I feel that it is remarkably poor form to start a post with an apology for the content. In doing this I am already setting myself up for failure and it could be argued, very reasonably, that I should bail out at this point. However a challenge has been set and I have accepted.
A crucial error has been made, I asked Surgical Dad for his thoughts on my blog today. We have spent the week off work together as a neat little four-person unit. We have all put in a big shift, no-one more so than him, so I felt it only fair a collaborative offering was given. I realise I am stalling here, so without further ado, the topic proffered by Surgical Dad was thus, “I think you should write about the psychological profile of your uterus”. An astounding delivery of my task! Thankfully further clarification was offered as I was rendered speechless, “it’s funny because it’s your brain that has the psychological issues, not your uterus”. Well to be fair this doesn’t sound all that funny at all. I daren’t enquire whether it is the plural non-specific “your” to which he is referring or it is pertinent to me. And so a blog is born.
I will start at the beginning of the week. On Monday we took Bella and Big Son swimming, something we do several times a week and after the swim we spend awhile in the coffee shop, us topping up our caffeine levels while the little ones play. Bella and I joined the boys this Monday afternoon for these post-swim activities. As I sat down Surgical Dad said to me, nodding his head to a group of ladies with newborns and pregnant bellies, “you must be glad that’s over”. It was a rhetorical question. He had spent a few minutes listening to the graphic regaling of their birth stories. A conversation didn’t ensue, that for the time being was it.
Tuesday or Wednesday, I forget which, the days blend into one. A friend from school announced she was going for a hat-trick, a 12 week dating scan picture was distributed to us all with the glad tidings. This came a few weeks after another couple of friends had announced the same, and a month after my sister gave birth to her third child, a beautiful girl. All stating three was their lucky number. Now I don’t think it is any co-incidence at all that by the end of the afternoon Surgical Dad had all the out-grown baby toys in the boot of the car and was on his way to a charity shop!
It is now Friday and we have easily spent 30+ hours this week in various play-parks enjoying the first warmth of Spring. The scenes are the same the country over. And as a mum, especially in the first flurry of motherhood, this is a life-line. It is in these play-grounds where life-long friendships are forged. I loved the coffee culture as a new mum, and I loved every stage it progressed through. Being a medical mum didn’t make the task of being a mum any easier contrary to popular opinion. Common sense went out of the window, the same worries were present and any degree of objectivity was removed along with the placenta. Without mum friends it would’ve been an impossible, lonely, fraught and angst ridden journey. Even now I enjoy being amongst it, soaking up the atmosphere with fond memories.
What has become abundantly clear is, that as the only male in this fraternity, Surgical Dad has gotten a little concerned. His concern borne from the idea that maybe I aspire to be part of this group again, that maybe I also want a hat-trick.
I don’t. I am entirely, my brain and uterus included, happy and content with our brood. We have long said our family is complete. I have enjoyed this week off for many reasons and feel we are now beginning to poke our heads above the parapet. This is not to say that I won’t feel a little broody seeing all the new arrivals, after all we’re right in the middle of baby-boom time. But we are most certainly all done.
And so the psychological profile of my uterus is complete. You can rest assured it is in very good health. The challenge is complete.