The Reality of Babies

I called in on the blog covering Jennie's story in The Observer, and was completely surprised by the vitriol expressed by the commentors. People have not, in the main, reacted well to Jennie's plea for a co-parent. No immediate offers for the honour of providing the sperm, money and occasional weekend visit.

I go all 'aahhh' at the thought of babies. Tiny baby feet, the joy of being pregnant, the roller coaster of labour, big, big boobs. I spent about an hour and a half in the company of a 1 year old today, who was for the first hour and fifteen mins, asleep. In that time, I realised that actually Jennie really needs to think again about it.

I do feel for her. It must be awful to be enthrall to your biological clock without the ability to sort it out through normal means. 'Normal' being, with a bloke in a committed long-term relationship, or even with a bloke in a non-committed short-term relationship, or even with a bloke and a turkey baster. I think the advice given by one of the contributors to the blog was right, she should get a hamster instead. Damn sight less messy.