bad people exploded a bomb, and it hurt other people. They had to go to the hospital for help.’

‘And the police came? To help?’

‘Yes.’

And off he scampered to play.

I’ve seen lots of posts about how to talk to your kids about tragedy. Surely we should talk to the the way we talk to them about anything – honestly, age appropriately, with clear language. Answer their questions. Don’t add anything unnecessary or confusing if it is a difficult topic and your child is very young, but don’t assume that because they are very young they cannot understand or empathise.

Just my opinion.

Keeping it real.

April 16, 2013

If you are matter of fact, kids don’t question shit. Case in point:

I’m observing bathtime. Snort splashes water in Coco’s eyes.

Coconut: OW. My EYES. Ow, Mama, ow!

Me: Are you okay? I can’t touch you right now, my hand is dirty.

Snort: What is that little cup?

Me: Every now and then, grown up ladies have blood come out their vaginas. So I use this little cup to catch the blood.

Snort: Oh.

Coconut (who has been listening and totally calm and fine): Oh, okay.

Coconut: MY EYES!!

Our egg recipient is preggers, too.

April 16, 2009

Ooh, I feel funny. This is going to be an unfiltered post (well, they ALL are, but this one more than most) as I don’t know what I think/feel about this. Just got the call from the clinic.

And jesus are my eggs ripe. The woman I donated eggs to is pregnant with one baby.

I feel funny about this. Funny dunny.

Once we decided to donate eggs – no, once our IVF cycle was underway, really – I felt a-okay about helping another person. When we received an anonymous card from our egg recipient, I felt amazing and warm and gushy for both her and me. Me, like what an amazing person I am. Her, like – OH MY GOD I might be helping another woman with her dream of having a child. That felt fucking fantastic.

It was only a couple of days ago that a bit of….’something’ creeped in. To be real, I hadn’t really thought much or cared in any but a generic way whether or not the other woman was pregnant. Then all of a sudden I have a tap dancing troupe living in my womb and I find myself caring.

I found myself having the hateful, mean wish that the other woman had not conceived – not because I wished her any evil, but because, well, look at what I am making. These two little babies are part me. And I wondered about that other child – will she/he look like me? Love reading? etc etc  An altogether odd feeling. I kept picturing myself on my tenth birthday; I was an unfortunate looking kid, and I suddenly was wondering about this non-child of mine, walking around with bits of me in him/her. I feel like it’s a her.

This child will be able to contact me when they are 18 years old. It’s odd to think that while my two babies are doing their thing, there is another child exactly their age who is also conceived from my eggs. Am I an awful person for questioning this and feeling this way?

When we wanted a baby, I developed a huge pool of empathy towards other people who were trying to get pregnant. I can’t actually imagine what that other woman must have gone through. Perhaps trying ‘the regular way’ or through IUI for ages, then IVF with their own eggs, then IVF with another woman’s eggs. I hope she loves that baby like a mofo, because some blogs I read where people are conceived via donor eggs have a lot of awkward, awful feeling about having to use a donor.

I find that amazing, because the only negative-ish thought I can conjour up about us using a (sperm) donor is that we don’t know what the guy looks like. The babies are uncontrovertably ours, 100%.

Okay.

Enough for now, I think my pizza is probably ready.

Inside my fingers.

October 22, 2008

Finished reading the IVF book – have to check something over for TMD right now, so may not post my blurb about it till tomorrow. The one thing it keeps repeating: do not take on new projects while you are doing IVF.

Nanowrimo is so close, and I have the novel thanks to The World’s Greatest Invention Which Will Remain Top Secret Lest You Steal It – I want to do it. Somehow silly me thinks that having something else to concentrate on might be a good thing?

Another part of me is remembering a great book I gobbled up on Monday night, sitting on the floor of what must be one of the world’s largest bookstores. It made me laugh and laugh and laugh.

The IVF book was so focused on straight people, and infertile people, that I sometimes found it off putting. I am not infertile (touch wood), after all. My only problem is the lack of sperm. And, actually, IVF makes a lot of sense to TMD and myself. We think it’s a great way to try for a baby.

Doom and gloom, information about how terrible it is to feel infertile….I don’t know that it did me any favours. Misery loves company, sure, and I recognised myself in a lot of the emotions explained as I am not the patient type.

But where is the real literature representing lesbians? The stuff that isn’t afraid to show the funny side along with the tearful one?

Note: Katie gives great flair.