Kids Youtube and adventures in low quality cash grabs

One day we put YouTube kids on for our kid. I don't exactly remember when or why. I recall that I had it on at home during maternity leave sometimes, we'd watch things like Hey Bear - a sensory channel, and nursery rhymes like in the Wiggles. I recall that my husband gave her his phone while we were out and she was bored. 

I'm not blaming anyone, this kind of thing is inevitable. Heck, our childcare uses YouTube as a tool as well.  And it is a tool. It depends on how you use it as to whether it's good or bad. 

For every Danny Go! That gets the kids up and moving, there's a Cocomelon that turns them into zombies. For every arts and crafts video like Mister Maker (think modern day Art Attack) there is a bunch of literal children doing robotic unboxing of toys as thinly veiled advertising. For every wholesome Topsy and Tim episode, you get usually the same child 'stars' copy pasting video ideas. 

Now, when she was little it was easy to police what she watched. We would watch it together and then discuss it. "Oh dear, it looks like Diana was very sad when (event) happened. How do you think you would feel?" Or "Roma was littering, wasn't he? What could he have done instead?" 

These days, she's allowed some more freedom and admittedly it's harder to get that connection with her about the "content" because sometimes I'm not there due to work, or she's at school, or it's during a drive so I can keep my sanity etc. I still try. 

I actively block really terrible channels or videos. I try to talk to her about the videos that state they're sponsored, because kids are not going to understand that. They see Maddison and Trinity taking about a new toy, they think it's playing. They don't see what I'm looking at - the girls glassy eyed as they clearly read a script. They don't play, they just outline the toy's features but not in a "wow, this doll can colour change if you dunk it in cold water!" but in a very unnatural 'I have to hit all these key notes or I won't get paid' way like "This is DOLLNAME from the super awesome CHANNEL/SHOW. I just LOVE her. Isn't she great? We also have her friends, EXAMPLE 1, EXAMPLE 2 and of course EXAMPLE 3. We got them from BRAND NAME OF STORE (omits they were likely gifted or reimbursed). Just like her favourite colours are suddenly MY favourite colours, I've dressed up like DOLLNAME because she's my favourite and isn't she great? I hope you get one so we can play together/engage in parasocial relationships! Her hair is long and has two colours. She comes with one accessory that you'll lose immediately. Here is the front of DOLLNAME and here is the back. Look how nice the generic box she came in is. DOLLNAME from CHANNEL/SHOW is a super cool toy that I just love coincidentally, and you should buy one so we get more sponsorships and you can consume more soulless videos from us." 

Sure, I exaggerated but that was basically the transcript. Love Diana and Like Nastya are two of the bigger names. I honestly prefer Love Diana because while they clearly have amassed a fortune and do sponsorship videos, the parents obviously keep a tighter reign on what the kids do. They're still kids. They actively make scripted content to amuse kids and it's not just camera in the face 24/7. They have a toy line and merchandise they've clearly had a hand in.

 Like Nastya is very similar but more in the I'm sponsored by this company or TikTok/Youtube are guest stars at my birthday party, here's a bunch of cheap zazzle things I slapped my name on and oh look my friends are here wearing shirts with my name and likeness on kinda way. 

It's this one I want to talk about because these guys also do music. It's kids music, I'm not expecting anything too fantastic but holy crap. Like Nastya's music is something else. I want to dissect one song in particular. If you haven't heard it, it's an earworm music wise but it contains the most bored sounding girl spouting nonsense in a pretence that this song is in any way educational. Here we go. 

"Hello. My name is Nasty-a. I can sing the alphabet to ya. I know, you can sing it too. So come on sing it with me. " 

From here she launches into the alphabet. It's the alphabet song. Great. I mean, it was a weird way to start, coming off like she's either going to teach YOU how to sing it or bragging about how she knows the alphabet in another language... but then immediately acknowledging that the person she's randomly talking to about this also can do this. So it's not "Let's do this together!" It's a "come on, let's get this over with so I can start repeating la la la's." 

"Hello, all the boys and girls. We are super heroes of the world. I can fly, I'm invincible and I'm really, really flexible. 

All the boys and girls, come on, we could rule the world. 'Cause we know our ABC'S, sing it with me 1-2-3"

This part destroys my husband's soul each time he hears it. "What has being flexible got to do with anything?!" He moans in abstract pain. I think it's stupid but I think it's supposed to be encouraging? It's the next part that gets me.  

"A is for an apple and B is for a ball. C is for a cat and D is for a dog. We could go on and on and on and on and on, yeah, 'cause this is our favourite song." 

Yes. It's the alphabet song. We could go on and on and on about what the other letters could stand for, but we won't. After all, this is the alphabet song and I have to fill more of it with repetitive la la la's and drivel about superhero powers I CLEARLY do not have because who wants to hear about the bleeding alphabet in the ALPHABET SONG AMIRIGHT

Extreme lawsuit in India - parents sue their son to assert their "right" to a grandchild

I know I haven't written here in a while and I have plans to update this very soon but before I can tell my story, I have to vent about someone else's story.  

This story.

Why an Indian couple is suing their son over grandchildren

By Geeta Pandey

BBC News, Delhi

15th May 2022

"A couple is suing their only son and his wife for not giving them a grandchild after six years of marriage.

Sanjeev and Sadhana Prasad, 61 and 57, say they used up their savings raising their son, paying for his pilot's training, a lavish wedding and his honeymoon.

And now, they say, it's payback time - either the son and daughter-in-law give them a grandchild within a year or reimburse 50m rupees ($650,000; £525,000).

Although the younger couple have not yet commented, a detailed reading of the court petition shows that relations between the Prasads and their son's family are strained."

Strained, huh? Can't imagine why.

Full disclosure  - I'm not Indian. Perhaps I don't fully understand the culture there. However when the next article is about how many wives are murdered because their husband didn't like their meal or how a survey revealed that lots and lots and lots of people in India believe that wife beating is justified for the aforementioned food "offences" or for not allowing marital rape or for not being pretty enough or the right skin colour..

Yes, #notallindia I suppose but we hear this story echoed all around the world. So here's my two cents. 

NO ONE OWES YOU ANYTHING. 

Louder for those in the back or across the seas..

NO ONE OWES YOU ANNNYYYTTTHHIIINNNNNG.

In this particular case I don't have too much information but I imagine that this fellow's parents chose to use their savings to better their child's future. I'm assuming the son didn't put a gun to their heads and demanded their fortune. 

My own parents put aside savings for me to help me with schooling and for if I wanted to get married. They didn't tell me this until it was higher education time or when I got engaged. They kindly helped me foot the cost for IVF. 

They let me know that they would support me in my reproductive endeavours and though I could tell they badly wanted a grandchild... they weren't doing this for that child. They were doing it for ME, because they love me and wanted me to be happy. 

Another full disclosure  - I don't deserve my parents. They're too awesome. 

My point being  - you have children, and presumably you want good things for them. You want them to have what you never got, you want them to be happy, you want them to thrive. You don't have a child just so you can run their life for them as adults because you don't like what they're doing and you can't benefit. 

I've spoken before about how very nearly my entire wedding guestbook was comments from people telling me that I owed them a baby now I was hitched. Were they joking or just saying that because they think it's expected? Maybe. Had any of them spoken to us about what we wanted before writing down something that has now tainted my memory and made sure I never opened that book since? Nope. 

I've mentioned before about someone telling me that I should have a baby because my sister in law would love to babysit. I don't even remember that person's name... but she had just met me and it was the first thing she'd ever said to me.  

Before I experienced infertility and the struggles to get pregnant and maintain that pregnancy.. I had seriously questioned whether I wanted to have a baby. The idea of birth terrified me and a lot of my (probably) more fertile days were spent in a not very well off financial situation and a poor mental state. 

Should I have a baby if I can't afford it? Could I care for the baby if I had a breakdown? Would the environment handle another mouth to feed? 

All good questions.  These days I'm asked not if I'd like another baby but WHEN is the next one due?  WHERE is the good news? Your baby is old enough now, you should get started. WOULDN'T it be great if you had one of the opposite gender too? 

Again... mostly people who don't know me well enough for any of that discussion. Many of whom had just met my child that day. Is my child not enough? Do I want to have more than one kid? CAN I? Could I cope? 

Questions that were decidedly not asked. Guess they're in the too hard basket, hey? 

So a lot of this rant is coming from my own experience and I'm not saying that the couple being sued is going through infertility. My point is, if they are or they simply don't want a child, now or ever... is largely up to them. 

They don't have to get pregnant just to give their parents/in laws a plaything. If this guy's parents are struggling now financially, then they should ask their son to pay back some of the costs or to help out. However, we assume that the parents chose to pay for this so they aren't entitled to any compensation unless they agreed with the son beforehand. 

If they're so concerned for their status in the community or their bloodline, then they should adopt, foster or set up a grant/sponsorship in their name so it has a legacy. If they're so concerned about their legacy, they should have worked on a better relationship with their son instead of putting in an insidious lawsuit that's now put their names into worldwide media. 

They should care that they're asking for a child to be born, not out of love or because the parents want one.. but because they think it'd be neat to have around occasionally. Who cares that if they win and force the parents into this that the child could be born out of deep seated resentment and foster a terrible family dynamic? Who cares if there's a genetic condition that they don't want passed on? Who cares if the parents want to be financially secure first? Who cares if they can't have children? Just get one! 

It's like buying a puppy, only we won't be paying for it, training it, feeding it, walking it, paying medical expenses.. registration or anything else. We won't make sure it's going to be suitable for the home it's going to.  We just like that it's.. y'know, there in general and we can pat it every now and then. That's a good enough reason to make a life changing decision for someone else, Right?? 

At the moment, all their legacy is is being those in laws you read horror stories about. This attempt to enforce their will on someone else's life (well, three lives potentially) is disgusting, self centred and hateful. If it passes it will set a terrifying precedent in that country. 

I mean, what's next? A lawsuit to make your son change his hairstyle because a mullet is shaming his family? A lawsuit to sterilise your daughter because you think she's had enough kids? A lawsuit to change your child's will because you don't think you're going to get enough if something were to happen to them...? 

In short, I hope these two jerks stop their lawsuit or get laughed the heck out of court. Or both, ideally. If their son and daughter in law do have/decide to have a child... that the child has NO contact or relationship with the technical grandparents.

A child is a living person with rights and feelings. They're not an obligation to anyone. They're not a gift for others. They're for life, not for babysitting every once in a while because the grandparents want one and don't care about the ramifications that it would have on the parent's lives.

The Prasads need to take a step back and think about this and realise their arrogance. Even if society has ingrained the "kids owe us kids / marriage means baby carriage!" mentality onto us, they obviously don't care about their son/daughter-in-law enough to even give a crap about what they might want and that makes them complete scum. 

7 months later

So yes it's been a while between posts.  A lot has happened and I didn't have the energy to write about it.  I'm going to try to get back into documenting our efforts so please bear with me.

Pictured: an accurate representation of both my life and the fact that I've been consuming a lot of Korean media lately. 

What prompted this post was sheer exasperation. My husband and I have been through so, so much over the last year in particular but the last couple of months we're been having a good run where people haven't been asking us about our family plans. 

Well yesterday that good run got derailed hard.  One of my good friends and a former workmate cut and dyed her hair for leukaemia  research. As it affected her partner,  she was pretty emotional but we were all there for her.  After everyone left,  I hung back to have a catch up because it had been a while.  After a bit of chin wag , that question came out. 

I deflected by mumbling a quick "Well nothing has happened yet" then i started harping on about how much smarter my niece is than the average university student. I left shortly afterwards. 

It's such a loaded question,  I don't know why anyone would all that question even though it sounds so innocent. But people who have never experienced difficulties or heartbreak don't think about it.  

Perceptions of gender in parenting/IVF and how it affects us

I'm not a fan of Quora. I prefer Yahoo! Answers. Reason being, Quora makes you create an account first to even SEE answers, and has too much of a mixed bag of either weird teenage/tweenage people who write stupid questions and barely decipherable answers... or it's the people who are waaay too overqualified to be answering dumb questions on an internet forum and they make sure you know it. There's no happy medium.

That and some jerkface didn't like my answer to a question despite it being the most reasonable and thought out answer there and reported me - and now because I used a nickname and not my real name (for my own privacy and protection, having had a stalker in the past) I've technically GOT an account BUT can't post or do anything. Guess how long that account's going to last? Hmmm, I wonder.

If anyone's wondering, the question was something like "Do you think (actor) is the best choice for (this comic character)?" My answer was like 'no, (actor) hasn't captured the personality of (comic character) because (reason) and/or (other reason) and their version is someone entirely different to the comic character that became popular in the first place. I think they should have just made (actor) play a new character or someone else rather than (comic character) due to this'.
For context, the other answers were like "ohmigawd yaaaassssss queeen, she is like sooo hawt" or "I hate (comic character) but (actor) is sexy and shows her butt so I don't care about (comic character)'s portrayal!"

I could be bitter, but there's just something about dealing with idiots on the internet that makes you want to get violent with a keyboard against a wall.

Anyway, before I sign out of that stupid site for good - one of the suggested topics caught my eye.

Men and boys - what is the most sexist thing anyone has ever said or done to you

So I went in and had a look.

Now, some of them don't seem too extreme (or were more jokey rather than serious or vague statements and not real life experiences) and some sound like the odd fake story in the Entitled Parents posts on Reddit (like who talks like that? Did this actually happen?) but there were a lot in there that were eye-opening.

Censorship, blood, guts and the effect on blogs in the modern age

It happened again.

Now the part where I have a new bleed every week.

I can constantly smell blood.. but it's not the normal period blood smell it's more metallic, like I've slashed my hand. I have of course, washed my hands a hundred times, but the smell persists. Is it really the scent of blood or is it all in my mind?

Out damn spot, indeed.

It's not like they're ordinary periods either. Normally, I have one or two agonising days with a volatile tide of blood then it's like my body forgets about it and we move on with a few sluggish bleeds before it tapers out. These last few weeks, I've had at least four-five days of full on bleed and extreme agony on each one.

My husband is sympathetic and does what he can. I don't think men can ever really grasp how bad periods can get. It seems like mood swings and chocolate sales are the common idea, but whenever people try to give men an idea about what it's like they inevitably bring it back to a comparison of kicking a man in the balls.

Maybe that is what it's like? I don't have balls, so I don't know. What I do know is that I get a bit more sensitive and depressed, I more often than not have no idea whether it's just cramps, or if I need to crap, fart or vomit - or if it's a bit of all three at the same time mixed in with cramps. I lose energy like a leaky can of V yet find it hard to sleep. I'm constantly hungry but don't want to eat. My heat packs are never far away. I feel as unsexy as dirty old men look. Nothing holds interest for me - my art, my comics, TV and games. Often - I will cancel a day out with friends, even if I really wanted to go - because I'm in too much pain to leave the house.




Side note: This post was from November, after a second IVF round began but failed within a few weeks of the positive result.
You may notice that I haven't posted since this. These words are from April 2019.

Well, I took a break and have been busy with other things. Things, despite my earlier depressed sounding post - are NOT that bad. This is why even though I'm not ready to talk about this event yet, I'm not going to censor myself. The above post is exactly how I felt at that time and it's important to have it out there, so people know it's okay to grieve. That periods suck, regardless. That some days are going to feel like the end of the world, but the world will still continue despite what's happening in your life. Now, that's as comforting as it is concerning, but you get the idea.

I am going to try to post more on the regular. I have been devoting more of my time to another blog but that's starting to get tiring for entirely different reasons. Anyway, till then!

The blog in which I stand under a raining cartoon cloud

Lately I've been getting a little blue again.

I thought I was okay and past it but I guess you can't reason with grief.

I don't think anything in particular set it off, even though the last week or two, well, life seems to be throwing babies at me. Babies I can't have right now.

Overhearing co-workers laugh about some dope getting knocked up. My friend telling me about her other friend announcing her pregnancy. Attending a baby shower for someone I don't even know well. Going out with my sister and her kid.. and the kid finds my shirt more interesting than me. People giving me huge donation bags of baby stuff for me to help them sort and telling me I can take things if I want. Like.. why? I could take all the bags and it wouldn't do me any good right now (although I did keep a pair of dog themed kid's shoes with floppy dogs ears on them because who could get rid of those??)

If these fit me I would friggin' wear them EVERYWHERE

Recently my husband went out to a sporting event with his close friend Jambo, who has also been through the IVF rigmarole but they did get a son out of it. He ended up talking about the miscarriage to him. They were previously unaware of it because we weren't ready to talk. Hubby didn't get a chance to tell me he'd done this as he got back late but the next night I got a similarly late text from Jambo's wife Messi. She said she'd heard about what happened and was there for me if I needed it.

I was initially angry - I didn't want to tell people for exactly this reason. The pity, the sorrow. The huge, aborted elephant in the room covered in blood, stinking of lost dreams and taking up space, like the onesies I'll never be able to put on that child.

So I didn't reply. I felt bad about it but I didn't know what to say. The rational part of me knows that Messi went through a similar thing and we could talk about it. Hell, she has talked to me about it but it was months after the fact and before I could fully comprehend how she must have felt. Even then - after the birth of her current child - she had tears in her eyes and was emotional about it.

Now, my emotional side knows that I would be the same but worse. I would be a mess and wouldn't even be able to choke out the words I want to say. I have always struggled to convey my personal life to others. I especially struggle if I need to say something of importance - I am for the most part, an emotionless stone person with the empathy level of a sociopath but I turn into the biggest sook ever when it's my turn to emote.

Did you get a grass cut? No, I got 'em all cut!

Continuing my little interest into the news and parental/child issues, today I'm going to talk about a news article I read recently about a young boy who got into trouble mowing lawns.

What's that? In trouble for mowing a lawn? I hear you cry. But Lucky, don't we want our kids to get off their screens and go outside and do something wholesome? I don't understand!!
Fear not, my friend. Let's explore this together.

Our story is set in the delicious sounding Maple Heights in Ohio, America. The plucky protagonist is Reggie Fields and his aptly named lawn mowing business Reggie Boyz Lawn Service. This is a business he started in the holiday to raise some of that much needed cash. I think we can all relate to that.

It's kind of refreshing to see a twelve year old kid doing this hard work instead of just vlogging or becoming a wannabe Instagram git. Wow, do I sound old and bitter or what?

Anyway, the story comes to a crux when young Reggie accidentally mows over the border.
Wait, that that makes it sound like he crossed into Mexico - what I mean is that he accidentally trimmed over a boundary and into a neighbour's territory. This neighbour called the police.

There are so many ways to look into this story. The first thing I personally thought of was the ridiculous track record America has for unnecessary police calls. Actually, let's face it a lot of countries apparently have a misunderstanding about what this line is for.

In the News: Landmark rights granted

The Brisbane Supreme Court has been in the news recently because of a landmark decision where a Toowoomba based woman has been granted the right to use the sperm of her deceased partner to make a baby.

Ayla Cresswell had been in a relationship with Joshua Davis for three years and like many couples, they had goals and aspirations about getting married, buying a house and starting a family.
Sadly, Mr Davies took his own life in 2016 without any apparent warning signs.

After speaking to his parents following the incident about how she wished she was pregnant, Mr Davies parents decided to help Ms Cresswell get an urgent court order for removal of sperm, which was approved and removed approximately 48hrs after Mr Davies passed away.




The court had heard about Ms Cresswell having the full blessing and support from both Mr Davies and her own family  for this, as well as the support of a lot of Mr Davie's friends who provided evidence that they were aware of his desire for children.

'Joshua told me that he was very excited at the prospect of being a father, and we often talked about having children, and the effect it would have on our lives,' Ms Cresswell told the court.

In one of my favourite comic books 'Strangers in Paradise' - there's a similar sort of situation in which David is revealed to be dying. He recently got together with Casey - who had been pining after him for years. She is devastated and worried that with him gone, she may forget the sound of his voice. She wants to give him a child who can grow up to learn how wonderful her father was but due to past issues, she's unable to conceive a child. Their mutual friend and protagonist Katchoo readily volunteers for the job so the child will be born out of their mutual love. 

So obviously it's a little different but you get what I mean. This child represents a legacy, and a fulfilment of the life the couple dreamed of together but now can't accomplish side by side. I think it's normal to wish for something like that, especially in the wake of something so tragic. 

Soul Refresher

Last weekend I went to church for the first time in a while.

I wouldn't describe myself as overly religious, but I do try to go every now and then. As I do shift work, that usually makes it harder. I used to go every week as a child, with my family.
It was kind of nice to have a routine like that, a chance to sing, see my grandparents and get out of the house. Sometimes we'd go out for dinner/lunch after.

I still remember someone saying to me after I left school that 'I didn't have to go to church anymore.' and I was like.. if I don't want to go, I won't go. If I do want to go, try and stop me.


That and the kids complaining about religious classes and having to attend mass in school... bro, you enrolled in a Catholic school..what did you expect?
Also, I have little patience for people who get their newborns baptised purely for the photo opportunity and for no other reason.

The church in my local used to be pretty run down and homely but they've spruced it up a little with new seats and a fresh lick of paint. Sometimes if we were travelling, we'd pop in to a different church or occasionally a cathedral. I always felt out of place in the expensive looking ones, preferring the local one.

I was shocked at how few people there were at our session, compared with when I was a kid. It was early in the morning though, so that could be why.

Now, while I have faith and try to be a good Roman Catholic - I also employ common sense.

I'm not going to take a passage from any of the books word for word or extremely literally because I don't think a vast majority of them are super relevant anymore. Bearing in mind that this is a book that's been taken from word of mouth, sometimes several times and then written down and then translated all over the world. Many, many years ago.

What I try to do is take the important bits - for example the ten commandments or any good moral - and live by them or by example of people I look up to, like the kind priests and nuns I grew up with at school and in the parish or family members.

The reason I'm talking about religion is because of all the talk and comforting/confronting posts you see following a miscarriage.

Namely: 'God had a plan for the newborn' or 'if God exists, why does miscarriage exist?'

My So Called Results and other anomalies

Today we got the results of the....  I don't even know what you call it. Would it be considered an autopsy? I'm not sure.

Anyway, we got the results.

Not sure how I feel about it?

Basically my doc said there's good and bad news.

The good news is, it's not any malfunctioning chromosomes. It doesn't look like it's a thyroid issue or anything to do with my hormones.

The bad news is that we don't know why it happened, just that it happened.

Which leaves me like.. well.. okay.

It's great that there's no obvious cause because it means we're healthy and can pass as normal functioning human persons. It sucks because there's nothing we can work on in the meantime?
Obviously we're still trying to get fitter and healthy but still.





I spent the rest of the afternoon sort of in shock after the phone call like.. I think in my mind I was thinking this would give me the answer as to what caused this living nightmare but it didn't. Now I'm just sitting here like a stunned mullet or a pork chop...or the next best food related analogy.

Thinking about food too much now. 

Exercising the Inner Demons

Today is a bad leg day, but overall I think I'm doing great. My husband and I have started a health regime and we're sticking to it admirably. I've lost nearly 5 kilos in two weeks, something my thyroid would have laughed at if you'd told me I could do this before.

Everyday I've been walking, running, using gym equipment. I keep getting spammed by gyms for membership applications but honestly, I prefer to be by myself mostly when I exercise so I'm ignoring them. Particularly the ones that won't tell me their fees. Suss as all hell.

A voucher for $200 off makes me cringe. I paid less than $200 for a year at my last gym, what the hell is the real price if that's the discount??

Plus when you do shift work, it's hard to make it to the gym regular like.
Especially when assholes keep cancelling the gym classes you like most.

Step and Konga for the win. That's all I'm sayin'.



Normally I take my Ipod with me when we go walking. For one thing, it tracks my steps and things, and for another I find music is a pretty powerful motivator. I have different playlists for whatever I'm doing. At first, hubby found it annoying because he thought I couldn't hear him but when we go walking together I have the tunes turned down and I normally play instrumentals.

I can't tell you how much better most songs sound without their idiotic lyrics.

I don't go walking around my suburb without hubby though, while we have a great time together we have discovered that the people who live around here are weirder than we first thought.
Some are okay, a week ago Friday we were on a more lengthy walk where I tried running but it hurt my legs too much to continue. Then we came across a nice lady who had lost her dog. Moments later, we spotted it so hubby ran to try to catch it or at least get it off the road (thankfully cars had stopped) and I ran about three minutes down the track to catch up to the lady to let her know.

Once I started running full bore, and with a purpose, I couldn't be stopped. Until I stopped, and then I couldn't breathe. The point was, I did it when I didn't think I could and the pain was present but nothing too extreme.

Mmmm....Other's Day.

Cruelly falling on Mother's Day this year, was the one month on from the miscarriage.

So, that right there was fun. I'd unsubscribed from most of the baby-centric emails to save myself some heartache but I got bombarded with emails from every company under the sun pushing pink coloured Mother's Day crap on me.

Seriously, they're all aiming now. Fast food restaurants, clothing stores, pop culture shops, fishing stores, car accessories, the local council, gyms... anyone and everyone was like "Hey! Did you know it's Mother's Day and they're like, the best people in the world? Don't you think you should buy them a dinner pack/a new shawl/a Wolverine statue/a freshly spooled reel/a wrench/ an education about a local government initiative or a gym membership?"

I'd expected it but it felt like it was Christmas again and I was the Grinch - trying to avoid it but ultimately being dragged into the thick of things. And.... maybe a little green.

How did I combat this? Well, hubby and I slept in. Yep. We did nothing productive until about 11am when our stomachs rose up in protest together and suggested brunch before all the rioters passed out.

Panda had a big brekky while I said "Flip the darn table, I'm having waffles and ice-cream! ....and a strawberry smoothie!"
Other tables had choccies on them, and older ladies with flowers. Not sure if you had to book to get the choccies or if they only give them out to mother. I don't know how you know though.

Last year for Father's Day, Panda and my younger brother K-Dog were given gifts, and literally no one asked if they were dads. This time, people seemed happy to ignore Panda and I. I don't blame them, looked like it had been a busy morning for the waitstaff.

A letter for our baby

Coming up to Mother's day and finding myself not fitting into that category, now being more of a mmmmmm.... OTHER is a little difficult.

So, as a way of kind of dealing with it, I decided to write a letter to bub.

Dear Baby,

This week, even though we still feel your loss deeply - we have been feeling more positive about life, and the progression of our family. My parents gave us a commemorative coin set - bought and intended as a gift for you when you were born.

A memento helps.. for you there was no funeral, no mourners apart from those who knew.
Photographs and scans are nice.. a tattoo isn't our style and I don't know how else to honour your memory.

The moment we knew you existed, we were so happy. We'd struggled until this point so when you - our one good egg - became life at first go, we were simply overjoyed. It felt like something was finally going right.

The two week wait was agonising. I sat through an audio track of some perfectly enunciated but bored sounding lady talking me though a cliche riddled meditation/nonsense willingly because I was thinking about you.

When I got the phone call (which involved a lot of phone tag, let me tell you!) confirming you were there, and developing well - and had to sit through the rest of the afternoon trying to concentrate on my work without screaming excitedly non-stop. Your daddy didn't want to hear it over the phone, so when I came home I gave him a baby nappy bag with a panda onesie in it without saying a word. He looked up at me and burst into the biggest smile, then gave us a hug.




Everyday he would kiss my belly, kissing you through me until he could do it in person.

I felt so happy that you were there, I kept talking to you like you could hear me, I would sing and amend lyrics, my hand kept straying to my belly to hold you. I looked forward to doctor's appointments and check ups because they proved you were real, and they just made me more excited to meet you.

Errrr...... ER Disaster?

I don't normally do this but yeah, here's a trigger warning if you've ever had a horrific experience with your lady parts and a stern medical practitioner wielding a speculum inaccurately and don't fancy reliving it via my nightmarish story.




So, here we are in the waiting room. "Check in" was easy, Danio gave us a phone charger but as it turned out there was a bunch stuck in the wall anyway. I thought that was a really good idea for a hospital.

Obviously we didn't expect to be coming here so neither of us had a jacket or any reading material. By now, it was about 6pm. There were some number of people in there, some Russian dude and his wife sat across from us bitching about Australia. Well, I think so. He certainly wasn't happy, and Australia was the only word I could understand. They were replaced by a Chinese man and his mother, who looked very unwell and had language barrier issues. Some poor man was yelling at staff about how "she's dead, what's the point?!" and I felt sorry for him.. although he really shouldn't be yelling at the hospital staff.

I think it was about 7:30 or 8pm when I got called in. I had been doodling on the back of a hospital information sheet and playing 1010! on Panda's phone. We followed First Nurse Nick into what appeared to be a weirdly shaped broom closet. He was like.. Um, just wait here and I'll try to find a bed. Here, wear yet another muu-muu!

He returned with a bed and then had to sheet it. The room was absolutely freezing. Nick poked around, checking what hurt and what happened. He even poked my toes, which was incredibly brave of him seeing as how my white socks looked absolutely filthy. They weren't, it was just the floor I'd been walking on.We had the same thing in a rental home when I was a kid - the floor had even been cleaned that day, it's just the kind of tiles they are.

During this time, Terse Tomas - the doctor attending to me arrived. Only he didn't bother to introduce himself, just basically said 'what do you want.' And I get it, this is the emergency section, obviously he has to get to the point and quickly. I explained what happened - he kept talking over me, didn't seem to read the file and then told me to speak up while he continued to talk over me.

He then dropped the bombshell that he thought the GP was stupid for sending us here because their ultrasound machine was powered down for the night. I don't make a habit of going to the ER - in fact, I'm pretty sure this is the only time I've been there for myself. This didn't sound right though, why would an ER shut down anything? I don't know.

Tomas poked me a lot - Panda recalled later that the doctor saw me wincing in abstract pain but the way he keep jabbing me made Panda think that Tomas thought we were faking it or wanted pain drugs. He relented to performing a handheld ultrasound down my legs and showed me that it couldn't be clots and that it would be the wrong area for clots to form, especially in both legs.

That was fine, I obviously didn't know that so that was one thing off my mind. The pain level I gave when they asked was 8/10, and Tomas offered panadol. I said I don't think that's going to do anything because the painkillers haven't so far. He just said that they would give that medicine to me and they would check on me in half an hour.

In the meantime, First Nurse Nick was replaced by Peppy Phil - a tall, sweet man who saw me sitting upright on the hospital bed (I couldn't lie down for the pain) and immediately said that he would fix the bed for me so I had some back support and got me a warmed up blanket. He also advised that he would ask for something stronger for me to combat the pain - I initially wasn't bothered but I thought if I could get the pain to leave, then we might still be able to make dinner. I wasn't all that fussed on pain killers to be honest, what I really wanted was an idea of WHY I was in so much pain with my legs so swollen and not having much if any feeling two weeks later from surgery.

How I spent my holidays running around GP's and other medical places.

Our holiday was coming to an end fast. One of the days I had a call from a nurse in my private health scheme, she was following up on my earlier call with regards to the pain in my legs.. I'd actually had a great night's sleep the first night we arrived, even though it was only on a couch bed. Mind you, I was on pain killers and sleeping tablets.. either way it was a reasonably comfy bed.

My legs were still very swollen, tender, hot to the touch but otherwise numb to any feeling apart from pain. I tested this by holding a beer straight out of the fridge (and my husband's hand) and while I felt the icy, biting cold on my hand, my leg felt nothing.

When I lay down was when it was most painful - it was just sharp shooting pain down the side of my thighs and if hubby rolled over and even touched me in the slightest way I would be writing in pain. Except, it hurt to writhe and move so I had to either lie there with teeth clenched waiting for it to subside as much as it could or I had to get up and walk it off.

The mattress sort of dipped a bit too, so I'd normally wake up finding I'd rolled into hubby or vice versa and it was an awkward stalemate of pain - trying to figure out how I could get out of this mess with the least amount of pain.

Walking wasn't too bad - it felt like I had bowling balls sitting where my thigh muscles were but it wasn't as painful as the week before where it was burning, constant numbness and pain. At least twice on holiday I slept on the relly's recliner. I don't think they noticed. If they did, they didn't mention it. I struggled to put enough force in my legs without hurting them to close the reclining part but found sitting up somewhat helped with the pain.

I'd also had a bit of bleeding - light at the start of the week but towards the end of the week it got significantly heavier. My tummy was a bit crampy so I assumed it was my period, because the Ob/Gyn warned me it would probably happen in 2/3 weeks.

Anyway, the point I was getting to was, that like my husband and I - the nurse was a bit concerned as to why I had the swelling/pain still. I had done everything I could think of - I had seen a GP, gone to the physio (it had felt like a worse version of some nerve pain I'd had before) contacted the private health fund nurse and spoken to the ob/gyn about it. I was wearing the DET stockings post surgery, and resting but also moving around like the hospital nurses told me to.

I had been a bit concerned that I could be at a higher risk of DVT but more than that.. painkillers normally work great on me because I hardly use them, only once when I had my wisdom teeth and occasionally for a terrible migraine or exceptionally painful period. These ones did seemingly nothing but dull it a tiny bit.

Flights, Fancies, Fears and Fluff

So - after a week of shunning work in favour of generally curling up into a little ball and feeling sorry for myself, and feeling even sorrier on account of being unable to curl into said ball due to extreme post surgery leg pain - it was time for a holiday!

Now this interstate holiday was meant to be just that - a relaxing time for us.

We did all the touristy things last time, this time we just wanted to see family and do nothing productive.

We had hoped to be able to take family out to dinner and tell them in person that we were starting our own tiny clan.. but, well, so much for that.






The day we left, we had to cram in a 2 year old's birthday party. I bought the kid a talking Hey Duggee! plush a) because the kid loves it and b) because the dad hates that show.

Can't figure out why..

We couldn't stay long because of our flight but we didn't want to stay too long either.
There were a million kids there (I counted, really!) due to a nearby 1st birthday party and Lucky Panda and I were just waiting for someone to do the routine "when are you going to have kids!?" thing that we just.. love... to hear.. over.. and over.... again...

It's like; we see you once a year, random person. Usually at a birthday or kid's event. Why the funkadelic monkey would I tell you about my downstairs mix-up and it's associated issues? You don't care about us becoming parents, you barely know us! You just want to validate yourself and your lifestyle but you can't think of anything else to say to us.

Fortunately, being so.. "unattached" has its benefits. Mainly meaning I can wander off and raid the buffet before someone tries to trap me in a fierce debate with another mother about how many micro-minutes someone's newborn sleeps or how much poop they've done so far.
I don't even feel rude about leaving. I'm here for a party, stop talking to me about literal shit.

Only one person spoke to us about what we were doing for the rest of the day and when we told them she said that she always found that kids prefer hanging out with childless adults anyway so we should be fine with seeing our nephews and nieces.

She didn't mean it in a mean way, and I understand what she was getting at but it still annoyed me.
I mean, 'childless adults'? She doesn't think our relatives would like hanging out with us if we HAD kids? Kids are keen on anyone who's not going to tell them to do their homework or brush their teeth but will play kids game with them and hang out/take them places.

I mean, family comes to visit? It should be a good, exciting thing! I know these kids act the same with any relative or friend of their parents, even if said relly/friend has their own kids.

I liked hanging out with my aunts and uncles as a child - they didn't cast me aside in favour of their own child (unless something urgent happened) and only one ever did that thing where an adult is shown something awesome the kid made and says 'oh, that's nice' without really looking.
I may or may not be holding a grudge over that. I had glow in the dark crayons, damnit!

*Cough* anyway, I personally was a bit apprehensive about going to see the relly's. I didn't want to be asked about babies but thought I would be and was a bit worried that if I was asked I'd either snark out something mean or start bawling my eyes out. Knowing me, I'd try something cool and mean but then start crying halfway through the sentence. I kinda suck that way.

Coping (or not so much) after the loss

I had been given Monday following the surgery off. The next day, Panda had to return to work and I was meant to. I did not. I had not been able to sleep the night before, I was still in agony with my legs but more than that - I couldn't face the idea of going into the workplace. Besides that I just couldn't stop crying.

I had a panic attack of sorts - stressed that I would break down in tears if someone asked how I was or even breaking down for no reason at all. I was petrified that - not being in the right state of mind - I might say something inappropriate to a customer that could affect my job, especially if a customer got aggressive or angry about something that in the end.. doesn't matter.

I managed to call work to let them know I wouldn't be in - hoping I wouldn't get any of the bitchy ones. Hoping worked - I got the 'mother hen' of the work leaders. She'd dealt with me before when i had an adverse reaction at work to some fertility medication, although she didn't know or pry for the root cause.

Managing to drag myself to the doctor's for a medical certificate was an experience. The opposing wall to where the waiting room is has an opaque tint to try to block out the intense sun. It doesn't really work, so no one gave me side eye when I was sitting there with sunnies on.

As usual, I couldn't see my usual doctor because you have to pre-plan and book your sickness weeks in advance apparently which is a bit messed up to me. So I went to see a doctor I hadn't used before but Panda had. He'd told me this doctor was good and actually listened to him. The last doctor we had there that really gave a crap left a few months ago so I was sold.

And he was good, he listened, he gave me time which is normally harder to get out of a doctor than blood from a stone and when some nurse barged in he politely excused himself to deal with that as well as keeping them out of the room and came back apologising even though it wasn't his fault people don't know how to knock. He was really kind to me.

I told him what I wrote here, that I didn't think I could cope with work and I was in so much emotional and physical pain. He told me to take the week off work, and to let him know if that wasn't enough and also offered me pain killers for my legs.

Afterwards I sat in my car for a little bit while I sorted myself out then I told myself I needed to do this right so I headed to work. I was booked in for a flu shot anyway, so instead of cancelling it I turned up and got that. Last year we had a total rude cow doing the jabs but this time we had this lovely lady who asked how my day was going and I had to be that one person saying "lady, don't even ask" while holding back tears.

Babysitter's club, say hello to your SCREAMING NIECE OH GOSH WHYYY

Now the day after my surgery we were scheduled to baby sit our new niece, RNK. In hospital the previous night - my parents told us to not go ahead with this if we didn't feel up to it. They would have gladly done it but they had a prior engagement. It was only for a sporting event but I know how much that sport meant to my sister - frankly I'm surprised she lasted the entire pregnancy without kicking a soccer ball.

So we agreed to do it. It started off okay, Laalaa was on time, RNK was cheerful and smiling. Laalaa told us she hadn't had a nap (we suspect she planned this so she'd fall asleep for us) but was otherwise sorted for feeds and what not.

Then Laalaa left.

All was peaceful on the south-eastern front until...

Five minutes later.....

She realised we were NOT THE MAMA.

For those not aware, impersonation of 'the mama' is a screamable offence. 

We didn't know better, we were just the temporary care takers (let's face it, this kid has no ball kicking skills and lets the soccer team down constantly. They're trying again next season) and didn't mean any offence. 

We tried the traditional calming rituals of "ooh, what's this teddy bear doing here" or "let me hold you and wobble you around while we walk" but this had no effect. Then we attempted the "hey, is that a rattle? I think it is!" and "lying on a sweet pirate rug" before the "putting you back in the stroller and rocking you back and forth, as words from the ancestors foretold this would work sufficiently". 

Miscarriage of Justice Pt 2 - The surgery

Shortly after leaving the specialist, we walked across to the hospital. Luckily, we were the only two people there. Last time there was a roomful of waiting people. I spoke to the receptionist-person and she advised me that my surgery had been moved to about half an hour away, instead of the two hour wait we had anticipated. I confirmed that all the paperwork was pretty much sorted, but I still had to sign some things. During this, the lady - who was otherwise very nice - made the fatal error of trying to make small talk.

Nothing wrong with small talk but what she said was 'So, got anything planned after this?' like I had just popped in for a spot of tea and I would walk out of here soon like my life was fine, unchanged. That was it. I had some silent, lonely tears before but now the flood gates opened, and the little guards that were supposed to be keeping them shut were like 'Not my problem! See ya!' before abandoning the metaphorical ship and heading to the life rafts.

I think the lady realised the mistake and I'm not going to hold it against her because I know she didn't mean to upset me. I just took the tissue box she offered me and blindly stumbled across the room to where hubby was sitting. He took one look at my face and dropped everything - holding me in his strong, warm arms.

We didn't get much time to ourselves before a kindly nurse came to take us to prepare. I forgot her name immediately and couldn't even make out her name badge. First of all they weighed me.. on this little helipad looking thing where I discovered I'd lost two kilos since yesterday.
Then they ushered us into this little joint room where there was a lady in the far corner. We didn't talk to her. The nurse came back, did some blood pressure tests and then took me out of that room and into a private room.

I got to put on the attractive muu-muu gown and the indecipherable surgery underpants - was there a front? Was that supposed to be the back? Are these multi-sex? Are these the same material they make the hospital booties out of? Technically this was for a hospital booty, I guess...Everything I'm going through and the hardest part of my day is figuring out friggin' underpants - which honestly, I thought was a bit redundant because I knew I wouldn't be wearing them for long.


Maybe they were for the staff's benefit because they sure as hell weren't making me comfortable.






I had to get help with the stupid hospital stockings. Hubby did a good job, but the nurse told us we didn't quite do it right (not in a mean way, she blamed the ambiguous socks too) and helped us out. We made a bit of harmless small talk about how she could probably do this job in her sleep.
She agreed, telling us she helps put the stockings on someone at least five times during a shift.

It pains me that I can't remember her name - I think it was Carly. There was a Carly and a Sam assigned to help me, and I can't remember which one she was exactly.

So that done, I hop into the bed, after quickly stuffing some tissues into my hand. Hubby gives me a cuddle before they wheel me out - this comical hospital bed that barely fits through the friggin' doors - and I overhear the gurney guy (don't even know his name) tell hubby that they'll look after me.
This, I don't doubt. This is probably the best hospital I've ever been in, all the staff honestly give a shit and the amenities are good, like free parking and stuff.

But I'd rather not have to be here at all being treated kindly or not. I would prefer to be still going about my life with a live baby.

Miscarriage of justice Pt 1

We had thought everything was going well. We'd been told our one egg first try miracle was going strong. For my 11 week ultra sound, I was able to schedule it at a time where my husband could be present as well. I was so excited. Last time, we couldn't hear the heartbeat very well on the machine but the OG said it was normally that way with tummy ultrasounds.

This time, we did the belly scan.. nothing. Silence from the doctor. Trying to keep a positive mental state. OG says it wasn't what he wanted to see, so we did a vaginal scan as well which revealed that our baby had stopped developing.. probably around two weeks prior. It was pale, small, and no longer had a heartbeat.

The words no one wants to hear followed by 'I'm sorry.'

We were left alone in the room for a moment to grieve and get our heads together (and in my place, put my pants back on) before going back to discuss it. I was either trying to be strong and rational or perhaps I was in shock because the tears didn't come straight away. The sight of my devastated husband was what did it for me. He had come here to hear a heartbeat and see a baby sized human, not to have a nightmare come true.

I was glad he was there with me, I don't know what I would have done if I was alone.

OG said that he didn't want to go through anything in depth with us, to go home, get some rest and he would call us tomorrow. He gave us both the next two days off work. Hubby didn't want me driving but I insisted I would be fine - who hasn't driven while crying their eyes out before, right? Besides, it was something to do and I didn't want to leave my car overnight in the city.

So off we went, hubby following me, stopping only to refuel my car (because awful timing will always be present) and buy depression chocolate.