Rained on the weekend – good heavy, continual rain. I love rain. Last week I said to Mum, “I need it to rain, my soul needs rain”. My mum thinks such statements are worthy of a giggle and probably melodramatic, but my skin was almost itching for water from the sky, not water from the shower head.

It was a long weekend – literally. I felt overwhelmed, under-slept, cranky, mopey, listless and cranky. I have no idea why. Can’t blame the hormones, but have been enjoying blaming the husband – Poppet, and mother – the Elder, in some pretty rancid headspace at times.

I realise this – what are we going to do when the Elder retires and is home all the time – one big long school holiday is just not worth considering.

And, I wish Poppet had a job that didn’t involve making him so tired.

That and I wish he’s actually try to lose the extra FORTY kilos he’s carrying around his waist, legs, arms, head – do some exercise and just get a little bit more invovled- willingly – in the family unit. That and I wish he didn’t enjoy computer games so much.

Hmmm, just sounds like I’m trying to change him doesn’t it. Worries me.

A friend – Des – once said to me, “Kim, love him for who he is and the reasons you fell in love, don’t hate him for the things he isn’t that didn’t used to matter.” Good hey? Just hard to remember when you’ve had interrupted sleep (again) for the good part of a month – yep, no more than 4 hours sleep at a stretch, various beds etc – and all you want is one morning TO SLEEP IN.

I think that is really the crux of it – I just want a sleep in, just one. But it’s never offered, never given when asked for, and never, well, just never.

Anyway, my beautiful God daughter’s birthday is on Wednesday – a grand big 2 year old! Have to think of a good pressie! Still owe her one for her first – but am trying to think of something long-lasting and yet adorable to a small child…

This is a letter I wrote to some aquaintances. I call them that, not friends, as I never really felt comfortable with how they were with each other or with their kids – way too much yelling, hitting, and just a sense that they, as a couple, didn’t like each other very much.

As you can imagine, not the healthiest of people to be around when I was in my own little meltdown realm.

Anyway, I was not surprised to learn earlier this year that their marriage was over – but I was surprised at my own reaction. I guess they were the first people I knew, with similarly aged children to our own, to end this way. They were also the first to behave pretty darn badly and well, that just brought back all the childhood memories of my own. Why, why WHY do we become so nasty so quickly? I can talk, I do it with my children, my husband, my mother. But still, I have no answers…

29 May 2003

Dearest K & A,

I’m compelled to write to you both. I realise there are probably issues of allegiance and alliance as become unavoidable in these situations, but I had to do something and I felt this was probably the best way at this stage.

I am so deeply saddened by the news that you two are seeking a divorce. As someone who went through a divorce with her parents, I implore you to please please please fight. Fight to work through this stage, fight to stay with each other, fight for your history together and fight for a future your children may otherwise never know.

I can not tell you how many times I have wanted to walk away from being with AB, the most recent was in November last year. Yep, been to hell and back with my own parents divorce and it still looked like the only option.

The thing is, it is not an option. It is NOT an option. You guys have had an incredibly rough time – not only have you had three children in relatively quick succession, there have been periods of job instability and subsequent untold financial strain.

I have had extended periods of time with AB at home when Oscar was young and it was indeed the blackest, bleakest time of our lives. But there is another side, you do come out of the tunnel. Walking away may seem like the only answer, it may seem like the easiest solution to a great deal of hurt, anguish, unspoken resentment, anger and confusion, but it is not the solution.

You HAVE to talk. You HAVE to go and see someone together – and, even more importantly, alone. If at the end of that time (and I’m talking 6-12 months) it is mutual and amicable, THEN it is perhaps an option to divorce from each other.

You both OWE it to your three beautiful children to sit down with a third, unrelated, impartial party, spill your guts and then sift through them to work out the real issues from the immediate responses you are both feeling at the moment.

You have to realise that for your children this will be a turning point in their lives that will change the course of their lives for the rest of their lives. FORGET what it is doing to you. Realise this:

­ They will spend THE REST of their lives trying to mediate and be even with each of you, all the time feeling guilt and betrayal to one or other of you as it is an impossible balance to achieve.

­ Every SINGLE birthday, major event – be it graduation, becoming a school prefect, major birthdays, getting married, having a child – will NO LONGER be a source of joy and happiness, but marred by hoping Mum and Dad can be in the same room together or that Mum or Dad will cope with seeing Mum or Dad with their new partner.

­ Weekends can’t be spend mucking around with mates and chilling out, but seeing one or other parent and trying to forge a relationship that is impossible in a 48 hour period every other weekend.

­ You will think you are shielding them from your petty or grave differences – YOU WON’T – children see every single nuance between their parents and it marks them for life.

­ You will think it is something that happened to the two of you, when in fact, the most impact is on them.

­ You will think they are better off having you separately than together – they’re NOT. That is a highly researched statistic as well as something I can tell you from experience.

You are both adults, you need to remember why you fell in love, why you got together, accept that life changes, that your relationship changes as you bring children, mortgages and other life events into it and that you BOTH have to adjust to that, because, simply, its life.

Please, I am imploring you both to accept that it has taken actions and words, or lack thereof, by both of you to make the current scenario exist at all.

Accept that BOTH of you will have to make changes, sacrifices and allowances for each other to rebuild your life together. Accept you both will have to recognise your role in the situation and be genuinely open and honest in your own shortcomings as well as those that seem so apparent in each other at the moment. But most importantly, recognise that down the track, it will be so WORTHWHILE compared to the current track you are heading down.

Here is the number of a relationships counsellor that a couple I am friends with went to when they had separated over what they thought were irreconcilable differences due to untold stress and emotional hurt due to fertility issues:

I’m writing this, I know, at the risk of jeopardising my friendship with you both. But I am desperate for you to realise this current path will not make it all better or make it all go away. I am also speaking for J, S and C who are too little to be able to voice what way too many children know and have experienced.

This is not the answer guys. It is simply not the answer.

Finally, and most importantly, BE KIND TO EACH OTHER. While it may be difficult at the moment to see why on earth you ever got together in the first place, remember those good times, remember you have made a family together and that the family that weathers the worst storms together, are a true family indeed.

I love you both and am so very very sad that this is all taking place.


I found this on a fabulous blog Life in LA – which was profiled in the SMH and actually introduced me to this whole liberating world. Thank you Claire Smith.

I Go Back to May 1937

I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,

I see my father strolling out

under the ochre sandstone arch, the

red tiles glinting like bent

plates of blood behind his head, I

see my mother with a few light books at her hip

standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks with the

wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its

sword-tips black in the May air,

they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,

they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are

innocent, they would never hurt anybody.

I want to go up to them and say Stop,

don’t do it–she’s the wrong woman,

he’s the wrong man, you are going to do things

you cannot imagine you would ever do,

you are going to do bad things to children,

you are going to suffer in ways you’ve never heard of,

you are going to want to die. I want to go

up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,

her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,

her pitiful beautiful untouched body,

his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,

his pitiful beautiful untouched body,

but I don’t do it. I want to live. I

take them up like the male and female

paper dolls and bang them together

at the hips like chips of flint as if to

strike sparks from them, I say

Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.

–Sharon Olds

When will the rain stop

falling in my head

when will sun shine warm my eyelids and prickle my skin

when will the dark clouds

the blackness

the stillness

lift from my spirit

from my self

from me

and let me fly high

above the others

the trees

the clouds

and let me be me?

I often ponder if issues of fertility will always mark my life – too much or lack thereof. As someone who was adopted at birth, watched my parents marriage disintegrate – something I believe was largely grounded in their inability to deal with or talk about their inability to have children, has met and maintains contact with my birth parents and now has children on my own, I am constantly amazed at how many people come into my life who have fertility issues or are somehow connected to all things adoption.

It is in some regards a strange badge, and yet, as I’ve worn it all my life not something I see as a burden or blessing, a positive or negative. It just is.

How do you explain to someone that your Mum will always be your Mum but how thrilling it is to meet someone who has your body shape, your eye colour, your temperament, your sense of humour and someone who, despite not being a part of your life ‘gets’ you within minutes of meeting?

How to you reconcile in yourself the absolute joy in knowing you do look like someone or that treasured feeling of special-ness in knowing that through all those turbulent and sometimes infinitely lonely teenage years there were people thinking of you, loving you and watching over you without even know who you had become, what you looked like or where you were? How do you reconcile that with the impenetrable ties to your parents forged by all those fights, tears, moments of sheer joy when you won the hockey final, were awarded school prefect, got good grades and just a life lived?

I don’t know.

I doubt I won’t ever feel that twinge of guilt I feel when I have a fabulous time with my natural mother or natural father and their families, that somehow I’m betraying my Mum and all she went through to raise me.

I doubt the strange sense of going an extra mile to make Mum happy and proud, in some sort of perverse attempt to lessen her living grief at never having bore a child herself, will ever go away.

I doubt that blame I feel, that had I come from Mum’s womb my parents may still be together today, will ever truly disappear.

But, that said, I don’t doubt how lucky I am to have so many people in the world who love me.

I don’t doubt I will ever stop LOVING having five birthday celebrations (Mum, Dad, in-laws, birth mother, birth father) and that Christmas and other celebratory times go on forever.

I don’t doubt my kids will get a real buzz having so many sets of relatives and the stories they can regale friends with.

I don’t doubt my life will not have peaks, troughs, triumphs and failures and that all of those times there will be someone there to hold my hand, pick me up, feed me chocolate or ply me with champagne.

And that, I think, is quite a life.