A mom dealing with secondary infertility shares her frustration about the whole journey.
Since my daughter Ava-Lilly turned three I’ve been feeling broody but I kept telling myself it wasn’t the right time. I’ve been waiting for everything to feel perfect. When a friend of mine brought her four-week-old baby boy over to ours I was in my element, taking him from her and holding him the whole duration of her visit.
My husband looked petrified the whole time, I remember thinking how pale he looked but of course he knew…he knew exactly what I was thinking. The ticking clock had started again and I was ready (or crazy enough) to have another and add to the ‘zoo’ as I call it. I have a husband who doesn’t know what a washing basket is, a daughter who never sleeps and two wild dogs, why an earth do I think I can cope with another baby?
So my quest to fall pregnant with baby number two began, however I didn’t take into account just how hard it would be now I’m already a mum who works six days a week. Conceiving Ava-Lilly was easy, she was a honeymoon baby, and it was all very idealistic and special.This time around it’s a different matter.
For a start I’m up at 3.30am five mornings a week so by 7.30pm at night my eyelids are firmly stuck to my cheekbones. I don’t want romance of any kind; I want a hot chocolate and my bed, plain and simple. The weekend starts with a slightly later alarm call of 7am ahead of my network show across the north of England. Once that’s done it’s washing, cleaning and trying to spend as much time with my husband and daughter as possible.
My better half Chris tells me I’ve taken a military approach to making baby number two, an approach he isn’t on board with. I tell him when my ‘window is’ so we can just get on with it and plan it into our busy schedules. He responds to this with “I’m not a machine Kelly” and “This isn’t romantic”. He’s right, it’s not romantic, it’s practical – a word I absolutely loath but a word which is beginning to take over my life.
As a mother you become practical, you plan, you make routines and schedules, that’s what you do to hold it all together. Letting go, being carefree and romantic is something that seems to only happen on a rare occasion. One of my friends recently told me she used a thermometer whilst conceiving baby number two. When her temperature hit the right number on one of her ‘window’ days she would just shout her husband who was busily working away in his home office.
My husband Chris was horrified when I told him this and immediately informed me that there will be no thermometer, no ovulation kit and absolutely no shouting at him like he was a soldier on duty who was being ordered to get in line. We recently had a family holiday, which actually was romantic at times (it’s totally different when you’re abroad). I was convinced I was pregnant so once I was back in the UK I bought every pregnancy test kit available in Boots!
I was devastated when they all were negative; “We haven’t been trying for long” is my hubby’s calm and sensible response. The thing is I want it all now, I want it all to be perfect and I struggle when it’s not. I talked about it on the breakfast show and it seemed listeners had lots of advice for me. Jackie told me a drink or two was the way to go, “you relax and let go”.
Alcohol doesn’t mix with 3.30am alarm calls though so that’s a no go. Another listener said Chris and I should book spa weekends “Your own bedroom isn’t romantic” she said. “Book a nice room and a back massage, you can’t go wrong”. It’s a nice idea but childcare is an issue so I can’t see that working.
Conceiving baby number two clearly isn’t going to be as straight -forward as I would like. Just between you and I, I have worked out the schedule for November, the important dates are highlighted in my diary but I won’t be telling my husband that. I also won’t be talking to him about windows or temperatures. Spontaneity is what is needed here I think, That and a few candles and a touch of old fashioned romance.
Terrifying truth of the US elections
It’s the most exciting thing to happen to politics for years…the US election has had more twists and turns than a soap opera. The scandal, the mud slinging, the allegations, it makes the House of Commons appear like a nunnery! The latest revelation concerning Hilary Clinton and the email scandal is perfect timing, especially considering how close the gap is between them.
Having spoken to American friends recently it appears that the consensus is Hilary is the “lesser of the two evils”. It seems sad that these two are the only candidates the United Sates of America can produce. A land which is supposedly built on hope and glory is looking at being led by either a maniac who, let’s face it, has an agent for his own hair piece and a woman who is keeping more secrets than a Russian Spy!
Whilst it may be fascinating to follow, when you consider what the future may hold with either of these two in charge it makes for sad times my American friends, and worrying times for the rest of the world.
Why smug marrieds should be happy to be tied down!
A friend of mine called me this week in the midst of a breakdown – “three years I’ve been single Kelly, Mr Right just doesn’t exist!”
At 27 years old my friend has had her fare share of disastrous dates – from married men pretending to be foot loose and fancy-free, to charmers who want to come in at the end of the night for more than a coffee. “All men seem to want is girls covered in fake tan, flaunting false nails, false eye lashes, even false hair!”, she screams at me down the phone.
‘They want girls in skimpy outfits who want to talk about Celebrity Big Brother and think Katie Price is a role model”. I assure her that it was the same when I was single, it may have been eight years ago or more but I remember thinking romance was dead, I remember diving out of a club at 2am in the morning disappointed to have not found my Prince Charming. “There’s someone for everyone,” I tell her “You need to stop searching for it and just be happy with you”. I realise I sound like her mother but these were all the things said to me those many years ago.
There are moments when I’m picking up my husband’s pants off the bedroom floor and cursing him for not washing up that I wish I were single. However this conversation is confirming to me that I should be glad I’m not and grateful for what I have!