Frozen eggs. Frozen sperm. Thaw. Let’s make a baby.

Perhaps in recognition of so many of my heroes dying this last year, including Muhammed Ali, I am back before the count is over, when we all thought I was knocked out for good.

Good friends are special.

Best friends are a blessing    

One made the last process happen and now one has opened a whole new door. Chipo has re offered her eggs for IVF, more particularly, for ICSI treatment.

So off we go to London.

New stage, same game. New hope.

And how do I feel?

It is an interesting place to be in where you try to feel nothing. The lesson learnt was not to live in the future. Not to give into the overwhelming emotional journey your mind and heart (and lets face it, your loins) can go on. So, I am neutral – zen – in the present, stopping any dreams and keeping a stoic approach to the entire process. (or at least trying to …).

The timing is great. The Year of the Monkey was when the idea came. With all Monkey Year plans, they seems absolutely wonderful, so incredible and possible. Of course, because you are high in the trees. The view is unhindered as far as you can see. However, you have to remember that…well, you are not a monkey. One false swing and down you will fall. Ideas are also as lofty and flimsy as the air you are breathing.

So I went about all the technical practicalities of the process, like visas, costs, bloods, rotten sperm count again, work commitments. And with careful swinging with monkey awareness, all fell into place.

So, as the year turned from Monkey to Rooster, we boarded the plane and set off to try one more time. Indeed, stranger things have happened. Let’s see if this Coq d’Or will crow. (pun intended, on all levels).