Looking for a place to volunteer or support: UBUNTU HOUSE

Looking for a place to volunteer or support — here’s a good one.

Ubuntu house is a registered Child and Youth Care Centre with a temporary safe care program and is part of the AFM Executive Welfare Councils uMephi C&YCC project. Ubuntu House take care of babies from birth to two years who have been abandoned, orphaned, neglected or who was born out of an unplanned and crisis pregnancy.

 

http://ubuntuhouse.co.za/

Advertisements

Fucking hell … no that is all ….. how stupid are people?

I am sorry to cut and paste things – but sometimes there is just no other option.  And I do not want to link to the post in case you are too shit arsed lazy to follow the link.

Today, I have been further amazed at how stupid the common person is.

How on earth did we manage to multiply and take over the planet when we have people who exhibit this level of IQ, common sense and inability to spell in our gene pool.

I am starting to feel quite strongly about asking the government to institute an IQ test before people are allowed to breed – via what ever method they have access to.

Self Righteous, Ignorant & Judgemental Mommy “Support”

I was tagged in a post today on FB, another “mom’s support” group, although, I have to say, I’m not sure that there was much “support” going on in this particular post. Just a whole lot of judgement, self righteousness and ignorance. Anyway, the reason I was tagged was to offer some advice to a pregnant mom who wanted to place her baby for adoption. I’ve copied and pasted some of the unbelievable ignorant, stupid, self righteous and down right judgmental comments below:

walk_a_mile_in_my-101006

Here is the original message:

Anon:
Please ladies do NOT Judge.

I’m about 4months pregnant, unplanned and unwanted pregnancy.. I do have a child and love my child to bits, I’m just not ready for another one.. I’m tired of pretending to be happy about it when all it does is make me moody and nasty towards others.. I could not abort so I want to give this child up for adoption… How do I go about it and can I do it without the biological father’s permission?

  • Your child will have a brother or sister. A friend for life. Try to see it from your child’s eyes in a few years time and how it could be. Don’t make a hasty decision.

Um… DOH! Adopted children have brothers and sisters too, or perhaps you’re one of those who are so hung up on genetics you can’t see it any other way. 

  •  don’t make a decision in haste. if u really interested in giving the child up I know some1 that will gladly take it and gv it vrything it needs for a blissful life.

The “it” you refer to is NOT a hamster or puppy. It’s a CHILD! Who are you to judge who qualifies as a suitable adoptive parent???

  • If you are serious about adoption please let me know, I know someone who would give the baby a great life.

Again, who qualified you as a social worker to determine who would make suitable adoptive parents? 

  • When you see that baby you’ll fall in love. Don’t make a decision until you are 100% certain. How will that kid feel when he finds out he was put up for adoption but you kept his sibling.

So missing the point. This is not about siblings, this anon mom is issuing a crying for help, she is trying to what is best for EVERYONE in the situation.And really, way to go simplifying such a deeply complex situation. 

  • You will never be financially ready ….once you waited to long you will be old for a second child ….its also selfish know your child has a brother or sister and you want to give it up ….pls dont …you will regret and when your lo finds our when they older they will never forgive you ….you cant just think of yourself….think of your child that you love so much

You must be an idealist who lives in lala land believing all a child needs is love. Seriously, children cost money and for some of us (perhaps I shouldn’t include myself in this group as you probably don’t see me as a “real”mother either given my barren womb) providing for our children is of the utmost importance. We consider things like the cost of a good education, medical care, child care, etc etc etc. You don’t know the state of this anon mom’s finances, so don’t be so flip about her concerns. And again, I think this anon mom is very brave, I don’t believe she’s only thinking of herself but her whole family, including her unborn child. 

  •  Pray!!! God will not afford u a child if He cannot put in place any help…U dnt know what is God’s plan 4 this baby.Maybe this child is supposed 2 be there 4 the other 1.They might need one another more in later years.Do u want ur child 2 be all alone when God forbid something happens 2 u….@ least they wil have each other…kids are a blessing & plz wait a while!

Adopted children are blessings too, in ways you could clearly NEVER understand. And pray, oh my favorite, pray. If I had a $ for every time somebody told me to pray when I was going through my infertility. No matter your faith, surely we are all adult enough to realize that sometimes our prayers are answered and the answer is no! Perhaps adoption IS the answer to anon mom’s prayer?  We don’t live in a fairy tale, shitty things happen in life but how we cope and the choices we make with the hand we’re dealt is what counts. 

  • I always thank God for the mum I was blessed with. For I could have been born to someone who felt I should be given away or worse, aborted………sad how the new generation thinks.

Self righteous bitch! Adopted children ARE NOT given away! You clearly HAVE NO CLUE!

  • How about you just give the baby TO the biological father? I mean really.

Again, seriously! This is NOT a puppy, this is a child! Not to be “given” from one person to the next! And again, there could be a million and one different reasons why just “giving” the baby to the biological father is not a possibility! 

  • Some women spend so many years trying to conceive ( knowing they can provide a good, loving home) and some die never knowing what if feels like to carry a new life inside of them. And then we get women who don’t even feel remotely excited about being pregnant, life is such I presume! adoption is an easy way out and should only be implemented when the natural parents die, my opinion anyway … whatever you decide, I pray your unborn child ( which didn’t ask to be born by the way!) never feels unwanted or unloved

Yes, I am one of THOSE women you refer to, poor little me, I will die never knowing what it feels like to carry a child inside of me and yet I am still blessed beyond your narrow mindedness! Adopted children, while they may experience a certain about of rejection when they are older and understand the concept of adoption, when placed in a loving, suitable, properly screened and approved family WILL NOT grow up feeling unloved. And most importantly IDIOT, adoption is HARDLY the easy way out, adoption is love. Adoption is about putting the wants, needs, hopes and dreams of your unborn child before your own. It’s about making a life long commitment to sadness and to feelings of loss and grief! It is HARDLY easy. I’m quite sure both my children’s biological mothers would agree with me and be shocked at your careless thought that its the easy way out!  Oh and just to add, thanks for your opinion, but if your opinion were law, then women like me would NEVER experience motherhood, and beautiful families like mine would never exist. 

I’m just reminded over and over again that we live in a society where the large % of people will never know or understand my family. Where some people are so obsessed with genetics that they can NEVER truly know love. How sad for them. But how dare they put their issues onto a scared, sad pregnant woman who is looking for help!

You can read the full thread here.

if you want to go along and post a comment on Sharon’s blog – please link through to Blessed Barrenness and feel free to leave your rant, or tell her she is over reacting.

Please do not tell me these comments are done with the best intentions.

Best intentions circumcise boys with unhygienic instruments and then make them wander around in the bush for 30 days.

Best intentions came up with burning heretics.

Best intentions gave rise to that little “jewish” problem.

Seriously, best intentions do not mean you can be a total toss.  Or knob!

And people wonder why I say FK so much!!  Fucking hell.

My 4 Year old boy is on antidepressants and that’s okay …

I read this post today, and I was humbled and amazed at the bravery of a parent.

I am acutely aware of how difficult and fraught with misguided advice and criticism the decision is to decide to take “head medication” is.

For yourself.  As an adult.

As much as society bandies around the labels “depression” “anxiety and general anxiety disorder” over cocktails at the local.

When you go through the process and find yourself at the bottom of the dark pit, and your fingernails bleeding from trying to scramble out, and find that instead of making progress towards the light, you are sliding further back into the deep dank darkness of the pit.

For what ever reason you want to be “normal”, and also want to be able to cope with life’s little lemons in a happy bright sort of way – but then you realise at some point that maybe “normal” is an inappropriate level to aim for.  Maybe.

Surviving until 10h00.  Then 14h00.  Then until the kids go to bed, and you can climb into your bed, and just lie there and wait for Morpheus to come creeping.  You know how dark your darkest hour can be.  You know that when people tell you to “just be happy” or to “cheer up” that you would kill them with a spoon if it meant you could just be happy.

You have trying to be “happy” for years at this point, and it always seems to be like silver minnows swimming just below the surface of the water.  You catch glimpses, you keep thinking it is within your reach, but it never is something you can hold on to.

It seems okay to say you are depressed, but actually taking medication in the form of pills, every day, well that is just another issue.  Taking medication would mean admitting you really are sick.

And maybe not as “normal” as you try to look and feel.

As an adult and deciding this course of action for yourself is extremely difficult.  Even as society has developed and grown, there is still a stigma attached to being a bit of a loon and needing medication to keep you on the straight and narrow.

Of course there isn’t you scoff.

Yes, there is, I say.

Deciding that your child needs medication for depression, is something I hope I will never have to face.

I have enough baggage and guilt to deal with, without having to deal with the fact that it might be because of ME that my kids are not well adjusted and their brains are not able to adapt to the daily pressures of “normal” life.

Today I read about Shawn Roos’ piece and it made my heart jump – and my breath catch.

It’s a brave and insightful piece – read it:

Don’t let stigma and saving face stop you from saving your child.

We named Micah before we knew him, and as it turned out, around the very time he was born. My wife and I had decided to adopt and were filled with a sense of purpose. We met Micah in a chance encounter in the lobby of our church.

I remember saying to Nina as I looked at this 6 month old boy, rotund and all-cheeks “It feels weird looking at a child knowing that there’s  apossibility he may just become your child.” It’s an experience that only an adoptive parent will ever know.

Turned out I was right. Two months later, Simphiwe – now Micah – became our son.  Read the rest of this brave post here.

 

Parenting is not always about making the decision whether to go with the dinosaur or the pirate theme, sometimes it is about making those hard decision.

Our children need us to be parents, their guides, their pathfinders …. it’s difficult, and challenging, and not always a decision that we make easily, but not helping your child is not an option – how long do you wait and watch the damage continue before stepping in?

 

micah

Volunteering at Ubuntu House ….

I have had “must volunteer at Ubuntu House” sitting on my sh*t do to list for years.  Not figuratively years, but literal years.  I think since 2010 if I recall correctly.

I keep printing out the forms, looking for my best inky pen, filling them in.

Then promptly losing them on my desk, and getting side tracked with life.

I phone Ubuntu House again, they send the forms, again, and I would promptly repeat the process.

But not this year.  This year, this month I have my stuff together.

Saturday I am attending their “Volunteer Course” which I assume will include information about which side of the baby to keep upright.  How to clean poo bums.  How to cuddle a baby that is struggling with human interaction, and hopefully how not to get too attached so you do not try to sneak a baby out of the center all snuggled up against you.

I think they have a rule about that.

Excited. Lots.

Apprehensive.  A bit.

130529_ubuntu-house

 

Want to support Ubuntu House?  You can, visit their page and see what they need.

Adoption South Africa …

I was listening to CapeTalk earlier this week, and the person being interviewed {apologise, have totally forgotten her name} said that in South Africa there are more or less 2 400 adoptions per year.

I thought that was a frighteningly low figure – I just figured it would be more, but I know when I spoke to Child Welfare last year I recall them quoting something along the lines of 24 or 30 children that they placed in adoption for the year, and it just seemed like such a small amount.

The other statistics she mentioned.

{fortunately I also saw these on Adoption SA dot org so that was a huge help, as I sort of remembered the numbers, but not exactly}

I love this new site, and I am so thrilled that someone has got it together and put information in one useful place.

Estimated number of children in foster care and receiving foster care grants in January 2010 Estimated number of  orphaned children  in 2007 Estimated number of  children living in child-headed households in 2009 Estimated number of children in state-owned children’s homes as at end-October 2009
510 713 668 000 150 000 14 599

The question was why are so many people fostering but unwilling to adopt.

She answered that it was not clear, but a lot of the fostering was what they referred to as “kin fostering.”  A family fostering a child who has a biological connection to them, so seldom was there no connection between the fostered child and the family.

Another factor was a fostering social grant system – but there was no adoption grant system.  In some cases a family fostering needs the grant, which they would lose if they adopted the child, so this encouraged the “fostering” relationship to continue.

A bit grim, but when you think about how many families struggle to get by, it does seem a realistic problem.

The one person mentioned that they had been through Child Welfare and only had great things to say.  They had adopted a little girl and the process had taken about 9 months, and it was much easier than they had thought.

There was another person who mentioned they had tried to adopt for several years and it just did not happen.  I am not sure of what the details were behind this.

I do think that in South Africa it is easy to adopt – relatively easy – there are so many kids, and not so many parents who have a home to give, so the supply would outstrip the demand.  So adoption is a process – both paperwork and emotional, but I do not think that it is one that is insurmountable and as difficult as “word on the street” is.

But {and yes there is a but} if someone wants to adopt and the “defining” factors are quite tight, then of course it does make it a bit more of a “challenge” and then I would imagine that it was difficult.

Adoption {and fostering} is a personal thing, and I don’t think any of us can judge someone who chooses to not adopt for what ever reason.  I have heard so many wonderful tear-streaking-down-your-cheek stories about adoption, and until now no horror stories, but adoption {like all things children} is a huge brave step into the unknown.

It is no secret that I was {am} keen on adoption.   I have discussed adoption with my kids {not adopting them out, you understand, but adopting a child} and I we have friends who have adopted, I had spoken to them about the concept before, so they understand the dynamics and it is not a foreign concept in their worlds.

On the weekend Connor and I are watching a show and somewhere in it someone uses the phrase “my brother from another mother” so Connor goes “what does that means?” and I repeat the phrase and then explain it’s use in the way it was meant in the comedy show we were watching.

So he looks at me and goes – with the innocence of a child – “if we adopted a boy, then he would be my brother from another mother…” I think I had a little bit of snot that I sniffed back right then.

I saw this {long} but lovely story about cross-cultural adoption – it sort of gives you hope that things are actually right with the world.

Today is a GREAT day …

Today our friends, Joyce and Leon, collect their baby daughter Kirsten.  They pick her up, hold her close, breath her in, strap her in her car seat (this might take 45 minutes) and bring her home for the first time. 

Today is THAT day, the one they have been waiting for. 

Kirsten has been with a kangaroo care-mom for 60 days, and today that 60 days is up – it has been the longest 60 days, but it is over and now it is day 1!

Joyce, Leon and Kirsten, today is your day!  Enjoy every juicy squishy milk-smelling moment.

I saw this quotation and it made me have a good cry

Not flesh of my flesh, Nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn’t grow under my heart – but in it.

Fleur Conkling Heylinger

So I am still holding on to the clothes…

For fear of dragging this rather old and very worn subject out into the sunlight again, please bear with me as I ramble through this one.

I have a ton, an absolute ton of baby girl clothes that I just cannot bring myself to give away (no matter how good or charitable the cause is).

Isabelle had so many baby clothes that some of them did not get worn, and being on the tubby side of sixteen months, she has outgrown a lot of them.  Some of them still have the labels on them, and the piles in her cupboard are piling up to the point where it is difficult to close the door.

Just to put it into context, I shop at the cheaper retail chains, and often pop in during sale time, so I get a lot of bang for my buck, and really love the allure of pink.

I have kept most of Isabelle’s things, barring a few bags I donated off to charity.

I can’t lie, the reason for my holding on to the cloths was that I was convinced that we were going to look at adopting a fourth child.  My mind’s eye had a girl featuring in full technicolour, and she would need a wardrobe!

My friend recently told me she was pregnant.

I thought fantastic – when she announces she is pregnant with a girl, I will then use it as a cleansing exercise and happily hand her a truckload of clothing which she can choose to use or to pass on.  She will be delighted, and I will have some sort of “open yourself to the universe” moment.

She then told me she was having a boy and she is super thrilled.  I am happy for her – but clearly I can’t give her the girl’s clothes. Not unless her child is going to dress like a fairy and be called Humperdink.

So I am back to a cupboard full of clothing.

I know part of the reason for the hoarding is that I am still (yes, I know still) waiting on Kennith to change his mind and give in to my fourth child laments – which I do not talk about out loud, but the conversation does go on in my head pretty much all the time.

I also appreciate that a final ruling on this matter has already been made.  But as you can well see, my inability to absorb information that I do not want to hear is operating at full capacity.  (insert image of little girl with fingers in ears going la-la-la-la-la here)

I know they are only clothes in plastic bags in the cupboard.  But they are starting to become something (even if it is only to me) symbolic and they are starting to be more than just clothes in a bag, albeit it several bags (I realise you can hear me popping the Zoloft blister pack right here ….)

So I am still holding on to the clothes, because I am not ready to part with them.

This morning I was chatting to a good friend whose wife is 14 weeks pregnant – I asked if they had found out the sex of the baby and whether they would tell me.

He said he would and she is pregnant with a girl – I am so thrilled, but now I face the quandary of my own design. I literally started to have a little panic at the thought of giving them the clothes …. so I just said nothing, other than the congratulations part, and let’s get together to celebrate.

Do I give her all these baby girl clothes, or do I sit quietly and push the already bursting cupboard closed a bit harder?

I spoke to another friend just after that email who is looking at starting the adoption process for themselves.  I then thought: well why don’t I just keep these clothes and I can then give it to her – assuming she is going to have a girl, as then I would have another 6 – 9 months to hold on to the clothes in the cupboard.

So I am still holding on to the clothes.

My reluctance to let go of these clothes, and my inability to let go of this “thing” is clearly a sign of impending doom and may result in another brutal conversation under the harsh kitchen lights.

So I am still holding on to the clothes.

Take a breath ….

Funny what a difference a few days with a total break from reality, and a few bottles of wine can make to your countenance?

The entire weekend was just a complete waste of oxygen.

It has been a very long time since I functioned whilst being totally removed from myself.  I could not have been more absent/removed/vacant/not present this weekend if I tried.

It is a bit like an out of body experience.  You can see you are in a room interacting – or not, whilst you are existing in the corner of the room, far removed from anyone/anything except this dullness around you.  Strange?  Yes.  True? Yes.

Fortunately it is not something I have to go through as much as I used to.  When my depression was at it’s worst, I would have weeks in this state, so I am thankful that I only got a few days of it now – and it really has not occurred in what feels like an age.

Kennith gives me the space when he sees I need it.  He tries not to ask too much of me when he knows I can’t do more than I am doing.  He goes a long way to just quietly helping me through these times..

I met with some friends for pizza and wine on Tuesday night – not too much pizza, possibly too much wine, and it really was a fun evening.  The conversation ranged from spousal abuse, growths on partners’ bodies, to sex and everything in between.  It was a relaxing evening and nice to have people speaking incoherently about so many funny things – the dinner was punctuated by loud guffaws of laughter – just what the doctor ordered!

I also had the fortunate opportunity to chat to someone this week who I really do feel a “soul connection” with.   I have known her for some time, but we have not seen each other for quite a bit.

We spoke about adoption, and the various urges that exist in our souls that we cannot always quantify or qualify.  For me it was great to just speak to someone who just got what I was saying, and did not look at me with that slightly raised eyebrow of confusion.

I am not sure if she was getting me, but after two bottles of wine suddenly it does appear like the whole world is just getting you.  But seriously, it was great to connect with her after so much time.

Last night I went along and met some moms from the Moomie forum.

We have been chatting on that forum for about 6 -8 months.  Before that we were chatting on the Pampers forum, and all seemed to migrate together to the better managed Moomie forum.

It is very strange seeing people you have been friends/adversaries on a forum, then there you are sitting across from them at a dinner table.  Having a relationship outside of the protection of your monitor and keyboard.

I would imagine that a Russian brides meeting her husband at the airport for the first time has similar issues.

Initially I thought it would be weird and awkward, but it really wasn’t.  The only part that was a bit strange was that you are so familiar with them in a cyber room, but sitting across from the table, one sometimes forgets who the person is without the benefit of their avatar to view.

It was a really relaxing evening – like dinner with old friends.  The girls are all so interesting and really unique – it did not feel forced, and conversation flowed easily.

Now that I am a tad more calm – I have realized that none of my ‘wants’ have faded into the morning light of fluorescent overhead lighting and in the even harsher light of reason and logic.

I feel a bit more comfortable that I know what I want/need.  It is okay to be me who wants/needs these things even in the face of opposition, fierce reasoning, pie charts and logical argument.

It is enough for me to just feel strongly that this is what I need, even if maybe they do not make sense to others.  Sometimes you cannot always explain what drives you to do what you do … sometimes it is just the want.

I also appreciate that Kennith and I are in this family together.

I need to respect his opinion and his feelings on the issues that are going to impact on our family – as a group and as individuals.  I can’t say that I will just quietly abandon what I want because he does not agree, and right now I do not really have a chart of the way forward.

However for now, I will take a breath and see where things go.

I am not sure where my path with adoption/fourth child issues/surrogacy will take me, or whether I will progress on any of those paths, or whether it will just go no where.  For today I am willing to exhale and try a modicum of patience and see what happens ….

Nothing to do but have a little bitch ….

You know when you just have a “I feel really shite and I should have just stayed home” day. I was fine physically, but for some reason I felt like I was on the verge of having a total break with reality sort of day, you know the kind?

Please tell me you do, so I do not feel like a total freak of nature.

I do realize that I am way past sounding like the crazy cat lady – but I am not sure how far past.  My friend suggested it was possibly all the hype pre-wedding and then the stuff after.  And add my stuff now. She felt I was just a little emotionally-strained and well, she did not want to say sensitive and emotional, but I knew where she was going.

Quite possibly.

This entire weekend, I just felt flat, and removed from everything.

I think part of it is the rather somber conversation Kennith and I had on Friday night.

In one conversation I realized that this may well spell the end of my surrogacy/possibly fourth child/adoption and any plans that require the purchase of maternity wear and booties.

I realized I am sounding a bit unhinged.

I woke up this morning at 03h40 so by the time I got to work I was totally destroyed.  I am one of those people who needs eight hours sleep, else does not function and starts to experience a bit of a strain.

At office – feeling all sad and flat – I am in an open plan office, and I face my entire team while I work.  So I figured I will just have a quiet little cry there at my monitor and carry on working … you know, as you do.  Sad, but productive.

Fortunately every time someone looked at me and they start to frown at the state of my face – I just said “insomnia” and they nodded sagely, and then give me a little look of sympathy.

Of course that did not explain the raccoon-mascara rings on my face, but bless my colleagues for just ignoring me and getting on with their day.

On the stranger side, Kennith had a s.e.x. dream, that included me and chutney … listen I don’t even make this stuff up … the Mrs Balls’ variety.  He even texted me today asking if he should stop and pick up some chutney … and they say I am having a break with reality <sigh>!

Womb for hire … squatters welcome …

When I was just had Connor I realized that if something happened to him they would need to take me out to a field and shoot me.  I loved (and still love) that child with such a fierce emotion that it is difficult to quantify.

I did not want kids.

I do not even like kids.

But I realized that when that child was pulled from my uterus, my heart went with him.  I feel him near me, I think about him, even when I don’t.

Having a child really is that cliché of taking your heart and soul out and letting it just walk about outside.

I theorized, that if I could feel that strongly about Connor, how must people feel who had been wanting/begging/pleading for a child for what must seem like forever.

I am no genius, but I can recognize the pain and suffering in others.

I have always wondered, imagine if I could do something small that would change someone else’s life so dramatically, how would that be?

I thought I might offer myself as a surrogate.

I read up a bit, took a few book out of a library (yes, a real library with cards and librarians who go “shooooossshhhhhh” a great deal) and tried to understand the process (surrogacy, not library, I got how that worked.)

I approached a few “fertility nurses” who I was referred to.

I did not get much in the way of response.  I was not sure what I wanted to say, but they were not trying to help me – and I just felt awkward, apologized and put the phone down – I felt embarrassed actually.

I googled (back then when it had just taken over from yahoo – you had like 38 hits – oh the innocence).  I found a UK and US listed site that gave more information, but there was just nothing South Africa related (this was back in 2002).

I was not sure who to speak to.  I felt like I was doing something embarrassing and covert.

I saw an advert in the weekend paper for a couple looking for a surrogate.  I sms’d them on the Saturday, there was no reply.  A few days after that there was another advert run in the same paper, mentioning that it was illegal to advertise for a surrogate.

Interesting times.

Time passed.  I got involved in my stuff, commonly referred to as survival.  I promptly forgot about “surrogacy” and had another two kids (I also had a little breakdown and a few bouts of chronic depression, but let’s leave that for another post shall we.)

Recently I found out  that surrogacy is a much more accepted custom than back in the day, and so is egg donation.  I am too old for egg donation – no one really wants a thirty eight year old’s eggs – no matter how pretty they are.  I tried, but I have an official rejection letter on my eggs.

Shame poor eggs, and they try so hard!!

I contacted an agency that deals with surrocacy, and they said “well, no three c-sections are above what we will accept” and bounced me – in their defense they did do it in a very polite fashion.

Ask me why I feel I need to be a surrogate.

Ask me why I need to donate eggs.

Ask me why I feel a need to adopt.

I really do not know.  I can’t explain it.  I can’t qualify it.  I really do not have a martyr complex, or an undying need to find favour with others, it’s not that either.  Really can’t explain it to anyone in any sense that will make sense.

I should just say “thank you universe for my three healthy kids, see you later!” and skip off happily into the sunset.

But I feel I can’t.

The one thing I know is, imagine if something small I did makes such a monumental difference to another couple.

I get a few injections, I sit in stirrups for a few hours – but a couple have a chance of having a baby.

I go through a few psychiatrist appointments, more time in stirrups and through a pregnancy – a couple gets a chance to hold their baby, can you imagine what a small sacrifice that is for me, if you compare it against what that couple must have been through to be at that point?

I still hope (against the odds) that Kennith will roll over one morning and say to me: “let’s adopt.”

He knows I know, that he knows he wont.  He knows that I know that maybe I hope that maybe he might change his mind.

We all live in a world of fairies and ghosts.

Mine are in the form of little cheruby not-born-yet babies, that aren’t always my babies – but that is the magical place I get to live in.