Purely hypothetical, naturally...

Once upon a time, long long ago, a single sperm emerged from from a tribe of billions.

Armed with nothing more than a puffed chest, retracted shoulders, and a fledgling sense of direction, he came to win.

Fresh from the trials of being launched at breakneck speed, washed, spun, and launched again, he emerged victorious.

The first, and only to reach the summit of the tallest mountain in the promised land.

There he did feast, make merry, deliver his genetic cargo, and in his wake left the beginnings of another leaf to the great tree of humanity.

In that very spot, now grows a human. Feet and ears and forehead and ribs and future wobbly bits.
In that very spot, he or she sits and grows and waits.
in that very spot, he or she listens and watches.

My question is, what does it see?

More to the point, what does it see when ET loses control of her passions and has her wicked way with me?

Does it float there, gumming on its little fist, watching all-too-infrequently deployed shoals of man-milk flurry aimlessly around its environment?

Do little groups of sperm mange to find their way through the cervix and up into the kidlet's playground?

Is it sitting there with an incomprehensible sense of déjà vu as it watches hundreds of replays of its own previous adventure?

Is the wee one aware of the genetic genocide taking place just millimetres away?

Are there dozens of redundant sperm warriors sprayed across its amniotic sac like insects on a windscreen?

Will we even need to bother with 'the birds & the bees' lessons?

Cold shower time, methinks.

360 in 365

It's embarrassing.

I don't like reading old entries, most of them at least.

They are usually bad attempts at humour, or full of cringe worthy naivety, or plain and simply painful. Those are the worst, the ones where I can read what seems to be someone else talking about hopelessness, seemingly endless.

One year ago today I wrote:

'I can't shake the gut feeling this is the one.'

That was our 17th cycle. 10 more failed attempts followed that one.

One year further on, one wedding anniversary further on, we are standing somewhere that feels like the centre of everywhere.

Last year we celebrated our third anniversary with nothing. Sour taste, looming shadows, and no way out.

Next year, our fifth, we won't be alone. Someone else will be living in our house, someone else's clothes with be in the cupboards, someone else's stuff will be cluttering up the hallway.

Can you believe that?

I can't.

As much as we worked to get here, and even with as much time as we've had over the years to prepare, I still don't really believe it. Every week brings something else that makes my stomach drop just a little. A sign that I'm slowing 'getting it'.

I'm slowly and gradually believing it.

This year we are sitting here, marking our anniversary quietly. Full of expectation in every possible sense of the word.

I'm full of disbelief at how just much disbelief I find myself in. The changes from last year, the changes to next, and the here and now.

Here and now, the centre of everywhere, the spot from where we have the perfect 360 degree view.