HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY, KERRI........!

On Saturday( Hogmanay/New Year's Eve),  my baby girl, Kerri, turns 30. OMG? Did I just say 30? Weird thing is, I can recall her birth as clear as a bell.  Even now!  I'm not too great at buying presents or indeed babbling on the phone, but one thing I  do my damndest at is poetry and rhyme. That is the one sure thing that comes from my heart.  So below is a dedication to the day my angel (eventually!) popped into the world.  Alli Bally Bee.......

My Girl

Reflecting on your birth day, how you popped into the world.
My one and only daughter, firstborn, little baby girl.
I recall that very morning, as the niggles started up
Held my breath, bit my lip, stared into my coffee cup

Uh-oh! The planned arrival's curiously making waves.
It only cramps a little bit, I must try to be brave.
Your dad met me at Maternity, a smile upon his face
A floppy rose in one hand, and a watch to set the pace.

Feeling quite uncomfortable, from sit, to stand, to sit
I didn't like the set up, not one single bloody bit!
He asked how I was doing and I lashed out with my tongue
For it felt I had an open brolly sticking up my bum!

You weren't too concerned about making your appearance
And all I wanted here and now was full-blown baby clearance!
Deliver us from pain and things, it was beyond a joke
Not even sweat stained lullaby's were able to evoke!

I huffed and puffed and panted, swore and knocked some flowers down
Prayed to God: '...just kill me now...', while in my labour gown.
You still maintained a lie-in, in no hurry to appear
While I told your dad he's 'in for it, when we get out of here!'

They offered pain relief for me, I took it and was grateful
But that just slowed the process down, how could they be so hateful!
Then  'crack ' you burst your bubble, water gushing all about
I felt worse than central reservoir, depleted and washed-out!

Now, I felt you coming, waves of chronic, gripping stuff!
Dilating me to number 10 - when 4 was bad enough!
But, yes, indeed, still here was I , the mid-wife quite confounded
I'd said good-night-and-morning twice, akimbo and abounded....

This baby was the champion, a sac of pure control
There would be no Miss-taking,  Little Miss's  future role!
So, where that strength was mustered, Heaven knows from where it came
I purged so hard, I soon saw stars and lighter I became.

You were swabbed and robed and measured, checked out quickly by the nurse
Who handed me sweet little 'you' and forgave my need to curse!
Twenty-seven long hard hours, it took you to comply
I kissed your bloodied forehead and the pain just waved goodbye.

But from the moment I first saw you -  what a rush of pinking air.
A girl when they all said 'a boy',  you made your mark from there!
A chubby little face you had and fingers long and thin
A heart that beat so very fast, a precious stone within.

The beginning of a story,  chapters that just captivate
I don't believe in magic, just the power to create.
My perfect little baba, my funny, funny girl
An addition and a honour to this huge revolving world!

My Precious Baby...and Hers.

The rotten year I'm having has worsened. Last night my darling daughter called to say that she had received some bad news. It has been confirmed that she has polycystic ovaries which reduces her chances of falling pregnant naturally. She's already been trying for a year. I didn't know how to react when she told me. I was stunned. I felt awful and useless. Didn't know whether to cry or not. But I'm the mum, I'm the one who should have reassured her but I felt useless. Kerri lives 500 miles away from me in Buckinghamshire which makes it all the worse. But she has been having problems for a while now and she hasn't said.

Kerri has always been there for everyone. She never told me as she didn't want to 'worry' me. Even as long as a year ago she suspected she could maybe have this condition but doctors dismissed it. It wasn't until she stresses to them that I needed a rushed hysterectomy at 29, that they referred her for a scan. In all that time her cysts were growing. How awful. I always worried that she would suffer from endometriosis and pre-cancerous cells as I did. The pain from that was excruciating and I guess I sighed with relief that she wouldn't suffer from that type of pain that I was glad that it was only cysts! But I underestimated the psychological side of this. By the end of her phone call, although clearly shaken, she sounded more positive. There is treatment to help fertility along the way and we've no other option but to put our faith into what ever medics have to offer. So after saying our farewells on the phone, I was pleased that she sounded a little happier, but I felt awful that there was nothing more that I could do or say there and then. I had the weekly shop to do and I tried to focus on that to help keep the tears at bay.

I actually thought I was coping okay until a mum lifted a little might from it's baby carrier to comfort it from crying and the thought that my precious baby, my only daughter, my first born, might not ever get the chance to kiss her own little one tenderly on the cheek, simply gutted me. I had to end my shopping trip there and then. I stood sobbing in the supermarket car park while my husband paid for the goods. I prayed she gets the chance to snuggle up to her own little one.

I can still picture her own little peachy face with it's podgy cheeks, and eyes 'like a Chinaman'. I can still feel those long long fingers with the tiniest of nails at the ends and her insistence for a breastfeed every two hours. But she's from determined stock. I conceived naturally with her brothers with only one ovary and endometriosis despite the doctors' warnings that I might never do so. Fertility treatment has more chances than ever at happy endings. But I've a feeling that Mother Nature will be around more than usual and keeping to her job title - with love.