The one that never existed

There are moments and certain feelings that these moments generate that I find peculiar. The thing is, I thought I was done with them, and I struggle to understand why they are still there. Especially with a pregnancy at week 36 when I’m preparing for a new lifestyle.

I attended a birthday yesterday. When things had settled down a bit, her mother and my girlfriend started to look at old pictures of her 8 year old son. There were photos in there with this 8 year old together with my girlfriends 8 year old. They were talking about the past; the baby days. Both with a certain nostalgic feel and wonder. I had a hard time adapting because my girlfriend had just replied with negativity about her current pregnancy and how she dreaded «starting all over». And, suddenly she’s talking about the past with such wonders in her voice. I can’t really say I understand any of it. It’s for another story I guess.

The peculiar thing though is that my heart just sank when they spoke about it. I have a hard time understanding why. Back then, when these kids were babies, I was contempt and felt I had a good life. Why does it in hinsight feel like a black hole? Just a dark abyss? Am I jealous? They are not my kids, so why should I be?

No, I think it’s more a feeling of missing someone that should have been there at the same time. The one that never existed. I honestly thought these feelings would go away once I came into this position of becoming a father, but no, they are still there. Just lurking in the background. Coming forward at times when I am not prepared and sometimes I even call upon them by playing certain songs that reminds me of something that never existed. I can’t find any other explenation for it. But, this is not same as «baby fever». There was a 6 month old baby at this birthday party as well, and my girlfriend asked me afterwards if, by looking at the baby, I caught a case of «baby-fever». I can honestly say I did not. I don’t think men function the same way as women with these things. No, there were no specific feelings when I looked at the baby or anything like that. I am not some crazed out baby fever individuall who has some sort of baby hype on his mind. My feelings came when they were talking about the times when their kids were babies. And the feelings were sad, dark, bottomless and lonely. And what is this really? Why?

I have come to the conclusion that this pregnancy won’t correct the past. It might fill a void, and my instincts and happiness will be there because of it and what it is. But it won’t fill the place of the other. There will always be two; the one that exist and will eventually smile at me and call me daddy – and yet there will be another. The one that never existed. The bottomless darkness of missing someone that should have been there. I think thats where it comes from, my feelings when they  reminisce of the old days.


She liked Babylon 5

I made a discovery yesterday. I managed to re-discover old websites from the late 90s/early 2000s that I made. There were things on those sites I wrote that I had forgotten a long time ago. Things I wrote, things I thought about. Things that upset me. Not so much what my simple, naive texts said, but how I remember I felt and thought when I wrote them. It came back to me. Sadly, most of my thoughts and writings have now all been lost. Thankfully, I found a few of them – kudos to the Internet Way Back Machine and a functioning website that still linked to my old, long-gone websites.

My website contained a whole list of things I hated, but also another list of things I liked. I had a lot of hate for this soap opera called Sunset Beach, while I simply loved a show called Babylon 5. I think my frustration and hate for that silly Sunset Beach show came out of the fact that girls in my class loved it, and did not at all understand a more complex show such as Babylon 5 which they considered stupid and uncool.  And for that I was looked upon as a nerd or a geek with weird interests. It frustrated me because I could not understand why they did not see the same as I did. And, in hinsight – of course I was right about it; Babylon 5 was lots better. I guess my main frustration and anger about it was simply because the girls did not care for me and those two TV shows became symbolic of our unsolvable differences.

On my “hate list” is also what I simply refered to as “fags” and my heart sunk when I first read this yesterday. However, I am fairly sure I simply meant cigarettes! I make no excuses on listing “fat people” as things I hate. I am truly sorry. Tounge in cheek I guess?

I also hated “drunk chicks”, “boyfriends” and “stupid people”. I doubt I had seen a “drunk chick” at 18 considering I did not party, but I had heard lots about it. Alcohol scared me, but it also annoyed me because it seemed to be the major talking point between my peers and I found it shallow. In hinsight, I should have not been so scared and I should have made an effort to fit in a bit better, but I just couldn’t get it in order. I was frustrated, scared and my confidence was so low.

The text that made the most impact on me yesterday was this;

“Dont you just hate it when you say something, and they wont even answer you back, even though youre sure they heard you? Idiots? My opinoion poll say yes!”

Several incidents from high school came back to me when I read this. Times when I tried to speak to people, sometimes girls, and they simply ignored me. Maybe because they wanted too, or because they just didn’t pay attention. I remember how little I felt when they did not answer me back, and how I retracted even more to my own world because of it. To be ignored is a horrible feeling. And my frustrations and anger towards them grew stronger. I understand why I basically gave it all up, retracted fully from my fellow classmates and locals, and started a three year old e-mail correspondance and strong friendship with an American girl I met online instead. She was more like myself.

She liked Babylon 5.










Put down your smartphone, and watch some TV instead!

It came to me after a quick, heated discussion about screen time (PC, cell phone, tablet); I miss my books. It all started when I was trying to tell her that it’s not the cell phone itself that is a danger to ones eyesight, it’s the constant focus to one spot for a unnatural amount of time. Five hours a day of constant book reading ain’t no different than four hours of screentime; the outcome is the same – the eyes struggles hard to focus on small letters on one spot for long periods of time which may cause damage.

When she said TV wasn’t as bad as a cell phone to look at, I had to say something. It is simply bullshit; of course it is the same. All constant focus to one spot makes for the same slight danger to ones eyes. By the time I had found research and articles online to back up my opinion, the dicussion was over. It is usually likes this when I’m in the company of her or her closest family. It is endlessly frustrating. This half-truth half conspiracy ideas towards technology, especially computers and tablets makes for a frustrating time. Because I have used technology for decades now, and most of my victories have come via the use of these technologies. I’m thinking of seven books published, articles published, social networks beyond my local hometown and so on. And so by talking like this, I take it personally. My books are a culmination of screen time. My dedication.

And so I sit there on the couch and I look across the room and over at my books on the shelf. The only artefacts I have been able to bring forward so far as decoration. My priceless books. All the time and hard work it took to write them. All those hours. My involvment with a specific foundation as well. It was one of the proudest moments of my life when I was asked to join them. It really means nothing in this household. It is too complicated to understand for anyone. Too complicated. 

I sat by the computer for two hours on Sunday working on a collage and going through my photos from July. Even then I felt awkward doing it. To her it’s just wasting time. She doesn’t «get» digital photos, her father says it’s “nonsense”. To me, spending time with my computer and simply create is one of the most valuable usage of my time I can think of. These daysI can’t really fullfill my obligations to the foundation and its social media accounts. I can’t write books. I have no time. That is, I doubt I would be doing it if I had the time either.

But, I do miss my books. I miss digging deep into research and writing. I miss getting recognition for my dedication towards a subject I feel I deserve to get. My heart sinks when I see copies of my books stuffed away in a box in the attic. Like it’s nothing.

And so it came to me that after all this that have happened the past three years, I am different person, living a different life. My books are the past. I look at them and I miss myself from those days of writing. I might as well be a different person all together. What is there left of me besides seven books on a shelf? And now I have to defend myself, my interests, and my knowledge from technologically inferior people thinking smartphones fuck your eyes up but TV watching are fine and dandy? Where people look down on those who use computers? Where there’s nothing better than making a fucking campfire out in the wilderness or something? Where the 21-year old relative is constantly being talked about behind his back because he spends a shit load of time in front of his computer.

I miss my books.


The cost of a baby

It wasn’t until I had paid for the baby trolley my mind started to wander off to the past. By the way, baby trolleys are apperantly a huge fucking deal. The size, the color, the wheels – everything. I was asked to choose the color, and I looked at them all sitting there in the store and blurted out; «but they are all in different shades of grey for crying out loud!». So, we chose the dark grey one after considerable time and kilometers driving around the lake in search of that perfect baby trolley. Ironically, it was basically the first one we looked at two months ago, but I’m not judging.

So, anyway, I pulled out my MasterCard and paid for the thing. The whole thing set my card back 1335 dollars. Come to think of it, that’s just 700 dollars less than for my old Volvo. Apperantly, baby trolleys cost a lot of money.

It was when we got back home we started to discuss how much money I had been spending on unborn children since 2013. Through IVF (public and private), travel costs, hotels and now baby trolleys, equipment, clothes and what not.

Back in 2013 my ex-wife went through examinations and an small surgery. This was free though, except for a small fee. Then in 2014ish we started IVF which set me back about 2000 dollars. The medicines (which also cost a lot) were thankfully covered by our more than welcoming healthcare system. Then came travels to the capital, a few hotel stays over night and food. We also took the train a few times down there for reasons I do not remember. In 2014, also due to lack of baby success we bought another dog at 1500 dollars.

After our unsuccessfull public IVF treatment, we went private. I remember paying half of a 7000 dollar sum, split between myself and my ex wifes mother for a three-attempt package which was not refundable at any time. On top of that there would be medication – by now not covered any longer by the public health system. I did the math back then and figured the total cost would be about 12.000 dollars. We only did one attempt though. We aborted everything, split up, and went out seperate ways. The medication, for one attempt, was around 1000 dollars.

Then came everything inbetween then and now. With my latest investment at about 2000 dollars worth of equipment and baby trolleys, the total amount of money I have spent trying to have a baby ended somewhere around 8000 dollars. And, my daughter haven’t even been born yet.

However, I believe I speak for most people that have been in this situation with IVF, adoption or any other challenges in trying to create a family when I say; “I would be more than happy to pay it all again if that’s what it takes. I’ll pay whatever it costs, and I’ll do whatever I possibly can.” And I have. I have suffered economically, emotionally and I have ended relationships for it. And it’s all worth it. Because it was the right thing to do.

You can’t possibly put a price tag on it. Money means nothing.

Second ultrasound – This is Family

I’m at the hospital waiting for the ultrasound appointment. They want to see if the placenta have moved away a bit so she’s all ready for a natural birth. Besides, she’s 38 and they want to keep steady ship.

She’s bringing her daughter for this appointment, and she calls me to say they’re a bit late. Just five minutes. By the time they have arrived we haven’t been called in yet, so it’s all good.

Five minutes later, and we’re shown inside. Like last time, we shake hands with the woman in charge of the apparatus. Her daughter sits on my lap while they start to study her. Quickly, we’re told to go outside while they do check the placenta. Her daughter gets a bit worried, but I tell her it’s all fine.

Coming inside again, the ultrasound scan shows something – but the baby is too big for a good view of anything. They switch on the 3D version, and we suddenly see half a face. Her closed, left eyelid and surrounding facial area looks like my father. Or me? Maybe it’s just my imagination. While the nurse explains to her, I explain to her daughter. I make a point out of explaining to her and giving her information and attention – not simply looking at the screen and study the numbers. She curls up on my lap. A little bit out of boredom, but also because it’s all a bit weird to her. Suddenly there’s a 3D image of her little half sister on a TV screen.

Everythings fine, but the baby is a tad small. The nurse asks about my stepdaghters weight when she was born and concludes they’re about the same size. All normal, but they will check her again in a few weeks just to see if she develops properly and on her own terms. She does.

With her daughter curled up on my lap and my girlfriend on the table looking at my daughter still inside her – I conclude that this is family. And it’s mine. I think I got out of everything alright in the end. If I had only known…