I hate New Year’s resolutions. I really do. I can’t keep them. Besides, whilst the intentions are always good, you always end up breaking them. So think of this as a half arsed promise. Next year, I’m going to try to blog at least once a week. , I’m appointing you my official poker. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that :P.
The past 12 months have been here to teach me a few lessons. Mostly the lesson of patience, that I’m not actually able to do everything myself and most importantly, that I should ask for help…
Oh, and that you should ALWAYS check what your email signature contains. ALWAYS.
Way back here I told the merry story of the scientist and the placenta. Amusing story, right? He thought so too. But how on earth, out of all the blogs, and all the people on the internet did he find it?
When the girls were 6 months old, I sent an email to him telling him about the girls progress and sent some pictures. Honestly, it was intended as a simple catch up and a ‘Hey, thanks for everything you did for us in hospital … here’s the kids now’ kind of thing. I pushed send, and didn’t really think much of it until the following day when I received an email thanking me not only for the update, but the funny story about himself in my blog. Honestly, I think if the ground could have opened up under me and swallowed me right then and there, I’d probably have welcomed it. I turned several shades of red, and quietly died. Apparently, I’d left the link to my blog in my signature on the email, and he’d opened it and read it.
Mortification does not even begin to cover it.
Rather quickly, I sent back an email saying thank you and, with a rather burning face, tried to forget the experience. After all, I’d just compared the man to Gollum with the ring over a placenta. There’s no way you can live down that shame. I decided the best course of action would be to simply pretend it never happened.
And so I did. Until September.
We’d just arrived back from the US (we’d been to a wedding … I should post about that too. Are you taking notes here, ? 😛 ) My phone rang (not unusual) and a woman introduced herself as one of the scientist’s PhD students. She’d also read my blog, (oh, the shame. It got around!) and as I’d previously offered my services to the department for follow up and assistance, would I be interested in sharing my story at a symposium she was organising? After all, she’d gotten my details from the scientist. Oh, and would I mind telling … the placenta story. But, could I come to the hospital and talk to them first.
Hello, ground hole. I think this time I’ll dive in head first.
And so the time came, a few weeks later, to meet the man I had called Gollum again. This time, face to face, no heavy pain killing drugs, no technical jargon, and most importantly, no placentas.
Somehow, I knew things would be ok when he was happily wearing my daughter’s headband and clapping his feet in time with her …
2 weeks later, I found myself in front of a room of faces – some familiar, most strangers. They were doctors, researchers, specialists from all over Europe. They were there to learn more about the condition that almost took our daughters from us – and at that moment, they were waiting to hear my story. Somehow, my stupidity had turned into a moment where I could speak for parents who had been in our situation. I could tell the doctors on our case what our experience was – and how they could make the experience different for others. Most importantly, my story was heard, and acknowledged. I was able to thank the people who helped us.
So that’s the story of how my embarassing moment turned into an amazing experience. Sometimes things happen for a reason.
And yes, I told the placenta story.