When it is broken and you still can’t fix it?

How much should you care about someone else?

How much can you do?

My friend H got pregnant with my egg and her husbands sperm through IVF.

I was giddy with happiness for them.

And now she’s not.

And of course I know it’s not my fault and I know that I can’t do anything and that miscarriage is terribly common but I should be able to do something right?

How can you let your friends know that you care when it doesn’t help?

Or does it?

Is it the thought that counts?

(People who generally say that have usually just forgotten to buy someone else a birthday present or the milk.)

I am thinking of her so much.

A friend of mine said that I’m a high maintenance friend. That I expect a lot of my friends.

This is true.

But why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t we all care? Why shouldn’t we hurt for our friends when they’re hurting? Why can’t we tell our friends that we love them?

Why can’t we fix things that can’t be fixed?

Sorry for the questions.

I know the answers but it doesn’t help.

Thanks for listening though.

THAT’S what friends are for.

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Some unasked for advice free of charge…

An open letter to Generation, um, whatever we’re up to now,

You might think I’m old.

I’m clearly not. I’m funky, hip and cool.

What’s that? We don’t use those words anymore?

Sorry.

But here are some things I think that I know:

– You won’t be happy all the time. That’s normal. It’s called life. It’s nobody’s fault so don’t look to blame anyone. Find something to do, maybe help someone and the happy will come back.

– Not all your friends are your friends.
And even the friends that are your friends won’t always have time for you. That’s okay too. If you’re upset about it maybe help someone else and make new friends.

– Drinking single origin coffee doesn’t make you better than anyone else (and you know you can’t tell the difference anyway). Save up all those 50 cents and use them to help someone else.

– The rest of us don’t owe you anything but if you want to watch, learn and work hard then the only thing you’ll owe is gratitude. Which can be paid forward when you help others.

(Goodness me! Someone pass me a tissue. I think I got a blood nose while sitting up here I on my moral high horse.)

So anyway… maybe this next generation is going to be so well informed that they know all this anyway.

Or maybe they’ll be so busy capturing and tagging life that they will forget to look for those that they can help.

And to clarify you can help without giving money.

You can help with your time, commitment, love, respect and listening to the people who want to talk.

That’s all.

From me.

P.S Yeah. I think I might Cc myself on this letter.

When everyday is hard the hard days must hurt so much…

Yesterday a lady I know buried her mother.

Z is a Muslim lady and her mother who had been unwell and in hospital on and off for a long time had died at 2:20am the day before.

She organised a funeral on her own in a day.

Earlier this year Z broke her wrist and had a heart attack.

Z is a single mother. She has 2 severely Autistic sons aged 5 and 8.

She had a chest infection for weeks but was too busy to go and get the medication.

Her father is also unwell and in and out of hospital.

There is nothing easy in her life.

I remember one day she rang work and asked if everyone was okay because she’d had a bad dream and wanted to make sure that we were all safe.

Every time I see her she smiles and asks how my family are.

She cares.

She gives of herself when surely there must be nothing left to give.

I look at her and I am stunned at her ability to cope.

I look at her and I am so glad that I am not her.

I look at her and I feel guilty for complaining about anything, ever.

I am in awe of her strength and now she has lost her mother.

She has one less person to talk to and one less person to look after.

I imagine that she will cry her tears alone while her boys are sleeping. Then she’ll get up in the morning and get on with it. Because it’s the only thing she can do.

The number of the day is 9…

This post is mainly for me.

More of a journal entry.

Today I donated my eggs using IVF for the second (and final) time.

I feel completely exhausted and overwhelmed and relieved and hopeful and anxious and grateful.

I took competitiveness to a new level when I polished off the 4 mini packs of biscuits, 3 sandwiches and 2 glasses of apple juice and was discharged all within 30 minutes of waking up from the anesthetic.

I downed shots of coffee in quick succession and then got all chatty.

I asked the lab to play Barry White music while my 9 lovely eggs made sweet sweet love in a dish to my donor recipients husbands sperm.

I got to 3 o’clock before feeling a bit sore and woozy and needing a lie down.

I discussed appropriate penmanship for 3 year olds with the lovely British surgeon while not wearing any underwear.

I remembered my date of birth each and every one of the 19 times that I was asked today.

I managed to tie up the gown so that my bum didn’t stick out but considering what the procedure was that was probably the least of my worries.

And now I am tired.

And hoping that all those 9 little eggs embrace those swimmers with open arms and settle down for a long and happy lives together.

But most of all my wish is that H gets the family that she wants so dearly and the her persistence in persisting pays off.