Women and Concrete

Firstly, a big fat thank you. Your answers to this question on Facebook yesterday were spectacular.

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Sarah and I record Two Fat Expats each Sunday morning. This week’s topic will cover both babies and infertility  and how those situations may differ when you’re away from home. If you’ve heard our podcast I imagine it may be fairly obvious that I love Sarah. Like, really love Sarah. She came along right at the right time for me, I’d lost my bestie to the South of France and there was nothing that was going to replace her – Sarah blogged and loved blogging and gave me a bit of a push to do something I’d had in the back of mind but wasn’t brave enough to try.  We now work together about three days a week. We text on a daily basis, we began with one dropbox topic and now have about six. We write running sheets, co-ordinate blog posts and sit under blankets recording podcasts. I accidentally texted Sarah a few weeks ago when I meant to text G. She received three successive texts on what was going on with our children.”Oh God, she’s in with the vice principal”. “All is not lost, L got an A in her math test!!!” “He’s a pirate! He’s got the role of a pirate :-)”

“Are these for me?” Sarah replied

After I apologised profusely she said “Well, I am your work wife”.

That’s exactly what she is.

This week’s podcast will involve two women sitting down from two ends of the spectrum. My pregnancies arrived often and in a couple of instances unexpectedly while Sarah co-ordinated infertility treatment on foreign land. We have lots to talk about.

Your comments to this question were gold. You brought back memories I’d neatly packed away with each move. A few of them had me rolling on the floor. The husband who was handed the placenta in a plastic shopping bag. The woman who was told she was lucky her husband had stayed with her as they’d been married for eleven years. The not one, not two, but three of you who told me about offers of a little “rejuvenation” from the obgyn, you know, to “make your husband a very happy man”. *Thank you ladies for giving me permission to retell the story

I sat outside with a very tall vodka tonic last night having a heart to heart via Skype with my beautiful friend in Nice. It was her birthday and she’s only been in her new location for seven months, she’s still finding her feet. We had one of those conversation where neither of you is sobbing but you both have tears running down your cheeks. We talked of the things that I write about here often. Making new friends, finding your people, having someone who ‘gets’ you. How a stomach can turn at the thought of being misunderstood. We got up close to the mic to whisper, I watched her go to the loo, she waited for me to pour another drink. Can you imagine if I’d never moved to Doha? If I’d never got to meet her? I can’t. Women friendships are like cement, it may all be a bit mixed up at the beginning, it may take a bit of work, a few additions, a bit of sand and gravel to get it all at the right consistency but once it’s set – it’s concrete.

I love the community I have here. I love the Facebook page. I love the support. And I have really appreciated your comments of late. I can’t thank each of you but I want to thank all of you for being here.

Thank you xx

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