It’s that time of the week when I watch One Born Every Minute.
A weekly reminder that I’M STILL NOT PREGNANT but allegedly one baby is born every minute.
Just not fucking born to me.
I Googled a depressing statistic tonight. Since first starting our journey to becoming a family of 3 on the 4th December 2015, approximately 763,000 minutes have passed. Which, in theory, means 763,000 babies have been born in that time. And many more conceived and not held in their parents’ arms. Over three quarters of a million babies… and not one to me.
When the series first started in the UK back in 2010 I was as far from broody as you can imagine. I would watch it and think “Nup. Not stirring anything inside me.” In fact, I would watch it as a form of contraception to remind me of how NOT READY I was to be a mum.
But now, 7 years on, I’ve gone past the curiously-interested phase, moved beyond the Christ-I’m-broody stage, and I’m now fully lost in the watching-in-bed-feeling-utterly-numb stage.
Or as I call it – Meh.
There are some couples who feature on it that piss me off. Like the ooops baby ones. Or the one-night-stand ones. Or the I’ve-got-so-many-kids-already-I’ve-lost-count ones. But my favourite couples are those who haven’t had a straightforward journey. Those who have had miscarriages. Those who have had IVF. Those who have waited for years and now it is finally their turn.
Those like me and Dave.
I stopped telling myself ‘next time the new series is on I’ll be pregnant myself’ a long time ago. I mean, what’s the point? It’s just another milestone to be passed where I’m reminded of my infertility.
So why do I torture myself watching this bastard show?
I watch it because I want to see the different stories of the families.
I watch it because I like to prepare myself for what could happen.
I watch it because I like to picture myself having a relaxing water birth as I’m listening to my prepared playlist of music.
I watch it because I like to think of Dave being my birthing partner and stroking my hand as he helps me through my contractions. When he’s not dicking around and pissing me off!
I watch it because I want to see those sweet little babies being held by their parents at the end and imagine myself crying as Dave and I hold our newborn child.
I watch it because I have hope that it WILL be me and Dave experiencing that one day.
So I’ll keep watching this show, and I’ll keep ugly-crying at every birth, and I’ll keep cursing the unfairness of it all.
Oh and WOULD SOMEBODY PLEASE SEND MY STORK A FUCKING SATNAV ASAP?!