Tuesday, 16 August 2011

Never say never

Today is Goran's half-birthday (adjusted age). It's quite surreal looking back and realising how incredibly far we've come. Not just over the past eight months since the little tyke entered our lives, but over the past 17-and-a-half years of Lee and me being a couple.

When we hooked up many, many moons ago, I made it very clear that I was not the marrying type, and that I never wanted children. Not just with him, but with anyone. Hah! Little did I know what the future held in store for us. Eleven years later we ended up tying the knot. And five years after that we became parents. The latter being totally unplanned, completely unexpected, and quite frankly the biggest shock of our lives.

But probably the most bizarre part of it all was the truly microscopic window in which Goran was conceived. A SIX WEEK PERIOD between me coming off the Pill (which I had been taking religiously for the past 21 years), and trying to find the time to make an appointment to go and have my tubes tied.

I finished my last packet of Mirelle in mid-April, while we were on holiday with my folks in the Kruger, and he was conceived on 6th June. Below is the screen shot of a conversation about tubal ligation I had with a few other women on our mutual mate Ally's Facebook wall on 8th July - not in my wildest dreams imagining I already had a teeny tiny human growing inside. It would be another few weeks before I found out I was preggers, on my brother's birthday, 26th July.

Moral of the story: Don't EVER let anyone tell you that it usually takes anything from a couple of months to a couple of years to fall pregnant after coming off the Pill, and that the older you get the longer it takes. With me it was a matter of WEEKS. And I was almost 35.

Now as honoured as I feel to have been blessed by the gift of this miracle baby, whom I honestly love more than life itself, in my heart I know I don't want any more children. So on Wednesday last week I went to the Marie Stopes Clinic in Sandton for a compulsory consultation before making the appointment to have my tubes tied. But unfortunately the experience didn't meet the brand's reputation or my expectations.

Without going into specifics, there were several aspects (relating to hygiene and professionalism mainly) that didn't sit well with me and made me rather uncomfortable, actually. Furthermore, after reading through the Female Sterilisation Aftercare pamphlet they gave me to take home, I realised that I am simply not in a position to "avoid any heavy lifting...for at least two weeks". Already tipping the scales at a hefty 10kg, Goran requires a LOT of picking up and lugging around in his everyday life.

So not only have I had to postpone the op for the time being - until my circumstances are more conducive to the kind of recovery set-up required, but I've also decided to rather go see my gynae at Netcare Olivedale Hospital about having the procedure done there. The same place where I had my emergency Caesar in December. No doubt it's going to be more expensive (being a private healthcare facility as opposed to a government-approved one), but at least I'm happy with their high standards of hygiene and know what kind of professional service to expect. Medical aid may even be willing to come to the party in terms of partial cover, although that is something I still need to look into.

Until then Lee is simply going to have to eat sweets with their wrappers still on. Bottom line: we CANNOT afford another oops.

Six months old today, gnawing on a stick of droëwors. I swear this already killer cute kid just gets lovelier by the day.

Tuesday, 9 August 2011

Skop, skiet en donner

Like most Anglophiles I know, I have spent pretty much the past 24 hours glued to the telly, watching footage of all the 'recreational rioting' going on in and around London town. Scary stuff. But with the number of coppers on duty increased from 6,000 last night to 16,000 tonight, and having been given the go-ahead to be more "robust" in dealing with these thugs, I do think we've seen the end of it. If not, I hope they deploy the friggin army. And start using some tear gas and rubber bullets, dammit!

Conversely, here in Jozi it's been a rather uneventful past few days. Just how I like my long weekends, actually. That said, I did have a horrible scare yesterday when I walked Goran slap-bang into a low-lying thorn-infested branch of a fever tree. We had been catching a few rays with Papa Smurf on the lawn when, for some reason, I decided it would be a good idea to give the little human a piggyback ride on my shoulders round the garden...

...Bad idea.

Evidence below...

Practicing his rugby moves in a Baby Bok onesie from Granny Marilyn and Grampa Grubes.

I bought this little Papa Smurf plushie from the Wiesenhof coffee shop at Olivedale Hospital during the month that Goran spent in NICU. For some reason I had started calling Lee 'Papa Smurf', so when I saw this little guy nestled amongst all the teddybears and other fluffy toy gifts, I just had to take him home with me.