A Letter to T (One Month)

To My Beautiful Son,

A month has now passed since you arrived into our world – I still can’t believe you’re here and that you’re ours. We’re so used to being the ‘aunties’ and having to give children back.

Every day I look at you and wonder how you came to be. Your beautiful eyes, that are now open almost all day taking everything in. Your tiny hands, that like to hold onto a finger of mine when you’re feeding. Your cute feet, that are so incredibly ticklish. I wake up every day, thankful to have you in our lives.

Although I’m cherishing every moment where you’re so tiny, I also can’t wait to watch you develop into a little human being with your own personality.

We love you so very very much and there’s not a single thing we wouldn’t do for you.

Happy one month, darling.

Living With a Nightmare – An Open Letter to my Wife. 


Over the past two weeks I have been living with a nightmare. It’s not you, it’s not T, it’s me.

I’ve been a royal pain in the backside – not just for you, but for me. I’ve been stressing myself out over the smallest of things; such as getting the washing done and making the most of our time, and it’s probably stressing you out. I’m sorry.

This time is meant to be a time where we’re relishing in the fact we have a son – and we are relishing, a lot, but I’m still also expecting to carry on as we were before and as expected, it’s not happening quite as planned.

Long before T even came along I’ve always struggled with the thought of being looked after – my mum raised me to be extremely independent. I’m happy to work as a team when it comes to big tasks like DIY and gardening, I just hate not being able to do simple tasks or anything at all for that matter. So when T arrived and I was pretty much useless to anyone because he required almost constant feeding, it was up to you to do the majority of the cooking, washing, and general organisation of our day – and I hated it as I had no control whatsoever. I also couldn’t offer anything back. Before, I would cook and you would wash up, for example. Simple. Now you’re doing everything and I feel rubbish about it. I’m not the super wife I expected to be. I expected to be able to feed, cook a meal, eat it, and then maybe feed again – who was I kidding?

Please don’t take this as me sounding ungrateful, I appreciate everything you do, I’m just finding it very difficult to cope with being off my game. This week I’ve cooked half a Thai curry, been half dressed most of the time, got piles of washing prepared but never been able to put them in the machine. There’s a basket of clothes that still requires putting away, and washing up that’s still soaking but not completely washed – all because someone needs a feed. I’m not angry with him, honest – I just didn’t want our time remembered by me just being a milk maid and you being the maid. I hope you understand. I know it’ll get better eventually or I’ll get used to it – this is what every new patent goes through. Hell, we’re not even a month in yet! I guess I just expected a lot more from myself.

I know I have no choice, he needs feeding – so I have to stop. You tell me every day that I’m being silly, that we are a team, and that you couldn’t care less about who does what around the house, and I believe you, honest – I just don’t want to accept it. I want to be able to do so much more. Our friends have accepted it, they automatically knew to contact you instead of me as they knew I would be occupied with T. The only person who didn’t know this or want to accept it was me. I’m sorry. 

Every time I have a mini meltdown I promise myself to chill out, but I need to start promising you. Maybe it’ll actually take effect. So…

I promise to just let you look after me (without complaints).

I promise to not let the little things bother me anymore. There are bigger things to worry about – about 9Ibs worth.

I also promise to accept that whatever I can do/provide would have been my very best (even if I have only accomplished cooking beans on toast).

I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done over the past two weeks – You’ve helped me and been there in more ways than I can tell you and for that I will be forever in your debt.

You are a wonderful mumma and an amazing wife – I’m so very lucky to have both of you in my life.

I love you.

A Letter to Beansprout.

To my baby Beansprout,

On Wednesday, we saw you for the last time before you arrive in this world properly. It was amazing, it was special, you are so beautiful. I know I’m biased but you really are – I will never stop telling you that.

In the two times we’ve seen you (not enough in my opinion) you’ve never been that camera shy, unlike you’re mum and mama, and as soon as the lady puts her special wand on my tummy you’re there in all your glory.

Like your mum though, you soon become disobedient and do your own thing by turning away from the wand making any checks difficult – I don’t care though as it means I get to see you that bit longer.

Our first sighting of you was a scary time I must admit – we didn’t know whether you were really there, we didn’t know how strong you’d be, but you were there waiting for us. This time however, although just as nerve-wracking, we were just pleased to be able to see you again. I knew you were there as you’ve made yourself known to me pretty early on but mama, mama needed to see you – and that’s fine. You gave her a wave and even gave me a kick – thanks for that.

You’ve grown so much since our first sighting of you, you have long legs and a perfectly shaped button nose. We saw your beating heart and almost every bone in your body, it really was incredible. Talking officially, the lady at the hospital even said everything about you is perfect – but we know that already.

We’ve almost completed your room now, it really is a lovely space – we hope you like it as much as we enjoy preparing it for you.

Anyway, I’ll write again soon – I really can’t wait to meet you now.

I love you lots.


A Letter To… My Ovaries.

Dear Ovaries,

I am writing to you to make a formal complaint.

The reason for my complaint is because I was relying on you to come through the other day. You know, the day after we pumped you with sperm at the same time you told us your eggs would be good and ready to be fertilized. This was at the same time you had waved the (egg) white flag of ovulation and kicked me so hard I knew you were ready for some fun.

I know that we haven’t ever really had a good working relationship, but since I started giving you vitamins you seem to be happier – you’ve even started to invite Aunt Flo a bit more regularly too – this is great. I’ve never really had to work you hard in life like those other girls in school who had regular “accidents” – you never had to worry about nasty sperm getting to you. In fact; I was so sure that I didn’t need you, I generally let you do your own thing!

However, if you’re not already aware, I’ve met this girl. This is a girl who I want to grow old with. Who I want to start a family with. We’ve been quite vocal about the matter, hell, we’ve been talking about it for a year now, so you must know. I can imagine you thought you were in for a relaxing time with her, however, sadly not. We want to start a family.

Despite all of this, you have now become lazy and you seem be ignoring your whole purpose in life when I now need you the most – it’s like you take take take without giving back. You’re not that old, nor have you ever been worked. What EXACTLY are you doing in there? What is the problem? Have I done something wrong? Is it the sperm? What? The sperm we’re giving you is great sperm! The Donor is taking vitamins and has stopped drinking alcohol and coffee for us (on his own accord, I must add!). He travels a long way to see us as well. Therefore, we don’t need you then messing up – it’s just embarrassing!

I appreciate that perhaps the first time we did this we didn’t warn you and I can imagine the little guys invading your space all of a sudden may have frightened you, but you must be aware of what’s happening now, surely?

Let me just say that if I have done something wrong, then I apologise but I can’t think what I’ve done to annoy you. I regularly feed myself with fresh fruit and vegetables and I do enough exercise. I take special vitamins and I’m steering well clear of the alcohol and the coffee – I’ve never even smoked! I even treat you to the occasional chocolate bar when you’re feeling low.

Moving forward, and so that you’re fully aware of our plans, please be advised that we would very much like to have a child – soon – and we need you to be a part of this 100%. Without you, we’re nothing.

If you could assist us in this matter then that would be very much appreciated – I don’t want to have to raise this matter again.

I look forward to hearing from you.