Tuesday, 21 July 2009
New Man and I are still reeling from receiving the news last week that we will almost certainly never be able to conceive naturally. The consultant recommended ICSI. At the moment we're looking into embryo adoption as an alternative.
I'm sorry to say that the pain of our situation is made much greater by what I have read on the internet about the Church's teaching on this issue (despite the priest telling me that we have a medical problem and he believes that, as long as no embryos were destroyed or 'discarded' in the process, ICSI would be an acceptable treatment for that medical problem, since we would be bringing a much-wanted and much-loved child into a Catholic marriage and bringing it up in the Catholic faith), and also by the attitude of some of my friends.
Adoption in the UK these days is a process fraught with difficulty for people like us. We have three major strikes against us in the eyes of social services - namely, that we are middle class, that we're a heterosexual couple who are married to each other, and that we are Catholic. We're just not the sort of people they're looking for. We also have many other problems with the process of adoption here, which I won't go into. Embryo adoption sounds to us like the best solution for all sorts of reasons, but whatever ends up happening, we know we have a hard road ahead of us and are as likely as not to end up having to accept that we will never know the joy of being parents.
I think I'm going to take a break from this blog for a while - maybe for ever - so let me take this opportunity once again of thanking you for your prayers. I hope you'll continue to pray for us as we struggle with this situation we're in.
Saturday, 18 July 2009
Tuesday, 14 July 2009
Some post-1970 'hymns' are absolutely dire. Some are trite and meaningless. Some have hopelessly unmelodious tunes. Some are actually heretical.
The pendulum has now begun to swing back, and many people are embracing the beauty and richness of the traditional form of the Mass. In so doing, some are rejecting anything that was written after Vatican II.
Now, I have lived in a number of different parishes - I moved house approximately once a year as a child. My mother is a church organist, and we used to help her to choose the hymns - always with a Missal in front of us to ensure that they fitted with the theme of the Mass. I spent many years as a member of a church choir, and for a large part of that time I was responsible for selecting the hymns for the Mass at which I played. I therefore have quite a wide repertoire of hymns, both new and old, and my favourite hymns include both old and new ones.
My experiences over the years have led me to the following conclusions:
1. What the choir wants to sing is not necessarily always what the congregation wants to hear
2. What the congregation wants to sing is usually what it knows well. Many people who enjoy singing hymns and consider that singing them is an important part of their participation in the Mass will be completely turned off by a Mass in which more than half of the hymns are unfamiliar. This means that music which is new to the congregation needs to be introduced gradually, and certainly not all in one go.
3. An average hymn which is sung by the majority of the congregation can be more meaningful than a beautiful hymn which nobody joins in with.
4. Some of the trite modern hymns are not heretical and express sentiments which actually fit quite well with the readings of a particular Mass. Some are even based on those readings.
5. We don't ban Humpty Dumpty because it's childish, but nor do we expect to hear it performed to an audience of adults at the Royal Albert Hall. There is an important place for 'children's hymns', but the main Sunday Mass of the parish is almost certainly not it.
I have happy memories connected with some modern hymns, and those memories mark some major points in my spiritual maturing (a process which is by no means complete). For instance, I remember learning 'Colours of day' when I was preparing for First Communion, and singing it with my class in a school weekday Mass. I remember the first all-night retreat I ever went on at the age of 15, which culminated in a Mass at dawn during which everyone lustily joined in with 'Our God reigns', and the emotions that this experience stirred in me.
I also remember hymns that I didn't understand at the time I learnt them - for instance, why did it matter that the green hill didn't have a city wall ("There is a green hill far away, without a city wall")?
I suppose what I'm saying (and I'm deliberately not linking to any recent posts I may have read poking fun at modern hymns, because actually a lot of what was said was very funny) is let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater. And let's remember that our spiritual journey may not have ended with 'I have seen the golden sunshine', but that might have been an important step along the way, and perhaps we shouldn't be pulling the ladder up behind us and preventing other people from benefiting from the same stepping stones (hmmm, nice mixed metaphor there).
Monday, 8 June 2009
You're wearing special clothes today and everyone is celebrating because this is one of the most special days of your lives - you are about to receive the Body and Blood of Our Lord for the first time. This means that the Church thinks you are not babies any more, but are ready to join all the adults in beginning to take responsibility for your own faith and to participate fully in the life of the Church.
Now that you are receiving the Body and Blood of Our Lord, Jesus is calling you to be more like Him. (He then asked the children for examples of ways in which they could be more like Jesus, and he expanded on each of the examples they gave - generosity, kindness, standing up for what's right and gratitude.)
You need to nourish your faith and let it grow, because if you don't feed it, it will die and you might start to think that you don't need Jesus in your lives. The world often tells us that we don't need Jesus, and sometimes it's difficult to be a Christian.
People might sometimes think you're weak or not cool because you're Christian. Some people think that to be popular at school, you need to bully other people. Some people think that to be first, you need to push other people out of the way. Some people think that to be successful at work, you need to step on other people and make them fail.
We don't live that way, and some people might say you're not successful because you're not doing those things. But if you have faith and you believe in Jesus, you don't need to do all of those things, because your life is successful if you live the way Jesus wants you to live.
There are some pretty difficult messages in that, but the children really listened and seemed to take in what he was saying. At the end of Mass, he reiterated that they need to nourish their faith in order to let it grow. He then gave each child a little tomato plant as a symbol of their faith, and told them to remember to water and nourish that plant.
I had gone into the church with, if anything, slightly negative expectations. The music was absolutely not to my taste, and the church is being refurbished, so the Mass was in the parish hall. But the parish hall has been beautifully set up as a temporary church, and the congregation showed real reverence, as well as joy at the celebration. In particular, when the priest opened the tabernacle before Communion, not just the priest and the altar servers but everybody in the church genuflected until he had closed the tabernacle and carried the chalice to the altar.
My friend told me afterwards that the priest had insisted that not only the children, but also the parents, should be given lessons to prepare for the First Communion. She said she had never thought that someone without children could understand so well the challenges of bringing up a child, and that she had found the preparation very helpful.
The whole event really taught me something about judging by appearances. Yes, we may have 'processed' out to "We are marching in the name of God", with a number of people dancing behind the children, but technically the final blessing had taken place and Mass was over, so why not celebrate at that point? And those children - and their parents - had been beautifully and lovingly prepared for the celebration, and the priest made sure they understood the importance of this event in their lives.
I made my First Communion in 1976 and it still stands out in my memory as one of the most special days of my life. I think in 33 years' time, my godson will remember his First Communion in the same way - and who can ask for more than that?
Thursday, 4 June 2009
I can see there being objections, though. In fact, I have an objection myself - and petty though it is, it's something that really matters to me.
On the day I made my First Communion in 1976, my grandmother gave me a Missal. I have used that Missal ever since, and it reminds me of my First Communion and of my grandmother.
One of my godsons is making his First Communion this coming Sunday, and I really want to give him a present that he will be able to use on a regular basis and treasure all his life. Knowing that the new translation is due to come into use soon, I know there's no point in giving him a Missal for the current English translation of the Mass. I also know his family are unlikely ever to get into going to the Traditional Rite Mass, so there's no point in getting him a Missal for that.
I almost feel cheated out of being able to give him a meaningful present that will last him a lifetime. I may be influenced in this feeling by my father regularly expressing sadness throughout my childhood that he was unable to use the old Missal that he had received as a present for his First Communion in the late 1940s - he used to get it off the shelf to show it to us, but he couldn't use it in Mass.
On the other hand, at the moment there is no real universality in our Church. Even if I only intended it to last for a short while, I couldn't buy Missals here in the UK for my American or South African nephews and nieces, because there are enough small differences between the US and UK Mass that they would be noticed every week (little things like in the Creed, where we say "became incarnate from the Virgin Mary" and the US says "was born of the Virgin Mary" - I feel like an outsider whenever I stumble over that bit when I'm visiting them), and South Africa is already using the new translation, which is very different.
I'm sad that I can't get a special and lasting present for my godchildren, nephews and nieces, one that will be used regularly and remind them forever of one of the most important days of their lives. I know such nostalgic feelings aren't a reason to block positive progress, and I hope when the new translation is fully brought in the small differences between us and the US will disappear, making the Church feel properly universal again.
But I do think that if the new translation is to be received warmly by the majority of Catholics, it needs to be introduced with great sensitivity and these little feelings need to be acknowledged and not completely swept aside as unimportant.
Sunday, 31 May 2009
When we married, New Man was 45 and I was 38. We were both used to living on our own, and it wasn't always easy learning to live together. A year on, New Man almost always hangs his towel up properly in the bathroom and rinses the basin after he's shaved and then spread toothpaste everywhere, and I'm getting better at sorting out the mail straight away, shredding the junk mail with our address on, putting the rest of the junk in the recycling and filing the one or two important items rather than just leave everything to pile up over the weeks.
365 times, the last thing we've said to each other before we fall asleep is "I love you", and the first thing we've done in the morning is roll towards each other and kiss good morning.
We eat together, go for walks together, make plans together, laugh together (a lot), enjoy buying each other little presents, and pray together.
The first year of marriage has been great - we're both looking forward to many more.
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
We live in a very hilly area, and over the last couple of weeks we have started going for a walk after supper every evening. We've got to know parts of the town that we hadn't seen before, slept well after a bit of healthy exercise, and - more than anything - enjoyed just being together and chatting about this and that.
There are so many distractions at home - television and chores to name just the two biggest - and it's easy to sit side by side all evening without ever actually communicating, slaves to the big box in the corner of the room. The distractions that we have on our walks - "Oooh, look at that", "Would you like to live in a house like that?", "What a beautiful sunset" - are things that make us talk to each other more rather than less, and we each spend most of the day looking forward to spending that time together in the evening.
My sister told me that my 2-year-old niece was looking at our wedding album this week at my parents' house, and having great fun pointing out all her relatives and naming them. She came to a picture of New Man and me walking out of the church holding hands and gleefully said our names, then in tones of great satisfaction she said, "They best friends."
I'm glad she noticed, and even gladder that she's right - and at the moment I'm really hoping it stops raining by this evening so I can go on my daily walk with my best friend.
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Over the last year (14 lots of 26 days, in case you haven't been counting as obsessively as we have), we've learnt an awful lot - about ourselves and about each other. I've also learnt what sometimes seems like a whole new language as I communicate in abbreviations with other women who are going through the same thing - the internet is a great thing for bringing people together like this. I've had all sorts of needles stuck in me, taken huge quantities of Chinese herbs, and prayed and prayed and prayed.
I know God is listening, but what if motherhood is not part of His plan for me? What if He is actually trying to push me a different way? When do I give up and start listening to what God really wants me to do? I want this so badly, but if God wants me to do something else instead, I need to try to subordinate my will to His.
So now I'm waiting for a phone call, then I'll be waiting probably about four weeks for an appointment, then a bit longer to get all the tests done and hear the results, and then we'll know.
I suppose I'm asking for your prayers again - that we get to be parents, but if that doesn't happen, that we learn to accept it and follow God's Will, whatever that may be.
Sunday, 24 May 2009
So, what's been going on?
Well, Beth has had her beautiful little boy, and John Paul was baptised this weekend. I'm enjoying looking at his pictures and hearing how he and Madeleine and enjoying each other.
I've been praying daily for little Jonah and his family. Jonah is a beautiful little boy who was born in February with a rare genetic skin disorder called Epidermolysis Bullosa. His mother posts regular updates on his condition, and I hope it gives her some comfort to know that there are people all over the world who are praying for her family.
I've also been praying for Faith Hope, who was diagnosed in the womb with anencephaly. Her mother was strongly advised to "terminate" her, and told that she had a 0% chance of survival, but Faith defied the odds and lived for just over three months. Her mother's blog was a wonderfully positive message of love for Faith and for God, and I hope all the photos, videos and memories that Myah has of Faith and the faith that she has in God will be a comfort to her in the weeks and months to come.
Life has been pretty busy here, and I have a few things I hope to blog about if I have time over the next few weeks. I've kept thinking I must get back before I get culled from Mac's blogroll, so I'm off to bed now, but will hopefully be back on here tomorrow.
Saturday, 7 March 2009
So, what's causing all this stress? Well, it could be the whole trying-but-not-yet-succeeding-to-make-a-baby thing. Or it could be a problem I've had at work that I've been trying to solve. Or it could be the fact that we haven't had a free weekend for months and little jobs around the house have been neglected. Or it could be a million and one other things.
But I think what all this stress boils down to is that I'm a world champion procrastinator. It's not that I'm lazy. But if I have to write an article and the deadline is in a week's time, I'll spend six days researching and reading round the topic and one day madly trying to get the thing written to meet the deadline. If I have three weeks, the proportion is 20 days' research, one day's panicked writing. And so on... This was manageable when I lived alone, but is a lot harder now that I have to cook for New Man and keep the household ticking over, and I want to spend time with him, and he hates me staying up until 4 in the morning or getting up ridiculously early to work.
A very simple illustration of how I cause myself stress is that I (hang my head in shame as I admit that I) haven't finished my Christmas thank-you letters. I only have one still to write, but if you added up all the time I've spent complaining to New Man that it hasn't been done (he needs to write to the same aunt, and he hasn't done it either), worrying about how rude my aunt will think I am, and adding it to to-do lists, I could have written the blasted thing 86 times over.
I hate being ruled by advertising hype, but I really need to 'Just Do It'. I should get the Nike tick tattooed on my wrist or something, to remind myself to get on with it. But maybe not today...
Thursday, 5 March 2009
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Monday, 2 March 2009
Monday, 16 February 2009
One of the books we bought was this little book, for my nieces (also available online).
I think it's the best children's Mass book I've seen - it has spaces for the child to write or draw in what the readings are about each week and who and what they're praying for, and is wipe-clean so that it can be used again and again. It has the full text of each of the prayers which are said by the congregation, so that a child who is beginning to read can join in.
But the best bit is that there's no dumbing-down. Here's what it says about the Consecration:
"The priest remembers what Jesus said and did at his Last Supper. He says and does the same...
I will hear a bell at this part of the Mass as it is so important. When the bell rings I will look up at the bread. It is now Jesus, the Bread of Life. Then I will look up at the wine. It is now Jesus, the Cup of Salvation...
The bread and wine have been changed into Jesus. This is the great mystery which we believe in. To show our belief we say one of these prayers."
And at Communion:
"We go to the altar and receive Jesus, the Food and Drink of Life.
Jesus, this is a very special time for us. I love you Jesus. I enjoy this quiet time. I will talk to you in my heart...
The priest and altar servers clear away everything that was used for the Holy Meal. The altar is empty now, but the people in Church are filled with God's special gift of Jesus.
Jesus is with us and we are the Body of Christ."
And then there's the positive message at the end of Mass:
"At the end of Mass there may be a hymn to sing. I will join in joyfully, just as I would at a party.
Mass has ended, but it has made us strong for our work and play during the week.
Thank you for making me kind and loving through this Holy Mass."
The book encourages the child to sit still and listen to the readings, to listen to the Homily or, if the priest is "talking to the grown-ups", to think about the Gospel and imagine he was there. It encourages the child to join in the responses with the congregation and also to say his own prayers at various points throughout the Mass.
Rather than distract the child to stop him from playing up, it explains to him what's going on and involves him in the prayer of the whole community.
My only regret is that we only bought one copy...
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
This will give you a flavour of the story - follow the link for the rest of it:
At the age of nine few children know what they will go on to do with their lives. But for a scientist involved in one of the most revolutionary medical operations of recent times, his destiny appears to have been spelled out in a letter written 35 years ago, to a BBC children's programme.
It had been a heck of a year for Professor Anthony Hollander. In 2008, after 20 years of research into helping arthritis sufferers he unexpectedly found himself being asked to urgently adapt his skills to help save the life of a woman in Spain.
The groundbreaking treatment, by a team of scientists and surgeons, gave the woman a new windpipe using her own stem cells. He had helped save a dying woman and the successful operation made headlines around the world. It was, by any measure, a career high.
After it was all over Mr Hollander got to thinking, and suddenly made a connection. In 1973, a nine-year-old Anthony Hollander had written to Blue Peter to tell them he had a "strange" belief that he knew how to "make people or animals alive".
The letter, which by his own admission today was "eccentric", went on to ask the programme to help him acquire the necessary materials to carry out these life-saving tasks.
The shopping list included a "model of a heart split in half" and "tools for cutting people open".
Thousands of children wrote to the programme every week, but each one received a personal letter back, and Anthony was no exception.
The response from then editor, Biddy Baxter, was "fundamental" to his future, he now believes. She encouraged him to seek information for his idea from the family doctor.
It was not so much the advice itself that left an impression on the boy. It was that whisper of encouragement that he gleaned from having received a reply at all, and that the letter did not dismiss his idea.
"If her letter had shown any hint of ridicule or disbelief I might perhaps never have trained to become a medical scientist or been driven to achieve the impossible dream, and really make a difference to a human being's life," he says.
You can read the rest of the story here. Oh, and I just looked the guy up, and he's had a lot of success in his research with ADULT stem cells. Just so you know...
Saturday, 24 January 2009
One day Meera woke up and found herself married to the man of her dreams. Although the marriage had been arranged, she discovered within a week of the ceremony that he was the most kind, attentive, supportive and loving husband she could ever have wished for - and it didn't hurt that he was also rich.
Her life would have been wonderful, except for one thing. His mother. She lived with them and tended to think that she was in charge of the household. Not only that, but whatever Meera did, it was never good enough for her son. She carped and complained all day long and made the girl's life a misery - except in the evenings when her son was at home, when ghee wouldn't melt in her mouth.
Every night the girl prayed that she would die, but when the old woman woke up every morning glowing with health and, if anything, getting stronger and healthier as time went by, she decided to take matters into her own hands. In desperation, she visited a man in a nearby village who was renowned for his knowledge of herbs, and she begged him to give her the means to poison the old woman.
At first, he tried to dissuade her. But when he realised she was serious (the clincher being the amount of money she was prepared to pay), he prepared an ointment for her and told her to massage it into the old woman's feet. He promised her that her troubles would be over within a month.
That night, the girl tentatively offered the old woman a foot massage, which was accepted with bad grace and 'suffered' with many a complaint. As it was the next night, and the next. It was only the fact that her husband was so pleased with his wife's kindness towards his mother - and the thought that it was only going to last another 28 days at most - that kept her going.
Soon the foot massage became an evening ritual, and by the end of the first week the old woman had stopped complaining. She accepted the 'homage' the girl was paying her as her right. (Only three weeks to go.)
On the third day of the second week, she said thank you. (Ha! Only two and a half weeks to go.)
At the beginning of the third week, she started telling stories about when she was young. (Two more weeks.)
Then the stories started to include the birth of her son and what he had been like when he was a little boy. Despite herself, the girl wanted to know more.
On the second morning of the fourth week, the girl woke up with a terrible feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. The old woman was going to die. She herself was going to be a murderess. She was killing the mother of the man she loved. But it was more than that. In the last few days, she had actually enjoyed the evening ritual. She enjoyed the stories. She even enjoyed the soothing feeling of giving the massage. She enjoyed giving pleasure. And now she came to think about it, her mother-in-law hadn't complained about anything for quite a while. Not anything. Yesterday she had asked Meera's advice about which sari she should buy. And, even today, she had promised to teach her the secret recipe of her husband's favourite dish.
As soon as she could leave the house without arousing suspicion, Meera raced to the next village to the house of the old man. He recognised her immediately and smiled as he pointed to a large bowl of ointment sitting on a side table. 'Oh thank you, thank you,' she whispered. 'I'm so ashamed.' Without looking him in the eye, she picked up the bowl and left in its place much more than twice the sum of money she'd given him the first time.
Just as she was leaving, she suddenly stopped and looked back. 'How did you know I would want the antidote?' she asked.
'Antidote?' he replied with a twinkle. 'I don't know what you mean. I just know that I prepare the best foot massage ointment in the world. Everyone always wants more.'
Friday, 23 January 2009
I now find that, at least in our area, the maximum age difference is 50 years. You have no idea what a relief it is to read something like that - it means we still have a good couple of years to work on this.
My oldest and best friend was adopted as a baby. When she got married, she decided she wanted to find her birth family, and her parents supported her in this. She found her birth mother, found out a bit about the circumstances of her birth, met her birth sister and got a bit of medical history which was useful when she had children. And that was it. There has never been any question that the people who brought her up from the age of six weeks are her 'real' parents.
I also have two cousins who are adopted. No secret has ever been made of the fact that my uncle and aunt adopted them as babies, and they are as much part of the family as any of the cousins.
These days, adoption in the UK is a little more complicated. For a start, in the majority of cases the adoptive parents are required to maintain some level of contact between the child and its birth family. I don't see how, if my child was regularly visiting or having contact with its birth mother, I could ever feel as though I was its 'real' mother. I would always feel as though I was answerable to someone else on the way I was bringing the child up. My friend's daughter has schoolfriends who are adopted and have contact with their birth families, and it can cause disruption and confusion in their lives.
Also, thanks to a combination of the prevalence of abortion and the UK social services' obsession with keeping children in the most chaotic and abusive households for as long as possible, there are very few babies and toddlers available for adoption in this country, and many of the children who are put forward for adoption have already suffered deep psychological (and often physical) damage.
Because of my experience of working overseas, I have always been interested in the idea of an overseas adoption, and I think this is the route we would go down. In many ways, I would be happy if we could have a birth child and an adopted child (or even more than one of each). We have plenty of love to go round, and would love to give a home to a child that needed it, and become that child's parents.
Unfortunately, from the stuff I was reading last night it seems that it would not be an option for us to try for both at the same time. For both domestic and overseas adoptions, you need first to be approved for adoption by UK social services. One of the criteria for them even to consider a couple for adoption is that they must have completed all infertility investigations and treatment (and have a note signed by their doctor to that effect) before applying to become adoptive parents.
Armed with the knowledge of everything I have read this week, I think we now have a plan. 2009 will be the Year of Trying For A Baby. We'll give it our best shot, and then we'll see - will 2010 be the Year of The Birth? Or will it the Year of The Adoption? Or even both?
Friday, 16 January 2009
At Christmas, the church was so crowded that the congregation spilled out through every open door. My brother's family spent most of the Mass outside the church. When the time came for Communion, Extraordinary Ministers came to the doors to administer Communion to those who had not been able to get inside. My brother and his family wanted to receive a blessing from the priest, and so they found a way through the crowd and eventually managed to get inside the church, at the far end of the aisle from the altar.
Unfortunately, everyone inside the church had already received Communion, and the priest was on his way back up the altar steps. The family paused briefly, then began to turn and make their way back outside, disappointed that they had not been able to receive their Christmas blessing.
As they began to turn round, the priest noticed them and beckoned them forward. He came back down the altar steps to meet them, and blessed each of them in turn. That simple gesture made their Christmas, and a lifetime of gestures like it from good, holy men is the reason why despite many difficulties, people like my brother remain faithful to the Church.
Monday, 12 January 2009
The rules are:
- Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass the award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
- Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author and the name of the blog from whom he/she has received the Award.
- Each Superior Scribbler must display the award on his/her blog, and link to this post, which explains the award.
- Each Blogger who wins the Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List (scroll down). That way, we’ll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives this prestigious honour!
- Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.
Well, I know Leutgeb got it from Mac, but I'm going to give it to her again anyway - she may be the first Super Scribbler With Bar. Other Super Scribblers I visit regularly in Blogworld are Beth, Colleen and Jen.
Yes, yes, I know that's only four, but I can't choose between the others that I read regularly - if you think you deserve one, consider yourself on my list!
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
Only a year later, I knew that this failure was the best thing that had ever happened to me. It was while I was retaking my exams that I rediscovered a love of learning that I had somehow lost on moving from primary to secondary school but that has shaped my career since then.
In 1991, I had a couple of crushing disappointments. I applied for a scholarship, and everyone was stunned when I didn't get it. I applied for a job, and wept buckets when I didn't get that either.
Six months later, what I got instead was way better than anything I had imagined the previous year, and set me off on a path which led to spiritual and intellectual fulfilment, a stimulating career and some wonderful life-long friendships.
In 2005, I had the worst three months of my life so far. My unhappiness led indirectly to a new career, a new home and ultimately to my meeting my now husband. Although there are day-to-day frustrations in any job, this is my dream job. My house is a real home, and I've made more wonderful new friends in my new neighbours.
Over the last few days, I've been thinking about 2008. The end of the year didn't bring me what I wanted, and I've been quite sad about that.
But my life changed for ever in the middle of the year. I loved the first five months - planning my wedding, looking forward to the day when all the people I loved would be gathered together and I would stand in front of them to profess my love for the kindest, most caring and patient man you could imagine.
And I loved the next seven months, as New Man and I got used to living together, lived through countless new experiences together and looked forward again to many more.
I would have been delighted with a honeymoon baby, but I see now that it wouldn't have been right for us. We're both getting on a bit, and had lived alone for long enough to get set in our ways. We've learnt more about each other and about ourselves in the last seven months than we could ever have done if we'd been preparing for the imminent arrival of a baby.
I often tell people that everything that's happened in my life makes perfect sense - but only in retrospect. And yet here I've been, desperate to move on to the next stage before I was ready. I was bursting with impatience, but God knew the time wasn't right.
I hope and pray that it will happen for us in 2009. I know that each month it doesn't happen, I'll still be disappointed. But I know if it happens, it'll be in God's time, not mine. And at last I think I'm OK with that.