A long time coming: Our little Sonny Jim
Two years ago, much of May was spent fretting about having a bit of an awkward conversation with my boss.
After almost a decade of trying for a baby, my husband and I were about to have IVF.
Six rounds of clomid and three rounds of IUI – despite there being nothing medically wrong with either of us – still hadn’t resulted in a baby, so we had finally been referred to Barts, St Bartholomew’s Hospital in London.
We were lucky. This was before the cut backs the NHS is now suffering. We were entitled to up to three rounds of IVF on the NHS. We didn’t have to face decisions like donating my eggs to fund our own fertility treatment. We just had to think about us. Continue reading
Snuggles with Sonny Jim
So, the little guy smiles! Proper gummy-I-could-be-a-seal smiles. He’s making noises that sound like a baby rather than guinea pig on speed. And (whisper it) he’s *actually* sleeping at night, but shhh don’t tell anyone, we don’t want to put the mockers on it!
Sonny Jim’s not a newborn anymore (whoa where has that time gone?!) but the mumma lessons are still coming thick and fast. Here’s some of the latest…
- No one really knows what they’re talking about… (Even those whose job it is to know. Your health visitor will tell you one thing and your GP the exact opposite. And your friend’s health visitor will say something different again.)
- …But everyone has an opinion. The woman behind you in the queue at Waitrose knows waaay better than you do why your child is crying. Obviously.