Tuesday, 17 July 2012

You've got my eyes

Ages ago, I read an article in the Guardian written about clinical errors when transferring or creating embryos.

Of course, this planted the idea in my head that the clinics we used could have mixed up our eggs, sperm or embryos, particularly as we had to cart embryos between clinics (that is a very long story, and it was a very odd day).

So, I think more than most new parents, I seize on any suggestion that the Boy looks, or doesn't look like, my husband or I.

"He's getting ginger hair! You've got a ginge!" said my brother in law. There's only one member of my family who had ginger hair, an alcoholic uncle who died estranged from everyone else. Which at least reminds me that genetics aren't everything.

But then -

"He looks so like your husband in that photo." said one of my friends. Phew.

My father in law has confused the issue by insisting to us that the Boy has similar ears to his mother, and then telling my husband's sister that actually, his ears are nothing like his granny's. For some reason, the ears are of particular interest to my father in law. Even though even I can see nothing remarkable about the Boy's ears.

Ultimately, it is all really silly - I don't honestly believe that the Boy is not ours. People see what they want to see. No-one from one side of the family says he looks like anyone from the other, they all see themselves or someone closely related to them.

Babies look like babies. I did warn the midwife that if he came out a different colour then there probably had been some mistake somewhere along the line. But, even if he had come out bright green with purple polka dots, I don't think I would have complained!


  1. I love your realistic attitude to this (and all things motherhood), and I'm really enjoying reading your thoughts. I hope you're not censoring yourself too much for your readers.

    I am having trouble envisioning you with a green purple polka dotted baby dressed in a pale blue onesie though!!

  2. I'm finding that I just can't get all soppy about things. Or rather, it's easier in my head to put down more observational stuff and write it out then big emotional posts.

    Erm, the Boy, as I type, rejoices in wearing a pink gingham thing with a flowery print. I bought it when I was having some sort of mad hormonal fit in late pregnancy - I think I thought I was having a girl, and anyway it didn't matter what colour it was. He has still had to wear it, on the grounds that it doesn't matter really, but not outside the house, on the grounds that people might start to think I'm one of those mad people that refuse to give their kids a gender, and anyway, it is hideous. So he'd probably prefer the polka dots/blue outfit.