I visited a home today where a young couple lives with their four children. Four boisterous boys. Four boys that are challenging their parents. Pushing the limits of their patience and their fences. The eldest is in school. The youngest barely crawling. so that would make it 4 under 7 or 8, right? And another on the way. Busy place, let me tell you. And the mother, she asked me if I had any children.
I said that no, I didn’t. {stabbing pain in my heart}
You’re lucky, she said, he just has to look at me and we’re pregnant. I hate it. I hate being pregnant. And kids are all feral and should be locked away until they are old enough to look after themselves. Trust me. Don’t have any, life is better without kids. She continued as we finalised the inspection. Complaining and whining. Extolling the million and one things she hated about being a mother.
I left soon after. Stinging with the unfairness of it. She gets five. She hates the whole thing and she gets five. I try not to judge. Perhaps she was having a bad day. Her task cannot be an easy one, those are some busy, busy boys. But I hated her attitude a little. She has no idea that she is one of the lucky ones.
Later in the afternoon I got into a conversation when I mentioned to a colleague that this lady was expecting her 5th. And she said her daughter was like that. Fell quickly and easily. And often. her daughter has four children. I thought of my brother and his wife. Who fell instantly (though suffered a miscarriage) and fell again on their first cycle after. And we talked for a while about the lucky one’s {she knows our hopes and challenges} and how often, they don’t know how lucky they are. I had to agree with that.
When we first fell pregnant, it was fast and easy. Of course, I thought, that’s how it is supposed to work. And I was shocked and shattered when it didn’t. Work, that is. I think this is the part that pokes me, pushes me and tests me. That in some way I feel let down. Broken. And suspicious of everything. What else in life is a dream waiting to be shattered by reality and realness. It ruins it a little…
But at the same time makes it all the more precious. This whole life bizz’o. The good times, the fun, the love and the joy. Those moments seem to shine brighter. They become more precious. In some way because they are known to be fleeting. Appreciated somehow. And I think we all have our thing that opens our eye to this. TTC appears to be mine.
Because in almost all areas of life I am one of the lucky ones.
November, help me out would you, I am still waiting.
Suger 
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