There’s things I remember and things I forget…

Today my son turned 5.

This is not unusual. Many people had birthdays today (I know of 4).

I will not bore you with the details of the birthday as they are not particularly relevant to you.

I will go out on a limb here and assume that you yourself have experienced birthdays first hand and therefore understand how the day unfolded.

Here is my point though. I know exactly what I was doing on this day 5 years ago.

I know that he was born at 2:30. I know that I had a C section after being unsuccessfully induced 2 days earlier. I can remember the jokes I made the to the people in the room. They were funny.

I can remember coming out of recovery and seeing my husband holding our son and asking him what our family members had said when he called them. He told me he hadn’t called anyone as he didn’t want to move or put the baby down.

I can remember seeing my Mum’s face when she first saw my son and was amazed that she loved him as much as I did already.

* I am a little bit blurry in the afternoon when they gave me the blue tablet and I had the funky hallucinations.*

I remember things that are medical that I won’t share with you because you really actually don’t want to know.

I remember (when having been awake for 3 days) at 11pm the doctor came into the dark room and asked if there were any heart problems in the family because they had detected a hole in his heart.

I remember the lovely lady sharing the room with me yelling at the same doctor to come back with some facts and a wheel chair to take me to see my baby who was in the special care nursery.

And now he is 5 and big and happy and healthy and my scars are getting fainter and his heart is fine. But I remember everything to the minute.

So, um, how can I not remember to buy Glad Wrap?


Tell me more… or not!

I just wrote and deleted a short post on how much I like zucchinis at the moment.

It was not interesting.

It was bland.

I remembered just in time that nobody actually cares if I like zucchini except possibly my immediate family who is joining me on my mass zucchini buying and consuming adventure.

There may be too much sharing of mundane information going on in the world. Too much telling of silly little things to people who think less of you for sharing your boring little thoughts.

Or not.


And now in an effort to appear affable and friendly I will get on Facebook and like every status that involves exercise, shopping, eating, sleeping and tv programs.

Because I care.

Or not.

The maybe baby or the things you do for a show bag.

Some people make babies by accident. Some people plan them. Some people need medical intervention. And some people need an egg donor.

I am preparing to be an egg donor. I am going to help another couple make a baby. I am going to make a baby but not be a mum. I am making a half sibling for my boys that won’t grow up with them.

And here is where I welcome you to my head.

There are 2 sides.

There is the part of my head that says they are just eggs. I’m not using them. Why should they go to waste?

Then there is the part that acknowledges that this is my flesh and blood. Part of me. A member of my family. I am the biological mother.

But it’s not my baby. I will not be carrying this child who may or may not look like me. Who may or may not be the girl that I didn’t have.

So it’s all okay. It’s an adventure. It’s something that I can do. It’s a reminder that I am lucky to have so much. It’s a big deal but it’s not.