I had another 'scare' this week, although 'scare' isn't technically the right word. I was a week late and had managed to convince myself I was experiencing all sorts of symptoms - I had the full-on nausea, shortness of breath, cramps and boobage to be expected during the first few weeks of pregnancy. I took four separate tests. Four. €40 worth of tests. And each one that was negative, did it convince me I wasn't pregnant? No. The blood test finally convinced me and lo and behold, the day after, physical evidence arrived to prove convincingly that no, I am not pregnant. (I am trying to be delicate for the squeamish amongst you). My husband thinks it was a psychological pregnancy. I am afraid I sort of have to agree, although the strength of mind required to produce such physical effects amazes me.
It is my 43rd birthday next week and I suppose I am having to adjust to a totally new reality that it never occurred to me I would have to face. That of being a menopausal woman. I have so totally taken my fertility as a given that in spite of over-whelming evidence to the contrary, and reading something about older woman and fertility problems almost on a daily basis, it somehow would miraculously not happen to me. However, evidence has been mounting on my own doorstep and now it really is getting too strong to ignore. I am peri-menopausal, with all the implication to my body and psyche that that entails.
We women have a love-hate relationship with our fertility - for the best part of our lives, it is a bane and a problem to be overcome. Generally, for a very short period of time, it is either working for or against us as we decide we want to conceive and then, generally again, we go back to fighting against it. Due to the fact that I was classed as a 'mature mother' with both my boys - laughably young at 36 and 37 when I had them - I pretty much ran out of time when I decided that I would like one last chance at being a mother. After a surprise pregnancy earlier this year, I realised how much I wanted another addition to the family and when I miscarried at 10 weeks I was devastated, we both were. After overcoming the initial shock, we were so looking forward to introducing the new addition to our family. The miscarriage knocked us for six as we had had the boys with very little - ahem - effort on our behalf, arriving one after the other in such a felicitous way that they adore each other and play beautifully together - well, mostly, this isn't a blog written in Disneyworld, after all.
From then on, I joined forums for older women trying to conceive and the truth hit home - all those dire warnings about women leaving it too late to have children? They were right, would you believe it?!! There are page after page of heartfelt outpourings from poor women desperate for a child, or another one to add to their family, at an age where it is becoming physically almost impossible. So many of these hopeful women announce their pregnancy and then, so desperately sadly, announce a few weeks later that they have had, in many cases, yet another miscarriage.
And if I am honest, is 43 really an age to be bringing another child into the family? I took a look around at my youngest son's nursery parent meeting the other day and thought, I am already one of the oldest here. Is it right to have a child who will have a nearly 50 year old mother when they are starting primary school? Do I want to be surrounded by fit young women when I am starting to feel the creaks and groans of old age?
The benefits of being an older mother, which I am even having my children at the age I did, are legion. I never wish I had had them in my twenties, as my mother did. That would imply that all those years that I was living an utterly selfish life flitting around the world and having a ball would have been better served bringing up children. Woahhh there - I wouldn't hand those years back for anything. Nor am I such a subscriber to the, 'once they are grown up, you are still young enough to enjoy your life', theory because you are never 'free' of your children. Lord knows, my parents will tell you that, when yet another crisis hits and they are the first people I ring to provide a shoulder and some loving support. Once you have children, you can never go back to rediscover a selfish life because by definition, having children means that there is now someone in the world who is more important than you.
No, have children later in life, by all means, when you can dedicate your life to them without regret or a hankering to be somewhere else. Just please please, don't leave it too late. Because turning back the clock is not an option, no matter how good your doctors are.
Thursday 6 October 2011
Wednesday 5 October 2011
Amanda Knox - Guilty of Not Being An Italian Woman
Well, of course I have an opinion on the Amanda Knox saga - I have an opinion on EVERYTHING, and this is a big one. Having lived in Italy, with an Italian husband, for over four years now, I felt some connection with this story. I have watched it unfold, as have most of us I think, slightly ashamed of my own prurience and yet still reading the stories, plus their sidebars. Right from the beginning I thought it damning that there was so much emphasis being placed on Amanda Knox's reported 'promiscuity' and drinking and drug-taking (as in, she liked getting stoned with her boyfriend.). I thought she didn't have a hope of getting off in an Italian court with such a profile and as it happened, she didn't. Eventually, it seems that the case fell apart at the seams and she and Raffaele - her then 'boyfriend', although they had only reportedly been together for a couple of weeks - were released.
It looked like a witch trial with additional trial by media and it felt all wrong. Jurors are not sequestered here so they were free to read all the intimate details, and form their own opinions, on Amanda Knox's life before it even got to trial,. There was from the beginning very little evidence to support the case. It seems that the fact that she 'behaved oddly' when Meredith Kercher was discovered was a major point against her. This of course is not real evidence, it is a 'gut feeling' - which works fine in a detective story where the 'gut feeling' is felt by the hero and ultimately leads to the catching of the bad guy. But this cannot work in a real-life court of law. The language used in the court of appeal was just horrific. She was accused of being given over to 'lust, narcotic substances and the consumption of alcohol'. Oh dear. In which case, 90% of the students in the UK are carrying out the same wild and terrifying behaviour.
Apart from all the legal aspects - there are some good articles about Giuliano Mignini and his own issues in knowing which side of the law he should be on - it gives a great insight into the hypocrisy of Italian society with regard to women. On the one hand, at ANY GIVEN MOMENT, I can point you in the direction of prostitutes standing by the roadside looking for business. These are main roads, one of which runs past the Sky TV HQ, outside which there are often young, scarily scantily-clad girls touting for trade. I have driven along these main trunk roads at rush hour when the famous Roman traffic permanently threatens to grind to a halt with my two young boys in the car and had the arses of said 'mignotte', hookers, grinding in my direction in their underwear. In broad daylight and nose-to-tail traffic. Alemanno, the Roman mayor, came to victory a couple of years ago and promised a 'zero tolerance' policy on the prostitutes and for several months, my husband and I didn't argue about the state of 'it' driving into town because, amazingly, it turns out that if you threaten to send a letter home about your kerb crawling and send the police in to move them on on a regular basis, it actually nips the problem in the bud. My husband's attitude is much the same as most Italians - you can moan all you like but there's nothing you can do about it. (This attitude, by the way, applies to almost everything unpleasant about Italian life). They are almost all back now, however, and just as young and just as brazen as ever they were. Seems the police have better things to do with their time these days.
I very rarely watch Italian TV either as, again, it invariably ends up in an argument. There are scantily-clad women on everywhere, often as not with an older, or at least fully-dressed, male companion. Our version of 'You've Been Framed'? Girl in a bikini top accompanied by a bloke who does stunts on a bike, in jeans and t-shirt, I may add. Our 'Live at the Apollo' equivalent? Dolly-bird, with her breasts overflowing her dress, skirt up to here, accompanied by two blokes who are, of course, fully dressed. The women, even when successful comediennes in their own right, are more often than not used for their body and beauty than for their comedic timing, as a foil for the men. Women are, in the vast majority of cases, included for their ornamental value.
Amanda Knox was held accountable for her 'promiscuous behaviour', the utterly scandalous detail that she had a 'sex toy in her wash-bag' and had her own condoms. To me, it sounds perfectly reasonable and actually, she sounds like a sensible girl sorting out her own pleasures and precautions. The Italian media and legal system took this as a sign that she was a bad sort and somehow as evidence that this is what led to her raping, torturing and killing her room-mate. Italian women who are not showing their breasts on TV or standing with all on view by the side of the road (and actually, most of the goods on view are imported into Italy) are still far from emancipated. It is rare to see groups of girls in bars, out for a night just to have fun together. Groups of boys, yes; couples, yes; but rarely will you see the common sight in the UK of a gaggle of girls laughing raucously without a man by their side. There may be a couple of girls, who will have an ice-cream or cup of coffee together, but then they head home. I believe it was a misunderstanding of the more emancipated American culture that drew many of the male, 'buon famiglie', members of the legal system into the conclusions they did.
I have a young, pretty, petite friend who is a lawyer doing further study. She has told me that a male colleague took her to one side and advised her not to wear her shirts buttoned up so tight as she would get a better showing from the judge. Another young girl who works in my hairdresser and happens to be Anglo-Italian has told me she wants to go to work in the UK when she qualifies as 'they don't judge your work by how pretty you are'. Luckily for me, my husband is utterly egalitarian in his gender views, but even he doesn't see how difficult Italian culture can be for a modern young woman taking for granted her right to have fun and enjoy life - be it sex, alcohol or the odd 'marijuana cigarette'. But then, what surprises can there be with a person such as Silvio Berlusconi and his vile, casual sexism in charge of the country?
We have an Italian friend, a record producer who has lived and worked in London for many years. He has digital Italian TV. He tells us, 'if I want to have my mind broadened or be spoken to on my level, I watch the BBC. If I want tits and arse, I watch Italian TV'. Amanda Knox, young, pretty, emancipated Amanda Knox, didn't stand a chance.
Rachael Wilkinson
Via Vincenzo Federici No. 10
Monterotondo (Roma)
00015
Italia
+39 348 3450724 (Mob)
It looked like a witch trial with additional trial by media and it felt all wrong. Jurors are not sequestered here so they were free to read all the intimate details, and form their own opinions, on Amanda Knox's life before it even got to trial,. There was from the beginning very little evidence to support the case. It seems that the fact that she 'behaved oddly' when Meredith Kercher was discovered was a major point against her. This of course is not real evidence, it is a 'gut feeling' - which works fine in a detective story where the 'gut feeling' is felt by the hero and ultimately leads to the catching of the bad guy. But this cannot work in a real-life court of law. The language used in the court of appeal was just horrific. She was accused of being given over to 'lust, narcotic substances and the consumption of alcohol'. Oh dear. In which case, 90% of the students in the UK are carrying out the same wild and terrifying behaviour.
Apart from all the legal aspects - there are some good articles about Giuliano Mignini and his own issues in knowing which side of the law he should be on - it gives a great insight into the hypocrisy of Italian society with regard to women. On the one hand, at ANY GIVEN MOMENT, I can point you in the direction of prostitutes standing by the roadside looking for business. These are main roads, one of which runs past the Sky TV HQ, outside which there are often young, scarily scantily-clad girls touting for trade. I have driven along these main trunk roads at rush hour when the famous Roman traffic permanently threatens to grind to a halt with my two young boys in the car and had the arses of said 'mignotte', hookers, grinding in my direction in their underwear. In broad daylight and nose-to-tail traffic. Alemanno, the Roman mayor, came to victory a couple of years ago and promised a 'zero tolerance' policy on the prostitutes and for several months, my husband and I didn't argue about the state of 'it' driving into town because, amazingly, it turns out that if you threaten to send a letter home about your kerb crawling and send the police in to move them on on a regular basis, it actually nips the problem in the bud. My husband's attitude is much the same as most Italians - you can moan all you like but there's nothing you can do about it. (This attitude, by the way, applies to almost everything unpleasant about Italian life). They are almost all back now, however, and just as young and just as brazen as ever they were. Seems the police have better things to do with their time these days.
I very rarely watch Italian TV either as, again, it invariably ends up in an argument. There are scantily-clad women on everywhere, often as not with an older, or at least fully-dressed, male companion. Our version of 'You've Been Framed'? Girl in a bikini top accompanied by a bloke who does stunts on a bike, in jeans and t-shirt, I may add. Our 'Live at the Apollo' equivalent? Dolly-bird, with her breasts overflowing her dress, skirt up to here, accompanied by two blokes who are, of course, fully dressed. The women, even when successful comediennes in their own right, are more often than not used for their body and beauty than for their comedic timing, as a foil for the men. Women are, in the vast majority of cases, included for their ornamental value.
Amanda Knox was held accountable for her 'promiscuous behaviour', the utterly scandalous detail that she had a 'sex toy in her wash-bag' and had her own condoms. To me, it sounds perfectly reasonable and actually, she sounds like a sensible girl sorting out her own pleasures and precautions. The Italian media and legal system took this as a sign that she was a bad sort and somehow as evidence that this is what led to her raping, torturing and killing her room-mate. Italian women who are not showing their breasts on TV or standing with all on view by the side of the road (and actually, most of the goods on view are imported into Italy) are still far from emancipated. It is rare to see groups of girls in bars, out for a night just to have fun together. Groups of boys, yes; couples, yes; but rarely will you see the common sight in the UK of a gaggle of girls laughing raucously without a man by their side. There may be a couple of girls, who will have an ice-cream or cup of coffee together, but then they head home. I believe it was a misunderstanding of the more emancipated American culture that drew many of the male, 'buon famiglie', members of the legal system into the conclusions they did.
I have a young, pretty, petite friend who is a lawyer doing further study. She has told me that a male colleague took her to one side and advised her not to wear her shirts buttoned up so tight as she would get a better showing from the judge. Another young girl who works in my hairdresser and happens to be Anglo-Italian has told me she wants to go to work in the UK when she qualifies as 'they don't judge your work by how pretty you are'. Luckily for me, my husband is utterly egalitarian in his gender views, but even he doesn't see how difficult Italian culture can be for a modern young woman taking for granted her right to have fun and enjoy life - be it sex, alcohol or the odd 'marijuana cigarette'. But then, what surprises can there be with a person such as Silvio Berlusconi and his vile, casual sexism in charge of the country?
We have an Italian friend, a record producer who has lived and worked in London for many years. He has digital Italian TV. He tells us, 'if I want to have my mind broadened or be spoken to on my level, I watch the BBC. If I want tits and arse, I watch Italian TV'. Amanda Knox, young, pretty, emancipated Amanda Knox, didn't stand a chance.
Rachael Wilkinson
Via Vincenzo Federici No. 10
Monterotondo (Roma)
00015
Italia
+39 348 3450724 (Mob)
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