In The Beginning

So yeah. Trying to get pregnant.

I'm willing to bet that mommyand ttc blogs will eventually take up more square acreage on the web than pornographers, purely because there are a hell of a lot more of us than them. Yes, ladies, some day we will outnumber the photos of giant tits and double penatrations with our rantings about basal temperatures, ovulation, diapers and breast feeding.

I can't truly include myself among the breeding as I haven't managed to produce a sprog as of yet. My story is probably the same as a lot of others: 2 unsuccessful pregnancies, watching your friends and aquaintances produce vast and healthful broods like biblical baby barons of old, feeling like "why not me?" yadda, yadda, yadda. It's hard on the psyche. Doubly so when you hand over your papers and cross the border into 30, armed gaurds glowering from their watchtowers to make sure that none attempt the return trip. After my second miscarriage, there was suddenly a week when just about every younger woman around me felt obligated to let me know that she was expecting. I really had to resist the temptation to stick a fork in my head.

Should we have started earlier? Would it have made any difference? Probably not, although our quality of life would have been much, much poorer. We're not exactly rolling in cash at the moment, but babies rarely ever come when they're expected and you can always find the money somewhere. We're sure as hell more likely to find it now than 5 or 6 years ago.

So at any rate, my husband, Mr Devil Duck and I are going to give the whole procreation thing another go in the next few months and see if we can't manage to produce a little person of our own to fill with neurosis and hang-ups.