For once, I have something more significant to report than the usual claptrap. Significant in this household, anyway, if not to anyone else.
For those who haven’t already guessed (and didn’t read the title), Sarah is pregnant with our third child, due some time around 9th December. Given past performance, however, the end of November seems a more likely time for the delivery.
As in the case of her pregnancy with Lucas, Sarah has joined forces with Moeders voor Moeders, an organisation that collects the urine of pregnant women and extracts the hormone hCG (Human Chorionic Gonadotropin) from it. This is a complex and very expensive procedure, requiring millions of litres of urine to distil just a few grammes of the hormone. The hormone is subsequently used by pharmaceutical companies to manufacture drugs that aid in the treatment of infertility.
One in six couples experience reduced fertility and hCG can benefit them. It’s literally pissed down the toilet during the first four months of pregnancy, so why not pee into cannisters instead and have it put it to good use?
We already have most of the things we’ll need to accommodate another child in our lives: ample m2; clothes — if I wanted to make you retch, I might even list big hearts (sickly and uncalled for, I know) — etc., etc. However, with the forthcoming expansion in our ranks, one purchase we won’t be able to get away from is that of a larger car in 2011; some kind of seven-seater, I suppose. Suggestions in this area are welcome, although I don’t want to make many concessions to frumpy people-carriers if I can help it.
And so begins the process anew of mulling over names, taking the weekly photo of Sarah’s swelling belly, etc. We’re old hands at this now.
When our third child is born, the small people will outnumber the adults in the family. The balance is tipping in their favour. This may strike you — and even us, at times — as the ultimate parental folly, but when the little blighters aren’t playing up, the joy of having young children around is good fantastic; so overwhelming, so emotionally fulfilling, intellectually satisfying and generally indescribably brilliant, in fact, that we’re simply not ready to be finished with the stage of early childhood development.
The profundity of our emotional involvement is such that the decision to have more children isn’t really a decision at all, if I’m honest. It’s impossible to resist, not to want more of that bonding with a newborn, to witness that first smile, be there when your child starts to crawl, walk, utter its first word, etc. Neither of us is ready for the permanence of having completed that stage of life.
Wow! Holy crap! Congratulations. That will make travel a bit more interesting. 🙂
Yay for the baby! Congratulations! :)I’m so very happy for you guys! You’re such a nice family, really.
Congrats Ian. With that being said, I’m honestly glad to have only two and both beyond the diapers, small glass or plastic bowls of food, and morning wake-ups. Except for our 19 year old which appears to have started birthdays in reverse given his current desires to actually find reasonable employment. Anyways, congrats, the whole out numbering thing sounds sinister. Tred carefully there 🙂
Thanks, Mike. It’s always a pleasure to hear from you. I trust you’re keeping well.
Yes, if I could have planned any stage of my life and been able to ever see more than three months into the future, I would definitely have preferred to have children at a younger age. The FIFO concept applies here, i.e. the sooner you get started, the sooner you’re finished. And, the more years you get to see your children grow up and make their own way in the world; not to mention the time spent with possible grandchildren.
Still, in my case, having children earlier would have been a disaster. Apart from the fact that I was barely able to look after myself until I was into my thirties, I hadn’t yet met the right woman to be the mother. You can only play the cards you’re dealt, right?
At least I have now developed an acute awareness of just what a special time of life this is. I’m there for every tiny development and miss nothing. Few dads are as lucky as I am in that regard.