We Have Liftoff

40 years ago, man first set foot upon the moon.

9 months later, I made a spectacular landing here on earth.

Coincidence? I think not.

It seems one small step for man led to one giant leap for mum...3 kids under 3!

At the risk of embarrassing my mother, who is of the generation which believes that the topic of family planning should stay within the family home, let me explain this mission.

I’m not about to regale you with any sexploits, so rest assured this blog will retain its 'PG Rating'. Let me just say this: when it comes to breeding, some people are super stars.

I mean that in the nicest possible way, because let’s face it, it’s people that keep this world turning, and a population boom can bring some mighty big things to fruition (paid maternity leave notwithstanding).

I can also speak for those on the other side of life, the ones who have struggled to make their full contribution to society (going by the old adage of 'one for her, one for him, and one for the country').

But before we go any further on my own story, let’s rewind to when man made the momentous leap onto the moon surface, and my parents celebrated the feat in their own special way.

My mum and dad were both raised as good Catholics and apparently applied at least one aspect of that theological theory to their own marriage; one year and one day after they wed, they presented their parents with grandchild number 1, my eldest sister.

15 months to the day later, they welcomed grandchild number 2, my middle sis.

6 months after that, while the crew of Apollo 11 were making history at a lunar level, my folks were again on their way to helping populate this particular planet, and I am living proof that the earth moved for at least one of them around that time.

Oh I don’t know (and of course mum won’t tell) if that’s really what happened, but I’ve always been amused by the timing: July 1969- Neil, Buzz, and Michael were landing that Eagle, and April 1970- mum was spread……ah, I mean, giving birth to little ol’ me (Watch that Rating there, Jo)!

Yep, seems that dad had only to hang his pants over the foot of the bed, and next thing you know mum was doing what women are supposed to do best.

Whereas in my case, we almost needed a cast of thousands to produce our two.

Way back, while all my friends at school were busy dreaming of who they’d marry and planning what to name all their babies, I was a little reserved in my enthusiasm.

Perhaps I had an inkling of what lay ahead.

I won’t go into all the gory details (see mum, I do know where to draw the line), suffice to say it took 10 years, numerous operations, fertility treatment, and a turkey baster or two, before I was able to successfully complete a pregnancy (and even then it wasn’t to term- impatient little offspring that I have).

And then, much to my surprise and delight, after years of infertility and despite that old wives' tale about breastfeeding being a great contraceptive, I suddenly found myself 'in the family way’ once again.

We’d only just moved into our home, and I was still getting my head around the whole mummy thing, so you can imagine the baby bombshell dropped upon us. Lucky for us, the house we'd just bought had an extra bedroom on the one we'd moved out of.

However, much like Halley's Comet, it seems it was a once-in-a-lifetime event for me and I stopped at the statistical 2.5 kids (if you count my stepson).

My mother, on the other hand, was medically advised to cease her own private space race soon after I was born, otherwise who knows how many siblings I'd have now.

Anyway, while I continue to entertain myself with the notion that I can owe my very presence to Neil Armstrong et al planting that flag on the moon…I live in hope that my little girl will be equally amused to hear that she was her parents' housewarming present.

Jx
©2009