Monthly Archives: October 2009

Broken conversation

I’d been told before even falling pregnant that a side effect of both pregnancy and new motherhood was abject stupidity – referred to in  more polite cicrles as ‘baby brain’. And not wanting to let the side down I duly embraced my new mental state. What no-one warned me was that it doesn’t appear to improve with the passage of time. The thoughts are there and the brain is ticking over but it seems like there is some loose wiring which has caused my brain/mouth co-ordination to short circuit. My conversation isn’t just broken… it’s been run over by a truck, scraped up and thrown from a ten story building shattering into a thousand pieces then trampled by a herd of rampaging buffalo (that just happen to be hanging aorund near ten story buildings)

Since Devilboy entered the world, my capacity for coherent conversation has exited. Speech has become a bunch of random words that someone else has to assemble into a sentence. Kind of like constructing something from Ikea… only not everyone has the right allen key.

Yesterday whilst we were standing amongst a flock of huge feathered birdlife at Lake Macquarie, I had the following conversation with dad of Deviboy.

Me:                  Don’t let Devilboy get too close to the penguins.
D of D:            What penguins?
Me:                  Those penguins!
D of D:            You mean the pelicans?
Me:                  Oh! Yes the pelicans.
D of D:            Would you like a drink?
Me:                  I’d me chocolate
D of D:            You’d what?
Me:                  Devilboy, not so close to the penguins!
D of D:            You’re an idiot!

Thank Gods for other mothers I say. I swear without them I’d consider a vow of silence at this point. This is a perfectly understood conversation I had with another new mum (om) while ordering drinks at a cafe today, whilst our partners looked on dumbfounded.

Om:                  You know what’s her name is umm…. coffee?
Me:                  Really? How far along is she? No I’d rather have skim… Devilboy, stop ripping the paper!
Om:                  Four months.  Ok… two flat whites and a skim hot chocolate, please?
Me:                  Thanks. Did you still want to do that… thing in a few of weeks?
Om:                  Sure I’m keen, what day?
Partners:        What the?

 Clearly though I’ve lost the basic skills of discourse, I’ve gained the skill of translating mum… a fair trade methinks.

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It’s not over ’til the fat lady sings

I’ve picked myself up and dusted myself off after last month’s disappointments and distractions. ‘They’ say that the answer to life’s problems can’t be found at the bottom of a bottle… but I figured it was at least worth a bit of a look, just in case. A few weeks of drinking away my sorrows (after Devilboy was safely tucked into sleep) and I discovered that ‘they’ were right, there were no answers, but damned if it didn’t make me feel better anyway!

Now it’s time for another ride on the IVF merry-go-round. And time to start treating my unco-operative body as a temple (a fairly shambolic and slightly ruined temple I grant you, but a temple none the less) in readiness for one of the embsicles to be dipped in anti-freeze in preparation for it to have a viewing of my uterine real estate.

I’m daring to feel hopeful again, not in small part due to the lovely gesture of a dear friend and her hubby who gifted me a delightful new icon to join my collection of fertile misfits.

The Fat Lady of Malta is a prehistoric headless splodge of a girl with an alarming set of cankles and I simply adore her. Now, she and the other girls are all facing each other so they can catch up on some girly goddess gossip. Though T-FLOM is usually insanely busy with her cult-like following of Maltese women, she kindly flew all the way from Malta just to help me in my mission to procreate… and her very presence is making me feel more hopeful.

I mean seriously, if a chick with no head can get preggers… there must be at least a little hope for me!

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Filed under iconography, IVF, Uncategorized