Open For Business!

I just had to say...

I have my own Business Account! That makes Iona Black Gowns an official entity!

Now all I have to do is work out how to make one of those website doohickies...

... and this is now...

Well, so much for all that crap. The letter for the gynae appointment came through today, and frankly, I think it's my hormones making me all broody and temperamental about kids. I can happily say today that I know I'm a lot better off without them. It won't stop me thinking "what if" about the whole thing, but to be honest, my reasons were more of the "desperation to be immortal" type rather than the "I want a child of my own to love and cherish".

I know that you're thinking... "No one is immortal". Think about it again though. Think carefully. I talk about my parents a lot in the real world. I talk about my grandparents. My great grandfather was the cox of the Tobermory Lifeboat. It's his sisters that I get my hair colour from. My Grampa was the funniest man on the planet and my grandma and I hated each other, but it doesn't stop me talking about her. To me, they are immortal. They live on in my memory and that of my parents and sister. When I go, who takes on that role for me? Friends may mention me in passing occasionally. My sister will remember. If she has children, I will be an Aunt, but even aunties get sidetracked when you're talking about the past and relatives you had. Particularly if they've done nothing spectacular. My father's uncle wrote the flight manuals for Concorde. My Aunt is a writer. These are memorable things. Perhaps my christening gowns will be memorable. We will have to wait and see.

I look in the mirror and see my parents. I say things and think "I sound just like my Father" or "Oh no! I'm turning into my mum!" When I was younger, I went through the phase, as most of us do, of saying "I never want to be like them. I'm going to be different", but we all end up doing much the same, and our childhood scoldings come back and bite us when we use the exact same words to our children, or in my case, my friends' children. "No means no" and "go and tidy your room or I'll be up there tidying it into a black bin liner" seem to be two of my favourites at the moment.

So who do I have to pass "me" onto? That's the thing really. My sticking point. I am my parents, as they are their parents, and so on. We are all a product of our upbringing and have our views coloured accordingly. There is no future "me", which is possibly a relief to some, and being honest with myself, if I had children, and they turned out to be the same as I was when I was a child, I'd probably go insane. Unless I already am.

Ah well, so much for immortality. I shall make the call to the hospital and get my appointment arranged.

Himself Part III

I'm annoyed again. Annoyed and upset. Pissed off possibly comes into it as well. Confused? Yup, that too.

The back story:

Well, you all know I've asked about having a hysterectomy, and up till the point where the doctor asked "If you could have children, would you want them?" I was fine with the whole aspect of not having kids. Because I couldn't. Because there was no way I could get pregnant without help of the IVF kind, and that has a really shitty success rate, and leads to a whole lot of disappointment when it doesn't work. I watched a friend have to go through it, and that was bad enough. I'm not about to wish that on myself. Hence me getting to the "don't want them, thanks" state of mind.

The question of "would I have them if I could" has been going through my mind a lot since the Doctor asked. My reply to her was no, but I'd not honestly thought about it before giving her that answer. I've been going through all the "what ifs"... What if they could do an op that would mean I could have kids naturally? What if they were wrong when they said I couldn't, and it would just take a little bit of tweaking to get everything to work right?

I can't go through it all on my own again. I did it once before when my then partner was about as supportive as a wet teatowel, and I don't want to do it again.

I asked a simple question this morning. I asked "Why don't you want kids?" Simple enough I would have thought, leading to a discussion, going through all his reasons and so on. He put something about it in his blog recently, and I know it's probably something he's discussed with other people, so why can't he sit and talk to me? I left it for a couple of hours and asked again if he would talk about it. His response was that I was pressuring him, and off he went, round to the neighbours. I locked the door behind him. Possibly not the best response, but it's about the only one I have right now short of having a fit of temper and shouting at him.

So, it's later on... He climbed in the bedroom window. I ended up saying a few things that perhaps I shouldn't, and now there's a bit of a stony silence in this house.

Not that silence, or at least a lack of communication between the two of us is a new thing. I just don't really feel like talking to him at the moment, especially when he refuses to acknowledge that I may have something I would like to discuss with himself.

Oh well. Silence is golden, or so they say. I'll just go quietly insane on my own while I have to sort out problems and issues on my own. Again. As usual.

Can you tell I'm really pissed off with this yet?

Update...

I've been a bit slack on keeping this thing updated. I should write in it more, but the irony is, while it's quite cathartic at times to write here, it's also quite depressing to read back what I have written and find there's not much of interest there.

Anyway... A quick summary of what's been happening:

Last week I had my parents down for a few days on their way through to pick my sister up when she came home from her first four month cruise. She apparently works, but I've yet to see any sign of it. Lucky madam is off to the Pacific coast of Mexico and the Carribean next month. She's dropping by for a visit on Monday till Wednesday with Tuesday in London as she needs a new passport. Should be fun really. I can show her all the dresses and gowns I've been making. Well, two of them anyway. I've been rather lax in that department.

Himself and I were also in London twice during the week. Once for an off-road meeting, and the second time to go rescue our friend. I say rescue, but we just bailed over to hers to make sure she was OK. Love affairs coming to an end can leave deep pits and she was definitely standing on the edge of one. I hope we did a good job of playing safety harness... I was also in Wales on Tuesday night and came home Wednesday in time for the meeting. My mate over there seems as well as can be expected after her op, and I realised that I seriously needed to get back here and do something about my life instead of avoiding it by being anywhere but here really.

Oh, reporting in from the doctors visit... She's happy enough to refer me to the hospital to see about getting a hysterectomy. It's when I'm there that I will have to undergo a real grilling from the doctors, nurses and specialists to find out if I'm making the right decision. Do I want kids? No. Well, I might have done once, but because of complications, I can't, and now I'm too used to the fact that I don't have the ties that children are, I don't think I could give it up. Call me selfish, but I like having the freedom to go and do things at a moments notice and not have to worry about childcare. I get broody, especially when I get reminded of what I gave up about sixteen years and seven months ago. I don't let it get me down for long though. I just look around at all the hassle the other parents in this street have to put up with on a daily basis, and I wonder why anyone would voluntarily put themselves in that position.

Don't get me wrong. I don't hate children, or think other people shouldn't have them. I just don't really think they are the thing for me. I have enough trouble coping with my own life right now without the added fun and games of bringing up a child.

Ah well, I shall pootle on, waiting for the appointment at the hospital, then spend as long as I need to convincing them that giving a 34 year old a hysterectomy is the right choice. I'm sick to the back teeth of periods that last for weeks and do very good impressions of Niagra Falls with all the pain and discomfort associated with it. Whip it all out. Get rid of it. If anything can be given to someone else to use, let them have it. I have absolutely no use for it whatsoever. All I ask is to be left with an ovary so I don't have to go on HRT and don't end up with osteosporosis.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have an interview on Thursday. Don't go getting all excited. It's only an employment agency, and I hope to be doing temping work by a week Monday. It may not be much, but it seems that no one wants someone like me with a terrible sick record working for them, despite the fact that the issue was resolved and there's nothing wrong with me other than having to take a tablet every day for the rest of my life. There's plenty of other people out there in the same situation.

Ah well, Temp work will get me back into the job market, and the employment agency I'm going to specialises in getting people permanent placements, so we shall see how it goes.

For the time being, I am struggling with the whole concept of creating a website. I need to find an idiot's guide somewhere... Time to go look for one...