I am in the midst of another cold. Both children look like they have it too. Aargh.
I will never, ever again make a start of year post about how much fun I intend to have this year.
But I will do a quickie post, because after my daughter's birthday last week, I got all nostalgic and just for kicks, went back reading old journal entries in previous Februaries. I came across something I'd written on 9th February 2008, as I was preparing to move to the next step of fertility treatments (which ended up being IVF). I was despondent about how long everything might take, about how much more delay there would be before I could get pregnant, and annoyed with myself for being so upset about such things when other people had far longer waits.
I naturally wondered what it would have been like had somebody told me then that I would have my son by the end of that year and that three years later, I would be in the hospital following the birth of my daughter. (A similar scenario takes place in the book, The Time Traveller's Wife.)
Somewhat to my surprise, my instinctive reaction was that I was glad nobody had told me. On further thought, that's ridiculous. Knowing that I would have my son, certainly, meant I would have fretted less during the early stages of pregnancy, and arguably might have been better prepared for the actuality of his birth... It might not have changed my life in any concrete fashion, but I would have been much more relaxed and happier.
So why can't I help but feel glad that I didn't know? A subconscious aversion to going against the order of nature? Or perhaps because that stress has all gone into what makes me me today. We grow through our suffering and all....
On the other hand, I'm reasonably sure that back in February 2008, I would have preferred a spoiler for the eventual outcome of our efforts, even if it was that we would have had no children at all. Or maybe it's just easier for me to say that now.
Too much pondering makes my head hurt. Off to blow my nose again...