The Waiting Game

Strange times at the moment.

We've come and gone through the optimum time of the month, making the most of every opportunity, and while we will continue to do so as long as we can, we both know that if we are to be successful this month, that it already would have begin.

This I find entirely bizarre, the possibility that we 'could' be pregnant and yet we are over a week from even being able to speculate.

Right now I envy those guys who's partners just blind sight them with a declaration of 8 week pregnancy.

I am not a patient person by any stretch of the imagination, so needless to say, waiting for something that may not even happen is spinning my little brain around my head like a lone thong in a tumble drier.

At least we have a distraction coming in the next few days, we get the keys to our new home on Monday, followed by a week of taking furniture deliveries, packing & preparing before we move lock stock on Saturday.

Then it's just a matter of waiting until the following Tuesday....

EDIT: P.S. My God this post is mind numbingly boring, I do apologise, but all I've been up to is trying to make the bloody thing and we'll, I think that's an image that's better left to all our imaginations....

Your missionary, should you choose to accept it...

D-Day minus 4.

This is where the serious stuff starts. Not an opportunity will be lost over the coming days to set the wheels in motion.

We have been doing what I expect most couples do when they are try to conceive, and reading up on any tips or tricks that could bump up our chances of success.

Selection of foods, drinks, clothes, smells, Barry White albums, and 'positions' are all potential make or break points.

In fact, I don't think we've been 'having sex', or 'making love', or even 'shagging' of late, but rather performing minor medical procedures.

BUT....here comes a dilema, of sorts. There is one widely accepted position which should be utilised for conception.

The problem arises after repeated attempts, this position does get somewhat dull.

Fear not, the bowels of the internet informed me that there is an alternative to this position, which should prove just as effective, but there's a catch....It's only just as effective if the woman's cervix is tilted'.

How in the name of all that is holy can she, let alone I, tell if her flaming cervix is tilted or not ! ? !

I'm contemplating showing my swimmers pictures illustrating the difference between a tilted and non-titled cervix and training them to send back someone with a sign, just so we know.

There are two plus points on the upside of all this, One - I believe I am now a qualified gynacologist in 6 Eastern European countries and 4 US states, and TWO - I've learned that you should NEVER mention a woman's cervix when you're trying to get them into bed.

Back in the saddle, lousy odds, and buttock visualisation

Well, month 2 has kicked off where month 1 left off…. Going for it.

In fact I have 20 minutes according to my laptop clock before Little Mama shall return and we will keep up our daily routine.

It’s quite fun to be honest, especially attempting to get a few minutes away from our visitors to give it a shot.

They leave tomorrow and it will be full steam ahead then.

We were both looking at some articles this evening about getting pregnant, some (pink and blue coloured and therefore legitimate)source claimed that we should be trying to conceive every 2 days for the 8 days in and around the ‘special time’.

It went on to say that then a normal couple would have a 25% of conceiving.

Frankly, those odds scare me. Are they normal?

If we double the recommended activity over this period to EVERY day, does this make it a 50% chance?

If we stay in the saddle TWICE a day EVERY day during this period does this make it then 100%?

Now I’m not a mathematician (or obviously a biologist) but those odds I DO like.

My scrambled egg brain is already creating stressful situations, like what if we are not successful this month?

How much would that dent our hope and confidence?

I’m not old, technically still in my 20’s so why would nature let me down like this? or Little Mama?

Are these wonderings part and parcel of this process? Or, am I in fact not an idiot but mentally deranged? I’m already convinced that I have an hormonal imbalance that has started me down this road.

I’ve been reading some other blogs, notably ‘Doodaddy’ and ‘papasdiary’. I genuinely enjoy them but I’ve found myself feeling 2 quite strong emotions in doing so.

1- I feel like a fraud for reading and enjoying their stories when I’m not a dad, nor even a pleb expectant dad.

2- I feel as jealous as hell for what they have.

Anyway, I have 6 minutes left before hammer time and I refuse to let this sink any further into the emotional blurb that it seems to be.

This was meant to be humorous damnit!

Although, to leave with a chuckle inspiring thought, as you read this, I’ve probably got my pale buttocks in the air in an attempt to bring about the goal which is the inspiration behind this blog in the first place….

Calmer ?

Little Mama and I chatted into the small hours in bed last night.

For the first time we spoke about some of the finer details of what's going on now, and what's going to happen (Hopefully).
We really have a feel for what each other thinks, hopes for, and worries about.

We spoke probably in a bit too much detail about something that doesn't exist but it's hard not to let your mind wander.

I am a bit calmer now, and looking forward to next week when we start trying again.

I've not slept more than 3 hours on any of the last three nights, I knew parenthood brought about sleepless nights but I had expected it to be more when the blighter actually existed in a form more physical in nature than my imagination.

One thing is for sure, I have the utmost sympathy for wannabe parents who are trying month after month after month.

First Blow

Tuesday 12 June, 2007. . . . Late.

Well, there goes that idea. Little Mama has just informed me that nature has taken its course and month 1 is a washout, a failure.

5-7 days from now we can start over again, and we will have a full month this time at least. That's where the science bit kicks in I'm told.

I know that it was highly, highly unlikely for us to be successful this month and we knew that, but the disappointment is surprisingly sharp.

Anyway, onwards and upwards, I have a week to swot up on how I can become a prime hunk of impregnating manhood.

I'm off to throw away my Emmylou Harris CDs and find a bucket of ice for my knackers to sit on.

We bloody want this more than I can understand.

Early Days

Saturday 9th & Sunday 10th June, 2007.

So far so good. This should be a piece of piss. Little Mama is now contraception free and it's just a matter of getting down to business.

3 times in the two days in fact, 4 if you count the one time that would surely end up in medical journals should it result in pregnancy.

Also, I must say about the whole thing, it's quite enjoyable.

Monday 11th & Tuesday 12th June, 2007.

One thing I have learned about this process is this.... I know absolutely nothing about this process.

If you break it down to the simple 'where, when, how and who', I just about can cover the 'where' and 'who', with a passing grade on the 'how'. The 'when', apparently, is a lot more important that I had anticipated.

Having consulted the mother parent of all parents, aka the internet, we have established some basic points.

To be successful in this month we need to go to the chemist and buy a miracle. As thats what it would most likely take. Unfortunately here in Holland the chemists are never open when you need them and besides, miracles are illegal here.

Having stopped with contraceptives, Little Mama's body is sorting itself out into a natural cycle so we face disappointment at any point between now and Thursday week, the 21st.

If that happens we have to call month 1 a failure and wait a few days for month 2, when, in reality the serious stuff should begin.

But ! I'm not giving up on this month just yet, my gut feeling got me into this and it's the same gut feeling that's telling me we could still pull this off first time out.

And so the daily transactions shall continue until success, failure or I until start fainting in public.

We have visitors arriving on Wednesday for a week. I'm fully intent on not letting that get in the way of 'getting on' with things, although it will surely halt my rambling on here about them. The joys of a study that double as a spare bedroom.

The blubbiness continues, in fact it's multiplying. I'm now day dreaming scenarios full of cute gurgling babies, cheeky toddlers, well grounded and respectful teenagers and adult children refusing to put me into a home and not just because it would eat into their inheritance.

I'm imagining the rejoicing throughout western Europe when we break the news, and I'm envisioning the tears of joy that will flow when the birth is announced.

I'm thinking of names and listening to far too much Emmylou Harris.

Did I mention that I am an idiot ?

The Decision

7th June, 2007. That's exactly when I decided that I was willing, nay, wanting, or may I even be loathed to say 'craving' to become a Dad.

Married for close to two years, and partners for nearly seven before that, my wife and I (herewith christened 'Little Mama' for my own personal amusement, and her annoyance should she ever read this) had always acknowledged some floating intention to have children, sometime, somewhere, at a point in time unknown to civilisation, in a place not yet discovered.

This was an arrangement that suited me just perfectly.

I have honestly no idea why or how it came upon me, the best way I can describe it is that I got hit in the gut and was winded. But instead of discomfort, what I felt was an overwhelming confident and assured feeling that the time was right, and it had to be now.

I decided to keep my mouth shut (for fear of Little Mama having me committed) and intended to sleep on the idea and wake up the next morning with my senses reinstated and continue with my self absorbed and thoroughly enjoyable life.

I did not.

I awoke on Friday 8th June, 2007. Even more blubby and dreamy and hormonally imbalanced than any man should be. 2 cans of red bull on the motorway later, I knew this was it, my mind was made up, albeit by someone or something unknown to me.

Like all good textbook romances I emailed Little Mama at work to tell her I had an 'idea'. Now, it's not normally very easy to read a groan in an email, but I'm sure it was there in her reply.

Later that evening, sprawled on the couch as I wiped pizza from my chubby face, she asked what my big idea was.

My response: ' I think we should start a family'.

There, I'd said it, it was out there never to be retrieved or hidden under a cardigan, & worse still - we were both completely sober.
I continued to lie in what I was starting to realise was a ridiculous position on the sofa for for such a significant moment, now terrified in the dawning realisation that I had not thought this passage of events through sufficiently in advance.
Too late to save the half chewed pepperoni deluxe from hitting the floor, not a pretty site, might I add, Little Mama finally closed her lower jaw, leaned over, planted one on me, before we silently retired to the bedroom for our last threesome in the company of Mr Contraceptive pill.

At 4am with half an eye open, I poured myself and the kitchen floor a glass of water & decided to take the evenings events as a sign she was on board.

Oh Christ, what HAVE I gone and done....