The Contingency Plan

My appointment with the oral surgeon went well yesterday. The lump is benign but I'll have to get it cut out asap so our trip is being delayed by two weeks to accommodate.

It's actually worked out well as a big potential client is interested in meeting with us but our contact is going on holiday for three weeks so the timing would've been off with our original leave date.

All this talk of tumors has really given me the creeps lately. I met with a friend during the week whose dad recently died within three months of being told he had cancer and I found out last week another person I occassionally hung out with but hadn't seen in over a year had died from throat cancer. He was a non-smoker, we're the same age and he passed away within a month of discovering. Although I've never welcomed death, the thought of it terrifies me now that I have Hugo.

But let's not get too melodramatic here people...

I discovered the MD of my last job left the company today. She's a real interesting woman. In her mid to late forties, her career is everything. She has no children, no love life anyone knew of, and boy did we try hard to know! She lives and breathes work and loves every moment of it. I admire her passion and courage, as let's face it, it takes courage for a woman to refuse to breed these days, but still, despite my ambition I can't imagine life without a child. I think I have too much to give and am far too obsessed with leaving a (hopefully) positive legacy.

And on the subject of that legacy, he simply lights me. I feel such a strong bond with this boy of mine. He's crawling now, standing up on furniture, giving me big, sloppy open mouthed kisses, playing little interactive games and already trying to barter his way out of trouble with smiles and affection.

Every night Lucas, Hugo and I go to bed together. Once we're there we cuddle, chat and play. Everything about that time is simple. We're surrounded by pillows, blankets and sun-smelling cotton sheets. We all smell of soap and toothpaste. Lucas and I shamelessly dote. We plan our trip, update each other on our businesses, think of names for future children, complain of being tired. And then Hugo will lunge with a kiss, rest his head on your chest, smile his biggest charm winning grin with his two bottom pearls shining, and touch your index finger with his as if to say that this ET has found home.

I guess that's just one of the wonderful things about having a child: you always have love and hope.

So glad you are well. Experiencing death with a young child would be so unimaginable.

So, I hate the word "breeding." Nasty connotations for me.

Breeding isn't a very classy word, is it? So why does it have nasty connotations for you?